End of Chapter 1

Assalam-0-alaikum.

Three days from today, inshAllah, I'll be boarding an aeroplane at Tabuk's old-fashioned, small-town aiport. As the aircraft will gain height, I'll look out of the window to see the little yellow lights become smaller, smaller... I'll have to crane my neck to see them before they disappear at last.

That's probably going to be my last glimpse of Tabuk and here's why: We're finally leaving Tabuk with 'Exit Only' instead of 'Exit & Re-Entry permitted' stamped on our passports. Ofcourse, we've known this was going to happen for years, ever since my father arrived in developing Tabuk in 1978, and especially since I, my mother and sisters moved back to Pakistan in 2000. You can't live in Saudi Arabia forever, you can't have the nationality, even if you're born here. Even so, being born here and being half-Arab (in all the things that matter) for the past twenty years, it feels weird to tell myself that I'm not coming home again next summer.

How do you get yourself to accept that the place you've spend your whole childhood in, every nook and cranny having some special story attached, you're going to leave and never come back? Can you imagine that happening to you? As for me, the whole thing becomes a bit more complex from the Islamic point of view. Tabuk is midway between Makkah and Jerusalem (or properly, between Makkah and the Jerusalem area). Lebanon is just a 5-hour or less drive away.

The desert, beautiful and serene surrounds us. In countless dust-storms, long drives and Umrah trips, we've breathed in the fresh, pure desert air that reminds us of life's true purpose and the messages of the prophets. Blessed with the olive and it's oil, this land relates to the Quran and it's teachings in such a way that it's difficult to love any other part of the world, if you've lived here once.

We've been packing and shopping this month. It's like a race against time to see everything, go everywhere, experience all the joys we've experienced here... one last time. Seeing our old school, the places we went out to eat, where we picnicked, where old friends lived... one last time.

My father will join us later, inshAllah, after resigning from his job and packing up the rest of the stuff after Eid. Our Umrah trip about two weeks ago, was the last in our own car, driving around as we wished. InshAllah, there shall be more. But it felt strange to say goodbye to the Holy cities, praying at the same time that we'd be able to see them again.

The reason we're leaving, in truth, is that our family has to settle down in Karachi now. Some basic jobs have been put on hold for a long time, and we've got to take care of that now... and my father's retiring next year anyway. For him, saying goodbye to Tabuk is harder, having seen it grow before his eyes in these thiry years. He loves spending Ramadan here and we know how much he's going to miss that too.

For a while, I was very sad at having to leave the place I call my spiritual home. But then, I had to focus on the bigger picture - this world wasn't supposed to be a permanent home... we're travellers, moving on from one place to another. And death will catch up on us one day or the other. The important thing is to be happy, and pray for good health wherever you are. Memories of great times will remain with you always but you can't hold on to time - you've got to let it go.

Last Friday, after Fajr prayers, we got into the car and drove to a park constructed along a major highway along Tabuk, between the city on one side and the farmlands on the other. We set out for a walk on the walking strip along the park - it was a beautiful morning, chilly (desert extremes in summer!) and it felt great to breathe in pure air, smelling of dewy grass in the farms. As we walked along, laughing and waiting for the sun to rise, I knew that we were all thinking the same thing... we were all learning to say goodbye to our home, the beautiful city of Tabuk.

Maybe I'll see you again one day Tabuk. Indeed I have prayed that I be able to visit or possibly live in Tabuk one day again. That I'd be able to call my parents too, on visa. That daydream went a long way!

While in Makkah for Umrah this month, I didn't like the idea of saying goodybe to it. I love Makkah with all my heart. But my father told me of something that made me feel better: When the Prophet (pbuh) emigrated to Madinah, he took a different route out of Madinah. When this road crossed the common route at one point, he looked in the direction of Makkah with great longing. These verses were revealed at that time, which my father also recited as we drove out of the city:

Verily He Who ordained the Qur'an for thee, will bring thee back to the Place of Return (Makkah).

(28:85)