Syed Nissar H Gilani
This photograph, a slightly faded portrait taken in August 1979, was not for a family album, but for a sacred journey. It was intended for the Haj passport—a special, single-entry travel document issued then by the Indian Foreign Ministry, valid only for a few months until the pilgrimage was complete. The passport was instantly recognizable: a rustic, brick-red booklet bound by rough, hard paper—a practice the authorities have since discontinued.
My father, a Medical Officer who had dedicated a long and distinguished career to treating patients (“putting a long innings”), was nearing his retirement at the end of December 1979, at the age of 55. He chose that year to embark on the holy pilgrimage to Mecca, a decision embraced with joy and respect by the entire family. His application for pre-retirement leave was promptly granted.
The Farewell in Bombay.
His departure point was Bombay (now Mumbai), from where the special Air India charted flights would take off for Jeddah. In an era when many Kashmiri pilgrims traveled with large provisions, my father carried only light clothing. These chartered flights, often double-decker Air Jumbos, were frequently staffed by Kashmiri crew, including Akbar Jan, son of the renowned Dr. Ali Jan, who served as the Chief Air Host.
I had the privilege of accompanying my father to Bombay to see him off. Our base was the Sabu Siddiq Mussafir Khana near Crawford Market, which housed the Haj Committee office. Qazi Mohd Amin, the former Secretary Revenue (an IAS officer) and then Secretary Haj Committee Bombay, kindly arranged a room for our stay.
This image was captured at Santacruz Airport, Bombay, in 1979, just moments before he boarded an Air India Jumbo Jet for Saudi Arabia. The photograph poignantly depicts him in the obligatory Ihram attire, marking the beginning of his spiritual journey.
During those preparatory days, we were blessed with the hospitality of my friends. One who deserves special mention was the late Inspector Pednekar, posted in the Byculla Railway police station. He personally came to receive us. Before my father’s flight, he invited us to his flat at Andheri West for a dinner that remains one of my most cherished memories. I recall it was around the time of Diwali, and Bombay was glittering with lights. The Laddoos served that night still bring a nostalgic sweetness to my mind.
Two days later, my wife and I, along with friends including Qazi Amin and Inspector Pednekar, saw him off at the Santa Cruz International Airport. With blessings and well wishes, he stepped onto the Air India Jumbo, carrying the brick-red passport that would guide him to the Holy Land.
Arrival, Riyal Exchange, and a Financial System
Upon landing in Jeddah, my father and the other pilgrims arriving from India were met with crucial logistical and financial support handled by the representatives of the Jammu and Kashmir government.
Each Kashmiri pilgrim traveling by air had initially deposited a sum of Rs. 11,000 in Indian currency, which covered their comprehensive travel service, including the complex initial leg from Srinagar to Bombay. In Jeddah, each person was promptly issued a draft amounting to Rs. 2,200, converted into Saudi Riyals to cover immediate expenses. The exchange rate at the time was roughly 3 Indian Rupees (INR) for 1 Saudi Riyal (SAR).
The Near Miss of the Mecca Siege (November 1979)
My father completed his spiritual obligations in Mecca, navigating the intense atmosphere of the Grand Mosque (Masjid al-Haram). His journey was set to continue to the Prophet’s City.
In a twist of profound good fortune, my father departed Mecca for Medina just one day before the catastrophic event that would shock the world: the seizure of the Grand Mosque in November 1979.
On the first day of the Islamic year 1400 AH, hundreds of armed dissidents stormed and held the most sacred site in Islam, leading to a terrifying two-week siege against the Saudi security forces. Had he delayed his departure by a mere 24 hours, he would have been trapped inside the sacred premises. Thankfully, he was already safe in Medina, spared from the ensuing terror and chaos.
The Story Told Upon Arrival
My father spent the remainder of his pilgrimage in the profound peace of Medina. The stories he brought back home to Srinagar were a fascinating mix of the spiritual, the historical, and the utterly human.
One particularly memorable episode he narrated centered on the simple struggle against the desert heat. One evening, while staying with his fellow pilgrims, one of his companions rushed out of the washroom shouting in fear. He cried out that a dead body, shrouded in white cloth, was lying in the wash tub!
Alarmed, my father and the other inmates quickly rushed to the washroom. Instead of a tragedy, they found an elderly pilgrim from Kashmir—safe and sound, but in a state of deep slumber. The man had found his own, ingenious way to beat the heat: he had spread his Ahram (the white pilgrimage garment) over himself like a cover and was resting comfortably inside the porcelain tub with the exhaust fan blowing cool air over him. The initial panic turned instantly into relieved laughter and appreciation for the pilgrim’s resourcefulness.
The moment my father arrived back home safely was a cause for immense gratitude. A heartfelt feast was hosted by the family for all the next of kin who had gathered to welcome him back. He returned not just having fulfilled a sacred vow, but having carried with him a story of close calls, historical significance, and enduring human spirit.
The writer is former Assistant Commissioner of Revenue Department, can be reached at (nisargilani57748@gmail.com
