“The weight of the fifth pillar — the hajj— is to carry it sincerely, gracefully, and with the intention (niyyat) that its weight bows us downin humility, kindness, and fulfilment at heart; afterwards.But these qualities are rarely seen in people in Islam after they become Haji.”
While attending to a patient in my neighbourhood last year, I overheard a voice (fromanother room, but it was strong enough to be heard by everyone in aten-metre radius in other rooms) saying this year it will bethe 10thUmrah, besides one hajj. After leaving the patient, I enquired about the person (voice)—who was it? After learning who it was, I realised why the vocals were so effective.Let me not reveal the identity behind the voice. And from that day I started to ponder upon the Hajj, its significance and purpose. As described in Quran, Hadith and other Islamic texts of significance, Hajj is a fifth and final pillar of Islam.It stands as an ultimate act of submission and a sacred culmination of a believer’s spiritual journey. It is not merely a ritual of movement from one holy site to another, but a profound inward journey toward self-purification and closeness to Allah. Every able-bodied Muslim who is financially capable is obligated to undertake this journey at least once in their lifetime. It is seen as the crown of faith—following the declaration of faith (Shahadah), the five daily prayers (Salah), fasting during Ramadan (Sawm), and almsgiving (Zakat). And yet, I find myself in deep conflict.By the logic of faith, one could argue that after Hajj, a Muslim has completed the essential pillars of Islam. Theoretically, such a person should now walk the straight path unwaveringly, embodying the values of Islam in thought, action, and intention. But what we witness in reality often troubles the soul. Many who return from Hajj, draped in the title of “Haji Sahib,” too often fall back into the same societal and personal flaws they carried before the pilgrimage. Dishonesty, arrogance, backbiting, materialism—all creep back into their lives. In some cases, the gap between ritual and righteousness only seems to widen. This contradiction is what makes some people hesitate. If Hajj is meant to be the ultimate purification, why do so many come back unchanged? Why does the spirit of humility, patience, justice, and simplicity, which are embedded in the rituals of Hajj, fade so quickly?
“The journey to Hajj is not just about going to Makkah—it’s about returning to yourself, and more importantly, returning to Allah. Whether or not others change is not in my hands. What I carry back from Hajj, if and when I go, will be in my hands.”
If the experience doesn’t bring lasting transformation, does it still fulfill its purpose? I don’t ask these questions from a place of judgment, but from genuine confusion and concern. I worry that I, too, might return and fail to live up to the standard such a journey demands. And so I tell myself: perhaps it’s better not to perform Hajj at all than to do so and then deviate from the path.But in this line of thought, I have come to realize a subtle trap of Shaytaan: the idea that one must be perfect after Hajj, or not go at all, is itself a dangerous illusion. Islam never demanded perfection—it only demands sincerity. Hajj is not a graduation ceremony for saints, but a cleansing for sinners. It is not the end of the road, but a renewed beginning. If people falter after Hajj, that does not mean the Hajj failed. It means they are human, and their struggle continues. Yes, society has turned Hajj into a status symbol, sometimes more about recognition than repentance, as stated in first para. But that should not define the act itself. A sincere Hajj, performed in humility and with the intention to grow closer to Allah, can still be transformative—regardless of what others do or fail to do. My hesitation, then, should not be an excuse to avoid this sacred duty, but a call to prepare myself more truthfully. Perhaps I need not fear failure, but insincerity. And if my heart fears losing the light after Hajj, it is all the more reason to seek that light in the first place. In the end, the journey to Hajj is not just about going to Makkah—it’s about returning to yourself, and more importantly, returning to Allah. Whether or not others change is not in my hands. What I carry back from Hajj, if and when I go, will be in my hands.
(The author a freelancer a teacher and a researcher based in Gowhar Pora Chadoora is also Advisor at The Nature University Kashmir. The views, opinions and conclusions expressed in this article are those of the author and aren’t necessarily in accord with the views of “Kashmir Horizon”)
Dr. Ashraf Zainabi
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