For nearly half a century, Abdul Rahman Kumar of Dalgate, Srinagar, has stood among the crowds at Hajj departure points, offering prayers, shedding tears, and bidding heartfelt farewells to pilgrims embarking on the sacred journey.
Yet, despite his deep devotion and longing, he has never had the chance to perform Hajj himself.
Year after year, without fail, Kumar—now in his seventies—comes to see off the departing pilgrims. Dressed in simple clothes and wearing a timeworn smile, he raises his hands in silent prayer, wishing the travelers well. “It gives me peace,” he says softly, “to be near those chosen by Allah for this holy journey, even if I am not among them.”
Living in poverty, Kumar has never been able to afford the pilgrimage. Still, his faith remains unshaken. Over the years, his quiet presence has become a familiar and comforting sight for many local pilgrims—some of whom now seek him out before boarding their flights.
“I always ask them to remember me in their prayers when they reach Makkah,” he says, his voice laden with emotion. “Maybe someday, someone will remember me enough for Allah to open a way.”
Kumar’s story is one of enduring devotion, resilience, and a longing that spans decades. As another Hajj season approaches, he will once again take his place among the well-wishers—still hopeful, still praying, still waiting.
