It is a dance that we have both performed countless times; we know the steps by heart. Her kitchen was my first kitchen - my training studio. Every day, my mother would come home from work and almost immediately set about preparing our evening meal. Whenever I got the chance, I would join her in the kitchen, observing how deftly she scaled fish before cutting it into pieces to simmer in a thin, spicy curry along with chunks of potato. I watched as she swirled rice in several

It is common for those welcoming home returning pilgrims to comment on their ‘noor’ – the radiance that supposedly emanates from the face...

I was soon reminded that while I was in God’s House, so too were the misogynists.

We arrived in Makkah in the early hours of the morning. My father had already changed into his ihram clothing on the plane.

I remember when my grandmother returned from performing Hajj. It was 1995 and I was eight years old.