Faith : a human necessity

You know a trip’s going to be unforgettable when it leaves you with more questions than answers — the good kind, the kind that make you reflect. My recent journey through Jeddah, Madinah, and the Kumbh Mela in India did exactly that. It was a journey through spices, stories, and faith — and one that showed me just how connected we really are, despite the borders and beliefs that sometimes try to divide us.

Jeddah, the ancient port city that once sat proudly on the spice route, still carries the scent of history in the air — quite literally. It’s the gateway to Mecca and Madinah for millions of pilgrims every year and a melting pot of people, cultures, and traditions. But if I’m being honest, the city itself didn’t blow me away. What did steal my heart, though, was Al-Balad — Jeddah’s historic district.

Walking through Al-Balad feels like stepping into a time machine. Narrow, winding streets are lined with tiny shops selling gold, spices, and fabrics. The colors are vibrant, the smells intoxicating. This is the Arabia I’d always imagined — and I swear it looks like it hasn’t changed for centuries. There were heaps of pepper, cardamom, turmeric, and ginger from India, cloves, nutmeg, and cinnamon from the spice islands of Indonesia, and incense and dates from the Arabian Peninsula. Every scent told a story of ancient trade and adventure.

The souks kept me busy for half a day, and when I finally tore myself away, I ended the day with a quiet stroll along the Jeddah Corniche. The King Fahd Fountain soared in the distance under a starry sky, and the sound of waves mixed with the rustling of palm trees. It was one of those perfect moments where you don’t need words — just the sea breeze and your thoughts.

The next day, I hopped on a high-speed train to Madinah. Saudi Arabia’s rail network isn’t vast, but this ride was smooth and efficient. A fellow passenger told me about the old Hejaz railway that once ran from Syria to Saudi Arabia, carrying pilgrims to the holy sites. Hearing stories like this makes you realize how much history has shaped this land.

As a non-Muslim, I knew I wouldn’t be able to enter Mecca — the holiest city in Islam. But the restrictions in Madinah are more relaxed; while I couldn’t enter the Prophet’s Mosque itself, I was able to explore the city and soak in its atmosphere. And what an atmosphere it was.

Madinah, home to the Prophet’s Mosque, is a place where faith takes its purest form. As I made my way from the railway station to the mosque, I saw people from every corner of the world — each displaying the same quiet devotion. The diversity was staggering and beautiful.

One of my most memorable encounters was with a solo female pilgrim from the Philippines. She spoke in English and shared stories of her job, her faith, and her excitement for Hajj. I wanted to ask why she was traveling alone, but something about the sanctity of the moment held me back. Sometimes, you just listen and let people’s words settle in your heart.

Nearby, a group of African pilgrims prayed together — a stark reminder of how vast and far-reaching Islam has become. We often have this image of Middle Eastern pilgrims when we think of Mecca and Madinah, but the reality is far richer. Faith, I realized, knows no borders — no single language, color, or culture.

A week later, I found myself at the Kumbh Mela in India — the largest religious gathering on Earth. Millions of people converge at the confluence of three rivers — the Ganga, Yamuna, and the mythical Saraswati — just for a single sacred dip. Why? Faith and belief.

Despite the crowds and chaos, there was an overwhelming sense of peace. Watching people perform ancient rituals with such dedication humbled me. It made me wonder: What is it that drives people to embark on these often difficult, sometimes dangerous, journeys of faith?

The answer, I think, lies deep in our human need to belong. Since our days as hunter-gatherers, we’ve needed to stick together. Once we settled into agricultural societies, we needed rules — and something bigger than ourselves to believe in. Faith gave us that unity. It pushed us to strive for things greater than our individual lives. And yes, while it has sometimes created divisions and conflict, at its core, faith is about hope, love, and connection.

Throughout my travels, I met people who were warm, welcoming, and eager to share their stories. Whether it was in the spice-scented streets of Jeddah, the bustling mosques of Madinah, or the vibrant chaos of the Kumbh Mela, one thing became clear: We’re all more alike than we realize.

Every faith, at its heart, teaches kindness, peace, and compassion. Strip away the labels, and our needs are the same — to be seen, heard, and loved. It’s the small group of people who exploit differences for power that create conflict, not the believers themselves.

I like to think that if there’s a God up there, they aren’t keeping track of skin color, language, or which prayer you recite. They’re watching how we treat each other. And from what I’ve seen on this journey, when left to our own devices, most of us just want to help, connect, and live peacefully.

So here’s to faith — not the kind that divides, but the kind that brings us together. Here’s to spices, stories, and the belief that we’re all in this together. Let us all have faith in humanity and just be humans!

Arabian night - a broken fantasy!

My plan was to trace the ancient Silk and Spice Routes by land as much as possible. So, in a moment of adventurous spirit, I decided to take a bus from Riyadh to Jeddah, crossing Saudi Arabia from east to west. A 12-hour journey through the vast Arabian desert! It sounded thrilling, mysterious, and perhaps a little daunting. But how wrong I was, more on that in a moment.

Before embarking on this desert odyssey, I spent the day soaking in Riyadh’s glitz and glamorous shiny skyscrapers, luxury malls, and spotless streets. But I wanted something with a little more history, so I made my way to Diriyah, the birthplace of the Saudi kingdom. This was where the first members of the Saud family established their capital. Today, of course, it’s a polished tourist attraction, complete with boutique shops, high-end restaurants, and all the modern amenities one could ask for.

Right next to Diriyah was Wadi Hanifa, a seasonal river. Saudi Arabia, being mostly desert, has no permanent rivers, just these wadis that appear briefly after heavy rains before vanishing into the thirsty ground. Riyadh, it turns out, sits atop a plentiful supply of groundwater, though you wouldn’t know it by looking at the landscape.

After roaming around the carefully restored ruins, I sat down at a charming cafe within the complex. The waiter greeted me with a warm smile and, to my surprise, shared my name. Like many in the service industry here, he was an economic migrant from India. A hotel management graduate, he had worked in several countries before landing here. He proudly mentioned that he also managed catering at a golf course, which seemed to give him a great sense of satisfaction.

He recommended a Date Latte and a pastry with dates and saffron. Now, I’m not a coffee expert but dates and saffron in coffee didn’t seem right, tastes ok may be worth trying once.

Just as I was attempting a selfie (with my usual terrible angles), a young Saudi woman approached me from next table and offered to take my picture. I hesitated for a second, my preconceptions about conservative Saudi society kicking in, but her confidence and friendly demeanor were disarming. She was dressed traditionally, but her attitude was anything but reserved. It was a small but warm moment, another reminder that cultures are never as rigid as stereotypes suggest.

Leaving the well-maintained ruins behind, I ventured into the real down town and it was a world away from the pristine tourist spots. The streets were chaotic, loud, and had that familiar touch of disorganization that reminded me of home in India. Litter was scattered around, honking filled the air, and the vibrant energy of service expat communities made it feel like a completely different city.

The upside? The food. Oh, the food! I finally got to taste proper Arabic cuisine in its authentic, unpolished setting. With my stomach full and my backpack slung over my shoulder, I made my way to the bus station.

The contrast between Riyadh’s posh, futuristic metro stations and the bus terminal was, let’s just say, significant. The place was chaotic and worn down, but to my surprise, the bus service had an airport-style luggage check-in system. They even tagged the bags, quite impressive for a bus journey. But why? Who was going to steal my backpack full of crumpled clothes and phone chargers?

The bus itself was comfortable enough. As we left Riyadh, I eagerly awaited the grand, starry desert views I had imagined in my mind- moonlit dunes, endless horizons, maybe even a camel caravan in the distance. Reality check: nothing of the sort happened.

Instead, both sides of the highway were lined with bright industrial lights and an endless stream of Aramco oil tankers. Any hint of wilderness was swallowed by commercial activity. The few patches of desert I managed to glimpse were underwhelming, with the occasional crescent moon hanging above them, but no sweeping landscapes of rolling dunes like I had imagined.

Three rest stops along the way was good to stretch the legs, but each was just a functional pit stop with tired travelers, fluorescent-lit cafeterias, and overpriced snacks. No beautiful oasis surrounded by date palm trees or tribal people around a fire narrating stories of their travels and adventures. I sighed and decided to keep my Arabian Nights fantasies to myself.

After a long and rather unremarkable bus ride, we finally reached Jeddah the next morning. I was exhausted but excited as this was the next chapter of my journey, and despite the unexpected twists, I was ready to explore.

Moral of the story? Sometimes travel surprises you in ways you don’t expect. And sometimes, your imagination is better than reality.

Keep imagining!

Where are all Saudi’s?

I landed at Riyadh International Airport in the ungodly hours of the night, at 1 AM to be precise. I had imagined a ghost town, with empty halls, sleepy-eyed security officers, and a struggle to find a taxi or even a snack. Turns out, I was in for a surprise. The airport was buzzing with life as if it were the middle of the afternoon.

Stepping off the plane, I was greeted by a gentle 12-degree breeze not too cold, not too warm. Just right. The airport itself was spotless, shining as if someone had polished every tile with devotion. But the real shocker? Every single passport control officer was a woman. Yes, in Saudi Arabia. In full burqas, yes, but working efficiently, checking passports and scanning fingerprints like seasoned pros. Now, I grew up with the belief that women in this part of the world weren’t t given jobs like these. Clearly, I had been misinformed.

My officer, who took my fingerprints (first-time visitor perks!), asked me a few questions in fairly decent English, stamped my passport, and welcomed me to the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. Well, that was easy.

Walking into the arrivals lounge, I was met with a bazaar of activity -taxi drivers haggling like I was a rare artefact at an auction, people chattering in Arabic, and, to my delight, restaurants still open. At 1 AM.

One particular fast-food place, Al Baik, caught my attention apparently the McDonalds of the Middle East. But what really got me was the two men behind the counter speaking in Hindi/Urdu. Turns out, they were from Pakistan. I had a little chat with them, grabbed a meal, and tried booking an Uber. No luck. My WiFi wasn’t t working, and of course, the airport required a local phone number to access it. The irony is why would they need a number when most visitors phones wouldn’t even work here?

Left with no choice, I agreed to take a taxi from one of the haggling drivers. He quoted me the same price as Uber, so I followed him. And that’s s when things got weird.

He led me to the parking lot, then out of nowhere handed me over to another man. No explanation, no introductions, just a silent exchange. This new guy, also speaking only Arabic, motioned for me to follow. I suddenly realized I was being passed around like a parcel. The original guy? Just a middleman. The actual driver? Standing by his car, waiting for passengers to be delivered to him.

By now, my internal alarm bells were ringing, but what could I do? I tried using Google Translate, but these guys were operating on fast-forward mode. Before I could protest, my bags were already in the trunk.

Once in the car, the driver quoted a price 10 riyals higher than what I had agreed upon. Classic. He mumbled something about airport parking charges. Honestly, at 1:30 AM, in an unfamiliar country, I wasn’t about to argue over 10 riyals. I paid up.

Despite the language barrier, we managed a conversation. He asked if I was from India. I told him I was coming from Birmingham. Blank stare. I tried London. Ah, recognition! To many, the UK is just London.

My driver, a middle-aged Syrian, had fled his homeland due to the war. Now, he drove taxis in Riyadh to make a living. The ride wasn’t t too bad, and he got me to my hotel by 2 AM.

At check-in, I met an Indian night manager, who helped with the process. The bellboy? A young Bangladeshi, who immediately asked if I was from India. I said London, but he wasn’t interested in my geography. He had politics on his mind.

Out of nowhere, he declared in a thick Bangladeshi-Hindi accent, “Modi didn’t do a good thing, sir.

For a moment, I was lost. Then I realised he was talking about India granting asylum to Sheikh Hasina. He was not happy about it.

I nodded, offered a vague comment and escaped to my room. I wasn’t about to get into a political debate at 2 AM.

The next morning, I set out to explore Riyadh. Walking towards Kingdom Center, the city’s s tallest skyscraper, I was finally hoping to see some actual Saudis.

Instead, I met Abid-a young, well-dressed man in his late 20s. He introduced himself as Pakistani, then quickly added, Oh, my parents are from India too, so I am both Indian and Pakistani. In Pakistan, I’m Abid. In India, I’m Abi. Smooth.

He was in Saudi Arabia looking for a job but had been scammed by an agent who took his money and disappeared. Now, he was wandering the city, handing out CVs, hoping for a break. His story wasn’t unique many young men fall for these job scams. I wished him luck and moved on.

Everywhere I went -malls, restaurants, hotels I saw Indians, Pakistanis, Bangladeshis, and other expats. But where were the Saudis?

Determined to interact with a local, I went to buy a SIM card. Unlike the UK, where you can grab one from a supermarket, here you needed to visit an official mobile network office.

At Zain Mobile, I finally met a Saudi national a well-dressed store manager who spoke fluent English. He handed me a token and told me to wait my turn (organized, I’ll give them that). While chatting, I casually asked, Where are all the Saudi people?

With a knowing smile, he explained: Most Saudis have middle or upper-middle-class jobs. The lower-income jobs? Those are for expats.

A quick Wikipedia search later, I found out that out of Saudi Arabia’s 36 million people, only 18 million are actual Saudi citizens. The rest? Economic migrants. 50% of the country’s s population is made up of foreign workers. No wonder I wasn’t t seeing locals in the service sector!

Trying out Riyadh’s fancy new metro, I noticed something interesting. The train had separate compartments: single men, families, women-only, standard class, and first class.

As I tried stepping into first class, a platform attendant stopped me. He explained in Hindi that this was first class, hinting that I should stick to standard.

Ouch. Was it my brown skin? Or was I just assumed to be an economic migrant who couldn’t t afford luxury? Either way, it stung. It felt like economic apartheid not based on race, but wealth. A system where the rich could afford everything, and the rest just couldn’t.

Despite the odd encounters, I had met warm and hardworking people-migrants chasing better lives, Syrians escaping war, and a Pakistani-Indian man with two names.

I came here expecting to observe Saudi culture. Instead, I was witnessing a country built on the labour of others.

I’ll continue exploring and reflecting. Because at the end of the day, I see people as humans first - beyond race, nationality, or class.

More to come in my next blog.

Saudi Arabia - Land of traders

Ever since childhood, I have been captivated by the enchanting tales of Arabian Nights and the daring adventures of Sinbad. Arabia has always felt like a land of mystery, adventure, and wonder - a place where ancient trade routes whisper stories of spice-laden caravans and bustling souks.

As I prepare for my journey, I asked AI to map the legendary spice route through Arabia, tracing the footsteps of traders who once crossed vast deserts and coastal towns. ( all wonderful AI images uploaded to Instagram account, as this site asking a fortune for subscription :))

And now, the adventure is finally real next week, I set off to explore and immerse myself in the heart of Saudi Arabia. I can almost smell the spices, feel the desert breeze, and hear the echoes of history calling.

Excitement is an understatement. Let the journey begin!

Silk Road

Why the Silk Road?

The Silk Road is more than just a historical trade route—it's a timeless thread that weaves together the stories of merchants, scholars, and pilgrims from an era long before the modern age (1500 CE). Unfortunately, so many of their accounts have been lost to time. Unlike today, when every moment is meticulously documented, the past often relies on scattered evidence to tell its tales. It makes me wonder: if there’s no record of something, did it truly happen?

Back then, there were no passports or visas, no borders dividing explorers from their destinations. Travelers embarked on journeys unrestricted, driven by curiosity and purpose. Exploring the Silk Road today is a completely different experience—modern transportation has made it safer and more accessible, though the spirit of adventure remains unchanged. Of course, undertaking such an expedition still requires means, planning, and a touch of daring.

In the pre-14th century world, I can't think of any network comparable to the Silk Road. It was the world’s first great highway, connecting East and West. Today, I’m flipping the script, traveling the route in reverse—from West to East.

Why Travel?

Wanderlust has always been a part of who I am—an insatiable urge to discover new places, meet new people, and experience the world beyond my comfort zone. Years ago, I made up my mind to embark on this journey, inspired by countless books, documentaries, and travel shows that fueled my curiosity.

For me, this isn’t just about crossing destinations off a list; it’s a deeply personal journey. The Silk Road represents more than just a physical route—it’s a voyage into history, culture, and the human spirit.

The Silk Road isn’t just a route; it’s a symbol of human curiosity, resilience, and connectivity. Spanning thousands of miles from China to Europe, this ancient trade network shaped the course of civilizations for over a millennium. More than a mere highway for goods, the Silk Road was a cultural bridge that connected empires, fostered the exchange of ideas, and influenced countless lives.

The Routes: A Vast Network Across Continents

The Silk Road wasn’t a single pathway but a sprawling web of trade routes that crossed mountains, deserts, and seas. It originated in ancient China, with key cities like Xi’an serving as the starting point. From there, it branched out westward, passing through Central Asia's bustling hubs like Samarkand and Bukhara. The route then divided into northern and southern corridors:

• The Northern Route passed through Central Asia, the Caspian Sea, and into Eastern Europe.
• The Southern Route traversed Iran, the Arabian Peninsula, and India, linking the Middle East with the Mediterranean.
• Maritime extensions connected ports in the Arabian Peninsula and India to the East African coast.

India played a crucial role in this network, serving as both a destination and a transit hub for goods flowing between East Asia and the Middle East. Similarly, the Arabian Peninsula facilitated the exchange of goods and ideas between Asia, Africa, and Europe, creating a truly global system of trade and culture.

What Was Traded?

The Silk Road earned its name from one of its most prized commodities: Chinese silk, a luxurious fabric coveted in royal courts from Rome to Constantinople. However, silk was just one of many treasures exchanged along these routes:

• China contributed porcelain, paper, tea, and gunpowder.
• India exported spices, gemstones, textiles, and ivory.
• The Middle East supplied glassware, carpets, and perfumes.
• Europe offered silver, wine, and woolen goods.

But it wasn’t just goods that traveled the Silk Road—philosophies, religions, and technologies were exchanged as well. Buddhism spread from India to China and beyond, while Islamic art and science flowed eastward.

Famous Travelers of the Silk Road

The Silk Road attracted adventurers, scholars, and traders who left behind vivid accounts of their experiences. Some of the most notable include:

• Marco Polo: The Venetian merchant whose travels to China in the 13th century were immortalized in his book, inspiring generations of explorers.
• Xuanzang: A Chinese Buddhist monk who journeyed to India in the 7th century, bringing back scriptures and spreading Buddhism across Asia.
• Ibn Battuta: The Moroccan explorer who traveled extensively across the Silk Road, documenting the diverse cultures he encountered.
• Zhang Qian: Often called the “Father of the Silk Road,” this Chinese diplomat’s expeditions in the 2nd century BCE helped establish the trade routes.

Cultural and Historical Highlights

The Silk Road linked some of the most iconic places in history. Travelers would encounter architectural marvels, spiritual sanctuaries, and thriving cities along the way:

• Xi’an, China: The starting point of the Silk Road, home to the Terracotta Army and ancient Tang Dynasty palaces.
• Samarkand, Uzbekistan: A jewel of Central Asia, known for its stunning blue-tiled mosques and role as a crossroads of trade.
• Petra, Jordan: A UNESCO World Heritage Site and former caravan city that connected Arabia with the Mediterranean world.
• Venice, Italy: A European endpoint of the Silk Road, renowned for its mercantile wealth and connection to global trade.

Why the Silk Road Matters Today

Traveling the Silk Road today is like stepping into a living museum. While modern highways and railroads have replaced the ancient caravans, the spirit of the Silk Road endures in the vibrant cultures, traditions, and cuisines it influenced. Whether you’re marveling at the Great Wall of China, exploring the bazaars of Bukhara, or sipping tea in an Arabian souk, you’re walking in the footsteps of history.

For travelers, the Silk Road is more than a journey; it’s a chance to connect with humanity’s shared past and experience the legacy of a route that shaped the world as we know it.

Prologue

Exploring the Ancient Silk and Spice Routes: A Journey of History, Culture, and Self-Discovery

Welcome to my travel blog! Here, I’ll be sharing my experiences as I traverse the ancient paths of the Silk Road and the Spice Route—two iconic trade networks that have shaped human civilization in profound ways. The thoughts and reflections you’ll find here are entirely my own, based on what I’ve seen, heard, and felt during this incredible journey.

The Silk Road and the Spice Route have long fascinated me. These trade routes, which date back to the dawn of history, were the arteries of commerce, culture, and connection. They facilitated the rise and fall of kingdoms, spread religions across continents, and served as conduits for the exchange of ideas and philosophies. Before the emergence of major religions like Zoroastrianism, Hinduism, Buddhism, Christianity, and Islam, these routes bore witness to the early seeds of faith and belief, carrying them to far corners of the world where they evolved into the spiritual systems we know today.

This journey holds immense historical and cultural significance, but it is also deeply personal for me. In many ways, it is a spiritual odyssey—a quest for self-discovery as much as a walk through the annals of human heritage. I’ve been dreaming of this adventure for years, and after much planning, I’ve carved out three months from my busy life to immerse myself in the stories and landscapes of these legendary routes.

Through this blog, I’ll reflect on everything I encounter along the way—the people, the places, the traditions, and the echoes of history that resonate in the present. My aim is to view the world through the lens of ancient cultures and traditions, to see how the past continues to shape our collective identity as humans.

I want to emphasize that this blog is not about promoting or criticizing any particular belief, culture, or ideology. It’s a humble attempt to explore and share the heritage of these remarkable trade routes that belong to all of us as a shared human legacy. Alongside my reflections, I’ll include photos, videos, and snippets from the journey, giving you a closer glimpse of the adventure as it unfolds.

This blog is a labor of love—a non-commercial project created purely for the joy of exploration and the desire to share this journey with others who might be as captivated by the Silk Road and Spice Route as I am. Feedback is always welcome, and I’d be thrilled to hear your thoughts on how I can improve this space.

So, join me as I set off on this incredible expedition through time, culture, and spirituality. Together, let’s rediscover the wonders of the ancient Silk Road and Spice Route and celebrate the shared heritage that connects us all as humans.

Happy reading! 🌏