Mina’s Street 204 was echoing with the chants of “Labbaik, Allahumma labbaik” and “Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar,” on Thursday. Religious fervor was at its peak, although the long route from “Extended Mina” (Muzdalifa) to the Jamarat did not offer any respite from the intense heat.

Transcending the diversity of cultures, color and creed, pilgrims of various nationalities were moving shoulder to shoulder, without any prejudices, in a disciplined manner.

Everything seemed to be on course that morning — the first day of the symbolic stoning of the devil ritual — until suddenly something went wrong. A small group of about 10 pilgrims, with one of them pushing an elderly woman in a wheelchair, barged in from the opposite direction. There was nobody to stop this group.

The situation started turning chaotic, but nobody could gauge the ensuing magnitude of the tragedy. I tried to push back one of the “intruders,” but he turned wild and failed to understand what he and the other few were doing.

A couple of abandoned wheelchairs in the area added to the difficulties. However, after about 15-20 minutes of pushing and nudging, I got out of the place.

I was yearning for fresh air as I had almost suffocated. After joining the groups marching ahead, I was too exhausted to even turn around and see what was happening. My 30-year-old nephew, who was with me, exclaimed: “What a relief. Looks like the crowd has become less.”

Both of us had, however, failed to understand that we had just left a place that had turned into a death trap. A total of 769 pilgrims lost their lives and 934 were injured in the incident.

The stoning at the Jamarat went in a peaceful and systematic manner. The water spraying fans and water coolers at the Jamarat provided the much-needed relief to pilgrims thirsting for water.

The tonsuring of heads seemed smooth, barring stray incidents of a handful of pilgrim-turned-barbers trying to make that extra buck by offering their services.