Ali Shahalom

Squint and you could be in a reform voter's dream.

Almost.

From start to finish, this ritual took nearly three hours.

That's almost as long as one Bollywood film.

At the end of this, me and my dad shave our heads for the first time as a symbolic act of purification, humility and submission to Allah.

Now not only am I feeling different, I'm also looking different.

Sort of like a Bangladeshi Dwayne Johnson, but without the muscles, tats or tequila.

I don't want to sound like a broken record, but I cannot overstate how hot it was.

At the time, this was the hottest hodge in history.

The weather hit 50 degrees and we had just walked over 20,000 steps under the unforgiving sun.

It felt like we were hiking inside a McDonald's apple pie.

Everywhere you look, people are struggling.

We then migrate to Minna, the city of tents, where we are met with the most amazing sound.

Air conditioning needed that.

Now, Minna is 20 square kilometers of high-tech tents.

More than 100,000 Markey-like canopies host 2.6 million pilgrims.

That's the equivalent of 13 Glastonbury festivals happening at once.

The tents vary in size.

Some hold just a few people, others host hundreds.

But everyone who books a hodge ticket gets a designated spot.