In 1433, it was Burhanuddin Moula’s RA last Ashara Mubarakah in Surat. I was amongst those fortunate mumineen who attended both Moua; Moulana Mufaddal Saifuddin TUS commencing Waaz Majlis in the morning, and Burhanuddin Moula RA presiding over the Matam Majlis in the evening.

It was long since I had done Burhanuddin Moula’s RA salam, and I was never blessed with the sharaf of Mufaddal Moula’s TUS salam either. Therefore, it was the only dua I prayed for, every day during Ashara Mubaraka. Hundreds of mumineen were getting sharaf of qadambosi and salam including my friends, family and almost everyone I knew of. I kept praying.

As the days passed, I started to feel uneasy and my thirst increased. Every time I did deedar, I wept and my heart cried; “moula mane bhi naseeb thai”. Until it was Ashura, my last hope. The last qadambosi bethak ended. I was heart–broken, and I grieved immensely. Had I sinned so much? Moula, please forgive me; the only thoughts that came to my mind.

It was 12^th of Moharram, and my last day in Surat. I was standing amongst a crowd of mumineen for, probably, my last deedar before I left. I waited with a salam envelope in my hand, and with eyes full of tears. Mufaddal Moula TUS arrived. As He TUS progressed in front of the crowd I was standing in, my heart called; “Moula mane maaf karjo”, and I cried out; “Moula”.

Moula TUS turned around, looked at me, stretched out his haath mubarak over the crowd towards me, placed it on my hands, acknowledged the lifafa, smiled and progressed ahead. I could not stop crying.

I went to my utara, recalled what I had experienced, and with my eyes wet, I slept. In my dream, I saw Burhanuddin Moula RA leading the tilawat dua in the Evan Mubarak of Al Jamea Tus Saifiyah, where He RA was seated on a gaadi. I was standing there with abna’ul Jamea, and I suddenly heard a behnsaab instructing me to do salam. As soon as I bent down to perform salam, I wept uncontrollably. Burhanuddin Moula RA pulled me closer, extended his haath Mubarak so I could perform salam, kissed my forehead and said; “khush che, hawe roje nai”.

Indeed, Moula can never see tears in his children’s eyes.

Behn Rashida M Mufaddal

Karachi, Pakistan

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