Ikseer Laa Ke Rakho To Chu’ae Na Haath Se, Jiss Ne Uthai Khaak Tere Aastaan Ki

جز آستان توام در جهان پناهی نیست
سرِ مرا به جز این در حواله گاهی نیست

Except for Your threshold, I have no refuge in this world;
For my head, there is no place of surrender but this door.
— Hafiz Shirazi

Touch is the first sense through which we meet the world, and the last to leave us as we stand close to death. It is often said that touch comes before sight, before speech. It is our first language and our final one, and it never lies. Our bodies seem to agree. Even before birth, a child is wrapped in fine hairs, lanugo, as if the body is preparing itself to feel before it learns to see or speak.

That is why touch holds the ability to heal. A held hand can calm pain in a way words never can. At the moment of death, it may feel as if the comfort of touch is taken away, but those who have felt the touch of the soul know something else. They know they are not alone.

On the 13th of October 2023, my daughter Nafeesa met with an accident at school and broke her arm. She was in severe pain when we rushed her to the hospital. The fracture was serious. She needed immediate elbow surgery, and a steel wire was inserted.

The surgery took place the next day, on the 14th of October. We were told that the wire and plaster would be removed after a month. Each day, we reassured Nafeesa that she was getting better, that soon she would be able to use her hand normally again.

We held on to that hope.

Finally, on the 14th of November, the plaster and wires were removed. Her arm looked fine. She could move her elbow without pain. We felt relieved. But moments later, Nafeesa said something that froze us. She said she could not feel her thumb. It felt as if it did not exist. Our relief vanished. We rushed back to the hospital. The doctors were confused and visibly shaken. We were told to wait for a few days. Perhaps, they said, it was just the effect of having the plaster on for so long.

We could see from their faces that something was not right. We overheard them quietly suggesting that the wire insertion might have caused this.

We returned home. Nafeesa tried to hold a pencil. She could not. We were devastated. There was nothing to do except wait and hope.

It was during this difficult time that we learned that Mufaddal Moula TUS would be visiting Karachi. The news felt like a gentle touch on the soul.

On the 20th of November 2023, we went to Aqa Moula’s bethak with Nafeesa and an araz in our hands, seeking shifa. Moula read the araz. I said softly, “Moula, haath na angutha ma jaan nathi.” Moula paused. He looked at Nafeesa and asked, “Aim kem jaan na hoi?” He then asked the doctors present to understand the situation fully. After listening, Moula mentioned a specific doctor and instructed us to consult him.

On the 25th of November, we went to see the doctor Moula had directed us to. Despite having a waiting list of over two months, he saw us immediately upon learning that Moula had sent us. He examined Nafeesa’s thumb carefully and his concern was evident. He told us that this condition was most likely a result of the surgery and that it was uncommon. He tried different methods, but Nafeesa felt nothing. He advised us to continue with a splint bandage for a few months. If there was still no improvement, he said, another surgery might be the only option, and even then, the chances of the thumb functioning normally were grim.

His words left us with very little hope.

The next day was Sunday. Moula was blessing the shops of the mumineen with qadam mubarak. He was present at a shop across from my house. I stood there for didar, holding Nafeesa in my arms, tears in my eyes. I had removed the splint from her hand. In my heart, I kept repeating: “Moula, aap shifa aapso.”

Moula came out of the shop and walked toward where we were standing. I could not speak. Not a word. I only said “Moula” and brought my daughter forward. Moula looked at her, smiled, and gently held Nafeesa’s very hand with his haath mubarak. He held it for a few seconds, smiled again, and moved on.

I returned home overwhelmed with gratitude, calm, and a quiet sense of certainty.

As we were still talking about what had just happened, something caught my eye. Nafeesa was lifting and holding things normally, easily, naturally. We stood still. None of us could believe it.

It was not the same hand. It was a hand that had been touched and held by the one who keeps reminding us that we are never alone.

Not here. And not in the hereafter.

Behn Batool Juzer Bhai Abadaniwala

Karachi, Pakistan

In the means of shukr and zikr, anyone who is willing to share his/her’s acquaintance, incident or any experience with Moulana Muqaddas RA or Moulana Mufaddal Saifuddin TUS can mail it to dm@tazkerat.org & md@tazkerat.org

Tab Tak Salamat Aap Rahein Khalq Mein Huzur, Jab Tak Baqa Jahan Mein Ardo Sama Ki Hai

As a nutritionist specializing in the care of diabetic and cancer patients, I have always been a steadfast advocate for the remarkable qualities of honey. Beyond its numerous health benefits, honey is nature’s ultimate preservative. Anything surrounded by its embrace is protected and safeguarded.

My story has a symbolic association with the above.

On the 7th of April 2024, 29th of Shahre Ramadan, I was waiting for Moula’s TUS didar after fajr namaz at Saify Mahal. I had been working on developing a game aimed at creating protocols and tools for paediatric cancer patients to test their efficacy levels. That morning, I was there to present the draft of my work to Moula TUS.

When Moula arrived, he asked, “Tame su karo cho?”

I replied, “Moula, mein nutritionist chu, diabetic aney cancer patients ne insulin guidance aapu chu.” As Moula TUS nodded, I presented the draft of the game on my laptop. Moula listened to my araz with keen attention. Then, to my utter astonishment, Moula said, “Tame aaney copyright karawi lejo.” I froze, caught off guard by his foresight and care. With a smile, Moula TUS repeated, “Copyright karawi lejo. Tamam logo ne, ibadullah ne bhi faido thai”.

I performed salam and Moula departed. I had touched honey.

Months passed. On the 21st of November, 20th of Jamad al-Ula, Moula graced our house in Itarsi with his presence. As my family members performed salam and presented their araz, my turn came. I had with me the final draft of the game, ready to present it to Moula TUS. Yet, before I could speak a word, Moula looked at me and asked, “Tame copyright karawi chuka cho ne?”

I replied, “Jee, Moula.”

With a radiant smile, Moula placed his Haath Mubarak on the game.

Even now, as I recall that moment, I can feel the sweetness of his beaming smile and the warmth of his protective Nazar Mubarak.

Having spent my life advocating for the protective qualities of honey, I experienced it in its truest and most profound sense that day. Moula’s TUS care was not just about ensuring the copyrights of the game, which I later realized was extremely crucial as I progressed in my PhD; It was his way of extending his assurance, his promise that he would always safeguard us, surrounding us in his love and protection just as honey preserves and protects whatever it embraces.

Behn Tasneem Abbas Bhai Kapasi

Jalgaon, India

In the means of shukr and zikr, anyone who is willing to share his/her’s acquaintance, incident, or any experience with Moulana Muqaddas RA or Moulana Mufaddal Saifuddin TUS can mail it to dm@tazkerat.org & md@tazkerat.org

Behr-e Sakha o Faiz Tera Wo Hai Mojzan, Darya-e Be’kanaar Bhi Aya Shumaar Mein

In 1997, during Moulana Mohammed Burhanuddin’s RA visit to Bangkok, I was fortunate to be there. I would be around Moula RA through the day and night; from talaqqi to salaam, from takbeera to azaan, I got all that I had never even dreamt of.

Yet, there was something I had been praying for for many years. My hopes were low, but I knew if there was anyone who could change my situation, it was Moulana Mohammad Burhanuddin RA.

On one instance, during a qadambosi bethak, I performed salaam and with tears in my eyes, I uttered: ‘Moula mari shaadi ne ghana waras thai gaya, mara paase farzand nathi’.

Moula RA looked at me for some moments, and stated: ‘mari aankho ma dekhi ne kaho ke mein Karbala ni zyarat karwa jais’. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I looked up and responded: ‘Moula mein Karbala jais’.

Just as I was moving away, Moula RA stopped me, blessed me with a radiant smile, and proclaimed in an assertive and joyous voice: ‘pachi dikro thai to mara paase lawjo’.

Words cannot describe how I felt in that moment. The world around me stopped, and I could feel a child in my arms. My heart was brimming with gratitude and hope.

I went to Karbala shortly afterward. Burhanuddin Moula RA visited Karachi the next year, and I went to Burhani Mahal with my son. As Moula RA passed by us, with tears in my eyes and a child in my hands, I said: ‘Moula aa farzand aapye aapu che, aapye farmayu hatu mara pase lai ne awjo’.

Moula RA stopped, graced us with a warm, reassuring smile, blessed my son with his Nazar Mubarak, and walked forward to numerous other mumineen who were most certainly standing there just like me, blessed by Moulana Mohammad Burhanuddin’s RA touch of life.

I am just among the thousands.

Alamdar Hussain Bhai Darugar

Karachi, Pakistan

In the means of shukr and zikr, anyone who is willing to share his/her’s acquaintance, incident, or any experience with Moulana Muqaddas RA or Moulana Mufaddal Saifuddin TUS can mail it to dm@tazkerat.org & md@tazkerat.org

Wo Sar Buland Huwa Hai Jahan Mein Ahmed, Huzur-e Sarwar-e-Deen Jisne Sar Jhukaya Hai

The year 1412 AH held immense significance in my life. After facing numerous challenges, I managed to secure a US visa to pursue computer graphics courses. In the same year, during my time in Dubai, I was blessed with the khidmat sharaf of transcribing the collection of Syedna Taher Saifuddin’s RA Qasaid Sharifa.

Life seemed to be going perfectly, and I was engulfed by happiness and satisfaction.

Ashara Mubarakah in 1413 AH was held in Pune. After completing half of the project in Dubai, I returned to India for the occasion. Unfortunately, my Dubai visa had expired, and I was in the process of renewing it while continuing my work at Badri Mahal in Mumbai.

One fateful Wednesday at Victoria Terminus station, as I bid farewell to my sister, a pickpocket snatched my passport from my kurta pocket. Panic and sorrow overwhelmed me as I realized the loss of not just my identity but also my dreams.

With a heavy heart and tearful eyes, I went back to the station and searched the entire place relentlessly, hoping against hope to find the passport. I continued doing rounds of the station and asking people through the next day.

On Friday, in the depths of despair, I went to Raudat Tahera, put my head on the Qabr Mubarak, and pleaded with tears rolling down: “Ae Moula, mane koi bhi tarah si aaj naj din ma mari passport mili jai, aap mari muraad koi bhi tarah poori kari aapye”.

With my heart laid bare, I was walking around the Qabr Mubarak when an acquaintance approached me and inquired about my distressed state. I informed him what had transpired to which he replied: “Taher Saifuddin Moula si maango, aap no waseelo lo, ye kai bhi kari sake che”.

After zyarat, I went to Badri Mahal to continue the work. Shortly afterward, I returned home for lunch as I was unable to lift myself up to continue the work with the same energy.

Then, at around 2:30 PM, an unexpected call came from my office colleague. A person had come with my passport and insisted on handing it over to me personally. Overwhelmed with shock and gratitude, I rushed to the office, but the person had already left, leaving an address behind.

Following the address, my colleague and I met a Madrasi hawker with a stall near VT station. He handed me my passport with a calm smile, seemingly curious about my reaction. As I stood there, puzzled, he began recounting the sequence of events leading to the recovery of my passport.

He had found the passport two days ago, after witnessing a man across his stall trying to hide and flipping through its contents. The man eventually discarded it near his stall, and the Madrasi Bhai picked it up, safeguarding it until the next day. That morning, he noticed the picture of me wearing a topi in the passport and asked his neighboring Mumin Bhai, who wore a similar topi, if he recognized the owner. The Mumin Bhai replied negatively but told the Madrassi Bhai that he would certainly ask around.

All of this was happening while I was at Raudat Tahera.

According to the norm, the Mumin Bhai went to the Badri Mahal masjid for Jumua namaz. He sat right next to the person I had met a short while ago in Raudat Tahera. Amidst a usual conversation, the Mumin Bhai mentioned the passport with his Madrasi neighbor having the name ‘Saifuddin’. The person who knew me curiously inquired if the name was ‘Shabbir’ and not ‘Saifuddin’. The Mumin Bhai said that he was not sure. After the namaz, they both went to the Madrasi Bhai which led to the serendipitous return of my lost passport.

For some, it may appear as a series of fortunate coincidences, but for me, it was a divine intervention, a testament to the power of Moulana Taher Saifuddin’s blessings. As my friend had said, “Moulana Taher Saifuddin kai bhi kari sake che”.

Moulana Mohammed Burhanuddin RA once stated “mumineen tamara sagla paase walayat nu passport che”.

And indeed, it does wonders.

Sheikh Shabbir Bhai Saifee

Houston, USA

In the means of shukr and zikr, anyone who is willing to share his/her’s acquaintance, incident, or any experience with Moulana Muqaddas RA or Moulana Mufaddal Saifuddin TUS can mail it to dm@tazkerat.org & md@tazkerat.org

Aankhon Mein Jiski Hai Tere Khaak-e-Qadam Ki Qadr, Ikseer Ki Jahaan Mein Usko Talab Nahi

The desire to witness the spectacle of metal turning into gold and the miracle of the dead coming back to an immortal life have been at the heart of mankind’s pursuit of the elixir also known as the philosopher’s stone.

I can say with utmost conviction that I have lived the aforesaid transformations.

It was the year 2016 and Mufaddal Moula TUS was in Karachi for Syedna Taher Saifuddin’s RA milaad when I first got a glimpse of Moula in person. Taken along by my mother for the bethak I was lumbering behind her with a broken and bleeding toe amidst a massive crowd of women crying.

Hesitant, confused, and wanting to slip out of the queue at the first possible chance, I somehow reached the bethak. As I looked up to Moula, my eyes met his warm gaze and I froze.

The elixir was in effect. My life changed.

Fast-forwarding to 16th September 2017, Moula was in Karachi for Asharah Mubarakah and I was heading to Burhani Mahal for the bethak; however, this time with eyes full of tears, heart exploding with the desire to acquire the sight of his beaming countenance, and every inch of my existence willing to swim oceans and walk scorching deserts to get a touch of his hands.

This was not me. I was unable to comprehend what was happening to me. It was the elixir-pull.

As I neared Moula, I sobbed. Unlike the norm of salaam, I clasped both the arms of Moula and cried: “moula mein aapne nai choru, jab tak aap nahi kahenge ke aap mere ghar aaenge”.

The dealings of the bethak came to an impromptu halt.

Moula responded with a sparkling grin as I remained in the same state and repeated the very words for a fine ten to fifteen seconds.

As I walked back, the reactions on the faces of the people around Moula made me realize that I might have landed myself in hot water and that I will never be allowed to be in this place again.

Regardless, somehow, I was at the bethak again the very next day with my mother.

I was standing at a side in the hall eagerly hoping no one would remember me from the previous day when a behnsaab approached and asked me to get in the qadambosi queue. I hesitated initially as I did not want to be in the spotlight again after creating a scene less than twenty-four hours ago but submitted myself into the line upon insistence.

As I neared Moula, I saw the smile on his face widening, and making use of that, I voiced: “Moula mein aapko remind karwane aayee hun ke aapko mere ghar aana hai”.

The buzzing in the hall fell into complete silence as everybody stood in shock and awe.

Moula nodded and I bolted out of the hall.

On the 8th of October, Sunday, I was informed that Moula wished to visit my house. He remembered, was my first reaction to the news. As we scrambled to make preparations, I felt the house was grooming itself for Moula’s visit.

When I saw Moula walking towards my house, I broke down in tears in front of him and he stated: “pehla din awi ne mane kidu hatu ke mara ghare padharo, mein awi gayo”.

The next fifteen minutes seemed like a lifetime. We poured our hearts out to him in form of words, tears, and emotions. He listened to all of it, perceived the unsaid, and placed his haath mubarak on us assuring we need not worry as he is always going to be there.

Just before Moula was about to leave, he looked at me as I had my gaze fixated on him. My heart was crying a lot that I could not bring to words but I could perceive Moula was hearing it all.

At that moment, with tears running down my face and hands folded, I uttered: “I love you so much Moula”.

With moist eyes and a warm smile, Moula looked at me as a father would regard his daughter who has come back to life from death.

What is an elixir? The answer rests below.

Mufaddal Moula arriving at Amatullah (Ambreen) Behn’s house.

The image is the exclusive property of the contributor and Tazkerat, and may not be copied, printed or otherwise disseminated without permission.

Behn Amatullah (Ambreen) Fakhruddin Bhai Valika

Karachi, Pakistan

In the means of shukr and zikr, anyone who is willing to share his/her’s acquaintance, incident or any experience with Moulana Muqaddas RA or Moulana Mufaddal Saifuddin TUS can mail it to dm@tazkerat.org & md@tazkerat.org

Farq Itna Mahru Mein Hai Aur Mehr Charkh Mein, Tafreeq Jitni Nur Mein Hai Aur Naar Mein

‘Bolts of lightening that kindle in my soul fire of your love are a blessing, not a misfortune’ says the Persian poet Hafiz Shirazi. I feel exactly the same as I narrate my account.

The 27th of September 2020 was like any other day for me until noon; things took a dramatic turn as the night began to fall. Around 5 PM, my wife suddenly sensed heat and smoke in the living room which was right above the basement. Immediately, I came to realize that the basement was caught on fire.

I hurried down to check out what had happened. As I opened the basement door, plumes of black smoke dashed on my face and took me down. I realized the fire had taken hold and scrambled to get out of the house with my wife and mother. Due to the smoke and intense stench and heat inside the house, I had to pull my wife out from the terrace.

A crowd had gathered outside the house at the sight of clouds of black smoke billowing out of the basement. The fire brigade teams arrived at the scene after a good forty-five minutes. The fire was blazing as the teams launched into putting it out. Two hours had passed but the fire refused to die out.

In the meantime, I had an araz presented to Mufaddal Moula TUS for dua mubarak. Around 8 PM, I received the dua mubarak paigaam along with word that Moula TUS has directed to recite azaan. We recited the azaan and a few minutes later, member of the fire brigade team showed up and informed that the fire has been successfully put out.

The story does not end here.

Next day, we went down to look at the condition and clear the place. The basement used to store household items and documents in cartons which were stacked in a three tier shelf. Everything was reduced to ashes by the fire.

During the clean-up, my wife caught sight of a carton on the first tier of the shelf which appeared somewhat intact. It was striking because even things on the second and third tier had burned to a crisp. In astonishment, she advanced to pick the carton up. As she was sorting the things inside the box, she suddenly paused; and got teary.

A frame of al-Quran al-Majid and picture of Moulana Mohammad Burhanuddin RA with the zareeh mubarak of Imam Hussain AS were unaffected. The back side of al-Quran’s frame and borders of Burhanuddin Moula’s RA picture were damaged which evidenced that the fire, at some point, did come into contact with the frame and the picture.

How did the house survive such a fire that was merrily blazing for hours? How did my wife manage to come out of the house unhurt?

The answer to the questions rested in a carton inside the basement in the shape of al-Quran al-Majid’s frame and the picture of Moulana Mohammad Burhanuddin RA; connection between the two does not require an explanation.

  • Frame of al-Quran al-Majid.
  • Picture of Moulana Mohammad Burhanuddin RA.
  • Fire residue cleared from the basement
  • Fire residue cleared from the basement.

These images are the exclusive property of the contributor and Tazkerat, and may not be copied, printed or otherwise disseminated without permission.

Shk Mustafa Bhai Jivanjee

Karachi, Pakistan

In the means of shukr and zikr, anyone who is willing to share his/her’s acquaintance, incident or any experience with Moulana Muqaddas RA or Moulana Mufaddal Saifuddin TUS can mail it to dm@tazkerat.org & md@tazkerat.org

Sa’il Na Kyun Ho Nutq Se Khushtar Teri Zuban, Gohar Fishan Kalam Hai Tere Jawab Ka

On the 5th of December 2018, Mufaddal Moula TUS graced Dahanu Road with his presence and presided over the iftetah of the masjid. On the same day, I was blessed with the sharaf of hosting a Majlis at my house.

En route to my house, I was in luck to accompany Moula TUS in the car. As is customary, Moula TUS quizzed me regarding my business, family, etcetera. Amidst the brief conversation, I picked up some courage and uttered: “moula mein aap si kai puchu?”. “han pucho”, Moula TUS responded with a smile.

With my hands folded I asked: “Moula aapni hobby su che?”.

Everyone present in the car was startled.

Even before my words faded, Moula TUS stated on the instant: “tamara sagla si milwu mari hobby che”, which was followed by a broad grin.

Moula’s TUS instantaneous reply left me, as well as everyone present around totally speechless.

This can only be said by someone who is always heard saying: “tamein mari mohabbat karo cho, ehna karta ghani zyada mein tamara si mohabbat karu chu”.

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These images are the exclusive property of the contributor and Tazkerat, and may not be copied, printed or otherwise disseminated without permission.

Shabbir Bhai Shk Ibrahim Bhai Vora

Dahuna Road, Mumbai, India

In the means of shukr and zikr, anyone who is willing to share his/her’s acquaintance, incident or any experience with Moulana Muqaddas RA or Moulana Mufaddal Saifuddin TUS can mail it to dm@tazkerat.org & md@tazkerat.org. 

Hai Najm’e Sa’adat Mein Ye Taseer Jo Dekhe, Isko Koi Mahmum To Buss Daf’a Wo Hum Ho

Sleep, from my earliest conscious memory, was forever a disturbed, nightmare plagued ordeal for me. I’d wake up screaming for fear of ghosts, witches, monsters, and myriad other unknown creatures that my overactive imagination would concoct. My eyes were very weak since I was born and to compensate, my other senses were perhaps on overdrive. In my half blind existence, and despite my parents’ extensive efforts to procure the best in treatments and glasses, I nonetheless felt haunted at all times by things I saw and sensed. Thus, I grew up an oddball tortured kid with the large glasses, always scared and always trying to find a safe spot to hide from the world.

When I turned nine, Burhanuddin Moula RA blessed us with his presence at our home and stayed in my parents’ newly built home for three days and two unforgettable nights. I got the opportunity of performing talaqqi, (and literally “bumped” into) Moulana RA many times during those three magical days. Needless to say—although it took my weak humanly nazar three decades of hindsight to fully appreciate—in that trip, Moula RA left an enormous indelible effect on us and our generations to come.

Rather, I would take it further and say that I felt that Moula RA came to Peshawar for me. And I know that every member of our tiny jamaat will stake the same claim, and hold the conviction that Moula RA made the trip precisely to save them or make them whole. We all know that, that is the wonderful effect of our Moula; we each feel like the most special one despite standing in a sea of people. Every nazar seems like it is crafted for us and for us alone. Every word is a direct dialogue with us as an individual, personalized towards what ever questions we have in our minds during waaz.

In that safar to our humble but proud town—proud to have had the honor of hosting Burhanuddin Moula RA thrice in a jamaat that on a good day would swell to but five thaals—an image of Moula RA sticks in my mind. My cousin and I were outside playing our usual games in the large gardens that surrounded our homes within the larger gated compound, when we found ourselves in the portion that extended towards Moulana’s RA room. As we ran around to the back, we saw Moula RA in the study through the large windows sitting on a rocking chair with Quran Majeed in hand. On hearing us outside, Moula RA looked up and smiled at us the most beautiful smile, filled with warmth and tenderness.

In our infinite ill-manners and insane excitement at being noticed, my cousin and I started waving at Moula RA and He RA looked at us and waved back in the most lighthearted way I have ever seen Him RA be. We didn’t think much of it then, other than sharing our adventure for bragging rights with the younger cousins.

Little did I know, that since then that image of Moula RA, in the rocking chair waving at two bare footed, unrefined children with the most effortless love, will save me on so many different occasions.

I now know that the day I remember standing and weeping, as Moula’s RA car pulled out of our garage, was in fact the day the healing began and the nightmares receded. I would, by the pure intuition of a survivor of horrors, conjure up that memory every time I was scared. I grew stronger in my faith as time went by, as I headed into the world with uncertain steps. With that barakat, I learnt how to follow my heart in matters of deen and duniya. I’ve been lucky and blessed beyond my wildest dreams, in my personal and professional life.

I was sure that my nightmares would one day kill me in my sleep; but since 1987 I have been sleeping like a rock. My friends at college would have to poke me routinely to check that I was alive, due to my infamous heavy sleep.

A miracle was recently defined by Mufaddal Moula TUS as the altering of a state from what it was, to something else.

I know now that back then Moula RA, with his noorani nazar, had seen my entire person and whole life trajectory, and even today continues to look down upon me with that same smile and effortless love.

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 Behn Hawra M. Zohair Harianawala

Houston, TX, USA

In the means of shukr and zikr, anyone who is willing to share his/her’s acquaintance, incident or any experience with Moulana Muqaddas RA or Moulana Mufaddal Saifuddin TUS can mail it to dm@tazkerat.org & md@tazkerat.org. 

Note : The content of the website is copyrighted and may not be reproduced/duplicated without the authors permission.

Teri Nigah’e Inayat Khuda Kare Na Phire, Kuch Iska Gum Nahi’n Gar Mujhse Sab Jaha’n Phir Ja’e

Burhanuddin Moula RA was present in Karachi in 1425H, when He RA bestowed the city with the celebrations of his 93rd milaad. On the occasion, there was a program organized by madrasa farzando in Taheri Masjid. Everyone participated in different activities and acts, which were going to take place in front of Moulana RA.

I was required to perform as a pigeon, and all I had to do was to keep moving my wings throughout an act.

Amidst our act, I prayed; “moula aap mari taraf aik nazar farmawo”.

That very instant, to everyone’s astonishment, Moulana RA pointed towards me, and asked me to get near him in the midst of the skit.

What happened next was something I will never forget – Moulana RA placed his haath mubarak on my head, and inquired my name and my parents names. Upon that, amongst hundreds of children, I was fortunate to perform qadambosi.

No one present was able to apprehend the unexpected scene, as Moula RA heard what my heart entreated.

Murtaza Bhai M Mustafa Bhai Mandviwala

Karachi, Pakistan

In the means of shukr and zikr, anyone who is willing to share his/her’s acquaintance, incident or any experience with Moulana Muqaddas RA or Moulana Mufaddal Saifuddin TUS can mail it to dm@tazkerat.org & md@tazkerat.org. You can also WhatsApp us on +923343752321 & +923437862121

Note : The content of the website is copyrighted and may not be reproduced/duplicated without the authors permission.

Jo Ke Pohnche Tere Darwaze Tak, Uske Hum Bakht Rasa Kehte Hain

A few years ago, during Mufaddal Moula’s TUS stay in Hassanfeer, Moula TUS benevolently visited my hometown, Madar.

Amidst the visit, my family was blessed with qadam sharaf at our humble place. Amongst the preparations, we had prepared a thaal of fruits, so that Moula TUS would pronounce shifa on it.

With the desire; “kaash moula tanawul farmawe” I had baked lemon short bread and cheese cookies, which was one of the several comestibles placed on the thaal.

As Moula TUS arrived, the thaal was presented to Him TUS. After pronouncing shifa, Moula TUS held a spoon, placed it inside the namak daani and was about to progress ahead, as I uttered; “moula cookies mein banayu che”. With a radiant smile, Moula TUS replied ” raate shk hatim ni zyafat ma lawjo, mein lais”.

Therefore, I ended up in the respective zyafat, with a plate of cookies in my hand.

As Moula TUS was presiding over the thaal, the hosts were blessed with the sharaf of individually presenting a specific dish to Moula TUS.

Likewise, I advanced ahead with the cookies.

This picture shows the thaal and the room in which Moulana TUS presided. It was taken before I presented the cookies. *This picture is the exclusive property of the contributor and Tazkerat, and may not be copied, printed or otherwise disseminated without permission.

Just as I was about to enter the room, I was stopped. “moula hamna raate Jaman ma aa nahi lai, fajare nashta ma lawjo” I was told. Before I could further explain the situation, I was asked to leave.

Completely heartbroken, I stood their in despair.

Just before leaving, my heart desperately cried “Moula”. That very moment Moula TUS turned his attention towards me and instructed with an intent “mein yej kayu che yahan thaal par laawe”.

With tears in my eyes, I presented the cookies to Moulana TUS. Thereupon I stood there as Moula TUS graciously took a bite and blessed me with a blissful smile.

A very small instance, but Moula TUS knew I would cherish it for the rest of my life.

Behn Tasneem Hamza Bhai Madarwala

Madar, India

In the means of shukr and zikr, anyone who is willing to share his/her’s acquaintance, incident or any experience with Moulana Muqaddas RA or Moulana Mufaddal Saifuddin TUS can mail it to dm@tazkerat.org & md@tazkerat.org. You can also WhatsApp us on +923343752321 & +923437862121

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