Pabos Jo Huwa Shah-e ‘Aali Janab Ka, Paaya Khitaab Usne Sa’adat Ma’aab Ka

در پردۀ اسرار کسی را ره نیست
زین تعبیهٔ جان هیچ‌کس آگه نیست
جز در دل خاک هیچ منزل‌گه نیست
مِی خور که چنین فسانه‌ها کوته نیست

Behind the veil of secrets, no one can grasp all truths.
No soul can be fully aware of its fate or destined route on its own.
The only refuge for humanity lies in acknowledging its ultimate return to the earth’s embrace.
So drink the wine of knowledge, for the tale of destiny is not short, there is still a long way to go.

The fundamental principle in epistemology is to always remember that we do not know everything.

It was September 2019 when I began living my lifelong dream. I had enrolled in a Bachelor’s program in Computer Science and Engineering at the Budapest University of Technology and Economics in Hungary. With the prospects of a successful career in sight, I was happily settling into my new life.

Then came COVID-19. The university shifted to online classes, and in March 2020, I decided to travel back home to Ajman to stay with my parents until on-campus sessions resumed. For a year, I continued my classes online. By the end of 2021, I was preparing to return to Budapest.

Around this time, in December 2021, Mufaddal Moula TUS visited Sharjah, and we had the Sharaf of hosting a zyafat at our home. During the zyafat, when I approached Moula, he inquired, “Tame su karo cho?”

I replied, “Moula mein Budapest ma parhu chu, hamna online classes yahan si lau chu, hawe dubara Budapest jais.”

Moula looked at me and, with concern, said, “Hawe yahan par aj raho, bawaji sathey. Tame wahan chala jaso toh bawaji sathey kon rehse?”

He then turned to my father and said, “Tamara dikra ne aik business ni line bhi aapjo.”

For a brief moment, my dream of studying in Budapest flashed before me. But then I realized that Moula was in front of me, and I revisited the fundamental principle of knowledge: I do not know everything. If anyone cares for me more than I care for myself, it is him.

I had already paid the term fees in Budapest. Transferring to a university in the UAE would mean starting the year anew, and the competitive job market here made my career prospects uncertain. Yet, with complete confidence and trust, I responded, “Jee, Moula.”

Shortly after I resumed my studies in the UAE, the Ukraine-Russia conflict erupted. Hungary, a close ally of Russia, faced severe economic disruptions, fee hikes, safety concerns for foreign students, and travel restrictions. The social environment deteriorated.

Had I remained in Budapest, I would have been alone, surrounded by uncertainty, while my parents back home would have been stressed and left to face everything on their own.

Today, I am nearing the completion of my Bachelor’s program and actively managing my own business, which we started right after the zyafat, as per Moula’s directives.

The Ponzo Illusion teaches us that due to our limited capacity to perceive all angles simultaneously, we may believe two identical lines are of different lengths because of perspective. Yet, they are the same.

My experience has taught me that instead of trying to determine the length of lines in any situation, we should draw the line of Moula’s directives beneath them. That line truly becomes our lifeline, shielding us from the fault lines of life.

Mohammed Bhai Mustansir Bhai Bhinderwala

Ajman, UAE

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

araz dua nazar salaam Salam zyafat

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

araz Bethak dua qadambosi

Millat Ke Wo Rehbar Ko Hum Kabhi Na Bhulenge, Shah Saife Deen Sarwar Ko Hum Kabhi Na Bhulenge

Guardian angel: that’s how I remember Moulana Taher Saifuddin RA. From the most trivial issues to life-threatening hardships, he was always there as a saviour.

I was about 10 years old, a mischievous kid often deserving the beatings I got.

On one instance, it was Moulana Taher Saifuddin’s Milaad Mubarak and Moulana RA was in Mumbai. I would eagerly await his presence during such festivities because he would treat the children with mewo – a handful of sweets and chocolates.

On that special day, Moulana Taher Saifuddin RA was at Saifee Masjid. My grandmother reminded me to go and extend the felicitations. I rushed to Saifee Masjid to do salaam and collect my goodies. As I stood in front of Moulana RA, something strange transpired. Without thinking, I lifted my shirt and said, “Moula jo mane mara maa maare che.” I still don’t know why I did that.

Moulana Taher Saifuddin RA smiled and calmly told me to inform my mother that he wanted to see her. About ten minutes later, I stood before him with my mother.

I vividly remember Moulana Taher Saifuddin RA looking at us keenly. He asked my mother, “Tamne khabar che aa kon che?” She stayed quiet. After a brief pause, he added, “Aa sagla mara bachao che, mara che, maro nahi ehne.”

His voice was firm, his gestures steady, and his eyes resolute.

My mother nodded, and I left with an intense feeling of protection and warmth.

Today, whenever I see a hardship befalling or a calamity trying to strike me, I transport myself to his Qabr Mubarak and hear his words: “Mara che, maro nahi ehne.”

Shk Saifuddin Bhai Husseinibhai Bhol

Mumbai, India

araz Bethak child dua qadambosi Salam

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

araz dua nazar Salam shifa zyafat

Jaan Be’lab Hai Ye Tera Wasl Talab Ae Aqa, Ba’khuda Ab To Ise Shehd-Dahani Aawe

دی گفت طبیب از سر حسرت چو مرا دید
هیهات که رنجِ تو از سرِ قانون شفا رفت
Upon observing my distressing condition the doctors uttered in despair;
Your state (in love) is beyond any possibilities of cure.
– Hafez Shirazi

At the age of eight, I endured excruciating, relentless pain in my abdomen. Those years are etched in my memory as a cacophony of screams, tears, and convulsions while I writhed on the bed, tormented by the pain inside me.

My parents, witnessing my anguish, consulted several doctors in Karachi. One of them proposed the possibility of a twisted knot in my intestines, obstructing the natural flow of digestion and inflicting unbearable pain; however, nothing like that showed up in the reports. As the pain mercilessly intensified, a doctor prescribed a restrictive diet, allowing me to consume nothing but clear soup and toast, in the hope that it might provide temporary relief until a definitive diagnosis was made. For about six months, I dutifully consumed nothing else; yet, the pain kept worsening.

The specialists in Karachi, their brows furrowed with grave concern, grappled with the confounding enigma that was my condition. They probed and prodded, inserting enema tubes, and conducting X-rays repeatedly, but their efforts proved futile. Amidst the searing pain, I screamed and wailed. Finally, in a desperate final gambit, a specialist prescribed potent penicillin antibiotics. For thirty days, I endured the piercing sting of the penicillin injections. My body withered away, my strength evaporated, and I was reduced to a hollow shell of my former self. The school became a distant memory as it was eclipsed by the consuming pain that relentlessly gnawed at me.

Desperate to find an answer, my parents took me to Europe when I reached the age of nine. The doctors suspected tuberculosis and I underwent multiple tests in London, Germany, and Switzerland. Yet, to everyone’s astonishment, the results came back clear, providing no tangible medical solution to my distressing state.

Dejected and filled with dimming hopes, we returned home, the pain clinging to me like an indomitable specter. From enemas to penicillin, from one hospital to another, we endured an interminable cycle of agony and despair for another year. My parents spared no effort in their quest to alleviate my pain, yet their hearts broke when a family doctor informed them that the medicines I was consuming would start affecting my other sensory abilities.

The tender faces of my parents, once adorned with smiles, now wore a shroud of gloom and desolation. I was on the cusp of turning ten, and any semblance of improvement in my condition seemed an elusive dream. Doctors had resignedly counseled my parents to prepare for the worst, urging them to brace themselves for surgery, a desperate measure in the face of uncertainty.

Then, a ray of hope pierced the darkness that engulfed our lives. Syedna Taher Saifuddin RA graced Karachi with his presence that year, and we were blessed to host a zyafat at my kaka, Fakhruddin Bhai Valika’s home. Clutching onto the remnants of hope and with tears streaming down her face, my mother placed me before the revered presence of Syedna Taher Saifuddin RA, crying out, “moula mari dikri ne 2 waras si pait ma ghanu dard che, doctors ne khabar nathi parti ke su thai che, aim kahe che ke operation kari ne pait kholi ne dekhse, Moula mari dikri nu pait kai kabaat (cupboard) to nathi, ke kholi ne dekhse, hawe mein aap na paase awi chu, aap mane farmawo mein su karu, mein ghani mushkil ma chu”.

Attentively, Taher Saifuddin Moula RA listened to my mother’s anguished plea, his face adorned with a serene smile. And then, with calm authority, he spoke, “aik kilo mudh (honey) aney aik kilo kalonji lai ne ridge house par awjo”.

The following day, carrying one-liter honey and one-kilo black cumin we made our way to the ridge house. There, Syedna Taher Saifuddin RA blessed me with his nazar mubarak, his eyes filled with compassion, pronounced shifa, and stated: “roz ehne fajare, nahaar-mu, saat dana kalonji aney shehed na apjo, 2 waras tak aapjo, aney bani sake to zindagi bhar aapjo”.

Overwhelmed, my mother responded, her voice trembling: “Moula shifa nu shehed to khatam thai jase”. With a beaming smile, Taher Saifuddin Moula RA replied: “shifa ni kalonji che ne, ye rehse”.

Today, at the age of seventy-six, I stand as a testament to that lofty, miraculous, and fatherly presence of Syedna Taher Saifuddin RA; I have never felt any chronic pain in my abdomen from that fateful day to date. Although we never found out about the problem, my parents knew where to seek the answer.

Mulla Ruqaiyyah Bai Millwala

Houston, USA

araz Bethak dua qadambosi shifa

Taweez Sheh Ke Haath Ki Hai Nuskha’e Shifa, Go Bu Ali Ke ‘Ehd Mein Apne Matab Nahin

آنچه من در عشق جانان يافتم

کمترين چيزها جان يافتم

Among all that I have gained in the love of the beloved;

The least significant is ‘life’.

In July 2017, my mother’s health suddenly started to deteriorate. After figuring out that the routine medication is not helping, I took her for an executive full-body check-up at Agha Khan Hospital.

The reports came out indicating something unusual with the blood and my fear intensified. The doctors suggested an immediate bone marrow examination. The results showed lymphoma: cancer.

I was left numb and devastated, unable to process the news. My world was crumbling apart.

Witnessing my mother’s deteriorating health, unable to eat, move, or respond, was excruciating. The thought of her undergoing chemotherapy was unbearable, and I was not ready to see her suffer.

As the chemo sessions started, my mother’s condition kept worsening by the day. Due to her weak state, the sessions that were supposed to take place one after another uninterruptedly had to be done in the intervals of eleven days.

The doctors had already informed me of the worst.

The next month, Mufaddal Moula TUS arrived in Karachi for Ashara Mubarakah 1439 H. The very next day, I took my mother to the qadambosi bethak at Burhani Mahal.

With tears rolling down my eyes and slowly moving the wheelchair with my mother, I reached Moula TUS and uttered: “moula mara maa ne cancer che, aap shifa aapi do”.

Upon hearing, Moula TUS looked into my eyes and gestured to lift my mother up from the wheelchair.

Moula TUS pronounced “khuda shifa aape”, extended his haath mubarak and brushed it on my mother’s face, and blessed us with a beaming smile.

From that day onwards, my mother has never needed a chemotherapy session or any treatment for that matter.

Mulla Saifuddin Bhai Joriawala

Karachi, Pakistan

araz dream nazar qadambosi Salam shifa zyafat

Hai Ye Tareeq Ishq Mohabbat Ki Raah Mein, Apne Saron Ko Paaon Banate Huwe Chalo

The word ‘miracle’ stems from the Proto-Indo-European word ‘meyh’ meaning ‘to smile’ and ‘to be astonished’; exactly telling of my state after what happened to me during Aqa Moula’s visit to Karachi this month.

Four days before Moula’s arrival in Karachi, I had a dream.

I was sitting among a huge crowd of mumineen who were sitting there for Moula’s didar. As Moula arrived, I began to weep with my hands folded. At that moment, among all mumineen, Moula looked at me and said: “su kaam che tamne, sukaam itnu roi raya cho?”.

With my arms trembling and tears running down the face, I replied in a shaky voice: “moula mein ghani bimar rahu chu, mein ghani pareshaan chu, moula aap jaano cho”.

Moula drew near and followed by a radiant smile gestured with his haath mubarak implying that he is there, he knows, and to stop worrying.

I woke up in tears; in gratitude, in the longing to be with Moula.

The next day, I found out that Moula is coming to Karachi. I told my daughter: “moula maraj waste padhari raya che”.

Moula arrived in Karachi on the 1st of Jamad al-Ukhra, 24th December 2022.

Every day, countless mumineen were fortunate to receive the sharaf of zyafat, qadam, majlis, and salam. Days passed and I was yet to do didar. However, regardless of my physical condition and humble circumstances, my heart knew: “moula maraj waste padhara che”.

All I prayed for was Moula’s didar; to be near him; to obtain a glimpse. Looking at myself, I did not know how all of that was possible; but I would look at his picture and tell myself: ÿe kai bhi kari sake che”.

On the seventh day of Moula’s visit, Friday, 7th Jamad al-Ukhra, just around maghrib an unknown number flashed on my mobile screen. As I answered, a bhai on the other end said: “behen hamna hamara ghare zyafat che, aney tamne izan che, tame awjo, shamil thajo”.

Shocked and astonished, I was unable to utter a word. The bhai further added: “zyafat waste ITS numbers apwa ma aik number mistakenly tamaro apai gayo che, Moula hamna padhare che, zarur awjo”.

Tears were pouring down and as I walked towards the house, I kept uttering to myself: “moula maraj waste padhara che”.

What happened next can not be precisely expressed through words. I was guided to the bethak room and after a while, Moula arrived. I kept crying.

Everyone was performing qadambosi. When it was my turn, Moula extended his haath mubarak and benevolently gestured for me to perform salam.

In those moments, I vividly felt that I was living the culmination of the dream I had: my face was drenched in tears, Moula had a broad smile and he looked at me, gestured with his haath mubarak and a soft nod telling me that he knows and listens.

I returned home smiling and astonished: indeed, I lived a miracle.

Behn Tasneem Aliasghar Bhai Godhrawala

Karachi, Pakistan

araz nazar Niagara

‘Qalbi Ladaika’ Hai Ye Maqula Zabaan Ka, ‘Shouqi Ilaika’ Nikla Dil-e-Doorbeen Se

In one of his Ashara Mubaraka sermons in London, Syedna Mufaddal Saifuddin TUS mentioned the wonders of the world and while expounding on their rareness and the affection and liking they attract he referred to the mumineen and graciously stated: ‘haqeeqatan wonders of the world tame sagla cho’. The words reflect Moula’s high regard and eternal love for mumineen who are more rare and unique to him than the wonders of the world.

The words of Moula TUS brought to my mind a day in the year 1990 when Syedna Mohammed Burhanuddin’s RA visited Toronto, Canada for the second time.

Out of many sharafs, which included hosting Syedna Mufaddal Saifuddin TUS at our humble house, I was also blessed with the fortunate opportunity to perform khidmat and accompany Moulana Mohammad Burhanuddin RA to Niagara falls.

Even during the trip to Niagara falls, Burhanuddin Moula RA would attend to munineen and spend time listening to them. For the same purpose, Moulana Mohammed Burhanuddin RA’s three-day trip to Niagara was shortened to one day as a mumin bhai presented him with an araz to visit his house.

Moulana RA left the Marriot Hotel leaving behind the whole caravan which included all the Shehzada Sahebo and other members of Qasre Aali.

After Moulana RA had left, I was present at the hotel when Busaheba Amatullah Aisaheba QR and Syedna Mufaddal Saifuddin TUS were discussing what everyone should do as Moulana RA had left. Busahea QR, the light-hearted soul that she was, suggested to Mufaddal Moula TUS: ‘tame rokai jao’ to which Syedna Mufaddal Saifuddin TUS replied: ‘yahan rokai ne su karye, yahan to koi zyarat bhi nathi’ and expressed his wish to be with Moulana Mohammed Burhanuddin RA.

It was late in the night and I was driving Mufaddal Moula TUS and Amatullah Aisaheba QR back from Niagara; just three of us. Every once in a while, Mufaddal Moula TUS would inquire if I am feeling okay and comfortable driving. In one instance, Moula TUS woke up and asked: ‘bhai tame theek cho? Tamne neend to nathi awi rahi?. ‘Nai Moula’, I softly replied. Moula TUS added with a radiant smile: ‘Jo tamne neend awe to ghaari roki lejo aney yahan coke che, aankh ma charakjo to neend nai aawe’.

Astonished and amazed, I nodded with a smile.

Years later, we were driving to Dallas from Toronto, which is approximately a twenty-hour drive. My son and I had decided to take turns in driving through the route. My son was played out and it was my turn to take the wheel; however, I was equally tired as I had not rested enough when my son drove.

It was 2:30 am and just as I began to drive, I felt extremely sluggish and drowsy. My son had just slept and I had to find a way to drive through for at least a few hours before asking him to drive again. I took Syedna Mohammed Burhanuddin’s RA name and in that very moment, words of Syedna Mufaddal Saifuddin TUS came to my mind: ‘Jo tamne neend awe to ghaari roki lejo aney yahan coke che, aankh ma charakjo to neend nai aawe’.

I grabbed a coke, splashed some of it on my face, and started to recollect and relive all those blessed moments I had spent with Moula. We reached Dallas and I had been driving for more than ten hours without a sign of fatigue or weariness.

As I narrate this, I realize today that more than the coke, it was the recalling of all those beautiful memories of Moula that brought about a breath of fresh air and enkindled a sense of vigor within the spirit.

That is exactly what memories of Moula do to mumineen; refresh their hearts and souls.

Sheikh Hakimuddin Bhai Shakir with Moula at the Niagara falls.
Moula RA at the Niagara falls.

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

Sheikh Hakimuddin Bhai Shakir

Toronto, Canada

araz dream eyes salaam shifa zyafat

Aur Aankho Ka Surma Banane, Ko Ae Moula Teri Khaak e Paa Loon

با یاد تو میخوابم در خواب تو را بینم
از خواب چو برخیزم اول تو به یاد آیی

I sleep with your memories; I see you in my sleep

Whenever I wake up; you are the first to come to my mind.

At times, for the purpose of clearly seeing, one needs to close the eyes. My story serves as a perfect supplement to the above Persian couplet.

In the year 2011, my father sustained a peculiar condition in his eyes in which he lost all control of his eyelid reflex. So much so that we had to lift his eyelids upwards whenever required; and every time, they would drop down after a couple of seconds.

Shattered and devastated, we scrambled to consult numerous eye surgeons who attended to the case stunned. As an immediate measure, they prescribed botox injections since they were not able to comprehend the reason behind the sudden and complete failure of corneal reflexes.

At the same time, we consulted Dr. Pettarusp M. Wadia, among the renowned neurologists in Mumbai. Upon witnessing my father’s state communicating and moving about with his eyelids shut, the doctor observed that the condition is very unusual as it may happen to one in a thousand and that he had never come across a case of this condition with such severity. In a grim tone, he advised continuing with the botox injections.

All that was light in our lives sometime before turned to darkness. As days passed, hope continued to get dimmer and at one point, even a glimmer of it was difficult to see.

Almost a year passed and nothing changed. My father would barely manage to use his eyes a couple of times throughout the day after somebody would assist him in lifting his eyelids up.

I was living in Marol at that time and my father was living with my elder brother in Dhulia. Bearing in mind my father’s condition, it was a norm for me to cry myself to sleep at night.

Just when I could not see any ray of hope, one night, I had a dream and everything changed after that.

I saw myself sitting in Raudat Tahera along with my brother from Dhulia and we were waiting for Moulana Mohammad Burhanuddin’s RA didar. Burhanuddin Moula RA arrived in the miyana shareef with Mufaddal Moula TUS at his side. Moving across the ramp, Burhanuddin Moula RA directed for the miyana shareef to be stopped just where we were standing. Mufaddal Moula TUS remained next to Burhanuddin Moula RA as mumineen did didar.

With tears flowing down my face and hands folded, I wished ‘kaash moula ni qadambosi naseeb thai jai’. At that very point in time, Mufaddal Moula TUS indicated a khidmat guzaar present there to call me and my brother on the ramp for qadambosi.

We stepped up and sat near Burhanuddin Moula’s RA feet. As I was looking at Moula RA in tears, Mufaddal Moula TUS stated: “tamne kai araz karwi che, to karo”. I attempted to present the araz for my father but was unable to utter even a word. Mufaddal Moula TUS leaned towards me and added: “tamara bawaji ni je araz karwa aya cho ye karo”.

Moula TUS was hearing it all.

I further broke down into tears and managed to utter: “moula mara bawaji ne shifa thai”. Upon hearing the araz, Burhanuddin Moula RA turned towards Mufaddal Moula TUS and looked straight in his eyes for a while; no words.

Thereafter, with an assuring gesture on his face, Mufaddal Moula TUS stated: “tamara bawaji ne kaho roz Imam Hussain na ashura na din ni dua allahumma anta thiqati parhe”. In a cracking voice, I uttered: ‘Jee Moula’, presented salaam and shukr najwa, and retreated with pouring eyes. Mufaddal Moula TUS called for me and said: “Bhai aaje aa raqam ni tamne zyada zarurat che, ainda aik din awse teware araz karjo, mein lais”.

I woke up. Everything I saw felt real. I instantly relayed the dream to my father. Little did I know that our fortunes are going to change.

Immediately thereafter, my father started to gain control of his corneal reflexes, and not before long, the condition simply faded away. All those including the doctors who had observed my father’s state knew that my father had witnessed a miracle.

However, a complete transformation of the dream into the miraculous reality of our lives was yet to take place. A few months later, on the 23rd of Zilqadat al-Haraam coinciding 27th of September 2013, Friday, we were blessed with the zyafat sharaf of Syedna Mufaddal Saifuddin TUS; it happened in Rauzat Tahera and Mufaddal Moula TUS was present in the precise manifestation as I had seen him in the dream; and this time around, it was my father himself who presented the shukr najwa to Moula TUS who had stated earlier: “mein lais”.

Overwhelmed and unable to utter a word, my father stood in front of Moula TUS; each time he blinked, streams of tears flowed through his eyes, and that is how he conveyed to Moula TUS that he is never going to stop remembering him, not even for a blink of an eye.

Moula TUS listened, placed his haath mubarak on my father’s hands, and with a beaming smile, looked into his tearful eyes ensuring that he is never going to let him slip into the darkness, here and also in the hereafter.

Zainulabedeen Bhai and his father Hussain Bhai Patel (performing *araz*) in their *zyafat* at Raudat Tahera.

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

Zainulabedeen Hussain Bhai Patel

Bangalore, India

araz dua nazar smile

Shaikho Ka Ilm Zor Jawano Ka Tujh Mein Hai, Tu Hudd-e-Mushtarik Hai Goya Shaikh-o-Shabaab Mein

Doret begardam (may I circle around you forever): a Persian phrase to express the highest affection and love for someone residing in the heart as the focal point, commonly used while addressing the parents, is what I utter whenever I remember Syedna Mohammad Burhanuddin RA and relive the moments I spent in his presence during his visits to Chicago.

Of all the unforgettable instances, the most elating for me is what happened on the evening of the 4th of July, 1986.

It was the close of the day and Burhanuddin Moula RA, along with Busaheba Amatullah Aisaheba QR, was sitting in the backyard of our house over the evening snacks. Suddenly, the calm and stillness of a routine windy night in Chicago were interrupted by the loud booms and whistles of the fireworks.

With his eyes lit up, Moula RA inquired: “aa kena waste che”?. I responded: “Moula aaje 4th of July che, ehna fireworks che”.

“Mane lai jau”, Moula RA replied with a pearly smile.

I stood there rooted to the spot and only managed to utter “Jee Moula”. Like the state of anyone living in Chicago and driving to the downtown, I was consumed with the thought of the most trivial, yet critical issue: where would I find a parking spot for Moula RA to step out of the car? And considering it was the night of the 4th of July, I was convinced it was impossible.

My heart sank.

I entered downtown only to find that the situation was much more unfavorable than I had expected. With the police patrolling the entire area, I kept driving along in search of a place to stop the car briefly so that at least Moula RA could step out; however, in vain.

After a while, I managed to spot a place in a no-parking zone around Buckingham Fountain; panic-stricken and nervous I pulled the car over. The next moment, I was surrounded by the police sternly gesturing and directing me to get the car moving.

Numb and dejected, I attempted to talk through with the officer approaching the car in a cracking voice from my driving seat. Just as I began to talk, the officer interrupted and directed me to drive on in a tough tone.

Lost in bewilderment and desperate to seek a way so that Moula RA could step out, I uttered to the officer in a pleading voice: “Sir, I have an old man with me in the car“. The officer leaned forward and glanced at Moulana Mohammad Burhanuddin RA in the rear seat; Moula RA greeted him with a smile.

For a good few moments, the officer stood there in awe. Thereupon, reverently nodding, he gestured towards Moula RA to exit the car and drew back.

Calm and collected, Moula RA gracefully turned to step out; I was sweating and gasping for breath. Just before leaving the car, Moula RA placed his haath mubarak on my shoulder with a gentle grip, blessed me with a healing smile, and articulately stated: “old man na kaho”.

For the next hour or more, I was circling around Chicago’s downtown in my car with tears in my eyes revisiting what had just transpired as it resonated with Moulana Taher Saifuddin’s RA words for Moulana Mohammad Burhanuddin RA: ‘this eternally young [nawjawaan] is me, and a boundless carrier of knowledge’.

1-1 — Moula RA in Shk Ammar Bhai’s backyard in 1986.

1 (1) — Moula RA at Shk Ammar Bhai’s apartment in downtown in 2001.

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

Shk Ammar Bhai Moosaabhoy

Chicago, USA

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