The entanglement of particles has long fascinated physicists in the field of quantum physics. Particles separated by vast distances respond to one another, as though bound by an unseen connection. While the phenomenon is proven, its deeper pattern and design remain elusive. Love, perhaps, offers a gentler way to understand such entanglement through the quiet and unseen connection of hearts.
I first experienced the pain in 2021. I was fourteen years old. It felt as though my stomach was being cut open with a blunt knife. A restless helplessness settled in. I could do nothing but endure it. I couldn’t think clearly. I couldn’t convince myself it would pass. I didn’t even have the words to explain it to my parents. They assumed it was a simple stomachache, something temporary. And it did pass but only after sixteen hours of unrelenting pain.
No amount of vomiting, medicine, or rest brought relief. Eventually, the memory faded until 2023, when it returned. This time, the pain was sharper, heavier. It struck not once, but three times that year. I told my parents everything. We visited doctors. Each time, the pain was dismissed as acidity or an ordinary stomach issue. No one could explain it. I felt unseen, and slowly, hopeless.
By 2024, my fourth year at Al Jamea tus Saifiyah, the pain had become familiar. Predictable. Almost scheduled. Once a month, it would arrive without warning and stay for sixteen hours. I stopped mentioning it to my parents. I didn’t want to worry them, especially when I had no answers myself. I accepted it as part of my routine. There was no cure. No escape.
Even when I stopped speaking about the pain, there was someone who was listening.
Mufaddal Moula TUS blessed Karachi with the immense barakat of Ashara Mubarakah. Thousands experienced healing through his nazar mubarak, and I was among them. After Ashara, on 23rd July 2024, our family was honored with the ziyafat of Moula. I had prepared my araz beforehand. There was no mention of my pain in it. At that time, I wasn’t even conscious of the suffering I had grown used to carrying.
When I stood before Moula and began my araz, he looked at me with a gentle tabassum. As I spoke, his nazar mubarak remained upon me. Unexpectedly, at one point, Moula, with a concerned look, softly said: “Shehed paani lejo.”
For a moment, I was confused. I didn’t fully grasp what had just occurred. But as any Mumin would, I replied, “Jee Moula,” and continued with my araz. The ziyafat carried on as usual.
Three days later, the pain returned. I felt it rising within me, familiar and sharp. Instinctively, Moula’s words came to my mind. I took shifa nu shehed and paani, remembering how he had mentioned it to me.
With gratitude in my heart and tears in my eyes, I went to sleep.
From that day until today, the pain has never returned.
When Moula says, ‘dil ma mohabbat che to araz mane pohnchi jai che’, it is his reassurance that we are never unheard. Even when we don’t know how and what to ask for, he is present. He is listening.
Mulla Mustansir Bhai Mulla Murtaza Bhai Goribai
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
Tazkerat 