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
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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
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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
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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
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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.
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Behn Amatullah (Ambreen) Fakhruddin Bhai Valika
Karachi, Pakistan
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At the start of my journey for my Hadi Ashara Imtehaan and Zikra in 1419H/1998 from Bangalore to Surat, I came to know that I was expecting a child. Delighted at the news, I asked my doctor if it was safe for me to travel and was permitted to do the same.
On 11th Shaban we were blessed with zyafat sharaf of Syedna Mohammed Burhanuddin (RA).
As I proceeded for salam and presented my shukur najwa, which was a gold coin, Moula RA looked at me, opened the case and handed it to Busaheba Jawharat al Sharaf BS and stated “Nazrul Maqam AS che”.
Confused, I moved from there and told Busaheba that it was najwa. “Aqa Moula farmawe che Nazrul Maqam ma adaa karo”, she reiterated.
Right after the bethak, I left for Bangalore.
Upon reaching, I suffered from vomiting and aches and assumed them as usual symptoms of pregnancy.
On 7th of Shehrullah al Moazzam, at twelve weeks of my pregnancy, I started to bleed and worriedly reached to my gynecologist who instructed me to urgently get a sonography done.
The sonographer, dumbfounded and appalled by the scan results, told me that he was finding it difficult to believe I was alive, let alone healthy. At the 8th week the fetus had stopped developing, hence was dead; and for a fetus to not cause poisoning or any sort of infection over such a long period was nothing short of a miracle.
As tears gathered in my eyes, my memory immediately rushed back to the zyafat day incident when I was eight-weeks pregnant.
Now a mother of three and living a healthy life, I remember Burhanuddin Moula RA in every passing breath and say: ‘May my life be sacrificed for you.’
Behn Alefiyah Sheikh Mufaddal Bhai Fakhri
Bengaluru, India
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Al Hayy Al Muqaddas Syedna Mohammed Burhanuddin RA graced Calcutta with His presence 29 years ago, but little did I know that my fate was being rewritten.
Back then, during a ladies qadambosi bethak, my mother, with the 4 month-old me in her hands, was waiting in the queue. Her turn was yet to come, as a khidmatguzar showed up, “Maula farmave che ke farzand ni gardan ne sambhale”.
No distance too great for His RA nazar; no mumin overlooked from his extraordinary shafaqat.
Thereupon, when it was our turn to do qadambosi, Maulana RA instructed my mother to place me under His RA blessed feet: Exhibiting monumental amount of generosity, Maula RA gently placed His toe on my head.
Unable to contemplate the episode, we returned home.
3 years later, one fine day, my mother and I were aboard a hand-pulled rickshaw rushing full-speed, when in the midst of traffic commotion, the rickshaw operator applied sudden brakes. Losing all semblance of balance, I flew out of the rickshaw and fell squarely in the middle of the busy road.
As I laid unconscious with heaps of blood oozing out of my head, my mother, in a state of pain and panic started crying for help: zor zor si Burhanuddin Maula nu naam pukarva laaga. Out of nowhere a mumin bhai turned up, and we reached the hospital. As for my condition, I underwent a thorough examination. After several scans and x-rays, the surprised doctors informed us that there were no signs of an internal damage despite the nature of the accident. This, according to them was contrary to reason.
It was then, when we recalled what Burhanuddin Moula RA had done three years since.
Syedna Mohammed Burhanuddin graced Calcutta with his presence 29 years ago, and I am sure a lot of fates were rewritten, a lot of souls were reborn, a lot lives were revived, and a lot of miracles happened, and are still happening.
I am sure.
Fakhruddin Aliasghar Bhai Kothambwala
Pune, India
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At the time of Shehzadi Sakina Behnsaab’s demise, Moulana Mohammad Burhanuddin RA visited Karachi.
Earlier, I received the news that I had conceived.
During Moulana’s visit, a qadambosi bethak was arranged for doctors. My husband who was going to attend the bethak was assigned the task of seeking a name for the child.
Hence, with the help of a khidmat guzar, we managed to draft a required araz, and my husband, who was not totally confident on getting the opportunity, carried the araz to the bethak.
As my husband appeared for qadambosi, he presented the araz and uttered “moula naam waste araz che”. With a brief look on the araz Moulana Mohammad Burhanuddin RA replied “qurratul ain Bhai Mufaddal ne pucho”. My husband unexpectedly repeated “moula aap naam aapo” to which Burhanuddin Moula RA greeted him with the same words.
He stood there blunt, unaware of what to do next. Moula RA stated again “qurratul ain Bhai Mufaddal ne pucho”, and he was out of the queue.
Ensuingly, a khdimat guzar who was close by, guided him to Moulana Mufaddal Saifuddin TUS, Shehzada then.
Disheartened by the fact of not procuring the name from Burhanuddin Moula RA, the rue forced him to remain silent.
Mufaddal Moula TUS had a keen look at him, apparently realizing what was going through his mind, sought a pen and inscribed two names on the araz.
With a sense of discontentment, my husband returned home.
Just as we unfolded the araz, we were baffled. Two names for a boy, and none for a girl. A sense of bleakness seized us.
Ignorantly, my husband abandoned the araz, and exited the scene.
Nothing went as planned.
Six months later, on one afternoon, my husband was holding the araz in his hand, with tears flowing down his cheeks.
What happened earlier that day was, that I underwent a routine ultra sound, which revealed that I was carrying twins.
Everything that had happened six months earlier started to fall into place.
The series of events that occurred thereafter can be easily comprehended.
Friday, on the day of Imam Hussain’s AS chehlum, I delivered twin boys, Hussain and Burhanuddin.
We can undoubtedly understand today, how much He TUS loves the two names, and what they mean to Him TUS.
Behn Fatema tus Sugra Dr Sohail Bhai Rangwala
Karachi, Pakistan
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I have been lucky enough to be in the hazrat imamiyah of Syedna Taher Saifuddin RA and Syedna Mohammad Burhanuddin RA regularly in Mumbai, since my tender age of five-seven.
At the time of Moulana Taher Saifuddin RA, I used to get the sharaf of qadambosi and salaam, almost every night. Even after 1960, when we shifted to Khar (a suburb of Mumbai), we continued to be present in Maula’s RA bethak.
On one instance I was called alone at night.
After the bethak, I got late and missed the last train back home. It was around 1 AM in the morning when I started to walk. Recalling and recollecting the blessings of Moula, I unexpectedly managed to traverse the Grant Road, Pedar Road, Haji Ali, Mahim, Bandra to Khar, nearly 14 Km, just in two hours.
Consequently when my mother did araz to Maula RA narrating about this; Maulana Taher Saifuddin RA stated: “Taher nahi, hamari mohabbat ma rasto bhi laptai jai”.
To walk across the road of life, it is the mohabbat of Moula we need, nothing else.
Mulla Taher Bhai Attarwala
Pune, India
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Le mot juste. A French term. Refers to the right words. Sometimes these words can change a person’s life.
In 1408H, Burhanuddin Moula RA was in Pakistan for Ashara Mubaraka, during which the renovation of Masakin Mohamadiyah, where a student of Al Jamea Tus Saifiyah stays through the year, was completed.
On the occasion, all students received the sharaf of qadambosi, and were required to proceed according to their classes.
I was studying in Darajah Tasea (9).
As I got up for qadambosi and got close to Moulana RA, a khidmat guzaar presented the araz; “Moula darajah tasea shuru thai chhey Moula, ane darajah ma aikkaj talebe-ilm chhey”.
This image was taken just as Sheikh Mustafa Bhai arose for qadambosi, and the araz was made “Moula darajah tasea shuru thai chhey Moula, ane darajah ma aikkaj talebe-ilm chhey”. This image is the exclusive property of the contributor and Tazkerat, and may not be copied, printed or otherwise disseminated without permission.
One could evidently see a sparkle on Moula’s RA face. He RA laid his hand on my hands, assembled everyone around, and stated “Dekho aikkaj talebe ilm darajah ma padhi rahya chhey!”.
He RA then repeated it a couple of times and finally brushed a masallah on my face, quoting a Hadees Mubarak, which has changed my life since then: ‘Al mumino wahdahu jama’atun’ (Mumin alone is a group).
His RA words have enlightened thousands, and are still doing so.
Sheikh Mustafa Bhai Sheikh Haiderali Jack
Karachi, Pakistan
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