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 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 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 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

dua nazar qadambosi zyafat

Gar Jaan Talabi Fida-e-Janat, Sehl Ast Jawab-e-Imtehanat

گر جان طلبی فدای جانت

سهلست جواب امتحانت

My answer to all questions is easy;

‘May my life be sacrificed for you.’

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

salaam zyafat zyarat

Nazdeek Aagaya Hai Jo Wa’da Wisaal Ka, Kya Kya Tarap Raha Hai Dil ‘e Nasabur Hai

Years ago, as narrated by our elders, Moulana Mohammad Burhanuddin RA stopped around Maloni for Maghreb prayers on his way to Madh Island. About 50 years later, Moulana Mufaddal Saifuddin TUS blessed Maloni with his presence on the 10th of February 2019; the day that brought about life-changing transmutation of my life.

As soon as I got word of Moula’s visit, I resolved to host a zyafat.

Not so long ago, I had suffered from a major loss in my business. Surrounded by debts and experimenting with a new business line, I was living on the edge. Regardlessly, I was determined to do everything in order to acquire the sharaf of zyafat; the catalyst for recovery.

I got my self registered and on the 9th of February, a day prior to Moula’s visit, the routine procedures were finalized. A long-desired wish was shaping up into reality. I scrambled to make preparations.

The same evening, as we were making the arrangements, a bhaisaheb came over to our house with the news that zyafat would not take place. Our house was on the fourth floor at the end of the seventy-two-step staircase; certainly, an unfavourable factor considering there was no lift in the building.

Crestfallen and shattered, I could not contain myself from crying. The next minute, I left for Raudat Tahera.

I placed my head on Burhanuddin Moula’s RA qabar mubarak, recited Imam Hussain’s AS shahadat and uttered several times: “moula mane madad karo, aapna mansoos ne mara ghare lai awo”.

Just as I was exiting Raudat Tahera, I received a call from our Janab. He told me to continue with the preparations and that he would present an araz to Moula TUS for the zyafat. Nothing was certain, he said. Moula TUS would decide.

Preparations were complete. I told my family that if nothing else, we would stand outside the building and do araz to Moula TUS to bless our house with a nazar mubarak.

Moula TUS arrived at Maloni on the 10th of February after Maghreb. Ten minutes before the expected zyafat time, I was informed that Moula TUS would visit my house. With tears in my eyes, I rushed to receive Moula TUS and got the sharaf of accompanying Him in the car. Moula TUS stated: “tamara ghare zyafat che?”. “Ji moula” I replied. As Moula TUS inquired about my business, I did araz of the details and said: “moula ghanu dain che” to which Moula TUS declared: “Sabar karjo, mein dua karis”.

By that time, we had arrived at our house.

Moula TUS headed towards the staircase and reached the house at an extraordinary pace; much more swiftly than it would usually take us to walk up the very stairs in routine. With a beaming tabassum absent of any sign of discomfort, Moula TUS entered the house. My family performed salaam following which Moula TUS blessed each room with his qadam mubarak.

After spending approximately thirty minutes with us, Moula TUS stood up to leave. I was standing near the staircase when Moula TUS exited the house. With my hands folded and teary eyes, I uttered: “Moula mein aapne ghani takleef aapi”. On the very instant, Moula TUS replied: “mumin na ghare awa ma koi takleef nathi”.

On the first floor, while walking down the stairs, I stated: “Moula aap mara ghare aya ye Burhanuddin Moula no mojizo che”. Before I could mention anything further, Moula TUS turned around with a smile, looked into my eyes, and said: “tame bawaji saheb pase gaya tha ne?”.

He knew what I had done the night before.

Six years ago today, for an instance, we thought Moulana Mohammad Burhanuddin RA left us. We know He never has. We know He never would.

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Mulla Ali Akbar Bhai Dewaswala

Malad, Mumbai

Qadam Salam zyafat

Hairat Zado’n Ke Haal Pe Ho Ik Nigahe Lutf, Muddat Se Phir Rahe Hain Ye Tum Par Fida Huwe

On 27th June 2019, Sarangpur was blessed with Mufaddal Moula’s TUS visit and my family with the fortune of hosting him at our houses for Qadam Mubarak.

Around 11 in the morning, Moula TUS arrived at my brother’s house. In line with the usual practice, my brother was escorting Moula TUS to where the arrangements were made for his sitting. Much to everyone’s surprise, Moula TUS stopped and headed towards a room at a distance of 10-15 footsteps from the entrance door.

Moula TUS instructed that the door of the room be closed. He remained inside, alone. Struck with awe, we started to panic and faces started to drop.

About five minutes later, Moula TUS stepped out of the room with a gleaming smile on his face. Everyone present was perplexed. No one had the faintest idea about what had happened.

Instantaneously, I underwent a revelatory moment. I rushed out to fetch a photograph of Moulana Taher Saifuddin RA which would put everyone’s astonishment to rest. I handed the picture over to my brother Munawwar Hussain. With tears in his eyes, he presented the picture to Mufaddal Moula TUS and uttered: “moula, syedna taher saifuddin hamara ghare tashreef laya che”. Overwhelmed by the realization, he couldn’t go into detail and neither could I.

The smile on Moula’s face grew up. He acknowledged the fact that we had known what had happened a few moments earlier and pointing towards the picture he asked: “aa kon che?”. My brother replied: “hamara dada Gulam Murtaza Essa Bhai che”.

Moula TUS resuscitated a moment in the history;

Nearly seventy years ago, Moulana Taher Saifuddin RA blessed our house with his Qadam Mubarak. During his visit, Moulana Taher Saifuddin RA sat in the very room in which, seventy years later, his grandson chose to stay.

We had an invaluable treasure at our house and Moula TUS brought it to light. Syedna Taher Saifuddin RA used to repeatedly proclaim: “Bhai Burhanuddin ne lai jau ehna qadmo na niche dawlat che”. We witnessed the same in his successor.

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Baqir Hussain Bhai Kapdawala

Sarangpur, India

gaini moula shaan zyafat

Andaze Karam Hai Mere Aqa Ke Nirale, Konain Jo Mange To Kare Uske Hawale

Each time a Mumin looks at Moula, all that he/she hopes and prays for is ‘two seconds’. That’s right. ‘Aik Nazar’..

And here, I have an account to tell.

Burhanuddin Moula RA was present in Sidhpur for Asharah Mubarakah, and fortunately our group of muminaat were there for the ‘zenabiyah’ course. After attending the Asharah Mubarakah we decided to present a shukr zyafat. A friend and I from Karachi decided to araz a gold coin towards the zyafat.

As our araz was forwarded, the relevant khidmat guzaar turned our request down as Moula RA did not appear to have any vacant date.

Nevertheless, my friend and I decided to araz the gold coin to Moula RA.

We were standing on the staircase where Moula RA was to arrive in some time.

As Moula RA arrived, we both presented our gold coins to which Moula RA inquied, “Aa gaini saa waste araz karo chho?”. We replied “Moula, aa shukur na najwa araz karye chhey”, to which Moula RA pronounced: “Khuda ghani barakat aape!”, and repeated it a couple of times.

Following the acquaintance, the same night, my friend and I went for Moula’s RA qadambosi. It was my friend’s turn while I was standing behind her, as Moula RA addressed her: “Tame mane gaini araz kidi thi ne?” and she only managed to say “Ji moula, mein ane maari friend..” before she was whisked out of the line.

My turn came. No response from Moula RA.

I wept.

When I returned to my utara, I could not stop crying. Was it because of my sins that Moula RA had not responded to me?, I thought.

A week after, I was standing in the masjid sehen for didar.

Moula RA was exiting from the masjid and entering the sehen where thousands of mumineen were waiting for Him RA.

I stood hands folded with tears in my eyes imploring for his momentary attention when that very moment Moula RA pointed towards me, walked closer and said “Gaini tuyye araz kidi thi ne? Tashreef mili tane?”

He RA would not miss you in thousands. But yes, He RA is deeply missed by thousands today.

Abeda Behn Stmary

Karachi, Pakistan

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

araz nazar shifa zyafat

Nigah’e Lutfo Inayat Nazar’e Mehro Ata, Ye To Ye Aur Bhi Ehsan Hain Kinke, Inke

During Burhanuddin Moula’s RA visit to Mombasa, on one instance I received the sharaf of presenting a bowl of water to Moula RA, so that He RA could wash his hands after jaman.

Heretofore I had been a victim of chicken allergy. It was so arduous, that each time I would touch chicken, I would break into a severe rash resulting in several injections and antidotes.

Therefore, benefiting from the opportunity, I presented Moulana RA with my araz “moula mane chicken allergy che, chicken ne haath bhi nahin lagawi sakti”

Moulana RA responded with a smile and took a keen look at my hands – no words.

Thenceforth till present a person who was strictly prohibited from touching or even getting near chicken, is eating chicken with her very hands. The allergy apparently perished.

Just a glance did it.

Behn Jamila Hussain Bhai Jamaly

Mombasa, Kenya

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

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