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Opening a new door in life. 

So, I grab my purse, put some light on my face and rush out of home on the cool morning of November. I am excited and yet a bit nervous about this new job. The truth is; it is the first time I would be paid for writing and it amazes me. After 6 years of blogging here, someone has actually called me for an internship, and it’s a very new feeling.

Since the office is nearby, I take slow steps as I have left fifteen minutes prior for work and there is no way I would get late in just a two minute walk. I reach my new abode and time goes on until it is 9 and still there is no sign of anyone, I try to call the person who offered me the work, but I get no answer from the other end. Frustrated and annoyed, acting like a person whose loan got rejected from the bank, I write down a hate message, send it and go back to home.

Just as I ease in my chair at home, I get a call from the office asking about my whereabouts, angry and mad I tell the person on phone that I had waited 45 minutes and therefore I left. Patiently, he answers from the other side asking me to come back. I keep my hate feelings aside and go back to the place.

When all gets clear I slowly apologize for the unprofessional behavior. After the interview I sit with a laptop in front of me, and start reading about the boring Java and dreary HTML until I can’t bear it anymore and fill my time with a short game or reading school time poems.

And there, nostalgia hits me hard and I quickly type in ‘the class by Maryam Sadri Wala’. As soon as the crimson red autumn leaves fly by and white novel background appears, I go back to the memory of Grade VIII where I started the journey of writing. I think of all the plays we studied and played on stage, the poems we recited and hummed inside and all of the novels read and enjoyed like a free reading time ( even if they were course novels).

It’s been so long yet I remember all of the English classes; hating King Lear, pitying Hamlet, worrying about Juliet and laughing at Shylock. The memories come back, the Dazzling Diva; Maryam Bhen, smiling at us and saying, ‘Good morning’ and another analytical yet meditating lesson starts. I hear ‘O Captain My Captain’, ‘Curfew Must Not Ring Tonight’, ‘The Seven Ages of Man’ and ‘The Beech Tree’s Petition’ in my ears in her very charming voice. I thank her for these wonderful memories that ease me when the computer tech crushes my brain with its Hi Fi Low Slow world.

High on feelings with Slow tears stepping down the cheek, I feel new and old, remembering the prefixes, and forgetting the suffixes, living the past and entering the future and realizing that there’s a reason we can’t go physically back to our childhood, because we can always live it mentally inside us. As imagination is a wicked and amazing thing; it travels you without boundaries to any time and space and brings you back to consciousness in a blink of an eye.

As the amount of love for Maula TUS, for MSB and for all the school teachers can’t ever be held among the chains of words, because they are free and ever living, so I’ll end this here with three dots, because the feelings will persist on and fly on through 

All times and space…

An ever learning writer,

Ruqaiya Lokhand.

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The hasty sparrow.

Photograph: Huzefa Hazari

​So, I see this hasty sparrow,

Who flies in the morning sky,

He sets his eyes across,

The horizon of the sunny shine.
The empty nests are not his,

Instead, the one that is fully filled,

His wife and hungry birdies,

All chirp since a long lost while.
I watch him peck some grains,

Hold water in his small beak,

To and fro his job takes him,

But he stops not a single time.
At last while his littles cuddle,

Lady birdie walks up to him,

She pecks his cheek in gratitude,

And hugs him while he cares.
The sun goes down at nighty hour,

As another busy day ends,

But he sleeps in peace this night, 

For his family ease in rest.
Ruqaiya Lokhand.

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The little life.

There’s a little life out there that wanders the fields,

It explores the rivers, and the streams.

Without any fear, it jumps out of ecstasy,

And roams around while its heart beats.

It’s little yet huge,

It’s short yet tall.

Clearer than a mirror,

It sees the nearby trees.

No one can judge how strong it is,

No one can know what lies within.

It is, his own King,

And rules his life, as he wills.
Ruqaiya Lokhand.

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And in three days’ time, I relived my school life.

I close my car, and slowly walk towards the school gate. It’s 7.05 in the morning and I realize I have never come to school so early in my entire school life. The morning winds make me hum to rhymes in the air, I’m beaming at no one in particular, just excited for my first day to start again over here. Just then co-incidentally I find a student coming up with her mom, I make out that she’s a new student, and I go back to the time when my mom dropped me to MSB, as I got my admission in grade II.

Waiting for Hayat Khan (the gate keeper) to open the gate for us, I’m just having a ride down the memory lane and I’m literally dancing inside. Even the gate keeper is amused to see me at this time, however, I just tread inside and roam around for a while and observe the changes that have been made in the past two years.

Having no idea what to do I sit near the primary section for a while, because I had got like half an hour until the assembly? Just then, I see Maryam Bhen coming inside the school gate, we are both happy to see each other and exchange our greetings on this beautiful morning.

In my whole school life, Tilawat-ud-dua (assembly) was my favorite part of the day as a student and now as somewhat a teacher. I find all of my juniors equally excited to see me there and it feels great to get this warm welcome from them. The chants of dua and the atmosphere of matam make me grateful to be back in the abadi saya of Burhanuddin Aqa RA and Mufaddal Maula TUS.

As I make my way to my teacher Durriya Bhen for whom I have been asked to substitute, is overwhelmed to find out that it’s me who has been asked to do this job. Both of the sections of fourth graders are to be dealt with for 10 days as Bhen would take her leave. I’m over-joyed and nervous at the same time, but as these three days go on, I find myself attached to these students with firm glue. Every now and then they all ask me if I might teach them and ask me to come in their class, no matter who so ever lesson it might be.

I relive the days of having this beautiful relationship with teachers, the only difference was, at that time I asked for permission to enter the staff room, but now, I was supposed to do it without any grant. It made me feel weird because I’m no equal to them, they have always been and always will be, my teachers, the amount of respect they show me makes me respect them even more.

It’s such a fascinating play of events to be among my own teachers playing a role as a teacher myself, just after two years of graduation from school. The best part of these three days was; when I gave the sweets to the children of grade four for their hard work and stunning play-work in the presentation, they gleamed at me and gave me the respect of a teacher, and the second one was, when every teacher of mine told me “it’s great to have you back here”.

The insistence of your good up-bringing is, to return your skills to your Alma Mater. Therefore, being an MSBian I’m doing the same.

May Allah grant our Maula TUS, our teacher and mentor, a long healthy and prosperous life till the Day of Judgment, Ameen.

Once an MSBian always an MSBian,

Ruqaiya Lokhand.

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Frozen.

​Frozen in time, with words unsaid and voices unheard.
Frozen like the icicles on trees that only melt in due time.
Frozen with love hidden inside and unexpressed.
Frozen, because the nature is too harsh and unbearable.
Frozen and paused while slow tears stream down the eyes.
Frozen in cold chains with no space to fly.

Ruqaiya Lokhand.

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My day, today!

The adrenaline rushes inside of me as i write this, my hands quiver  as i type and my heart thumps louder than usual from the excitement of it.
It has been 2 long years since I have written something on this blog, given out my share of experiences or just simply let out my heart to speak out loud. It is weird, but such ecstasy fills my heart, there is no limit to it. I am raw, like a new born, yet i am an apprentice. I am that bird, who knew it had wings but wasn’t able to fly. I am that door, which was stuck and rusted and took a while opening up again.

There was always something that stopped me, you might call it just an excuse, but there was this force. The urge to write overflowed inside me and i could feel it, but there was this tension. Always. It made me feel so powerless, so vulnerable.

Do you ever feel that way? So strong, that you might just do it this next second, something so capturing that you would feel you have to share it, let it out, but, something stopped you. Something so solid but abstract.
I realize it now, that’s when you have to stand up, stand up for yourself, take hold of your identity; where you belong, think about the good things that brought you here, the things you are appreciated for. That’s when the realization hits you hard, and you are in power again.

I was like a dormant volcano, i erupted today.
Life is like that, I guess, just when  you think you have failed yourself, that you couldn’t give your fore-most priority the priority, it throws at you another chance to show it off!
They say “it came to you late, yet it couldn’t be any better.” I might have learnt it the hard way round that life is fair. It does mind-boggling things all the time, but  when it takes from you, it throws it to you back again, the opportunities, the chances, the big breaks and the fair shakes. And it lets you do the undone!
It is always up to you then, whether you grab it, take hold of it or let it wash out in the circle of time.
My time was today, when is yours?!

Yours truly,
Maria Sadri

 

 

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I and fantasy.

I’m not perfect I know that. But why does life make you believe in this reality with so much pain?

Every person has a dream he wants to achieve in life and so did I. The only problem with my dream was, it was fantasized.

What do you expect from a girl who is pampered all her life, has siblings who are like her parents? But never mind, who sees that, what people only see is who you should be rather than what you have achieved.

I adore my fantasy, it makes me feel contented and happy, not because it’s filled up of things that are luxurious and sophisticated, but because I can have my own world, and where I can be my own hero.

I used to have these nightmares, I still have them, about the deepest fears of my heart, fighting against me. I always woke up scared that some day it might become a reality.

One day I made up my mind to fight back and not give up, the nightmares continued but with faith inside myself I imagined to have extraordinary tools and I won every battle.

To be honest, life is far more worse, as it takes time to develop those extraordinary tools inside you. But, one thing always drives you along this path, which is, faith.

When you believe in yourself, no person can take you down, no matter how strong he is, because no power can kill your faith.

Ruqaiya Lokhand.

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The Unforgettable Beings -The Unforgettable Life!

School days, not only the days when we were just the students of any ordinary school, but we were the students of AL- MADRASA TUS SAFIYAH TUL BURHANIYAH; the school which was our home indeed, and the teachers, the soul of our madrasa, were like our parents. We gave each other 14 years of our lives (Nursery to 11 O’levels).

Although we didn’t give them anything, but the teachers, who were our tutors, friends, guides, well-wishers, helpers, educated us with Deeni & Dunyawi knowledge on every step we took. They not only educated us but they also forgave us for our each and every mistake/mischief/disrespectful act. And, they were the first one to help make us distinguish between good and bad, and the right and the wrong.

Our Madrasa where we lived together, laughed together, wept together, is missed, because, not a single day passed when we didn’t meet our friends. Today when we stand in the path of our life where we have although left MADRASA for two years now, but we still breathe the fragrance in our soul, and beat in our hearts, the memories which we have gathered during that journey.

I would like to thank each and every teacher of ours who helped us to walk through the path of our life for 14 years and their teachings and blessing will surely help me and all of us to walk furthermore as we go ahead. I am deeply sorry for all the troubles I have done and mistakes that I have committed and beg pardon if I have ever hurt you. I stand here today and tell you, thank-you, I owe you all my life and I wouldn’t be able to thank you enough for what you all have done for me and for us.

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Here in this Picture and Every Time we want to stand below them.Not so that we can be viewed in the photograph easily,no not at all! Only because of this reason so that their shade falls on us throughout our lives.

PROUD TO BE AN MSBIAN AND PROUD TO BE YOUR STUDENT.

Motivated to write this by; Janab Shk Huzefa Bhai.

Thanking you,

Your student,

Hussain Muslim.

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To those who are irreplaceable…

As me and my friend Husain (school-mate) talked over about school and old times, our conversation took us to our school teachers. Some of them were who I had met in the past couple of months, and some, that he had met. But, in all we talked about every teacher of madrasa who had taught us and nurtured us with good qualities in madrasa.

I remember when CIE examinations in my 11th grade (last year of school) were about to begin I wrote an article on my classmates; I addressed a paragraph to each one of them and bid them farewell. My principal told me that I must not forget my teachers while bidding farewell. I picked up my pen but I didn’t know what to say to them, I was unsure that what was right and what wasn’t at that time because with friends you could say what you feel, but while speaking about a teacher you would always hesitate before making a statement.

Being naïve and immature you make a lot of mistakes and so did I. I think all students must have made fun of a teacher or spoken ill of them; and I agree I have too (almost about everyone).

Two years after passing school, I’ve come to realize that life will not give you what you want, it will not say what you want to hear, it will not do what you want to happen, in fact, it will silently teach you with remarks that would baffle you. Only after this I realized how wrong I had done to those who corrected me in the most polite manner, who generously gave me what I wanted, who left no chance of appreciating me, who stood by me and showed how to anchor life.

Without the art of handling my tools (which they gave me), I wouldn’t last a day. I didn’t know it was a blessing that I had them in my life, I did not thank them, in fact, I had done something so ill which makes me think I did not deserve such brilliant and hardworking teachers.

There have been instances where our teachers got tired and frustrated of our acts, but I found that, no matter what we did they didn’t leave us; they would come back again the next day beginning with a fresh start. I’m sure it’s not easy to forget where one does wrong to you, but they did.

I believe no student can succeed until he respects his teacher. It’s because the one who gives you knowledge matters more than the knowledge itself. Imagine a piece of clay awaiting its potter; we would be there, waiting to be shaped and polished by the potter.

I am deeply sorry, first for doing something which was inhumane and, for never thanking them. I was unable to write about each and every one of them but I want to take their names, not because I want to show off, but because I want them to know I remember them and I pray for them.

Janab Shk Mustafa Jack
Janab Shk Ammar Bhai
Janab Shk Tahir Bhai
Janab Shk Saifuddin
Janab Shk Huzefa Bhai
Janab Shk Mohammad Bhai
Janab Shk Shabbir
Janab Shk Mustafa Bhai
Janab Shk Yousuf Bhai
Janab M Quaid Johar Bhai
Janab M Ibrahim Bhai
Janab M Moiz Bhai
Janab M Mansoor Bhai
Janab M Ahmed Bhai
Janab M Abbas Bhai
Ali Sir
Murtaza Sir
Muzammil Sir
Zulifqar Sir (computer)
Quaid Sir
Sir Asgher
Sir Javed Kamal
Sir Arif
Sir Tauheed
Sir Sadiq
Sir Zulfiqar (Pakistan studies)
Sir Zohair
Sir Ahmed
Zahabiyah Bhen
Rabab Bhen
Tasneeem Bhen
Tahera Bhen
Tasneem Bhen
Farida Bhen (Grade II)
Shireen Bhen
Shama Bhen
Fatema Bhen
Fatema Bhen (art teacher)
Arwa Bhen
Fauzia Bhen
Tasneem bhen Dawoodji
Durriya Bhen
Nighat Bhen
Shahzadi Bhen
Tasneem Bhen Shakir
Nafisa Bhen Jabir
Rehana Bhen
Rashida Bhen (Primary Urdu teacher)
Rashida Bhen Box
Zainab Bhen Anjar
Rashida Bhen Haji
Fatema Bhen Raziuddin
Zainab Bhen Sadri
Umme Hani Bhen
Maryam Bhen Sadri
Qurratul-Ain Bhen
Naseem Bhen
Raeesa Bhen

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I know I must be definitely missing out on someone; I tried my mind to go back as much I could take it. I’m sorry (yet again) whose name I’ve missed out here. But, together I remember you all as school teachers. Regretting over the mistakes, I’m thankful to all of you, for being the potter and turning this clay into a piece of pottery.

My words might not reach you, and might not be so great, but I wanted to at least try and show my feelings.
To those who are irreplaceable and unforgettable.

Your student,
Ruqaiya Lokhand.

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And, here it comes again!

It was New Year 2016 that brought a sudden flood of thoughts to my mind – last year of college, getting into university, good percentage, being responsible and so on. However, the most effecting thought was “Second Year Examinations”.

The word exam itself ran adrenaline in my body, awakening me, tantalizing me on a bit, and finally pushing me hard towards the lone books, kept in the corner of my room. As I turned the cover page of my Physics book, I found out, that the variables, numbers and exponents are dancing in front of my eyes (metaphorically), just like in Ishant Avasti’s notebooks (Taare Zameen Par).

At first, giving CIE in school, and coming to Intermediate Board, I learnt one major thing about myself; I never touched a book until I knew I had to give the paper the next day and always learnt everything on the 11th hour. But, that doesn’t work every time right?

Have you heard about conditioned reflexes? They are those habits which we incorporate with an experience. For example, the sight of strawberry was nothing to me, but a red, cone-shaped fruit with spots all over it, before I had tasted it. But once, the taste of strawberries melted on my taste buds, I was awed by its flavor and texture. And then, the mere thought of strawberries, excited me and made me happy.

You must be thinking what connection do strawberries have with examinations, right? Literally there’s nothing to it, but, as a matter of fact, when talking about habits, there is. I was mistaken that I could do everything in the last moment until I got C in my Add Math paper. It changed everything, just like strawberries were unknown to me before, so was the consequence of bad result, until, I experienced it.

Now, I deal with it like a good hand job to be done every day. One of my college-mate tells me, ‘I always bear in my mind that I shouldn’t waste one single day, even if it’s learning 4 lines of, any law of heredity or refining of a metal’. Her words were simple but so inspiring that for a moment I was zoned-out from the conversation.

So, for me and you, the ‘EXAM-O-FLIES’, are coming to bite us once again (my school friend used to say this). Be prepared with your rackets at hand and give it the best shot you can aim for!

Ruqaiya Lokhand.

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Friends For N-Ever!

friends-quotes

I believe it was Grade VI where we learnt that;

Friendship is a priceless gift,

That cannot be bought or sold.

No wonder this poem was taken seriously only until the examinations, that we forgot what it actually meant. We never thought that its meaning could be deeper than Mariana’s Trench.

School life was the craziest and easiest, even though, at that time we all felt that it’s a really big thing if we have an exam the next day or a surprise test is taken in the class. What did our young minds know, that in practical life, these surprise tests and examinations are a daily routine?

At that age, we all were naïve; we fought and patched up our broken hearts every other day. Who knew we would all miss being children one day? All we wanted was, to grow up and control the world.

In all the experiences, friends were a major part, what so ever happened, it was mandatory to share it in the friends group. Without doing that, our day would be incomplete. Pranks and gossips would be the favorite part of our friendship.

We all considered that friendship is a very common thing, that everyone has a friend. In some way it is true. But, when people grow up, we never know how their priorities might change.

Seeing that school life was ending, and we all made like a thousand promises to stay in touch and keeping re-unions to water our plant of ‘friendship’.

Our fate took us to different paths, where Moiz and Hatim shifted to Dubai and Alefiyah shifted to Dares-Salaam. After school got over, we all had a different routine. Our studies were different and the environment was entirely different. Getting busy with life, we missed the happy days of bunking class in school because bunking in college meant a great loss in understanding the subject. Nothing remained the same, except the will to laugh together once again.

After one and a half year of shifting to Dares-Salaam, Alefiyah flew to Karachi for two weeks, where I and Alif met four times. All worries and tensions went out the window and disappeared into the thin air. We laughed, cheered and shared our feelings once again. After a long time we felt like life is worth living.

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Our friendship is like Never Ever, because never, never comes, even when we die, our minds rest with the happy memories of our lives. Hence, our friendship lives through this phase to the other.

PS.Have a safe flight back home! 😉

With lots of love,

Yours sincerely,

Ruqai.

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Because, I miss you…

I really have no idea where to begin from, and I’m not sure if people would like to read it, but I’d like to notify the readers, that, this essay is as a small gift of thanks to my friend, Rasheeda.

There’s no once upon a time in this story, I’ve known Rasheeda since I was a kid. It’s simple; I and Rasheeda have been living in the same area since childhood just until yesterday. We have known each other since we were babies crawling here and there in the masjid. Then we joined the madrasah and had our own girls group of the mohalla (area). Time passed and we used to play with each other/ be with each other for like every day.

When teenage hit us, there came times for sleepovers and gossips. Girls will be girls, there’s no denying it. So, there used to be cat fights (amongst all of us), I don’t mean physically, but saying stuff and cold wars, that kind. But even then, I don’t know why or how we still stayed along in a group.

In all of this growing part, we graduated from schools, and then from colleges and got into universities (except me, still in college – no comments on that) . We enjoyed getting older, because now no aunties will tell us not to sit in separate thaals and go to our moms (Just kidding! :D) Taking the oath of misaaq was one part of growing up, because it really meant we have to be serious towards studies and life, and we have to act mature, somehow all those parts in life went well. I believe growing up brought us closer to each other’s heart.

Naturally, no one can live without friends, even if we don’t say it, we want our friends to listen to our scored goals and the missed ones too, and our times of hardship and happy days, we like it when they appreciate, and are consoled even if they just keep a warm hand of comfort on our shoulder. At the end of teenage, our ‘girly-group’ transformed  into a ‘club’, our park walks became dining out on occasions, our gossips jumped from who hit whom to who went out with whom, but, one thing remained the same, we laughed the same way like we did when we were kids.

Although our physique changed and we became different people now, but we stayed together, we enjoyed each other’s company, actually relished it, it was something special, actually it IS something special that I can’t define.

Time ran so fast it came to the part of engagements. Well, Rasheeda was the first one to get engaged from our group. We were all happy that now we are adults and have become mature with time. Who knew that we will all miss being together one day?

Day before yesterday, it was the last function of Rasheeda’s wedding, sorry if I’m jumping from engagement to the wedding, but it seems like she got engaged just some time ago and now, she is happily married.

I don’t know Rasheeda if I was ever a good friend to you, but you ARE to me. You might laugh now, I couldn’t sleep right now, I miss you. I miss you singing 9XM songs, I miss your smartness, I miss your cries, I miss you being bossy, I miss your enthusiasm, I miss dancing in the rain with you, and I miss your smile, I really miss you – already.

I think about your home, it’s such a big part of my childhood, I miss you being there. Apart from all the differences we have had, you were a really good friend to me, and to see you away I really don’t know how to react. I will miss your place beside Fatema – Muslim in the thaal. I will miss you every time as I pass by your building (which will be every day).

Yesterday as I hugged you the last time, I really didn’t want to let go of you, you are so much to me, you don’t even know. I know we haven’t been like best friends and all, but even then I will miss you like A LOT (Have I said this like the hundredth time till now?)

Life is really bitter sometimes, I really don’t want to be away from you.

I’d like to quote some lines to you;

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I pray that your each and every day passes with a light heart, that no troubles bother you because I know you are great at tackling them 😉 .

I wish that every day you light the days with your radiant smile, and live a happy contented life under the Saya Mubarakah of both Maula. Ameen.

May Allah grant our Maula a long, healthy and prosperous life till the Day of Judgement. Ameen.

Take care.

With lots of love,

Yours truly,

Ruqqu.

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And, you’re beautiful even when you fall…

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It is this morning that I love,

Where greens in garden spring along,

From small to tall, they all appeal,

And, refresh me on the morning walk.

 

When fall arrives and they die out,

From green to yellow to orange they change,

With purple, pink and red on side,

They show their beauty one last time.

 

Dew rests on leaves, washing them out,

And Sun gives them all, a hot, warm bath,

Glistening and glowing with colors all kind,

Making a sad heart happy with last good bye.

 

And, when autumn sojourns, clearing them out,

The last look of love is never forgone,

Hustling with wind, the leaves fly away,

And so, they’re beautiful, even when they fall.

 

From New Jersey, with love.

Ruqaiya Lokhand.

 

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Inni Wallahe Ohibboka Ya Maula!

As it dawned on Wednesday, 2nd September 2015, my home seemed like a fish market, we all were in a hurry to get to Hyderabad. All in all, we left home by almost 7.30 am. The plan was, that Syedna Ali-Qadar Mufaddal Saifuddin Maula TUS was directly coming to Hyderabad from Karachi airport.

We reached in time and got the sharaf of waaz of Urus Mubarak of Syedna Idrees Imaduddin Maula RA in Hyderabad; in bayan Mufaddal Maula TUS explained the position of a leader. He (TUS) told that the leader is like a lion, the protector from evils, the King of all, He whose one roar can make everyone silent. And, when I read this quote I knew exactly what Maula TUS tried to tell us, ‘I am not afraid of an army of lions led by a sheep; I am afraid of an army of sheep led by a lion.’ ~Alexander the Great

Unfortunately, I couldn’t stay in Hyderabad while Maula TUS was there, and came back to Karachi by evening, none of us knew if the city of Karachi will get His blessings too, but on the inside everyone prayed that He would bless our city too. By weekend, we knew the stay in Karachi for a few days was confirmed, and the arrangements and preparations had begun as soon as the news came in.

On Monday morning, 7th September ’15, Maula TUS flew to Burhani Industrial Park and then Burhani Recreational Park in helicopter; the parks were inaugurated by His Holiness. Around 1.15 pm, Maula TUS came to Karachi.

In the evening of 7th, thousands of mumineen did deedar of Maula TUS at Naadil Burhani. Each heart was rejoiced as Maula TUS gave salami to the crowds in the ground. The cricket match of Saifee Burhani Games commenced. While the match went on, Maula TUS enjoined on mumineen to keep this ground as a ground, since health is very important, and no other thing should take this ground’s place.

I and my few friends hurried to Hasani Masjid- Clifton, where Maula TUS would offer Magrib/ Isha prayers. Luckily, we got through the excited crowd and prayed after Maula’s Imamat.

Then, on 8th of September, Tuesday, the day began with Fajr prayers in Taheri Masjid – Sadar. After the prayers and deedar, the MSB staff, students and alumni proceeded to Al-Madrasa-Tus-Saifiyah-Tul-Burhaniyah Hyderi campus, last minute work was going on for Maula TUS’s arrival in the madrasa.

In not more than 18 minutes, Mufaddal Maula TUS did an overview of the whole school, He TUS looked inside every classroom, every lab. Since I was standing by the counter, where shehed (honey), water, and many things were kept for shifa, I was right in front of Maula as he said shifa to all the things, never in my life have I ever been so close to Maula TUS. And then, Zohar Asar prayers were offered in Husami Masjid – Barakaat-e-Hyderi.

Later that night, Governor of Sindh Dr Ishrat-ul-Ibad conferred doctorate degree upon Mufaddal Maula TUS in a convention organized by University of Karachi (KU) at Governor House.

9th September started with Fajr prayers in Adam Masjid – Old Karachi, and at night Saleh Masjid was blessed with Magrib/Isha prayers in the night of Milaad Mubarak of 51st Dai Syedna Taher Saifuddin RA. A noorani procession was held in Naadil Burhani, the sight was amazing, and the cries of ‘Maula Maula’, ‘Maula Aik Nazar’, ‘Labbaika Ya Dai-Allah’ and ‘Inni Wallahe Ohibboka Ya Maula’ are still ringing in my ears. The Moukib (procession) was truly something that the mumineen of Karachi will never forget.

The day of Milad dawned on us, and the news which none of us wanted to hear was clear to us when Maula TUS gave wada nu salam (the last words) to all of us. When I heard the waaz, I felt every word, every zikr, every sentence was meant for my soul. Many of us did deedar from the terrace of Masjid, which was like the do or die thing but at that moment no one cared, the want of Aik Nazar gave us the spirit.

As I sat for jaman (lunch) with my mohalla friends, we came up with a plan to do last deedar as Maula TUS would leave for airport from a zyafat nearby. We, and many mumineen stood on the road waiting for Maula TUS as He’d come towards the car. Not once, not twice, not even thrice, it was definitely more than that, I ran after the car, seeing the last salami of Maula today, my feelings can’t be put to words. As much as I’m thankful, my heart is grieving on Maula TUS’s departure.

This safar has changed me like no other, I guess, some things can never be explained, and maybe never be understood by any other person, except Maula TUS himself.

As these days pass, I wish to do His deedar again and again, until there is no other day.

May Allah, grant our Maula TUS, a prosperous and healthy life till the day of Judgment. Ameen.

Amate Syedna Maulanal Mannan,

Ruqaiya Mulla Mustafa Lokhand Wala.

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What do you hope to achieve in your lifetime?

We’ve all born up with, or at least I can say that I’ve born up with- fairy tales, a place where magic existed, and anything could be done by a swish swash of a wand; there was an outside world- so called Narnia and a school named Hogwarts. Life went on, and then I started to realize, that those places and things were mere imaginations, those were just illusions that are not the meaning to life, that’s not the core of it, there’s something else besides being a hero.

Like all children, I had my own fantasy world (of course); being the youngest of my siblings, I never had anything to worry about. I was always pampered and got whatever I wanted. I was not an outspoken person; I had such ideas and elements in my world that no one would believe I would think of. The fantasies made me feel that my life would be the same, but seriously, would it?

Humans are unique creatures, aren’t they? I don’t know if there’s one definition to them. Of all the creations of God, humans are entirely distinctive in features and habits. There are many theories of how humans evolved from other animals, but then, humans have this most insane thing in them, yes, I call it insane, because this particular thing has the ability to do anything, absolutely anything; it is the mind, yes. This is where I disagree to the fact that humans evolved from animals, if so, one aspect to that is; why would it be taken as an insult if one called us an animal?

The point is; that humans have the ability; to think, visualize, weigh the options according to their priorities and likes/dislikes, and act upon it. Animals do that too, but they can do it to a certain extent, they can’t go across their boundaries to do something mind blowing. It is the humans that can bring peace, and then, at the same time, mass destruction as well. It is the humans, who have the ability to go as far as the moon. It is the humans that can turn mere particles into sky scrapers.

I’m sure we all know what a human mind is capable of doing. This brings us to reason out; why humans are born different? Why do they have a particular race in life? What is the meaning to their live? Will they be particularly accounted for what they do? And so, the questions arise one after another.

A few years ago, I started to write on a blog with my school-mates. There, I wrote an essay (or you could call it an autobiography), which was; ‘it’s fun to be me’, and one of my teachers commented there, ‘Knowing oneself is a life-long process of discovery. It’s good to realize your own strengths and shortcomings. That is the key towards self-development.’ That’s what struck me; our process of experiencing life is the same thing. It works the same way, as we proceed to take steps in our life one after another, we come down to various perspectives, we understand ourselves in a better way and hence, the motive of our life.

The first revelation that came upon Prophet Mohammad PBUH was,

“Proclaim! In the name of thy Lord and Cherisher, Who created-
Created man, out of a (mere) clot of congealed blood;
Proclaim! And thy Lord is Most Bountiful,-
Who taught (the use of) the pen,-
Taught man that which he knew not.”

It was a clear order, to acquire knowledge and then, spread it to others. When we study or wade through the words of wisdom, at first, we accept what is brought to us and then, we ask of how and why this or that happened, which enables our mind to open up. When we talk in religious terms, there have been people who were astray and then as time passed they became religious, on the other hand, there have been people who were born in a religious environment but they found ‘their’ meaning of life something else. Every mind is given a certain time (age), to use his mind and contemplate with what he has observed in his time.

I’m not a scholar, and I do not have the sound reasons to argue about the theories of life evolving from a unicellular organism to a very well developed one, but with what I have grasped and what my mind tells me is that if humans are extra-ordinary, then there’s definitely a reason to it. I am, in the process of learning, everyday my mind perceives a new thing, and it makes me wonder and ponder.

It is my mind that instructs me, to dive-in, in the sea of knowledge and achieve the task of knowing of my existence here.

Ruqaiya Lokhand.

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