An old man I knew.

In memory of late Saifuddin Uncle Lotia…

There was an old man I knew,
He had the smartest walk in town,
A walk, so straight and tall,
Yet, he wasn’t proud, at all.

A man so humble, in his words,
Yet, sarcasm filled the air,
His smile, so light and fresh,
That no one minded, what he had said.

A man a teacher not,
Yet he taught me a great more lot,
Not by words or formulas that I saw,
But in, the character and shape he sought.

He was a silent man, with a lot of work,
A space in corner, in his office, I recall,
His chair is silent, but something lives,
On his table, his presence still reverberates.

On his funeral, the town had crowded,
For his service and work in society was known,
Not in boast, or words that he would have said,
But by what he did, was evident and shown.

No phrases, or words, could ever define him,
For he was more, than one could say,
He lives inside, who knows him by his place,
A place small, yet everything on its own.

From an MSBian,

Ruqaiya Lokhand.

My Saify Phuppa!

‘Saify Phuppa’, said Mustafa bhai, warmly smiling like his father as I gave him my condolences on the great loss, and I could say nothing more except, ‘Sabar kijyega’, while my eyes were filled with tears remembering the kindered soul.

When my friends learned about it they all had the same question for me, ‘were you close to your uncle?’ I believe they asked me this because at times people aren’t attached to their aunt’s husband as they are to their aunt and I was not offended by it and replied that, after my aunt’s demise, it was his presence that reminded me of her and consoled that someone is there to represent her even when she is not physically among us. But, as I thought through, I realized that’s not the only reason why I adored my uncle, to say the least, he was a complete gentleman with a warm and kind smile always there, like a priceless jewel spread from ear to ear. Whenever anyone asked him how he was he had the same words like a beaded tasbeeh to his tongue, ‘Shukar hai Parwardigaar ka’. Never have I ever heard him being ungrateful or speaking of his troubles and I was always left with the thought that how could a person’s life be so calm and composed at all times. Never have I ever heard him being loud, or being irritated by someone, his nature becoming so difficult for me to understand that why does he never get angry on us being unruly, like other elders do?

While leaving the premises of the Masjid after giving condolences, an aunty asked me about who passed away and I said Saifuddin Cyclewala, but she couldn’t recall so I said, ‘do you know Mexico dry cleaners?’ And she immediately realized who I spoke of, and this isn’t the first time I’ve experienced explaining my Phuppa to anyone, most people know him by that in Sadar because he was so dedicated to his work, but to what degree, that I learnt it on the day of his demise. My cousin told me that he took the expensive and sensitive clothes that came for dry cleaning to home and would wash by himself in this harsh and cold weather, and I was awestruck, a man in his 80s, facing so many issues with illness could be so thoughtful for his customers.

But that was my Phuppa, who through his optimistic approach was liked by so many people that the Masjid was full when I arrived to recite the last verses for him, it is often said that a person is known by how many people appear for his funeral, and I knew that was right, for a cold morning like this, at 9 am, one could only come out for a loved one.

When Phuppi passed away he was sitting silently, and in a low but strong voice he said, ‘Zulekha (my aunt) looked like a bride, like how I married her, in the white kafan’. As much as I am broken by his death, I’m comforted that Phuppi will be reunited with him in Jannah and I only pray for both of them to receive the highest ranks in Heaven.

While I get flashbacks of the times I’ve met him, I can mostly think of me passing by his store and doing my greetings and he smiling and saying, ‘beta ghar pe upar ao na’, and I refusing to do so like every time saying, ‘phir kabhi aungi’ and leave his shop. What did I know there would be no phir kabhi and I’ll find his shop empty the next time I arrive.

Your ungrateful yet loving bhatiji,

Ruqaiya Lokhand.

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 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

 

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

Husnebanu 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

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.

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 11^th 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.

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;

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.

Inni Wallahe Ohibboka Ya Maula!

As it dawned on Wednesday, 2^nd 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, 7^th 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 7^th, 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.

9^th 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 51^st 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.

Daastan-e-PoPs:P

Unexpectedly,
It covered my brother in its dressing,
Now it fills me up and it’s quite depressing.
Easily he fought the illness and then set it free,
Undoubtfully, he has proved to be an inspiration for me.

Wonder,
How will I be satisfied without posing in the mirror,
What will I do without the spice in my fillers.
But without school I’ll be able to study willingly for the CIEs,
Still what will I just do with the books, the tv and the numb me.

Contently,
Like a couch potato I’ll lounge and chat with my mates,
Like a believer, I’ll have faith, I’ll tolerate and just wait.
For the remaining days, with the surrounding I’ll try to cope,
And make the most out of the ticking clock, I hope.
Tick Tick Tick!

PS: Folks this is the very first poem I’ve ever written. So don’t really judge the writing. 😛

Sarrah Mustafa Malirwala

A Plea! A Prayer!

Opportunity knocked our door and we couldn’t just let it go! It was a life time one!

Yesterday at school, we were asked to write an Arzi and join the countless others all over Pakistan in beseeching Maula TUS and His Mansoos TUS to land their barakati feet in Karachi.

And this is the least we could come up with: 

“O Maula TUS! The successor of Syedna Taher Saifuddin RA who has blessed limitless bounties on the Mumineen of Pakistan! O the Fatemi Dai, the sultan of all! You are the one who gives and receives; the eternal spiritual Mother and Father of all the Dawoodi Bohras; the King whom angels await to serve.

O Maula TUS! The heavy clouds of sins and grief have consumed us. Suffocation has overcome our choked breaths. Our hearts fail and eyes water in patience of the news of your TUS arrival. The gardens of our soul threaten to wither. The thirst of our forbearance has reached its extent. We beseech You to come and flourish our gardens and arrive on our dry land to quench our thirst. We are like a parched desert-barren and isolated-our sinful existence in need of much awaited emancipation. We are a tree-leafless and hopeless-awaiting the touch of your celestial hand.

O Maula TUS! We dream of the day when the trumpets will be blown again and bands will be played; when souls will be truly alive and bodies will be rejuvenated. When the glorious Fatimid procession will be lead in the streets of Karachi by you TUS in Imami Shaan.

May Imam Hussain SA, who grants what is not even in our destiny, reshape our destiny by giving us the dawn of that day when our tear-filled eyes and parched souls will drink in the presence of Syedna Mohammad Burhanuddin TUS and his TUS Mansoos, Syedi Wa Maulaya Mufaddal Bhaisaheb on Pak Sar Zameen!” Ameen.

Abeede Syedna TUS

Writer’s Apprentices