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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

TAARE ZAMEEN PAR

You must be thinking that I am going to write something on the movie ‘Taare Zameen Par’. Well, you can say so… I am actually going to write something like that movie, but not exactly the same story where you see a child’s life changed. A story of a boy who was nil but had a will, wanted to win, SO WHAT WAS HIS SIN ?

There was a boy who struggled in all subjects and wasn’t able to easily pass his exams. He found all subjects difficult, and was belittled by his teachers and classmates. Slowly and gradually he was losing hope, his effort towards studies was decreasing day by day, month by month, or you may say teacher to teacher. His parents thought he was studying well but in school he wasn’t, his mind would stay in other things, always wanting to be out of the class, his homework would be incomplete on daily basis. Whenever his result came, he used to be shocked because for him it was the most he could study. From grade I-V, no class teacher understood him, in fact, just criticized him and made him lose his hope for achieving better grades.

He was always running away from books, and always unwilling to go to school, but he was good at something, which a teacher knew, who was there for him for 3 years since class 6; that boy’s situation totally changed when that teacher became his class teacher and English teacher in class 6. He didn’t know but he was changing his perspective towards studies. The teacher had an amazing teaching style and she was different than other teachers, that teacher quickly observed that, that boy was happy but wasn’t contributing to class activities or discussions.

Concerned and worried the teacher called upon the boy’s parents and older brother, and made them believe that this boy didn’t show any sign of low intelligence, because he was good at other things but not studies. The teacher made him study well, that boy was good at English (the subject which was taught by that teacher) but wasn’t good at other teacher’s subjects which made his result low graded, he did know the teacher was a blessing for his class and for him.

Later that boy came first in a couple of things, but as always not good at studies.

When he was in class 10, it was his last day of school; many teachers were there in the class to say a final good bye to that boy’s class and him. A teacher psychiatrically said to another teacher “sir, there are some students in class 9, who want to stay in class 9”, (he meant that there are students for whom they do not hope to pass the exam creating a way to degrade students). Another teacher replied “not only class 9, there are students in this class too”. Everyone was just laughing because it was a general talk, no one was pointed out, but there was another teacher who replied “sir, it is good for us, because it would be easy for us to take pictures in school”. That day, that boy had promised himself that he would bring a good result and show it to that teacher who believed in him and those who had taunted. And yes it did happen, that boy didn’t score something big, but it was something good for him than the results of previous classes. The moment when the teacher didn’t give a good impression taunting to a student who may have prayed for her, and yes he did pray, just for the students who were there after him in school, so that they don’t face these kind of difficulties.
That boy was the one who had won first prize in School Photography Competition and was the one who used to cover all the events of school.

Yes, you may have got a hint about who is this story about…
The teacher who changed the boy’s life wasn’t Ram Shankar Nikumbh, the teacher was Maryam Bhen Sadriwala. Who is missed by the students till now, and those who haven’t studied under her, wish they would have done so.

And, you may also be thinking that the boy who was changed by the teacher would be Ishaan Nandkishore Awasthi, in this story that boy was ME, Myself.

“TAARE ZAMEEN PAR”, what does it mean actually, does it mean that the student are in a form of star on land, On Earth ?
YES ! We are one of the bright stars which live on EARTH, who are not just floating in the sky. Just shining just for a reason, just to give The MOON a company. The Moon is a teacher, who gives blessings to the bright star, you may also believe the Moon gives light to them. The biggest achievement for a star is to become a shooting star, move from one place to somewhere higher. On Earth, shooting stars are made by teachers like :

Maryam Bhen Sadriwala, THANKS to you, MAY GOD BLESS YOU.
Now I pray, which I prayed from my childhood, in the assembly of school. No prayer is prayed without this prayer.
In the end we should all pray that may Allah grant Syedna Mufaddal Saifuddin Aqa, who is our ultimate teacher, who lights our ways and gives guidance to us, a long, healthy and prosperous life till the Day of Judgment. Ameen.

Huzefa.A.Hazari – MSBIAN TILL DEATH

The Barakaat of MSB Assemblies

An assembly is basically held for communicating information, habitual practices and for learning experiences of knowledge with the fellow mates. But the morning assemblies in MSB are totally unique. The seeds of the institute sowed by Maula (TUS) is full of barakaat and that’s where the assemblies make a difference.

Only the ones present in them ‘thoroughly’, can realize the barakaat it showers every morning, every dawn, into a new day that is welcomed by the smiling countenances of the students and the staff as we assemble in our dua hall to proclaim a productive promising day by commencing with the barakaat of the recitation of a few mesmerizing verses of Quran-e-majeed, zikr-e-Hussain, duas, a few soothing stanzas of madeh or qasaids with some worldly news and sometimes a presentation that is ended by all of us standing imposingly reciting Wazeefat-u-shukr and asking for taeed(help) to Maula (TUS) to begin a challenging day with spiritual strength and stimulation.

Well, the main reason behind this piece is that something which we witnessed today in the assembly and to capture that fading melody within the confines of my mind, to capture that feeling of profundity that I want to live with forever, I ‘had’ to write. I had to write for the sake of the indescribable torrent of emotion and rush of gratitude as today was the bereaved occurrence of Shehzada Huzaifa Mohyuddin Bhaisaheb’s death anniversary which is why every single thing we recited was heartily dedicated to him. After the recitation, we were been shown a presentation on what were his great achievements, his attributes and the khidmaat he preformed of dawat-e-haadiya all his life! We were filled with inspiration. We were filled with awe, and then the emotion raised plentifolds as the marasiyah, ‘Aey Huzaifa Mohyuddin’ penned by his beloved daughter, ‘Ajab bensaheba’ was recited in which she beautifully expresses with such mellifluous words of how every minutiae of him has been missed which is why the chamber had gone faint in it’s power of emotion. Everybody was filled with grievous loss and was teary-eyed. After that we recited the madeh, ‘101mi Milaad’ which was recited by every single person loudly with utmost affection and gratitude and devotion which filled the hall. Now, you would’ve an idea how it all felt.

Taken in March 2012

This is how our everyday education begins. Surrounded with spirituality.

In the end, let’s pray that our Maula (TUS), the bower of all the 22 thriving branches of MSB Educational Institute around the world, and His Mansoos (TUS) live a prosperous life till eternity. And may the Shehzada rest in the appeasing shade of Syedna Jalal Shamsuddin (R.A) Ameen!

Amate Syedna (TUS) wa Mansoosehi (TUS),
Sarrah M. Mustafa Malirwala

Happy Teacher’s Day

As I was flipping the papers of my vivid red file, I suddenly came across a slightly creased paper with the scribbled title ‘Teacher’s Day’ on it, that took me back down the memory lane reminding me of the wonderful time when me and Maria had during writing and practicing that skit with the help of our dearestttt mentor.  It was dated on 5th of October 2011 and on that very fine day we were asked to perform it in the morning assembly to celebrate the teacher’s day. I would like to share it and here it goes by the concept when me and Maria were classmates once and meet after a very very long time.

Maria: Hey! Sarrah! It’s been such a long time and I can’t believe I’m meeting you ‘today’! How are you?

Sarrah: Exactly! It’s been such a long time. I’m pretty good, you say? You look nice! By the way, what are you doing these days?

Maria: I’m good too. Hehe, thanks! You look pretty too. I’m actually teaching these days.

Sarrah: Thanks! What a co-incidence! You know it’s teachers day today! And reuniting with you just brought back all those alluring flickers of our schools days. What fun we had teasing our beloved teachers and mimicking them! Wasn’t it fun? I miss those days so much now, as we’ve grown up and also busy with our jobs.

Maria: Haan, what memories they are. I remember the silly pranks which boys used to play behind the teacher’s back, the quality we had in us of hiding in the washroom and children’s play area while bunking & the trick we used to make them stand on the tips of their toes to control us. But alas! Sitting on the same chair for about 2 years now, have made me conceive that how they bore us with their exceptional positive attitude. Now that I’m going through that duration can I really tell you how gratified we were to have those exquisite gems in our lives?

Sarrah: And Maria, ‘how’ can you turn a blind eye to when one of us would always interrupt and distract the poor teacher with a hilarious question in the middle of a crucial lecture. But yes I agree, it’s true that they portrayed a significant role in our lives, navigating us all the way and equipping us with all the tremendous knowledge they had. Caring for us like their own children and never differentiating between any students. But we? We were ungrateful brats, I tell you! I always thought that whatever our teachers taught us became our base and the morals they gave us helped us to live a better life, isn’t it?

Maria: Exactly, for us teachers were like the seas of knowledge and talent where we kept on sailing and sailing but it never ended when we were lost they guided us safely to our destination. And you see, what goes around comes around. I’m going through the same trauma of controlling my students and bearing their alternate tantrums and fluctuating moods. So now, I think that they should be valued and be respected the way they deserve. Sarrah: Absolutely my friend! Apart from our parents they are the only ultimate acquaintances who conveyed all the responsibilities of giving us all they could. They were the main sources of knowledge for us. ‘They’ were the ones who should be given awards for patiently regulating us and understanding our problems. And after taking in the dilemma, they would expand our imagination to new things and make us ready to face what life sent our way.

Maria: Hmm and I personally think that teachers invent a new world in itself; they create things into reality, and then inspire us and make us learn. They are the blessings of Allah Almighty to us and the most precious gifts from him to us. ‘We’ the students of MSB are grateful to have these mentors who never stopped ‘or’ will stop guiding, stimulating and loving us. We are thankful to all of them from the kindergarten teachers to the O’levels teachers for their continuous affection towards us.

Sarrah: May we all touch the pinnacles of success with the help of our teachers and perform khidmat of our ultimate muse and mentor- Our Maula TUS. Who is the inspiration behind our every positive and worthy thought. May the trainer of ALL teachers accept our humble khidmat and give strength to our esteemed teachers. May he and his Mansoos live a prosperous life till eternity! Ameen.

-Sarrah M. Malirwala & Maria Sadriwala. 

Geo tou aisay!

“Saaarrraaaahhhh, take a breath and at least let me get me out of the kitchen!” my mother added.
“Noooo ami, listen to me first! You know then what happened…(and I continued with my story)”

Today, as per routine, I returned from school and began filling my mother with my tales without pausing and she listened to me imperturbably like she always does (she knows I can’t remain bottled up with feelings). I went on emptying myself but leaving all her work behind, she sat calmly with interest, gave me good advices, smiled and laughed at intervals on my escapades and tried to make me learn from the mistakes I made.

These brief conversations we have every day, never fail to content me. Sometimes I wonder what would I do without my loved ones, who are unexpectedly always there to listen. Seriously, I would nearly faint out of suffocation if I was unheard or unexpressed!
Indeed, it’s a gift to have people around us with whom we can toss around ideas, dreams, share incidents, feelings & dispel each others fears.

According to me, Silence always kills me from inside. I’d rather remain over said than unsaid. I believe in the power of expression, in the power of words. I believe in intense passion and openness. So, I feel that it’s very IMPORTANT for an individual to be expressive.

Why expressive?

• Being expressive helps you in remaining ebullient in your personality.
• It gives you ‘wings’- it makes you feel high and tension free-it makes you feel lighter.
• People value you more. They enjoy your company.
• It helps you in self development- And makes you realize your own strengths and short comings.
• Resolving misunderstandings and building in strong relationships- Expression plays a very important part in that, I tell you!

Finding out the best way for us to express yourself can be rewarding. It is not always important for us to possess speaking power. You can do it in anyway.
In YOUR way!

I personally express myself according to my fluctuating mood. I write when I overflow with feelings and am unable to hold them at bay. When words seem less, I use my photography skills to express daily life in an extraordinary way. I go sporting when I feel too enthusiastic. That lets me express myself in a physical way. When I feel creative, I spill colors on paper. And then sometimes, when I feel the crazy acid boiling within me, I sing aloud in the shower! It sometimes drains out all the stress (I shouldn’t have mentioned this) 😛

So you see? There are so many ways in which we can express ourselves. We just need to be honest, genuine, fearless & confident. But, lets not forget that we do need to express ourselves ‘but’ in an appropriate manner. Our surrounding, our environment does matter a lot. Of course, you cannot jump and hoot with excitement in a very formal situation but yes you can cheer and chill in an informal gathering. So, we do need to realize the importance of ‘the right time’….
But hey? While taking care of the right time, please don’t forget to vent out! Because, expressing is nothing but saying and doing what your heart tells you to.

So, stand up and heave your hearts out amigos!
Cheers to Expressionism!

-Sarrah Mustafa Malir

An Ecstatic Day!

This Saturday was full of alacrity and delight! Of course it was productive too. As my mother vowed to take me for shopping if I was prepared with all my tasks done before 2.30 pm. It was a challenge for me. Really! I had to finish ALL the undone questions for the Add. Math exam on Tuesday (for which I’m a bit hyped up) Secondly, I had to complete some of the chores too. Exactly in 6 hours!

Miraculously all the errands were accomplished on the allotted time. I say it miraculously because being me, nothing is done on time. But that day, I couldn’t miss shopping of course and so was worked up by doing everything in such speed! It was a big achievement for me. I wasn’t used to doing everything on ‘the right time’; after all I’m a “late lateef” But satisfyingly I succeeded. 

As soon as we got into the car, I jotted down the stuff I needed for my ridas. And the adventure began. First, we headed towards the vast land of cloths-Rabi Center. The noisy crowd evoked my senses. The fascinating colors displayed by the shopkeepers urged me to buy them all. And the whimsical hails from the Pathans were ever-lasting.

Rabi was going great & finally, I was overcome with excitement and a load of shopping bags in my hands. It was a pretty good experience of helping my mum by using my creative material. The adventure was about to end but of course it couldn’t end without filling our tummies. And so we decided to dine in Pizza Hut.

After ordering some mouth watering food, we chattered & laughed-enjoying each other’s company. That mother-daughter moment in the little hut was to be treasured to the fullest.
Soon then, the waiter placed the food on the well organized table and the scrumptious aroma filled the air. We delighted the treat and filled our appetite.

I was noticing that particular waiter staring at us with admiration since a long time which made me think something was fishy. Then, when he came to clean up the table, he couldn’t resist and finally said something which illuminated my day, totally! He said “aap log jo gujrati (lisan-ud-dawat) mai baat kartay ho to itna ehtram wala lagta hai. Hum pathan to baat bhi karein to aeysa lagta hai ke lar rahay hain; you all are very unique” and went away with a smile.

I was seriously awe-stricken then because I knew what exactly he meant! The feeling of elation & gratitude twinkled in my eyes. It was as if I was standing on the 7^th sky, proud as a Peacock. Wearing my well-ironed classy Hot-Pink rida, it was indeed a pleasure to be recognized as a woman of Dawoodi Bohra community.

Honestly, this remark was the one which urged me to write this post. After all, it was a great ending and an inspiration of ‘the day’. It made my heart fill with gratitude towards Allah for his limitless blessings & that he made me a true winner-a Mumin-one who is constantly under the Saya Mubarak of the two angelic Maulas TUS.

-Sarrah Mustafa Malir

And We Begin!

The world seemed just beautiful and vague-nothing majestic! But, when she polished us, everything became so appealing and bewitching. The grass was just green to us, but after all these years with her, they’ve become to seem prickly emerald carpets.

   

                                                   Writing and Her motivation did the magic.
Maryam Ben Sadriwala has sprinkled her enchanting writing talents on us, because of which we have reached the stage where we can make our own blog and can proudly call ourselves her apprentices.

We are writers, amateur writers, but we know what the art of writing is, as it’s often said “The pen is the tongue of the mind”. For us writing is a form of personal freedom because on paper we can do what we want to do and be what we want to be, we can easily vent our feelings down. Our words don’t need to make sense, if it eases our minds and conserves our memories. What else do we need!!

Well, then because of her, first reading, then writing has become our passion, everyone in the class has become eager to write. Reading is the only thing which makes us away from the real,mean world, and if one is a champion at reading, he will naturally be worthy of writing, as he’ll have the heart of a writer. 

     

A few days ago, She and her friend (our ex-teacher) Zainab ben Sadriwala started a blog – one with the significance of real writers, which became our inspiration towards creating our own blog.

She’s the Writer and ‘we are her apprentices’.
We vow to try our best and to make our audience happy.

Happy Blogging! 
Writer’s Apprentices