Interview with a mumin bhai in Randhikpur, Dohad district, Gujarat
When the rioters of Randhikpur (near Dohad) tried to torch mumineen shops during the infamous Gujarat riots nearly a decade ago, they were restrained by an interesting reality: adjacent Hindu homes. So they did something else – they looted our shops.
My shop lost material worth Rs 13 lacs. They cleaned my shop out. Not a rupee’s material was left. Whatever we had earned in life was wiped out within minutes. Our first thought: leave Randhikpur immediately.
A few days later, we heard something unexpected: Huzurala asking us to return. Our honest reaction: How would we be able to return? We didn’t have the guts to put a toe inside Randhikpur. We were worried stiff that if we dared set up shop, neighbours and competitors would drive us out. More importantly, even if we returned, how would we be able to resume business? We had no working capital. How would we stock material? Ghani waar, zehen ma khayaal aavto ke Dahod ma jayne wasi jaiyye. Kai bhi nahnu-mohtu kari laiysu. But on the other hand, there was Huzurala’s farmaan... ’Go back to your watan and resume business’ and ’Mix with other communities and conduct your trade’. So we asked what was the next most logical qiuestion: ’What if the looters came as customers?’ and the reply same: ’Ehna si hali-mali ne vepaar karvo, dil milaawi nay dhando karjo. Koi malaal nahin. Koi allegation nahin.’ We were temporarily cross and confused. Yahaan hamaari zindagi ni kamaai thayi gayi saanf, aney yahaan Huzurala kehta ke hali-mali ne vepar karjo? Kem thayi?’
Point number one: We respected Huzurala’s directive, returned and resumed our business. Huzurala conferred dua and Rs 786 per shop to start all over again. Mumineen were told ’Recommence your business with this money.’ Thereafter, Huzurala provided us with qardan hasanaa. We leveraged whatever goodwill we enjoyed within our trade. This enabled us to start re-stocking Ek ruki hui gaadi na phari si dhakko laago. For the first few days, we commuted daily from Dohad, bringing stocks in instalments. However, a few incidents in those critical few days convinced us that Dai na kalaam hiqmat si khaali na hoyi.
Point number two: Humey pehla banyan, underwear, blouse piece aney running item stock karvaanu shuru keedhu. There was a fear that non-Muslims would boycott us. The other fear was that the residents of Randhikpur would not permit us to enter. That is when a miracle happened: Adivasis, who had been our erstwhile customers, sent us a message; ‘Bhai Vohra, please return at the earliest, tamaara wagar humnay nahi chaaley.’ Nahin chaaley? There was an interesting reason: over the decades, mumineen traders had built up a reputation that bhai Vohras would stock material not found in other shops; besides, the prices in bhai Vohra’s shops would be more reasonable than in the other stores. Mumineen har wakht em sochey ke rupiya no maal ek rupya nay dus paisa ma vechey; beeja dodh rupya ma vechey. Besides, Bhai Vohra would provide credit for a month and in some instance due to circumstances would even agree to extend this credit period without charging penal interest whereas other vepaari pehla divas si vyaaj no meter chalaavey. So it was evident that bhai Vohra ni dukaan ma cost, quality aney vehwaar no faaydo. The irony was that following the riots, respect for mumineen increased in Randhikpur.
Point number three: something interesting transpired in the marketplace. Earlier, we would stock Rs 7 lacs of stock and report daily revenues of Rs 10,000. Now with Huzurala’s dua mubarak, we started reporting the same daily volume with a seventh of the stocked material. Our working capital started generating a signficiantly higher return. The customer who we would have to show varied designs before they would hestatingly buy, now would barely see two before buying immediately. This had never happened before in our trade. For years, we had reported a lower percentage reurn on a higher working capital outlay; we were now reporting a higher return with lower capital! Burhanuddin Maula yeh famayu hatu key mumineen tamey aag ma si baagh thai jaaso aney teepa dariya bani jaase, to temaj thayu!
Point number four: Interestingly, we did not just report higher incomes; we also experienced a rebound in our ikhlaas. Pehle Maula ma yaqeen karta, pun havey Maula par ekdum yakeen thayi gayo. Normally, people like us would have lost their deeni moorings. Hamara Randhikpur ma – aney saara Gujarat ma – thayu opposite.
Point number five: Huzurala’s strict farmaan was that everyone should co-exist peacefully. Dushman nay bhi dost banaavjo; tamaara dukaan ya ghar par aavey to dushmani na nikaljo, bhaley tamaaro maal looti gayo hoi. We knew from the local grapevine as to who had robbed our shop. But now that Maula had pronounced a peace strategy, we extended our hand in friendship. This surprised the others completely; ki aa bhai Vohra ne khabar chhey aney tey baad bhi izzat si pesh aavey chhey? The result was that a number of people who had robbed mumineen shops now felt deeply repentant. In fact, they are now curious about the progress that bhai Vohra has made in the last few years.
The result is that we have repiad our qardan hasana. We are now growing our business with our net worth. Jitni barkat pehla hati, ehna si kahi zyaada barkat havey chhey. Aa hamara rehbar na sabab!
Personal Accounts
Re: Personal Accounts
Interview of Rashida J.J. ( Singapore ) by Mudar Patherya
I dearly wanted to attend Huzurala’s Ashara mubarak waaz in Marol but due to an operation that had been conducted on me in Singapore some months prior to this, I was advised to stay back.
As it happened, on the night of 8 Muharram, while returning from the Masjid, I stumbled and in the midst of protecting my stomach (which had been operated), I hit the ground face-on. I bled profusely and stained my ridah all over.
When my son and husband rushed towards me, they screamed. My nose was broken, the tooth chipped and the face red all over.
While being driven to the hospital, I kept imploring: Ya Allah, please save my face; Ya Maula, I put my face in your qadam mubarak and trust you to cure me.
While being treated in the hospital, ditto. Ya Allah, please save my face; Ya Maula, I put my face in your qadam mubarak and trust you to cure me.
The doctor drew the X-ray and showed me my broken nose. He said he would have to wait till the swelling subsided before being able to fix it. And then he said something more: he commisserated, he sympathised. The subtle inference: the face would never be the same again.
The tragedy was that with my face bandaged and plastered, I could not attend the Ashara waaz n Singapore . First, the regret of not being able to go to Marol; then this. It is in weak moments like these that the mind starts playing up. Did I do something wrong? Is Allah annoyed with me? What kind of life am I leading? Is this destiny’s wake-up call?
The day after Aashura I went for my check-up. The doctor’s pronounced sympathy now turned to surprise: the face was recovering on its own, the broken nose was back in shape and the broken tooth could be fixed with just a cap. A surgical professional who had pronounced three days earlier that the face would never be same again, was now concluding that perhaps not even a stitch would be required.
Some days later, I got a call from a cousin in Marol: would I want to attend Huzurala’s ziafat?
Two weeks later, I put my face in Huzurala’s qadam mubarak just that way I had visualised it.
I dearly wanted to attend Huzurala’s Ashara mubarak waaz in Marol but due to an operation that had been conducted on me in Singapore some months prior to this, I was advised to stay back.
As it happened, on the night of 8 Muharram, while returning from the Masjid, I stumbled and in the midst of protecting my stomach (which had been operated), I hit the ground face-on. I bled profusely and stained my ridah all over.
When my son and husband rushed towards me, they screamed. My nose was broken, the tooth chipped and the face red all over.
While being driven to the hospital, I kept imploring: Ya Allah, please save my face; Ya Maula, I put my face in your qadam mubarak and trust you to cure me.
While being treated in the hospital, ditto. Ya Allah, please save my face; Ya Maula, I put my face in your qadam mubarak and trust you to cure me.
The doctor drew the X-ray and showed me my broken nose. He said he would have to wait till the swelling subsided before being able to fix it. And then he said something more: he commisserated, he sympathised. The subtle inference: the face would never be the same again.
The tragedy was that with my face bandaged and plastered, I could not attend the Ashara waaz n Singapore . First, the regret of not being able to go to Marol; then this. It is in weak moments like these that the mind starts playing up. Did I do something wrong? Is Allah annoyed with me? What kind of life am I leading? Is this destiny’s wake-up call?
The day after Aashura I went for my check-up. The doctor’s pronounced sympathy now turned to surprise: the face was recovering on its own, the broken nose was back in shape and the broken tooth could be fixed with just a cap. A surgical professional who had pronounced three days earlier that the face would never be same again, was now concluding that perhaps not even a stitch would be required.
Some days later, I got a call from a cousin in Marol: would I want to attend Huzurala’s ziafat?
Two weeks later, I put my face in Huzurala’s qadam mubarak just that way I had visualised it.
Re: Personal Accounts
Following interview of Dr Sakina Putly, Calcutta, by Mudar Patherya
In 1976, when Huzurala came to Calcutta , I had gone for qadambosi during a ziyafat given by college students. My final medical examinaton was the following morning so when it was my turn, I did araz to Aqa Maula for dua. Just then Huzurala turned to speak to the Shehzadi Saheb standing alongside… my words were lost on Huzurala. The volunteers had thrust the next person in front; I was asked to move ahead and soon it was the end of a long-awaited turn. Soon there were dozens of others entreating Maula with their diverse requests.
I was ushered out beyond sound, beyond sight. I had blown my opportunity.
When something like this happens, you become superstitious. Was it a foreboding of poor examination performance? Was it a latent message on how my career would turn out?
Resigned, I sat at the thaal but would not eat. This thing kept spooling and unspooling in my head: maulana had not replied, maulana had not replied, maulana had not replied.
Suddenly, I noticed the Shehzadi saheb going from thaal to thaal and asking something. She came to ours. ‘Who was the medical student who had done araz for success in her final exam? Moulana yeh ehne yaad farmaya chhey’.
I rose. I was held by hand, the crowds parted, and suddenly I was in front of Maulana. I re-mumbled my araz. And wept. Maulana said, “Tamey rouchho sukaam?” And then, like a concerned father, he held the fingers of both my hands for seconds before pronouncing, “Khuda chaahse to tu safal thaase.”
It turned out to be a dua not only for the exam but for life. I passed the exam with ease; today I am a successful practising doctor in Kolkata.
In 1976, when Huzurala came to Calcutta , I had gone for qadambosi during a ziyafat given by college students. My final medical examinaton was the following morning so when it was my turn, I did araz to Aqa Maula for dua. Just then Huzurala turned to speak to the Shehzadi Saheb standing alongside… my words were lost on Huzurala. The volunteers had thrust the next person in front; I was asked to move ahead and soon it was the end of a long-awaited turn. Soon there were dozens of others entreating Maula with their diverse requests.
I was ushered out beyond sound, beyond sight. I had blown my opportunity.
When something like this happens, you become superstitious. Was it a foreboding of poor examination performance? Was it a latent message on how my career would turn out?
Resigned, I sat at the thaal but would not eat. This thing kept spooling and unspooling in my head: maulana had not replied, maulana had not replied, maulana had not replied.
Suddenly, I noticed the Shehzadi saheb going from thaal to thaal and asking something. She came to ours. ‘Who was the medical student who had done araz for success in her final exam? Moulana yeh ehne yaad farmaya chhey’.
I rose. I was held by hand, the crowds parted, and suddenly I was in front of Maulana. I re-mumbled my araz. And wept. Maulana said, “Tamey rouchho sukaam?” And then, like a concerned father, he held the fingers of both my hands for seconds before pronouncing, “Khuda chaahse to tu safal thaase.”
It turned out to be a dua not only for the exam but for life. I passed the exam with ease; today I am a successful practising doctor in Kolkata.
Re: Personal Accounts
Interview of Shaikh Shabbir M. Qutubali Ameen, Toronto , by Mudar Patherya
Teheran, February 1979. It is the kind of month that comes but once in a lifetime. The month the modern Islamic political history transformed.
My family saw this revolution first-hand. Two months later we proceeded to Karbala ; from there my wife left for India and I returned to Teheran. Not for long. As expatriates started trooping out of Iran , my employer MML (now KPMG) asked me to conclude the remaining audit assignments and exit to Thomson McLintock, London .
So on 10th September 1979 (18th Ramadan), I took a Japan Air Lines flight to Karachi to Bombay . As I reboarded during the Karachi stopover at an unearthly 1230am I saw something that got me suddenly wide awake: sitting in First Class just ten feet away was Syedna Mohammed Burhanuddin Saheb with Bu Saheba. Just the two of them. Alone.
My instant internal prompting: Present myself to Huzurala with a mumbled introduction.
My second prompting: Escape (suited-booted, clean shaven, no topi).
Option one prevailed.
I extracted a well-wiped handkerchief, covered my head, produced some obscure currency, dropped to the floor and extended a tentative hand. Huzurala’s first reaction on seeing this unusual response: “Bhai, tamey kaun chho? Tame yahan si aa plane ma besa chho?”
I narrated my recent history in a breathless sentence: Ayatollah, Shah of Iran , chaos, flight of capital, JAL flight. Strange spectacle: one suited passenger at the knees of another, half-blocking the aisle, with a handkerchief barely covering his head, launched on an animated geo-political commentary of the region.
Huzurala was concerned. “ Iran ma kitla mumineen rahey chhe? Koi ne kai takleef to natthi thayi? Sagla amaan ma chhe? Hamna kahaan chhe?”
Thereafter, with karam, ehsaan and shafaqat, he asked in a soft voice if I would open the cabin bag locker him, give him his topi and put his paagdi in its place. This done, Huzurala asked me to pick the hafti from his bag and give it to him.
The fingers trembled, the eyes misted. I must have repeated “ London jaaoon chhu, career waastey.” Huzurala responded, “Saifee Mahal aavi ne raza lejo”.
In Bombay , it took me two months to arrange my British work permit and visa. I booked to fly to London on 1st December 1979. With three days left for the flight, I finally decided to go to Saifee Mahal to seek Huzurala’s raza mubarak. Tragedy: could not enter Saifee Mahal. Second day: could not enter Saifee Mahal. Third day (day of my flight): managed to enter Saifee Mahal.
Minutes before the bethak ended, the late miyasaheb Shaikh Yusufbhai Rampurawala took me by hand into the presence of Huzurala (surrounded by hundreds of mumineen). Someone was yelling ‘Maula, bawaji ni tabeeyat achhci nathi, shifaa thaayi.’ Another was pleading ‘Bachcha exam ma pass thaayi, dua karo Maula!’ A third from a different direction would be petitioning ‘Bairo haamela chhey! Naam ni araz!’
I waited for a lull. But before I could utter a single word, Huzurala suddenly turned in my direction and before I could even jog his memory about a JAL flight in September, about how a clean shaven adna moomin had collapsed on his feet and about how he had asked me to come to Saifee Mahal, Huzurala said emphatically, “Tamne London java ni raza chhe!”
Teheran, February 1979. It is the kind of month that comes but once in a lifetime. The month the modern Islamic political history transformed.
My family saw this revolution first-hand. Two months later we proceeded to Karbala ; from there my wife left for India and I returned to Teheran. Not for long. As expatriates started trooping out of Iran , my employer MML (now KPMG) asked me to conclude the remaining audit assignments and exit to Thomson McLintock, London .
So on 10th September 1979 (18th Ramadan), I took a Japan Air Lines flight to Karachi to Bombay . As I reboarded during the Karachi stopover at an unearthly 1230am I saw something that got me suddenly wide awake: sitting in First Class just ten feet away was Syedna Mohammed Burhanuddin Saheb with Bu Saheba. Just the two of them. Alone.
My instant internal prompting: Present myself to Huzurala with a mumbled introduction.
My second prompting: Escape (suited-booted, clean shaven, no topi).
Option one prevailed.
I extracted a well-wiped handkerchief, covered my head, produced some obscure currency, dropped to the floor and extended a tentative hand. Huzurala’s first reaction on seeing this unusual response: “Bhai, tamey kaun chho? Tame yahan si aa plane ma besa chho?”
I narrated my recent history in a breathless sentence: Ayatollah, Shah of Iran , chaos, flight of capital, JAL flight. Strange spectacle: one suited passenger at the knees of another, half-blocking the aisle, with a handkerchief barely covering his head, launched on an animated geo-political commentary of the region.
Huzurala was concerned. “ Iran ma kitla mumineen rahey chhe? Koi ne kai takleef to natthi thayi? Sagla amaan ma chhe? Hamna kahaan chhe?”
Thereafter, with karam, ehsaan and shafaqat, he asked in a soft voice if I would open the cabin bag locker him, give him his topi and put his paagdi in its place. This done, Huzurala asked me to pick the hafti from his bag and give it to him.
The fingers trembled, the eyes misted. I must have repeated “ London jaaoon chhu, career waastey.” Huzurala responded, “Saifee Mahal aavi ne raza lejo”.
In Bombay , it took me two months to arrange my British work permit and visa. I booked to fly to London on 1st December 1979. With three days left for the flight, I finally decided to go to Saifee Mahal to seek Huzurala’s raza mubarak. Tragedy: could not enter Saifee Mahal. Second day: could not enter Saifee Mahal. Third day (day of my flight): managed to enter Saifee Mahal.
Minutes before the bethak ended, the late miyasaheb Shaikh Yusufbhai Rampurawala took me by hand into the presence of Huzurala (surrounded by hundreds of mumineen). Someone was yelling ‘Maula, bawaji ni tabeeyat achhci nathi, shifaa thaayi.’ Another was pleading ‘Bachcha exam ma pass thaayi, dua karo Maula!’ A third from a different direction would be petitioning ‘Bairo haamela chhey! Naam ni araz!’
I waited for a lull. But before I could utter a single word, Huzurala suddenly turned in my direction and before I could even jog his memory about a JAL flight in September, about how a clean shaven adna moomin had collapsed on his feet and about how he had asked me to come to Saifee Mahal, Huzurala said emphatically, “Tamne London java ni raza chhe!”
Re: Personal Accounts
I have retinitis pigmentosa, which means that for all practical purposes I am visually handicapped. I just can’t see.
One struggles. One adjusts. One fights. One succeeds.
This could well be the sory of my life. While most individuals in my position would have concluded that it would be better to remain sedentary, I studied, migrated, worked, stayed single. If you don’t think blindness is a big deal, then it doesn’t matter. Believe me.
For instance, I stayed in a dorm in Berkeley, took a train from Bakersfield to Middleberry (Vermont), studied Arabic for nine weeks, moved from Vermont to Alabama to Louisana, returned to Berkeley, rented an apartment, went to Ireland on scholarship (was kicked out of an apartment because of my disability!), went to Israel and Palestine on human rights research, returned home to Bakersfield for the first time in five years, went to Oslo to speak at the Rehab International general assembly, passed the California Bar, worked for a judge in Hawaii and then for two law firms. Alone.
I mean no parent, no chaperone, no guide, no maid, no ‘someone to hold my hand to the station’, no ‘someone to read me an email’ etcetera. People think this is dangerous; I think it is liberating.
In this exciting existence, Huzurala has come into the story of my life on a number of occasions. However, I will – for reasons of brevity – point out three at the top of my recall.
1. Huzurala came into my story on 12 January 2000 – my mother’s saalgirah, dad’s birthday and my parents’ wedding anniversary – when I arranged a small party of friends and relatives in Mumbai to commemorate the coincidence. We generally had a great time. Since my grandfather is buried in Charni Road , I went there for ziyarat the following day. While there, I was hit in the eye by a nail protruding from a pole. The pain was shooting, the eye had become a ball and we all concluded that urgent medical attention would be necessary. We left for our place in Bandra immediately after. It was a usual taxi journey…. Stray thoughts, silence and sleep. And then a thought flashed: “Would Huzurala have left Saifee Mahal for the masjid?” I felt it would be prudent to get home first and then submit an araz for shifaa but the next thing I ‘saw’ was Huzurala on my left. I mean, I was still in the taxi so this was an out-of-body experience. And I submitted “Aarefo hu wa yaarefoni (I know him and he knows me).” Then Huzurala said “Padho!” and on this other plane I recited the madehs ‘Anjum teri jabhat pe fida par bhi qamar bhi’ followed by a marsiya and then a madeh for Huzurala’s tool-ul-umr. Then Huzurala said “Rou” and I – inspired by the vision of what I was ‘seeing’ - wept. Literally. Tears and more tears washed down my face. Then Huzurala said, “Tamey khush thayaa?” Gradually the left eye (hurt) opened and Maula’s image faded.
“Dad!” I turned hysterical. He woke from his motion-induced slumber. “What?!” I exclaimed, “My eye! My eye! Look at my eye! The pain is milder. The swelling…the swelling, it’s gone!” Dad directed: “Gaari ghumaao. Chalo Bhendi Bazar!”
There was a Bunaiyyat finction in progress. We told Shehzada Malek-ul-ashtar bhaisaheb the sequence. He asked us to wait at a specific point inside Raudat Tahera. Huzurala came. He saw me standing. He came close. I ‘saw’ his presence. I felt his breath across my face. Then he said, “Kaaley tamaaari maut likhi hati pun tamey tamaara maa-baap ne ghana khush keedha aney beeja logo ni bhi dua leedhi. Tamaari maut tali gayi.”
And then he was gone.
2. In 2003, I was invited to Palestine and Israel for human rights research on the condition of women Palestinian prisoners. I was strongly advised against; political observers said the place had become too dangerous; my parents said that it would be risky enough for a single woman American, forget the handicap; the concerned Aamil saheb said it would be futile even putting in an arzi; the reports were of frequent bombings. We went ahead regardless, asked Huzurala and promptly came the reply ‘Raza chhey!” The research went off like a dream.
3. I worked hard – 20 hours a day, seven days a week, seven weeks followed by 16 hour days for 30 days - to pass and join the California Bar. I got two job offers. One from a law firm located in California (home state) and another from a law firm based in Washington DC (rated number three law firm in the capital). The job profile was a little relaxed in the former and considerably more demanding in the latter. The general opinion was that I should stay back in California for reasons of family, proximity and familiarity. So we asked Huzurala. And he replied, “ Washington DC .”
One struggles. One adjusts. One fights. One succeeds.
This could well be the sory of my life. While most individuals in my position would have concluded that it would be better to remain sedentary, I studied, migrated, worked, stayed single. If you don’t think blindness is a big deal, then it doesn’t matter. Believe me.
For instance, I stayed in a dorm in Berkeley, took a train from Bakersfield to Middleberry (Vermont), studied Arabic for nine weeks, moved from Vermont to Alabama to Louisana, returned to Berkeley, rented an apartment, went to Ireland on scholarship (was kicked out of an apartment because of my disability!), went to Israel and Palestine on human rights research, returned home to Bakersfield for the first time in five years, went to Oslo to speak at the Rehab International general assembly, passed the California Bar, worked for a judge in Hawaii and then for two law firms. Alone.
I mean no parent, no chaperone, no guide, no maid, no ‘someone to hold my hand to the station’, no ‘someone to read me an email’ etcetera. People think this is dangerous; I think it is liberating.
In this exciting existence, Huzurala has come into the story of my life on a number of occasions. However, I will – for reasons of brevity – point out three at the top of my recall.
1. Huzurala came into my story on 12 January 2000 – my mother’s saalgirah, dad’s birthday and my parents’ wedding anniversary – when I arranged a small party of friends and relatives in Mumbai to commemorate the coincidence. We generally had a great time. Since my grandfather is buried in Charni Road , I went there for ziyarat the following day. While there, I was hit in the eye by a nail protruding from a pole. The pain was shooting, the eye had become a ball and we all concluded that urgent medical attention would be necessary. We left for our place in Bandra immediately after. It was a usual taxi journey…. Stray thoughts, silence and sleep. And then a thought flashed: “Would Huzurala have left Saifee Mahal for the masjid?” I felt it would be prudent to get home first and then submit an araz for shifaa but the next thing I ‘saw’ was Huzurala on my left. I mean, I was still in the taxi so this was an out-of-body experience. And I submitted “Aarefo hu wa yaarefoni (I know him and he knows me).” Then Huzurala said “Padho!” and on this other plane I recited the madehs ‘Anjum teri jabhat pe fida par bhi qamar bhi’ followed by a marsiya and then a madeh for Huzurala’s tool-ul-umr. Then Huzurala said “Rou” and I – inspired by the vision of what I was ‘seeing’ - wept. Literally. Tears and more tears washed down my face. Then Huzurala said, “Tamey khush thayaa?” Gradually the left eye (hurt) opened and Maula’s image faded.
“Dad!” I turned hysterical. He woke from his motion-induced slumber. “What?!” I exclaimed, “My eye! My eye! Look at my eye! The pain is milder. The swelling…the swelling, it’s gone!” Dad directed: “Gaari ghumaao. Chalo Bhendi Bazar!”
There was a Bunaiyyat finction in progress. We told Shehzada Malek-ul-ashtar bhaisaheb the sequence. He asked us to wait at a specific point inside Raudat Tahera. Huzurala came. He saw me standing. He came close. I ‘saw’ his presence. I felt his breath across my face. Then he said, “Kaaley tamaaari maut likhi hati pun tamey tamaara maa-baap ne ghana khush keedha aney beeja logo ni bhi dua leedhi. Tamaari maut tali gayi.”
And then he was gone.
2. In 2003, I was invited to Palestine and Israel for human rights research on the condition of women Palestinian prisoners. I was strongly advised against; political observers said the place had become too dangerous; my parents said that it would be risky enough for a single woman American, forget the handicap; the concerned Aamil saheb said it would be futile even putting in an arzi; the reports were of frequent bombings. We went ahead regardless, asked Huzurala and promptly came the reply ‘Raza chhey!” The research went off like a dream.
3. I worked hard – 20 hours a day, seven days a week, seven weeks followed by 16 hour days for 30 days - to pass and join the California Bar. I got two job offers. One from a law firm located in California (home state) and another from a law firm based in Washington DC (rated number three law firm in the capital). The job profile was a little relaxed in the former and considerably more demanding in the latter. The general opinion was that I should stay back in California for reasons of family, proximity and familiarity. So we asked Huzurala. And he replied, “ Washington DC .”
Re: Personal Accounts
Credit
Mudar Patherya
Mudar Patherya
uthor holds the interview copyright. However, mumineen are encouraged to circulate this mail liberally. Author would be grateful for leads / advice / suggestions on similar instances that may have transpired with other mumineen. He will call and interview. Author can be contacted on mudar@trisyscom.com or alternatively through sms on +9198300 72720.
Re: Personal Accounts
can u pease also post contact details of this individuals?
Re: Personal Accounts
a question creeping in my mind : Y syedna called the person to saifee mahal to allow him to go london...I mean if syedna claims to be God on earth and as you have mentioned he has made life of all these people...he should have given the RAZA to the person in flight itself...may be syedna thout let Govt allow him first ( get the permit visa) and then i would give him my RAZA...coz if govt do not give him permit VISA my raza will not help.. 
Re: Personal Accounts
if you watch ASTHA channel.....u can see thousands claiming such miracles from asharam bapu....and we all know how cheap is this asharam bapu but still there are people who keeps faith in him 
Re: Personal Accounts
is qadambosi kissing the knees of syedna or his feet?
Re: Personal Accounts
feetRegal wrote:is qadambosi kissing the knees of syedna or his feet?
Re: Personal Accounts
All these stories may well be true and inspirational. But they are all in line with all the other propaganda. did you hear the one about this momin who went for salam/qadambosi but when he put his hand forward to mola, his holiness turned his face away. the momins turn was forfeited and he was in tears that what did i do so wrong that syedna refused to even look at me. later he asked one of the mullah sahabs why did he get turned down, and the mullah sahab replied it was because he didnot have a beard.
Re: Personal Accounts
This Mudar Patherya is the Goebbels of the Administration, spreading false propaganda to the gullible.
@truebohra,
Can you provide the details of these recipients of the mojizas, so that the truth can be verified? Most of these so called mojizas are so vague that anybody gullible enough to believe in any of the godmen proliferating all over the world will have similar narratives.
@truebohra,
Can you provide the details of these recipients of the mojizas, so that the truth can be verified? Most of these so called mojizas are so vague that anybody gullible enough to believe in any of the godmen proliferating all over the world will have similar narratives.
Re: Personal Accounts
@smart,
I have posted contact details for Mudar Patherya also each of the accounts have name & location given and since we are small community you can easily find out for example any one from calcutta would be easiy able to know Dr Sakina Putly, calcutta.
I have posted contact details for Mudar Patherya also each of the accounts have name & location given and since we are small community you can easily find out for example any one from calcutta would be easiy able to know Dr Sakina Putly, calcutta.
Re: Personal Accounts
@truebohra,
The contact details of Mudar Patherya is completely irrelevant. As is clear he handles the propaganda branch of the Kothar.
Only the name of Sakina Putly is given, in all the other posts of so called "miracles", even the full names and cities are not given. If these propagandists are so truthful, why are the details not given. Just today, I contacted an acquaintance of mine in Calcutta, who is a member of the Calcutta Jamaat to ask for Dr. Sakina Putly's details and was told that there is no person by this name in the Calcutta Jamaat records.
Can you get the details of the recipients of these mozijas, so independent verification would be possible? Otherwise, it would be appropriate to assume that you are a part of the propaganda machine, possibly even Mudar Patherya himself, propagating falsehoods. Please try and clear your name / establish your credibility by taking some efforts to get this information.
The contact details of Mudar Patherya is completely irrelevant. As is clear he handles the propaganda branch of the Kothar.
Only the name of Sakina Putly is given, in all the other posts of so called "miracles", even the full names and cities are not given. If these propagandists are so truthful, why are the details not given. Just today, I contacted an acquaintance of mine in Calcutta, who is a member of the Calcutta Jamaat to ask for Dr. Sakina Putly's details and was told that there is no person by this name in the Calcutta Jamaat records.
Can you get the details of the recipients of these mozijas, so independent verification would be possible? Otherwise, it would be appropriate to assume that you are a part of the propaganda machine, possibly even Mudar Patherya himself, propagating falsehoods. Please try and clear your name / establish your credibility by taking some efforts to get this information.
Re: Personal Accounts
What a great teaching! When sayedna will obey his own teaching and act against their own people who questions him, his sons and amils on atrocities comitted by them and always keep malaal !!!truebohra wrote:’Ehna si hali-mali ne vepaar karvo, dil milaawi nay dhando karjo. Koi malaal nahin. Koi allegation nahin.’
By the way who is this pathera? He must be a bollywood writer. If he is a writer it is good thing but he is not. He is a crook. He writes fictions and presents as a true story among the gullible bohras. If he is that honest he would have investigated all this story by the competent personals and then published.
You shall not accept any information, unless you verify it for yourself. I have given you the hearing, the eyesight and the brain, and you are responsible for using them. {17:36}
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ozmujaheed
- Posts: 889
- Joined: Mon Oct 20, 2008 6:14 am
Re: Personal Accounts
Wow mamamia ..this is hilarious, grown Bohra men and women fall for and internalise such fairy tales...now we have miracles pouring out 24 by 7, 365 days for 100 years..
it seems the Yemeni missioneries never realised we would revert into 21st century pagan Brahmin cult. Had they gone a few thousand miles more they would have had more reliable converts in Indonesia
I do not know whether I should feel sorry and pity or dissapointed
it seems the Yemeni missioneries never realised we would revert into 21st century pagan Brahmin cult. Had they gone a few thousand miles more they would have had more reliable converts in Indonesia
I do not know whether I should feel sorry and pity or dissapointed
Re: Personal Accounts
TrueBohra,
All the incidents that you have mentioned are sub-standard examples of miracles. I will tell you about a miracle that happened to me by the grace of Allah. I was travelling from Pune to Mumbai and I had my passport and other important documents in my small hand bag that I had put on the rack of the volvo bus. Since it was quite late in the night, I went to sleep. At one point of time I suddenly felt that someone is asking me to wake up. I immediately woke up and saw that the guy sitting next to me who was travelling with other three-four friends had by mistake taken my handbag and was about to get off the bus. He tought that it belonged to one of his friends. I immediately got up and took that bag back from him. I was suppose to fly to US in next few days and it would have been a big problem if my passport would have been lost... If you believe in Allah you do not need miracles from human beings. He will always be there for you. And this is just one simple example. Many times unbelievable things have happened to me and I can only attribute them to Allah. If I would have been a die hard fan of Syedna I would have told you guys that Syedna actually came and woke me up... Any sensible person can easily figure out the hollowness in these stories... I am surprised how can you guys believe all this???
All the incidents that you have mentioned are sub-standard examples of miracles. I will tell you about a miracle that happened to me by the grace of Allah. I was travelling from Pune to Mumbai and I had my passport and other important documents in my small hand bag that I had put on the rack of the volvo bus. Since it was quite late in the night, I went to sleep. At one point of time I suddenly felt that someone is asking me to wake up. I immediately woke up and saw that the guy sitting next to me who was travelling with other three-four friends had by mistake taken my handbag and was about to get off the bus. He tought that it belonged to one of his friends. I immediately got up and took that bag back from him. I was suppose to fly to US in next few days and it would have been a big problem if my passport would have been lost... If you believe in Allah you do not need miracles from human beings. He will always be there for you. And this is just one simple example. Many times unbelievable things have happened to me and I can only attribute them to Allah. If I would have been a die hard fan of Syedna I would have told you guys that Syedna actually came and woke me up... Any sensible person can easily figure out the hollowness in these stories... I am surprised how can you guys believe all this???
Re: Personal Accounts
miracles have happened in my life because of my faith in my creator not the created. one should try and understand the duaa of imam zain ul abedeen "moula ya moula ya antal moula", oh Allah, you are the creator and i am the created and only the creator can satisfy the needs of the created.
Re: Personal Accounts
Now where are aqs, gulf, profastian, guy_sam other orthies, to defend the falsehoods?
Re: Personal Accounts
March 1971. East Pakistan was in turmoil. There was considerably local antagonism against those perceived to be West Pakistani or people considered to be close to West Pakistani interests. Unfortunately, despite being largely apolitical, Dawoodi Bohras were considered to be close to West Pakistani interests and hence, the target of the dangerous Mukti Bahini (armed rebel group).
We experienced this first hand. We were preparing for a meal around the thaal and there was a knock on the door. Someone went to open; within the twinkling of an eye, our ground floor was overrun by armed rebels toting machine guns. They wanted to know where our wealth was stored; one put a machine gun to my head and threatened to pull the trigger. Ditto for the other members of the family.
While they were prodding the rifle on my head in their attempt to move me on the first floor, we passed a framed picture of Syedna Mohammed Burhanuddin Saheb on the wall. I responded out of instinct; I cried “Mushkil ma aap kaho chho ke maney yaad karjo, to havey bachaavo!”
No sooner had I said this, a voice (presumably the leader) rang out from the ground floor: “Taara-taari chol ekhan theke!” (Let us get out of here fast) The young man holding the gun to my head lowered it immediately, retreated a few steps, then turned and was out of sight. They left as suddenly as they came.
This incident spread like a bushfire in a nervous Dhaka . Suddenly people were asking for copies of Huzurala’s picture. Someone who put up a picture of Huzurala in their house were surprised to find the Mukti Bahini disappear likewise. In a vulnerable Dhaka , Huzurala was the Protector.
My husband Muder went in Huzurala’s presence and recounted just this. Muder told Huzurala “You protected not just us, but many who were not even mumineen!”
Muder came back and told us that Huzurala had tears in his eyes when this was said.
Interview with Sakina Shakir (Vasi), Karachi
We experienced this first hand. We were preparing for a meal around the thaal and there was a knock on the door. Someone went to open; within the twinkling of an eye, our ground floor was overrun by armed rebels toting machine guns. They wanted to know where our wealth was stored; one put a machine gun to my head and threatened to pull the trigger. Ditto for the other members of the family.
While they were prodding the rifle on my head in their attempt to move me on the first floor, we passed a framed picture of Syedna Mohammed Burhanuddin Saheb on the wall. I responded out of instinct; I cried “Mushkil ma aap kaho chho ke maney yaad karjo, to havey bachaavo!”
No sooner had I said this, a voice (presumably the leader) rang out from the ground floor: “Taara-taari chol ekhan theke!” (Let us get out of here fast) The young man holding the gun to my head lowered it immediately, retreated a few steps, then turned and was out of sight. They left as suddenly as they came.
This incident spread like a bushfire in a nervous Dhaka . Suddenly people were asking for copies of Huzurala’s picture. Someone who put up a picture of Huzurala in their house were surprised to find the Mukti Bahini disappear likewise. In a vulnerable Dhaka , Huzurala was the Protector.
My husband Muder went in Huzurala’s presence and recounted just this. Muder told Huzurala “You protected not just us, but many who were not even mumineen!”
Muder came back and told us that Huzurala had tears in his eyes when this was said.
Interview with Sakina Shakir (Vasi), Karachi
Re: Personal Accounts
Volume 4, Book 56, Number 780:
Narrated Jabir:
My father had died in debt. So I came to the Prophet and said, "My father (died) leaving unpaid debts, and I have nothing except the yield of his date palms; and their yield for many years will not cover his debts. So please come with me, so that the creditors may not misbehave with me." The Prophet went round one of the heaps of dates and invoked (Allah), and then did the same with another heap and sat on it and said, "Measure (for them)." He paid them their rights and what remained was as much as had been paid to them
Narrated Jabir:
My father had died in debt. So I came to the Prophet and said, "My father (died) leaving unpaid debts, and I have nothing except the yield of his date palms; and their yield for many years will not cover his debts. So please come with me, so that the creditors may not misbehave with me." The Prophet went round one of the heaps of dates and invoked (Allah), and then did the same with another heap and sat on it and said, "Measure (for them)." He paid them their rights and what remained was as much as had been paid to them
Re: Personal Accounts
Volume 8, Book 73, Number 115:
Narrated Anas:
A man came to the Prophet on a Friday while he (the Prophet) was delivering a sermon at Medina, and said, "There is lack of rain, so please invoke your Lord to bless us with the rain." The Prophet looked at the sky when no cloud could be detected. Then he invoked Allah for rain. Clouds started gathering together and it rained till the Medina valleys started flowing with water. It continued raining till the next Friday. Then that man (or some other man) stood up while the Prophet was delivering the Friday sermon, and said, "We are drowned; Please invoke your Lord to withhold it (rain) from us" The Prophet smiled and said twice or thrice, "O Allah! Please let it rain round about us and not upon us." The clouds started dispersing over Medina to the right and to the left, and it rained round about Medina and not upon Medina. Allah showed them (the people) the miracle of His Prophet and His response to his invocation.
Narrated Anas:
A man came to the Prophet on a Friday while he (the Prophet) was delivering a sermon at Medina, and said, "There is lack of rain, so please invoke your Lord to bless us with the rain." The Prophet looked at the sky when no cloud could be detected. Then he invoked Allah for rain. Clouds started gathering together and it rained till the Medina valleys started flowing with water. It continued raining till the next Friday. Then that man (or some other man) stood up while the Prophet was delivering the Friday sermon, and said, "We are drowned; Please invoke your Lord to withhold it (rain) from us" The Prophet smiled and said twice or thrice, "O Allah! Please let it rain round about us and not upon us." The clouds started dispersing over Medina to the right and to the left, and it rained round about Medina and not upon Medina. Allah showed them (the people) the miracle of His Prophet and His response to his invocation.
Re: Personal Accounts
@truebohra,
Now you have shifted from singing the praises of syedna to narrating incidences from the life of Rasulallah. What are you trying to prove? That the syedna has the same status and capabilities as Rasulallah?
Now you have shifted from singing the praises of syedna to narrating incidences from the life of Rasulallah. What are you trying to prove? That the syedna has the same status and capabilities as Rasulallah?
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profastian
- Posts: 1314
- Joined: Thu Nov 05, 2009 9:00 am
Re: Personal Accounts
We don't need to defend anything. These miracles doesn't mean a thing. Maula summed up the topic of miracles in one of his bayans.Smart wrote:Now where are aqs, gulf, profastian, guy_sam other orthies, to defend the falsehoods?
"Maujizo to yeh che ke aa satar na zaman maa, aa tufaan ma bhi thora logo bachi gaya, Aaj maujizo che" (Although i have quoted, these are not the exact words)
(The real miracle is that, even in this day and age some of you have kept the faith. This is the real and only miracle).
Re: Personal Accounts
so you dont believe in the tears and blood etc oozing out or the time when syedna knew of a bomb blast and didnot go there etc etc
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profastian
- Posts: 1314
- Joined: Thu Nov 05, 2009 9:00 am
Re: Personal Accounts
I believe in them. But these don't contribute towards the strengthening of my faith.Regal wrote:so you don't believe in the tears and blood etc oozing out or the time when syedna knew of a bomb blast and didnot go there etc etc
Re: Personal Accounts
Truebohra,
Have you read your own posts? In both your posts the prophet(pbuh) invoked Allah and it clearly shows that Allah helped out in these cases. Have you ever seen Syedna giving the credit to Allah? Most of the times syedna does not even say Inshallah. A true muslim is always suppose to invoke Allah and remember in his heart that without the help of Allah nothing is possible. The prophet (pbuh) always claimed himself as a mere messenger of Allah and nothing more. Syedna is nobody as compared to the prophet(pbuh). But he still calls himself representative of Allah on earth and claims that he will take his followers to jannat. I think it is for you guys to learn from these stories that even the prophets(pbut) never dared to claim any extraordinary powers to perform miracles. This means that only Allah can perform miracles and no human being can do so...
Have you read your own posts? In both your posts the prophet(pbuh) invoked Allah and it clearly shows that Allah helped out in these cases. Have you ever seen Syedna giving the credit to Allah? Most of the times syedna does not even say Inshallah. A true muslim is always suppose to invoke Allah and remember in his heart that without the help of Allah nothing is possible. The prophet (pbuh) always claimed himself as a mere messenger of Allah and nothing more. Syedna is nobody as compared to the prophet(pbuh). But he still calls himself representative of Allah on earth and claims that he will take his followers to jannat. I think it is for you guys to learn from these stories that even the prophets(pbut) never dared to claim any extraordinary powers to perform miracles. This means that only Allah can perform miracles and no human being can do so...
Re: Personal Accounts
we passed a framed picture of Syedna Mohammed Burhanuddin Saheb on the wall. I responded out of instinct; I cried “Mushkil ma aap kaho chho ke maney yaad karjo, to havey bachaavo!”
isnt this idolatory? shirk? praying to someone other than
brilliant stuff mate. the dai is nobody in front of the Holy Prophet pbuh that is the first thing every abde must learn. yet they claim that to see syedna is to see the holy prophet pbuh. to be in is presence is like being in the presence of panjatan. and his face is the exact face of hussain a.s . (nauzobillah)Aarif wrote:Truebohra,
Allah?Have you read your own posts? In both your posts the prophet(pbuh) invoked Allah and it clearly shows that Allah helped out in these cases. Have you ever seen Syedna giving the credit to Allah? Most of the times syedna does not even say Inshallah. A true muslim is always suppose to invoke Allah and remember in his heart that without the help of Allah nothing is possible. The prophet (pbuh) always claimed himself as a mere messenger of Allah and nothing more. Syedna is nobody as compared to the prophet(pbuh). But he still calls himself representative of Allah on earth and claims that he will take his followers to jannat. I think it is for you guys to learn from these stories that even the prophets(pbut) never dared to claim any extraordinary powers to perform miracles. This means that only Allah can perform miracles and no human being can do so...
Re: Personal Accounts
Dear Arif,Aarif wrote:TrueBohra,
All the incidents that you have mentioned are sub-standard examples of miracles. I will tell you about a miracle that happened to me by the grace of Allah. I was travelling from Pune to Mumbai and I had my passport and other important documents in my small hand bag that I had put on the rack of the volvo bus. Since it was quite late in the night, I went to sleep. At one point of time I suddenly felt that someone is asking me to wake up. I immediately woke up and saw that the guy sitting next to me who was travelling with other three-four friends had by mistake taken my handbag and was about to get off the bus. He tought that it belonged to one of his friends. I immediately got up and took that bag back from him. I was suppose to fly to US in next few days and it would have been a big problem if my passport would have been lost... If you believe in Allah you do not need miracles from human beings. He will always be there for you. And this is just one simple example. Many times unbelievable things have happened to me and I can only attribute them to Allah. If I would have been a die hard fan of Syedna I would have told you guys that Syedna actually came and woke me up... Any sensible person can easily figure out the hollowness in these stories... I am surprised how can you guys believe all this???
The incident you have mentioned has happened to so many peoples even those who have faith in Allah. Some of them have received their belongings even after a month or some have not received at all and many have lost very important papers also. What you have experienced is only a simple co-incident and nothing else.
By the way you have given a good material to the crook Pathera and will be used in the next addition in the moziza book with fictitious name.
Good day