Shaikho Ka Ilm Zor Jawano Ka Tujh Mein Hai, Tu Hudd-e-Mushtarik Hai Goya Shaikh-o-Shabaab Mein

Doret begardam (may I circle around you forever): a Persian phrase to express the highest affection and love for someone residing in the heart as the focal point, commonly used while addressing the parents, is what I utter whenever I remember Syedna Mohammad Burhanuddin RA and relive the moments I spent in his presence during his visits to Chicago.

Of all the unforgettable instances, the most elating for me is what happened on the evening of the 4th of July, 1986.

It was the close of the day and Burhanuddin Moula RA, along with Busaheba Amatullah Aisaheba QR, was sitting in the backyard of our house over the evening snacks. Suddenly, the calm and stillness of a routine windy night in Chicago were interrupted by the loud booms and whistles of the fireworks.

With his eyes lit up, Moula RA inquired: “aa kena waste che”?. I responded: “Moula aaje 4th of July che, ehna fireworks che”.

“Mane lai jau”, Moula RA replied with a pearly smile.

I stood there rooted to the spot and only managed to utter “Jee Moula”. Like the state of anyone living in Chicago and driving to the downtown, I was consumed with the thought of the most trivial, yet critical issue: where would I find a parking spot for Moula RA to step out of the car? And considering it was the night of the 4th of July, I was convinced it was impossible.

My heart sank.

I entered downtown only to find that the situation was much more unfavorable than I had expected. With the police patrolling the entire area, I kept driving along in search of a place to stop the car briefly so that at least Moula RA could step out; however, in vain.

After a while, I managed to spot a place in a no-parking zone around Buckingham Fountain; panic-stricken and nervous I pulled the car over. The next moment, I was surrounded by the police sternly gesturing and directing me to get the car moving.

Numb and dejected, I attempted to talk through with the officer approaching the car in a cracking voice from my driving seat. Just as I began to talk, the officer interrupted and directed me to drive on in a tough tone.

Lost in bewilderment and desperate to seek a way so that Moula RA could step out, I uttered to the officer in a pleading voice: “Sir, I have an old man with me in the car“. The officer leaned forward and glanced at Moulana Mohammad Burhanuddin RA in the rear seat; Moula RA greeted him with a smile.

For a good few moments, the officer stood there in awe. Thereupon, reverently nodding, he gestured towards Moula RA to exit the car and drew back.

Calm and collected, Moula RA gracefully turned to step out; I was sweating and gasping for breath. Just before leaving the car, Moula RA placed his haath mubarak on my shoulder with a gentle grip, blessed me with a healing smile, and articulately stated: “old man na kaho”.

For the next hour or more, I was circling around Chicago’s downtown in my car with tears in my eyes revisiting what had just transpired as it resonated with Moulana Taher Saifuddin’s RA words for Moulana Mohammad Burhanuddin RA: ‘this eternally young [nawjawaan] is me, and a boundless carrier of knowledge’.

Moula RA in Shk Ammar Bhai’s backyard in 1986.
1 (1)
Moula RA at Shk Ammar Bhai’s apartment in downtown in 2001.

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Shk Ammar Bhai Moosaabhoy

Chicago, USA

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Aankhon Mein Jiski Hai Tere Khaak-e-Qadam Ki Qadr, Ikseer Ki Jahaan Mein Usko Talab Nahi

The desire to witness the spectacle of metal turning into gold and the miracle of the dead coming back to an immortal life have been at the heart of mankind’s pursuit of the elixir also known as the philosopher’s stone.

I can say with utmost conviction that I have lived the aforesaid transformations.

It was the year 2016 and Mufaddal Moula TUS was in Karachi for Syedna Taher Saifuddin’s RA milaad when I first got a glimpse of Moula in person. Taken along by my mother for the bethak I was lumbering behind her with a broken and bleeding toe amidst a massive crowd of women crying.

Hesitant, confused, and wanting to slip out of the queue at the first possible chance, I somehow reached the bethak. As I looked up to Moula, my eyes met his warm gaze and I froze.

The elixir was in effect. My life changed.

Fast-forwarding to 16th September 2017, Moula was in Karachi for Asharah Mubarakah and I was heading to Burhani Mahal for the bethak; however, this time with eyes full of tears, heart exploding with the desire to acquire the sight of his beaming countenance, and every inch of my existence willing to swim oceans and walk scorching deserts to get a touch of his hands.

This was not me. I was unable to comprehend what was happening to me. It was the elixir-pull.

As I neared Moula, I sobbed. Unlike the norm of salaam, I clasped both the arms of Moula and cried: “moula mein aapne nai choru, jab tak aap nahi kahenge ke aap mere ghar aaenge”.

The dealings of the bethak came to an impromptu halt.

Moula responded with a sparkling grin as I remained in the same state and repeated the very words for a fine ten to fifteen seconds.

As I walked back, the reactions on the faces of the people around Moula made me realize that I might have landed myself in hot water and that I will never be allowed to be in this place again.

Regardless, somehow, I was at the bethak again the very next day with my mother.

I was standing at a side in the hall eagerly hoping no one would remember me from the previous day when a behnsaab approached and asked me to get in the qadambosi queue. I hesitated initially as I did not want to be in the spotlight again after creating a scene less than twenty-four hours ago but submitted myself into the line upon insistence.

As I neared Moula, I saw the smile on his face widening, and making use of that, I voiced: “Moula mein aapko remind karwane aayee hun ke aapko mere ghar aana hai”.

The buzzing in the hall fell into complete silence as everybody stood in shock and awe.

Moula nodded and I bolted out of the hall.

On the 8th of October, Sunday, I was informed that Moula wished to visit my house. He remembered, was my first reaction to the news. As we scrambled to make preparations, I felt the house was grooming itself for Moula’s visit.

When I saw Moula walking towards my house, I broke down in tears in front of him and he stated: “pehla din awi ne mane kidu hatu ke mara ghare padharo, mein awi gayo”.

The next fifteen minutes seemed like a lifetime. We poured our hearts out to him in form of words, tears, and emotions. He listened to all of it, perceived the unsaid, and placed his haath mubarak on us assuring we need not worry as he is always going to be there.

Just before Moula was about to leave, he looked at me as I had my gaze fixated on him. My heart was crying a lot that I could not bring to words but I could perceive Moula was hearing it all.

At that moment, with tears running down my face and hands folded, I uttered: “I love you so much Moula”.

With moist eyes and a warm smile, Moula looked at me as a father would regard his daughter who has come back to life from death.

What is an elixir? The answer rests below.

Mufaddal Moula arriving at Amatullah (Ambreen) Behn’s house.

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Behn Amatullah (Ambreen) Fakhruddin Bhai Valika

Karachi, Pakistan

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Mushkil Mein Gar Pukaroon Moula To Ho Kifayat, Kya Khoob Hai Ye Rishta Moula Se Mere Dil Ka

‘Parwardigaar’ – an expression in Persian literally meaning ‘the one who looks after someone’s upbringing sacrificing everything for the cause’; is what I utter whenever I call to memory Moulana Mohammad Burhanuddin RA and Moulana Mufaddal Saifuddin TUS.

Here is why:

Back in 2010 when I was expecting my son Burhanuddin, nauseous and bilious I used to barely eat at night. On one such instance, I went to sleep without eating anything at all.

Through the midnight, I had a dream where I saw Moulana Mufaddal Saifuddin TUS standing by the main gate of my building. As I walked towards the gate, I saw Moulana Mohammad Burhanuddin RA at the back seated in a car with a concerned look on his face.

When I came to the gate, Mufaddal Moula TUS extended towards me a dish of food in his hands pronouncing: “tame jama nathi ne, aa jami lo”. After a short pause, Moula TUS added “hamne gawara nathi ke hamara koi mumin raate bhuka sui”.

With tears in my eyes I said “jee Moula, mein jami lais”. At the very moment, the concerned look of Moulana Mohammad Burhanuddin RA turned into a beaming smile.

It was past midnight and with my hands folded and tears rolling down the cheeks, I uttered “Moula mara ghare to awiye” to which Mufaddal Moula TUS replied “hajhi hamne ghana gharo ma jawanu che”.

I woke up and decided to have something from the night’s mawaid thaali only to realize it contained the same food Moula brought for me in the dream.

Moulana Taher Saifuddin RA often said “mane din raat tamari fikar che, mara har saans ma tamari fikar che”.

Wherever, whenever, however, He is always there.

Behn Tasneem Mulla Yusuf Bhai Joharglasswala

Karachi, Pakistan

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Ye Baag’baan Ke Qadam Jis Chaman Mein Jaawe To Phir, Na Us Chaman Mein Kabhi Aafat’e Khizaan Jaawe

“Mein chu”, said Moulana Mohammad Burhanuddin RA when I thought everything was over.

It happened on the 25th of March, 2008 back when I was expecting my second child. The pregnancy period was pretty bumpy during which I once had a dream where Moulana Taher Saifuddin RA and Moulana Mohammad Burhanuddin RA were standing on the peak of a mountain with a worried and concerned look.

I told my husband about the dream; however, we were unable to figure out a context.

When my delivery was due, I was admitted to the Lady Dufferin Hospital in Karachi and due to some unforeseen complications, the doctor had to undertake a caesarean delivery. The baby was delivered healthy; however, I remained half-conscious and kept screaming out of an unusual pain.

My grandmother, father and mother were there at my side through the night and I could hear them saying that the way I was screaming was worrisome and that I should be inspected. Suddenly, my father saw that there was a heavy flow of blood coming out of my body and he started shouting in the hospital for help.

Panic-stricken and terrified, the nurses rushed in and called the doctor immediately.

Upon witnessing my state, the doctor informed my mother that an urgent surgery was required, and to call my husband in order to sign the consent form as I only had slim chances of survival. The uterus was infected and had to be operated out.

Crushed and heartbroken, my mother was continuously reciting Maulana Ali’s AS munqabat. I was unable to move or respond.

Just as they were preparing for the surgery, I saw a vision of Moulana Mohammad Burhanuddin RA standing at the side of my bed with a tasbeeh in his hand – just like I had seen him in the dream with Moulana Taher Saifuddin RA earlier – this time, during a plight like a mountain.

In immense pain and tears flowing down, I turned to Moula RA and attempted to pronounce some words. Before I could say anything, Moula RA raised his haath mubarak and said “mein chu”.

I couldn’t feel the pain. It simply disappeared.

The doctor was stunned to find that the uterus had miraculously taken it’s place and the bleeding had stopped; the person who saw slim chances of my survival a moments ago discharged me shortly afterwards.

“Mein chu” is all one needs to battle the pains and fight the hardships – in this life and the hereafter

Behn Khadija Mustafa Bhai Thekedaar

Karachi, Pakistan

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

گر جان طلبی فدای جانت

سهلست جواب امتحانت

My answer to all questions is easy;

‘May my life be sacrificed for you.’

At the start of my journey for my Hadi Ashara Imtehaan and Zikra  in 1419H/1998 from Bangalore to Surat, I came to know that I was expecting a child. Delighted at the news, I asked my doctor if it was safe for me to travel and was permitted to do the same.

On 11th Shaban we were blessed with zyafat sharaf of Syedna Mohammed Burhanuddin (RA).
As I proceeded for salam and presented my shukur najwa, which was a gold coin, Moula RA looked at me, opened the case and handed it to Busaheba Jawharat al Sharaf BS and stated “Nazrul Maqam AS che”.
Confused, I moved from there and told Busaheba that it was najwa. “Aqa Moula farmawe che Nazrul Maqam ma adaa karo”, she reiterated. 
Right after the bethak, I left for Bangalore.
Upon reaching, I suffered from vomiting and aches and assumed them as usual symptoms of pregnancy.
On 7th of Shehrullah al Moazzam, at twelve weeks of my pregnancy, I started to bleed and worriedly reached to my gynecologist who instructed me to urgently get a sonography done.
The sonographer, dumbfounded and appalled by the scan results, told me that he was finding it difficult to believe I was alive, let alone healthy. At the 8th week the fetus had stopped developing, hence was dead; and for a fetus to not cause poisoning or any sort of infection over such a long period was nothing short of a miracle.
As tears gathered in my eyes, my memory immediately rushed back to the zyafat day incident when I was eight-weeks pregnant.
Now a mother of three and living a healthy life, I remember Burhanuddin Moula RA in every passing breath and say: ‘May my life be sacrificed for you.’

Behn Alefiyah Sheikh Mufaddal Bhai Fakhri

Bengaluru, India

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Ishtiyaq Ke Beh Didar-e-Tu Darad Dil-e-Man, Dil-e-Man Danad o-Man Danam o-Dil Danad o-Man

A smile, a nod, and a pair of words: the formula of a divine elixir.

My story goes back to the year 1435/2014 when Syedna Mufaddal Saifuddin TUS was present in Yemen during the first ten days of Ramadan. I was fortunate to be there at that time and members of my family, including my brother and sons, intended to be part of the historic safar mubarak.

Bookings were made for the 5th of Ramadan with the Emirates International Airline. Since the visa type was on-arrival, travel logistics were expected to be carried through smoothly. However, the case was otherwise on the day of travel.

Upon checking in the airport, the authorities refused to hand over the boarding passes informing that they had not received an okay-to-board confirmation from the airlines and officials in Yemen. It came to my family as a shock when they realized that their luggage was being offloaded from the aircraft. They tried to get assistance from the immigration personnel but in vain.

As it seemed, the travel was off.

Dejected and downhearted, my brother contacted me to convey the upsetting news. I tried to get in touch with the agents in Yemen but they were out of reach. At that moment in time, Aqa Moula TUS was leading the Maghreb namaz in Masjid Mansur al-Yemen.

Following the namaz, when Moula TUS was heading to Syedna Hatim’s RA zyarat, I had an araz made about the matter, upon which, Moula TUS attentively inquired about the issue they were facing at the airport.

With an assured smile, Moula TUS said: “thai jaase”. He walked a few steps, turned back, blessed me with the nazar mubarak and reassured with a nod: “aawi jaase”.

Moula TUS was in my vision yet and the words were still echoing in the ears was when I got a call from my brother. Almost when they were about to exit the airport, the authorities decided to allow the travel to go through. Moreover, the immigration officer personally took the matters in hand and guaranteed them that he would have the luggage put back in the aircraft even though it was almost time for the take-off.

It was the divine elixir that had come into play.

Next day, we were sitting at the same place where the araz was made a day earlier when Moula TUS walked past us. I presented a shukr araz to which Moula TUS smiled and said: “aawi gaya ne.”

In this time of difficulties, it is this smile, nod, and the words of hope that shall lead us through to him soon.

Shk Mustafa Bhai Khambat

Karachi, Pakistan

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Farq Itna Mahru Mein Hai Aur Mehr Charkh Mein, Tafreeq Jitni Nur Mein Hai Aur Naar Mein

‘Bolts of lightening that kindle in my soul fire of your love are a blessing, not a misfortune’ says the Persian poet Hafiz Shirazi. I feel exactly the same as I narrate my account.

The 27th of September 2020 was like any other day for me until noon; things took a dramatic turn as the night began to fall. Around 5 PM, my wife suddenly sensed heat and smoke in the living room which was right above the basement. Immediately, I came to realize that the basement was caught on fire.

I hurried down to check out what had happened. As I opened the basement door, plumes of black smoke dashed on my face and took me down. I realized the fire had taken hold and scrambled to get out of the house with my wife and mother. Due to the smoke and intense stench and heat inside the house, I had to pull my wife out from the terrace.

A crowd had gathered outside the house at the sight of clouds of black smoke billowing out of the basement. The fire brigade teams arrived at the scene after a good forty-five minutes. The fire was blazing as the teams launched into putting it out. Two hours had passed but the fire refused to die out.

In the meantime, I had an araz presented to Mufaddal Moula TUS for dua mubarak. Around 8 PM, I received the dua mubarak paigaam along with word that Moula TUS has directed to recite azaan. We recited the azaan and a few minutes later, member of the fire brigade team showed up and informed that the fire has been successfully put out.

The story does not end here.

Next day, we went down to look at the condition and clear the place. The basement used to store household items and documents in cartons which were stacked in a three tier shelf. Everything was reduced to ashes by the fire.

During the clean-up, my wife caught sight of a carton on the first tier of the shelf which appeared somewhat intact. It was striking because even things on the second and third tier had burned to a crisp. In astonishment, she advanced to pick the carton up. As she was sorting the things inside the box, she suddenly paused; and got teary.

A frame of al-Quran al-Majid and picture of Moulana Mohammad Burhanuddin RA with the zareeh mubarak of Imam Hussain AS were unaffected. The back side of al-Quran’s frame and borders of Burhanuddin Moula’s RA picture were damaged which evidenced that the fire, at some point, did come into contact with the frame and the picture.

How did the house survive such a fire that was merrily blazing for hours? How did my wife manage to come out of the house unhurt?

The answer to the questions rested in a carton inside the basement in the shape of al-Quran al-Majid’s frame and the picture of Moulana Mohammad Burhanuddin RA; connection between the two does not require an explanation.

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Shk Mustafa Bhai Jivanjee

Karachi, Pakistan

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Jo Mae Baqi Hai Jaan Bakhshe Hai Be Jaan Ko, Kuch To Jiya Hun Mein Pi Saqi Pila Aur Bhi

دیدار یار غایب دانی چه ذوق دارد

ابری که در بیابان بر تشنه‌ای ببارد


What is it to get a sight of the loved one; do you know?

Ask a thirsty wandering in scorching heat; what a drop of rain means.

I deem the aforementioned verse a nearly-perfect manifestation of Mulla Shabbir Bhai Zakir’s relationship with Moula. His entire life revolved around the remembrance of Imam Hussain AS and the desire of obtaining a nazar mubarak, as he had a saying: “moula ni aik nazar talab karta raho, buss aik nazar”. It is common knowledge that Mulla Shabbir Bhai was a celebrated recipient of Moula’s exceptional attention at all times; yet, his thirst kept growing.

Mufaddal Moula TUS visited Karachi last year. As was Mulla Shabbir Bhai’s practice of following Moula in his travels, he was also among the visitors. I got the opportunity of hosting Mulla Shabbir Bhai and Dr. Mohammad Bhai at my residence. In more than one respect, his short stay has had a powerful impact on our lives.

He used to be with Moula for the most part of the day. Be it bethak, namaz, or zyafat, one would always find him around. Several times during the day, he got blessed with Moula’s nazar mubarak. Yet, it was his thirst that made him special.

One Monday morning on 20th of Zilqad 1440/22nd July 2019 after we returned back from Moula’s fajar namaz at Adam Masjid something happened which shall never leave my memory. As was customary, Moula had blessed Mulla Shabbir Bhai with a particular nazar and tabassum after namaz. The delight was evident in his posture as we entered the house. Out of routine, we all headed to our rooms for rest; however, I saw Mulla Shabbir Bhai purposely hanging back as if waiting for everyone to withdraw into the rooms.

I felt there was something in his mind and decided to have a look-see through the crack of the door. What I witnessed left me in complete awe.

Mulla Shabbir Bhai unpretentiously approached a portrait of Moula in the living room and with his hands folded, started to weep. He touched the picture innumerable times and kept uttering: ghanu jeewo moula, ghanu jeewo, as tears dropped through his eyes. Following a good five minutes of the same, he did matam for some time and silently walked to his room.

I stood there in amazement.

The conduct was remarkably exceptional for someone who had performed didar less than one hour ago and would be doing the same shortly thereafter. Yet, it was his thirst cultivated within limitless love that never wavered. The incident was a prime example.

It may be true that Mulla Shabbir Bhai suffered from sight problems. Nevertheless, he undoubtedly possessed an extraordinary vision: he saw Moula, anywhere and everywhere.

It was due to his everlasting thirst that he always found a way to acquire a nazar mubarak throughout his life even in his final moments.

Although he stopped breathing yesterday, I am sure his thirst for nazar mubarak continues to rise. It always meant to him more than life.

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Mulla Ibrahim Bhai Mulla Abdeali Bhai Gheewala

Karachi, Pakistan

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

By that time, we had arrived at our house.

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

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

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

He knew what I had done the night before.

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

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Mulla Ali Akbar Bhai Dewaswala

Malad, Mumbai

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Mujhse Bimar Pe Gar Ho Nazar e Mehr Zara, Ae Maseeha Abhi Chehre Pe Bahali Ho Jae

It had been over two years since I fell victim to back muscle spasms. It started off with mild tension in the back and before long, it intensified into a critical case of regular physiotherapy and meds. I wouldn’t be able to recline, carry anything, or even consider putting myself to any sort of physical exercise.

Stiff as a board; exactly how I used to define my state upon inquiry.

In the midst of all this, a glimmer of hope emerged. Mufaddal Moula TUS would visit Karachi.

On many instances throughout Moula’s TUS week-long visit, I did all to present an araz to Moula TUS but nothing appeared to materialize.

My condition continued to deteriorate.

Friday, July 26, 2019, was announced as the day of Moula’s TUS wada. On the night of 25th, Moula TUS would preside over the inauguration of Zaini Masjid and I deemed the occasion my last best chance. With some medical assistance, I reached the venue in the hope of getting a nazar mubarak, if nothing else.

Just as Moula TUS arrived and was near to move past me, the crowd around me lost the grip standing in the way and putting my final hopes to rest.

I returned back to Aljamea sunk in pain and anguish. Those around me and aware of the circumstances tried to dry my eyes but to no avail.

The following morning when I woke up for namaz, I was in pretty bad shape. Attending wada majlis looked impossible.

I decided to get some shuteye. In the dream, I saw Moula TUS entering my room wearing pagri and dupatto similar to his appearance earlier that night. Moula TUS got near my bed, brushed his haath mubarak on my back twice with a wide tabassum on his face and left.

Ecstatic and bewildered, I got up from sleep sitting upright with a force. As I was trying to recollect the dream, I failed to take into account a defining moment for me.

The pain had entirely vanished.

I attended the wada majlis with all normalcy brimming with the sense of gratitude that kept translating into tears as I made way to the venue.

Amongst the large audience, I saw thousands of mumineen with the extent of gratitude similar to mine. Indeed, all were the recipients of Moula’s TUS blessings in one way or the other.

I was just one amongst thousands.

Taher Shk Quaidjohar Bhai Najmi

Malaysia, Mentekab

In the means of shukr and zikr, anyone who is willing to share his/her’s acquaintance, incident or any experience with Moulana Muqaddas RA or Moulana Mufaddal Saifuddin TUS can mail it to &