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2020.07.17 16:39 17Julenergetic Punjabi hidden mms

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2020.06.16 18:39 smiley019 Punjabi hidden mms

-e-Allah Zaat is the Divine Essence
Ism-e-Allah Zaat is exactly the same as the Divine Self. (Ain-ul-Faqr)
Ism-e-Allah Zaat is not separate from the Divine Essence
Mansur Hallaj in Tawasin explains it as:
“If a person says that he has recognized Him (Allah Almighty) through His name (Ism-e-Allah Zaat) then he should remember that name is not separate from the Essence because He is non creation”.
Invocation of Allah’s Name is obligatory
Sultan Bahoo says about invocation of Ism-e-Allah Zaat:
Whenever Allah Almighty made any form of worship obligatory, He then also fixed its limit (the number of times it should be performed) but the invocation (of Ism-e-Allah Zaat) has no limitations which means that it should be performed (as Allah orders it) while standing, sitting and lying, day and night, on land or water, while travelling or during sojourn, in richness and in destitution, while in health or in sickness, secretly and loudly, the invocation of Allah’s name is obligatory (to be performed with every breath). (Nur-ul-Huda Kalan)
Ism-e-Allah Zaat makes one the beloved of Allah
Sultan Bahoo says in the honour of the contemplation of Ism-e-Allah Zaat:
Listen! All the four holy books i.e. Taurah, Gospel, Psalms and Quran are just the explanation of Ism-e-Allah Zaat. What is Ism-e-Allah Zaat? Ism-e-Allah Zaat is exactly the Divine Essence. It is incomparable, unparalleled, doubtless and unexemplified, for it is said
قُلۡ ہُوَ اللّٰہُ اَحَدٌ ۚ﴿۱﴾
Meaning: O Beloved! Say unto them Allah is One.
Whoever recites and learns (the reality of) Ism-e-Allah Zaat inwardly, becomes the beloved of Allah. By the recitation and invocation of Ism-e-Allah Zaat, one gains inspirational knowledge about which Allah says:
وَ عَلَّمَ اٰدَمَ الۡاَسۡمَآءَ کُلَّہَا
Meaning: And Allah taught Adam all the names. (Al-Baqarah-31)
Allah says:
مِمَّا لَمۡ یُذۡکَرِ اسۡمُ اللّٰہِ عَلَیۡہِ وَ اِنَّہٗ لَفِسۡقٌ ؕ
Meaning: Do not take anything upon which Ism-e-Allah Zaat has not been recited, it is verily a sin (to have it). (Al-An’am 121) (Ain-ul-Faqr)
The medium connecting Allah and His slave is Ism-e-Allah Zaat
Keep in mind that the ascension of the Holy Prophet to the station of Qab Qausain (the ultimate nearness) higher than the Throne, the Chair, the Pen, the Tablet and then talking to Allah without any veil in between was only due to the benediction of Ism-e-Allah Zaat because Ism-e-Allah Zaat is the key to both the worlds.
The seven layers of earth and skies are stable without any pillar only because of Ism-e-Allah Zaat. All the Prophets got Prophethood and won over the disbelievers only due to the power of Ism-e-Allah Zaat. Their slogan was always, “Only Allah is enough for our help”. The medium connecting Allah and His slave is Ism-e-Allah Zaat. All the Saints and friends of Allah whether Ghaus or Qutb got the beneficence of invocation, meditation, inspiration, absorption in Divine Oneness, concentration, unveiling and miracles by the grace of Ism-e-Allah Zaat. Ism-e-Allah Zaat reveals such inspirational knowledge that one does not need to gain any other knowledge. (Ain-ul-Faqr)
Detach inwardly from everything other than Allah
ہر کراں بہ اسمِ اللہ شد قرار
ہر چہ باشد غیر اللہ زاں فرار
Explanation: One who finds attachment with Ism-e-Allah Zaat, gets detached from everything other than Allah. (Ain-ul-Faqr)
Ism-e-Allah Zaat separates from innerself (nafs)
Which is the knowledge that separates a person from his innerself (nafs) without any mystic exercise and endeavour in a moment? That knowledge is the ‘contemplation of Ism-e-Allah Zaat’ through which the seeker of Allah is honoured with His vision and the reality of innerself (nafs). (Nur-ul-Huda Kalan)
Reach Allah through Ism-e-Allah Zaat
Sultan Bahoo says contemplation and invocation of Ism-e-Allah Zaat is the only way to reach Allah. Sultan Bahoo said:
The complete knowledge of the Quran, its verses and the Hadiths, all the knowledge written on the Divine Tablet, the Throne and the Chair, all the hidden knowledge of the physical world of the kingdom of the Providence, all the secrets of Allah Almighty, all the knowledge of the Taurah, Gospel, Psalms and Quran, all the Divine Decree and reinforcements, all the exoteric and esoteric affairs, all the affairs relating to innerself (nafs), inward, soul and sir’r and all the Divine matters which prevail in the entire creation of universe of creation (Alam al-Khalq) are all in the core of Ism-e-Allah Zaat. (Nur-ul-Huda Kalan)
Divine vision and presence in the Mohammadan Assembly is possible only by Ism-e-Allah Zaat
The true mystic path which is free from any fault or retraction is the one through which a seeker can reach such a high spiritual status where he is blessed with the Divine vision whenever he wants and finds presence in the Mohammadan Assembly. He can meet all the Prophets and Saints whenever he wishes. One achieves this Divine favour only by the contemplation of Ism-e-Allah Zaat. (Nur-ul-Huda Kalan)
Ism-e-Allah Zaat creates Divine light in the inward
By the contemplation of Ism-e-Allah Zaat, the light of Divine vision creates in the inward. While the excess of prayers, meditations and recitals create inclination of people towards the reciter which makes his innerself (nafs) more proud and haughty. Satanic illusions and misperceptions appear in physical form before him and that fool misunderstand them as Divine presence. Beware!
کُلُّ اَنَا ءِِ یَتَرَشَّحُ بِمَا فِیْہِ
Meaning: Whatever comes out of the vessel, is what it contains. Check yourself according to this Hadith. (Nur-ul-Huda Kalan)
On doomsday Ism-e-Allah Zaat will make the scale of good deeds heavier
On the doomsday, when the account of good and bad deeds of people would be reckoned, the person on whose inward Ism-e-Allah Zaat would be engraved and who would have recited Ism-e-Allah Zaat sincerely only once in life would be forgiven, even if his sins would be equal to the fourteen layers of the earth and the skies.
When the angels will put all his sins on one side of the scale and his single good deed of recitation of Ism-e-Allah Zaat on the other, the side with Ism-e-Allah Zaat would be heavier. The angels would surprisingly ask:
“O Allah! Only one good deed of this person made the side of good deeds of the scale heavier. May we know what that good deed is?”
Allah would say:
“This person is My seeker and used to remain occupied in the invocation of Ism-e-Allah Zaat. O angels! You are among those who remain veiled from My real worship which is the invocation of Ism-e-Allah Zaat. When My seekers do the invocation of Ism-e-Allah Zaat I am with them and they are with Me. You are the strangers.”
Only Allah! Everything other than Allah is lust. (Ain-ul-Faqr)
All worships are wasted if one is ignorant of Ism-e-Allah Zaat
If a person spends all his life in praying, fasting, giving charity, hajj, reciting Quran and doing all the other physical prayers or has got excellence as a religious scholar, but is ignorant of Ism-e-Allah Zaat and Ism-e-Mohammad, then all his life and prayers are ruined and wasted. (Ain-ul-Faqr)
One breath taken in the contemplation of Ism-e-Allah Zaat is better than learning thousand Islamic laws
To learn one law of Islamic jurisprudence is better than a sincere prayer of one year, while one breath taken in the contemplation of Ism-e-Allah Zaat is better than learning thousand Islamic laws. (Ain-ul-Faqr)
Allah says. “I am here My slave.”
When a Fakir annihilated in Allah and immortal with Him is performing the invocation engrossed in Allah, the sky says:
“I wish I was the earth, sitting upon which, the Fakir is engrossed in invocation of Allah.”
While the earth says:
“All praises for Allah, I am so blessed that I am having the pleasure from the invocation of Allah.”
When every cell, hair, flesh, bones, skin, brain, inward, soul that is each and every part of the body of the seeker of Allah does the invocation of Ism-e-Allah Zaat ( اَللّٰہُ ) and Allah responds to his invocation by saying
لَبَّیْکَ عَبْدِیْ
Meaning: I am here My slave.
The angels feel envious that they had been prostrating and glorifying Allah all their life but Allah never responded to them in this way, they wish that they were humans. Therefore, recognize your importance O slave of Allah and be amongst the special ones. (Ain-ul-Faqr)
Fakir’s entire existence invokes Ism-e-Allah Zaat
Fakir’s entire existence invokes Ism-e-Allah Zaat. Even his bones, eyes and skin do the invocation. Hence for the invoker of Ism-e-Allah Zaat from the inward, his entire being becomes Ism-e-Allah Zaat and invokes it…..The existence of such a Fakir is an archetype of powers of Allah Almighty. (Mohabbat-ul-Asrar)
Divine secrets are beheld through Ism-e-Allah Zaat
The Fakir, who attains the ultimate level of Faqr that is Sultan of Waham, finds blessing with the revelation of entire knowledge from the Divine closeness. The messengers from Allah bring infinite inspirations to him which contain the hidden and intuitive knowledge of religion. The immortal Mystics cover thousands, rather lacs and crores of spiritual stations in just a moment by the contemplation of Ism-e-Allah Zaat. (Qurb-e-Deedar)
Ism-e-Allah Zaat kills innerself (nafs) and vivifies soul
Without the invocation of Ism-e-Allah Zaat, neither the innerself (nafs) dies nor the soul enlivens even if a person perpetually recites Quran or gets complete knowledge of laws of religion and jurisprudence. Or exhausts and consumes while doing hard mystic struggles and devotional exercises. None of his hard work bears fruit without the mystic exercise of contemplation of Ism-e-Allah Zaat. His inward remains filthy and black as it was. (Shams-ul-Arifeen)
Filth of misbelief is removed by Ism-e-Allah Zaat
The darkness and rust of sins and the filth of misbelief removes from the inward with the contemplation of Ism-e-Allah Zaat. (Shams-ul-Arifeen)
Safest refuge against Satan
Contemplation of Ism-e-Allah Zaat proves to be the safest refuge for its possessor against Satan and its disciples. (Shams-ul-Arifeen)

THE KING OF INVOCATIONS (SULTAN-UL-AZKAR)
Hoo ھُو
Sultan Bahoo writes the effects of the king of invocations Hoo ھُو in his books Ain-ul-Faqr, Nur-ul-Huda Kalan and Kaleed-ul-Tauheed Kalan:
Sultan Bahoo is completely annihilated in Hoo ھُو
باھو در ھو گم شدہ فی اللہ فنا
نام باھوؒ متصل شد با خدا
Explanation: Bahoo has completely annihilated (fana) in ھُو (Hoo) has become immortal (baqa) with Him. The name of Bahoo has Hoo as he is never apart from Allah.
Sultan Bahoo has found complete secret of Hoo ھُو
باھوؒ بَا ھُو فنا، بَا ھُو بقا شد
کہ اوّل آخر رازِ ھُو بقا شد
Explanation: Bahoo annihilated in ھُو (Hoo) and became immortal with Hoo because he found the complete secret of Hoo.
Sultan Bahoo manifested from Hoo ھُو
باھوؒ در ھو گم شدہ باھوؒ نہ ماند
باھوؒ از ھو یا ھو بخواند
Explanation: When Bahoo annihilated in Hoo (the Divine Self) he no longer remained Bahoo. Bahoo manifested from Hoo ( ھُو ) therefore he remains drowned in the invocation of Ya Hoo یا ھو .
Invocation everywhere
ہر کہ ذکرِ ’’ھُو‘‘ باھوؒ یافتہ
بشنود ’’یاھُو‘‘ از کبوتر فاختہ
Explanation: A person whom Sultan Bahoo blesses with the invocation of Ya Hoo یا ھو , that person listens the same invocation from the tongue of every pigeon and dove (he is so absorbed in this invocation that he hears nothing except it).
Annihilation in the light of Divine Essence
باھُو در ھُو گم شدہ گم نام را کے یافتہ؟
ہم صحبتم با مصطفٰیؐ در نور فی اللہ ساختہ
Explanation: Bahoo has annihilated in Hoo, how can you find someone who has completely annihilated? After annihilation in the light of the Divine Essence, I have found eternal presence in the Mohammadan Assembly.
People benefit from the spiritual order of Sultan Bahoo
از قبرِ باھوؒ ھو برآید حق بنام
ذاکراں را انتہا ھو شد تمام
Explanation: Even after the death of Sultan Bahoo, voices of ‘Hoo ھُو ’ are raised from his grave and the true seekers are benefitted from his spiritual order by being bestowed the invocation of Hoo because this invocation is the most elevated of all invocations.
Divine Essence exists in the being of Sultan Bahoo
باھو در ھو گم شدہ باھوؒ نماند
نورِ باھوؒ روز و شب یاھو بخواند
Explanation: Bahoo has annihilated in Hoo to such an extent that he no longer exists. Bahoo invokes Ya Hoo یا ھو Ya Hoo یا ھو day and night converting into Divine light.
Eye of Hoo ھُو
باھوؒ از میانِ ھُو چشم می بیند خدا
درمیانِ ھُو ببین وحدت لقا
Explanation: Bahoo observes Allah through the eye of Hoo ( ھُو ). O seeker! You must also observe Allah through the eye of Hoo.
Hoo ھُو has become friend of Sultan Bahoo
باھوؒ بہ یا ھُو یار شد
چوں بختِ من بیدار شد
باہم نشین دلدار شد
درعشقِ او پروانہ ام
Explanation: O Bahoo! The destiny has been in my favour as Hoo ( ھُو ) has become my Friend. Now I am enjoying the company of my Beloved. I am a moth burning in the fire of His ardent love (Ishq-e-Haqeeqi) and have forgotten myself.
There is no veil in front of Sultan Bahoo
نماندہ پردہ باھوؒ گشت یاھو
کہ ذکرش روز و شب یاھو گفت باھوؒ
Explanation: There remained no veil in front of Bahoo and he has become Ya Hoo یا ھو from Bahoo. He forever remains drowned in the invocation of Ya Hoo .
Whole being converts in Divine light
کسے بس ذکر گوید ھُو ہویدا
وجودش می شود زاں نور پیدا
Explanation: The person who achieves the invocation of Hoo ( ھُو ) i.e. his inward is invoking Hoo automatically all the time, the reality of Hoo reveals upon him and his whole body (physically as well as spiritually) converts into Divine light.
Extreme closeness of Hoo
اسمِ اعظم انتہائے با ھُو بود
وردِ باھوؒ روز و شب ’’یاھُو‘‘ بود
Explanation: By the invocation of Hoo ( ھُو ), which is the greatest name of Allah (Ism-e-Azam), a seeker finds the extreme closeness of Hoo. That is why, Bahoo remains busy in the invocation of ‘Hoo ھُو ’ day and night.
One having the privilege of beholding Hoo ھُوnever dies
باھوؒ ھُو برد با آور برد
ہر کہ بہ آں عین بیند کہ نمرد
Explanation: Hoo ( ھُو ) came and took Bahoo with Him, Bahoo became immortal by annihilating in Hoo. This is not strange at all because the one who has the privilege of beholding Hoo, never dies. (Ain-ul-Faqr)
Eternal presence in the Mohammadan Assembly
اسمِ یاھُو گشت باھوؒ راہ بر
پیشوائے شد محمدؐ معتبر
Explanation: Ya Hoo یا ھو has become a guide and leader for Bahoo honouring him with eternal presence in the Mohammadan Assembly.
Who becomes Hoo ھُو ?
ابتدا ’’ھُو‘‘ انتہا ’’ھُو‘‘ ہر کہ با ’’ھُو‘‘ می رسد
عارفِ عرفاں شود ہر کہ با ’’ھُو‘‘ ’’ھُو‘‘ شود
Explanation: Hoo ( ھُو ) is the beginning and Hoo is the finality. Whosoever reaches ‘Hoo’, becomes Mystic (Knower of Allah who prays Allah while seeing Him). By annihilating in ‘Hoo’, he himself becomes Hoo.
Mighty Saint of the realm of Divinity
ملک و مِلک بیک ھو زدہ نا چیز کنیم
ما کہ در قلزمِ توحید نہنگ آمدہ ایم
Explanation: I have exterminated the desires of wealth and riches by just one strike of the Divine name of Hoo ( ھُو ), I am the crocodile of the ocean of Oneness (Tawhid / Tauheed). (It means he is the mighty Saint of LaHoot which is the realm of Divinity).
Sultan Bahoo remains engrossed in the invocation of Hoo ھُو

  1. باھوؒ بہ یک نقطہ یاھو می شود
وردِ باھوؒ روز و شب یاھو بود
  1. اسمِ ھُو سیف است باھوؒ برزبان
قتل کن ایں نفس کافر ہر زمان
Explanation: (1) Bahoo باھوؒ becomes Ya Hoo یاھُو by just an increase of an Arabic alphabetical dot (meaning there remains no difference esoterically between both after annihilating in Him and has become immortal with Him. All that remains is the exoteric veil). Hence, Bahoo forever remains engrossed in the invocation of Ya Hoo (یاھُو). (2) Bahoo’s inward forever remains engrossed in the invocation of the Divine name Hoo ( ھُو ) which is a bare sword that is always engaged in killing the infidel innerself (nafs).
Quotes of Sultan Bahoo regarding the king of invocation Hoo ھُو
Sultan Bahoo further said:
If you want to know the secrets of Hoo ( ھُو ), eliminate everything from your inward except Allah. (Qurb-e-Deedar)
The invocation of Hoo ( ھُو ) affects its reciter in such a way that he starts loving Hoo extremely and feels disgusted by everything other than Allah. (Ain-ul-Faqr)
When a seeker invokes the name Hoo ( ھُو ) inwardly, he likes nothing except Allah. People think he is ignorant or insane but in fact he has found Divine presence in the court of Allah Almighty. (Mehak-ul-Faqr Kalan)
When, due to the frequent invocation, Hoo ( ھُو ) dominates and overpowers the being of the reciter of Hoo, there remains nothing in him except Hoo. (Mehak-ul-Faqr Kalan)
The laws of sharia apply to this material world. Station of mysticism (tariqa) is related to the realm of angels (called alam al-malakut), station of reality (haqiqa) is related to the realm of power (alam al-jabarut), whereas, gnosis belongs to realm of Divinity (alam al-LaHoot). لَآ اِلٰہَ , اِلَّا ﷲُ , اَللّٰہُ and ھُو comprehend all of them. لَآ اِلٰہَ is the invocation of material world, اِلَّا ﷲُ is the invocation of realm of angels, اَللّٰہُ is the invocation of the realm of power and ھُو is the invocation of the realm of Divinity. (Mehak-ul-Faqr Kalan)
Sultan Bahoo and his Punjabi quatrains
on Ism-e-Allah Zaat

Sultan Bahoo says about Ism-e-Allah Zaat and Sultan-ul-Azkar Hoo in his Punjabi quatrains:
The forever famous quatrain ‘Alif Allah Chambe Dee Bootee’
الف ﷲ چنبے دی بوٹی، میرے من وِچ مرشد لائی ھو
نفی اَثبات دا پانی مِلیس، ہر رگے ہر جائی ھو
اندر بوٹی مشک مچایا، جاں پھلاں تے آئی ھو
جیوے مرشد کامل باھُو، جیں ایہہ بوٹی لائی ھو
Explanation of first verse
In this couplet Sultan Bahoo has likened Ism-e-Allah Zaat with jasmine. Sultan Bahoo is the pioneer Mystic who has used the metaphor of jasmine for Ism-e-Allah Zaat. Its seedling when sowed into the earth, grows slowly into a plant laden with flowers whose fragrance envelops surroundings. Similar to it, when a spiritual guide bestows the seeker with contemplation and invocation of Ism-e-Allah Zaat he sows a seedling into the seeker’s inward and in the care of the spiritual guide the light of Ism-e-Allah Zaat gradually envelops the whole being of the true seeker illuminating it.
Explanation of second verse
The spiritual guide of Sultan Bahoo has revealed upon him that the reality of لَآ اِلٰہَ is negated everything within except Allah and removing all the idols from inward. He also taught him the real meaning of اِلَّا ﷲُ (only Allah) by affirming the Divine Essence within, i.e. elevated him by the recognition of Musamma (self) through Ism (name). Now this Divine secret has penetrated his whole existence. The Ism-e-Allah Zaat has enveloped whole of his being making him witness all its secrets and mysteries and now he wish to lay it before the entire world. However, these Divine secrets are for the special ones and not commonality.
Explanation of third verse
It has become hard to live because he is bearing the magnificent secrets and mysteries. Now wherever he turns his eyes he sees only Ism-e-Allah Zaat, not only physically but spiritually as well. He says that his condition resembles the Quranic verse, “Wherever you turn, you would see the Divine Face.” (Al-Baqarah-115)
Explanation of verse four
Sultan Bahoo says that may Allah bless his spiritual guide with a long life who has bestowed him Ism-e-Allah Zaat and has opened all its Divine secrets with his perfect spiritual attention as he is boundlessly merciful, kind and affectionate.
Obtain Ism-e-Allah Zaat from the perfect spiritual guide
اندر ھُو تے باہر ھُو، ایہ دَم ھُو دے نال جِلیندا ھو
ھُو دا داغ محبت والا، ہر دَم پیا سڑیندا ھو
ِجتھے ھُو کرے رشنائی، اوتھوں چھوڑ اندھیرا وِیندا ھو
میں قربان تنہاں توں باھُو ، جیہڑا ھُو نوں صحی کِریندا ھو
Explanation: The seeker who obtains the contemplation of Ism-e-Allah Zaat and the invocation of Hoo from the perfect spiritual guide, sees Hoo both physically and spiritually. As the beneficence of the spiritual guide unveils the secrets of Hoo. His condition complies with the Quranic verse, “Wherever you turn, you would see the Divine Face.” (Al-Baqarah-115). When the love of Hoo penetrates the inward, it burns down the love of others and all that remains is the ardent love for Allah. Only Allah! Everything other than Allah is lust. May I sacrifice myself upon the true seekers who forever remain restless and anxious to find the secrets of Hoo and ultimately obtain their destination which is Hoo ( ھُو ).
Company of the man of Divine Essence
جس الف مطالیہ کیتا، ب دا باب نہ پڑھدا ھو
چھوڑ صفاتی لدھیوس ذاتی، اوہ عامی دور چا کردا ھو
نفس امارہ کتڑا جانے، ناز نیاز نہ دھردا ھو
کیا پرواہ تنہاں نوں باھُو ، جِنہاں گھاڑو لدھا گھر دا ھو
Explanation: When the true seekers find blessings by the contemplation and the invocation of Ism-e-Allah Zaat, they do not follow the wishes of inciting innerself (an-nafs al-ammarah). They also do not get inclined towards other kinds of knowledge, invocation of attributive names or daily recitals because they have found the Divine Essence. Thus these fortunate few do not need any kind of outward support because they find blessings by the eternal company and support of perfect spiritual guide who is the man of Divine Essence (Sahib-e-Musamma) and have also gained the ultimate blessing of the Ism-e-Allah Zaat.
Divine love lifts all the veils
جِنہاں شوہ الف تھِیں پایا، پھول قرآن نہ پڑھدے ھو
اوہ مارن دم محبت والا، دور ہویونے پردے ھو
دوزخ بہشت غلام تنہاندے، چا کیتونے بردے ھو
میں قربان تنہاں توں باھُو ، جیہڑے وحدت دے وِچ وڑدے ھو
Explanation: The knowledge of both the worlds is in the Quran. Moreover the Quran is in Islamic creed and Islamic creed’s crux is the Ism-e-Allah Zaat. Sultan Bahoo says that those who find blessings with the love of Divine Essence by the invocation of the Ism-e-Allah Zaat have the inspired knowledge. Now it gives them complete inward and outward knowledge of the Holy Quran. The Divine love has lifted all the physical and spiritual veils for them. The paradise and the hell have become their slaves by the grace of the Holy Lord. Sultan Bahoo said that he wish to sacrifice himself for those who have annihilated in the ocean of Oneness with Allah becoming the One.
The fragrance of Divine love cannot remain hidden
جس دِل اِسم اﷲ دا چمکے، عشق وِی کردا ہلے ھو
بو کستوری دی چھپدی ناہیں، بھانویں دے رکھیئے سے پلے ھو
انگلیں پِچھے دِینہہ ناہیں چھپدا، دریا نہ رہندے ٹھلے ھو
اسیں اوسے وِچ اوہ اساں وِچ، باھُو یاراں یار سولے ھو
Explanation: The inward which is brighter with the light of Ism-e-Allah Zaat finds honour with the Divine vision and is the one drowned in Divine love. Thus this love does not stay concealed in the inward but reveals itself like the unstoppable fragrance of the musk, light of the sun and water of the oceans. Hence these are the states of Divine love. The seeker perishes his existence by annihilating in the Divine Essence.
Divine vision only possible through Ism-e-Allah Zaat
دِل تے دفتر وحدت والا، دائم کریں مطالیا ھو
ساری عمراں پڑھدیاں گزری، جہلاں دے وِچ جالیا ھو
اِکّو اِسم اﷲ دا رکھیں، اپنا سبق مطالیا ھو
دوہیں جہان غلام تنہاندے باھُو ، جیں دِل اﷲ سمجھالیا ھو
Explanation: O seeker of Allah! In your inward lies the book of Oneness which you should always study. You spent all your life in ignorance despite studying books and gaining the outward knowledge. It is important to realize that you should only contemplate and invoke Ism-e-Allah Zaat as this is the initial and the final lesson. Both the worlds will come in your servitude if you accomplish yourself in bearing the Divine Trust which is Ism-e-Allah Zaat. One can achieve the closeness and vision of Divine Essence only by the invocation of the Ism-e-Allah Zaat.
Allah is found in inward
سینے وِچ مقام ہے کَیندا، سانوں مرشد گَل سمجھائی ھو
اِیہو ساہ جو آوے جاوے، ہور نہیں شے کائی ھو
اِس نوں اِسم الاعظم آکھن، اِیہو سِرِّ اِلٰہی ھو
اِیہو موت حیاتی باھُو ، اِیہو بھیت اِلٰہی ھو
Explanation: The perfect spiritual guide has taught me that it is the inward where Allah is. Moreover the contemplation and the invocation of Ism-e-Allah Zaat performed through breaths is the greatest name of Allah (Ism-e-Azam). This is the Divine secret and the secret of life and death. Thus life means the breath which invokes Ism-e-Allah Zaat and death is the breath which is void of invocation of the Ism-e-Allah Zaat. Life is the Divine vision in inward and death is its deprivation. As Hazrat Ali razi Allah anhu says, “I have the glorious Divine vision in my inward”.
Perform invocation with the passion of Divine love
ضروری نفس کتے نوں، قیما قیم کچیوے ھو
نال محبت ذِکر اﷲ دا، دم دم پیا پڑھیوے ھو
ذِکر کنوں ربّ حاصل تھیندا، ذاتوں ذات دِسیوے ھو
دوہیں جہان غلام تنہاندے باھُو ، جنہاں ذات لبھیوے ھو
Explanation: It is necessary in the path of Faqr that the dog like innerself (nafs) crumbles into bits and pieces to the extent of complete annihilation. One should perform eternal invocation and contemplation of Ism-e-Allah Zaat with every breath with the passion of Divine love. Now without the contemplation of Ism-e-Allah Zaat, innerself never dies despite whole life’s physical prayers which will exhaust you. To find the blessing of Divine vision, the innerself (nafs) must die by the contemplation and invocation of Ism-e-Allah Zaat. Both the worlds come in the servitude of the one who finds the blessing with the Divine Essence.
One is fortunate who is blessed with the secret of Ism-e-Allah Zaat
عاشق راز ماہی دے کولوں، کدی نہ ہوون واندے ھو
نیندر حرام تنہاں تے ہوئی، جیہڑے اِسمِ ذات کماندے ھو
ہِک پل مول آرام نہ کر دے، دِینہہ رات وتن کرلاندے ھو
جنہاں الف صحی کر پڑھیا باھُو ، واہ نصیب تنہاندے ھو
Explanation: Allah’s lovers always protect His secrets. As they are in fact those who have received the knowledge of Ism-e-Allah Zaat and have become aware of the Divine secrets which keep them anxious and restless. They can neither sleep nor rest and request day and night before Allah with grief and pain to never keep them away from Himself because deprivation from the Divine vision is the biggest of all misfortunes in both the worlds. Moreover how fortunate are those who have found the blessing of the secret of Ism-e-Allah Zaat!
Death before dying
مُوْتُوْا والی موت نہ ملی، جیں وِچ عشق حیاتی ھو
موت وصال تھیسی ہک، جدوں اِسم پڑھیسی ذاتی ھو
عین دے وِچوں عین جو تھیوے، دور ہووے قرباتی ھو
ھُو دا ذِکر ہمیش سڑیندا باھُو ، دِینہاں سکھ نہ راتی ھو
Explanation: O imperfect seeker! You could not reach the level of:
مُوۡ تُوۡ ا قَبۡلَ اَنۡ تَمُوۡتُوۡا
Meaning: Death before dying.
It is due to the love of the material world. Moreover it is the fear of losing it. Whereas in this death lies the eternal life. You will achieve this death and union with Allah when the king of invocation (Sultan-ul-Azkar) Hoo ( ھُو ) invokes in your entire entity and your self annihilates in the Divine Essence and you become its exact manifestation. Furthermore this level is beyond proximity as for proximity there are needed two existences and here there is no duality but the Oneness. The invocation of Hoo keeps the lover of Allah restless, burns him in the fire of His love and neither at night nor in the day does he find relief.
Annihilation in Hoo ھُو
ھُو دا جامہ پہن کراہاں، اِسم کماون ذاتی ھو
کفر اِسلام مقام نہ منزل، ناں اوتھے موت حیاتی ھو
شہ رگ تھیں نزدیک لدھوسے، پا اندر ونے جھاتی ھو
اوہ اساں وِچ اسیں انہاں وِچ، باھو دور رہی قرباتی ھو
Explanation: This couplet mentions the extreme level of Faqr which is annihilation (fana) in Hoo . Mystics invoke Ism-e-Allah Zaat, Hoo. Then they annihilates in Hoo and becomes Hoo. This is the station beyond time and space. There exists no Islam or infidelity, neither is there any station or destination nor life or death. To achieve this station one does not need to go far beyond. As it is important to realize that the destination is nearer than the jugular vein. There remains no duality when one annihilates in the Divine Essence and the Divine Essence annihilates in one’s existence.
Intoxicated with Divine love
یار یگانہِ ملسی تینوں، جے سِر دی بازی لائیں ھو
عشق ﷲ وِچ ہو مستانہ، ھُو ھُو سدا الائیں ھو
نال تصور اِسم اﷲ دے، دم نوں قید لگائیں ھو
ذاتے نال جاں ذاتی رلیا، تد باھُو نام سدائیں ھو
Explanation: You will achieve your destination which is the Divine Essence when you get absorbed in Allah’s love and will sacrifice even your life for Him. Moreover if you want to reach the Divine Essence then become intoxicated in His love, whose source is to invoke Hoo ( ھُو ) with each and every breath and also to contemplate the Ism-e-Allah Zaat. Surely Bahoo got the name Bahoo after annihilation in the Divine Entity. (Abyat-e-Bahoo Kamil)

THE PRACTICE OF INSCRIBING ALLAH’S NAME ON BODY
(MASHQ MURQOOM-E-WAJUDIA)
Mashq murqoom-e-wajudia is the practice of writing Ism-e-Allah Zaat ( ﷲُ ) through meditation by the index finger on body while keeping the printed Ism-e-Allah Zaat in front of eyes. Sultan Bahoo describes the marvellous effects of this exercise in these words:
The practice of inscribing Allah’s name on body makes one spiritually rich and indifferent to all needs
Approaching the final, ultimate and the highest stage of all the creation and finding union with Allah is possible only by the practice of inscribing Allah’s name on body (mashq murqoom-e-wajudia). Moreover when a seeker writes the name of Allah through meditation (in a special manner) on his body, from every letter of Ism-e-Allah Zaat ( ﷲُ ), a theophany descends upon the seeker which takes him to the status of Hazrat Ma’aroof Karkhi. Hence, the seeker becomes spiritually rich and indifferent to all the needs. (Nur-ul-Huda Kalan)
Ism-e-Allah Zaat envelops the whole body
Which is the way and knowledge through which a seeker of Allah safely reaches closest to Allah without facing any evil from the Satan, troubles created by his innerself (nafs) or any unfortunate accidents of life which may distract him from his path, and he is blessed with union and Divine vision after being annihilated in Allah and immersed in the Divine light. He finds eternal union, leaves verbal discussions about Allah and remains engrossed in the pleasure of vision of the beauty of Hence, Ism-e-Allah Zaat ( ﷲُ ) is written upon every cell of the body of the seeker. (Nur-ul-Huda Kalan)
The status of perfect Fakir
When a seeker practises inscribing Allah’s name on body (mashq murqoom-e-wajudi) through meditation then all his body converts into Divine light and the seeker becomes pure of all his sins just as a newborn is pure of sins.
Here, the Holy Prophet blesses him with his kindness and benevolence and takes him to his sacred Family. The princess of paradise Hazrat Fatima tuz-Zahra and mothers of the true believers Hazrat Ayesha and Hazrat Khadija the great adopt him as their spiritual infant son and feed him with milk of light (Nur). He becomes the spiritual son of the sacred Family. The blessed one with the Divine presence. Further he is titled as the son possessing Divine light. Esoterically he is always present in the Mohammadan Assembly as child possessing light with Divine presence but physically he lives and interacts with the people of this world. This is the status of a perfect Fakir. (Nur-ul-Huda Kalan)

DENIER OF ISM-E-ALLAH ZAAT AND ISM-E-MOHAMMAD
Sultan Bahoo says about the denier of Ism-e-Allah Zaat and Ism-e-Mohammad:
One who forbids from Ism-e-Allah Zaat and its invocation is a hypocrite and infidel or jealous and arrogant. (Ain-ul-Faqr)
The denier of Ism-e-Allah Zaat and Ism-e-Mohammad is the second Abu Jahl or Pharaoh. (Aqal-e-Baydar)
One who does not believe in Ism-e-Allah Zaat and Ism-e-Mohammad is surely a hypocrite. Surely Ism-e-Allah Zaat is the most exalted name of Allah. Ism-e-Mohammad is the straight path. (Mehak-ul-Faqr Kalan
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2020.06.16 10:15 smiley019 Punjabi hidden mms

Blog Online Oath (Bayat) Contact اردو Hazrat Sakhi Sultan Bahoo --- Navigate --- Sultan Bahoo Teachings What are Sultan Bahoo Teachings called Sultan Bahoo teachings are neither called Tasawuf nor spirituality instead he named them Faqr. His teachings lay stress on adopting the path of Faqr.
What is prerequisite of path of Faqr In the way of Faqr, the company and guidance of a Sarwari Qadri Sahib-e-Musamma Murshid Kamil Akmal Noor-ul-Huda (the Perfect guide who is the possessor of all the attributes and powers of the Divine Essence and is the absolute Light of Guidance) is the foremost prerequisite – without that the seekers cannot achieve any success.
True Murshid according to Sultan Bahoo Teachings According to Sultan Bahoo teachings, Murshid should be the one who gives the seeker Ism-e-Allah Zaat inscribed in golden letters on the very first day (of bayah) and inculcates the disciple to do invocation, contemplation alonwith Mushq Murqoom-e-Wajudia (practice of inscribing Ism-e-Allah on the body). Sultan Bahoo says:-
What is the initial status of an accomplished Sarwari Qadri Murshid? It is that he elevates the seeker spiritually on the very first day, with his one glance and zikr (invocation) of Ism-e-Allah Zaat, to such heights that the seeker is completely drowned in the Divine union and finds presence in the holy assembly of Prophet Mohammad. The Murshid who cannot do this, is not a proper Sarwari Qadri. (Kaleed-ul-Tauheed) What is Ism e Allah Zaat When Allah desired (to be recognized), He separated Ism-e-Allah Zaat from Himself. From Ism-e-Allah Zaat the Noor of Mohammad appeared. When the Divine Nature (Allah) beheld His reflection in the mirror of His Oneness in the form of Noor of Mohammad, he was fascinated and became fond of Himself and got the title of “Holy Lord of all the lords” and “Beloved of Allah” from His Own Divine court. Then Allah created all the souls of creatures of eighteen thousand realms from the Noor of Mohammad. (Ain-ul-Faqr) What are two important spiritual station By the spiritual attention and benevolence of the Murshid the seeker is bestowed with the two most elevated spiritual stations on the way of Faqr i.e. Divine Vision and presence in the Mohammadan Assembly (inwardly). There is no higher or elevated spiritual station that the aforementioned stations. Only those seekers succeed in achieving these stations who continue their journey on the path of Faqr by following the instructions of their Murshid according to his will, with devotion and determination.
Sultan Bahoo – The Life and Teachings Sultan Bahoo left a treasure of teachings of Faqr in the form of books and his Divine poetry. Despite the fact that he did acquire exoteric knowledge, he authored more than 140 books. This is a testament to his very exalted spiritual status. Sultan Bahoo teachings are a treasure of Divine knowledge. True seekers of Allah find guidance in his books even today.
How to get spiritual guidance He himself mentions in his various books at various occasions that whoever studies his books with devotion and sincerity, these books will prove to be a guide for him. It is true that when a true seeker of Allah studies Sultan Bahoo books with sincerity, he guides that seekers to the living Shaikh of Sarwari Qadri order for esoteric training.
Sultan Bahoo Teachings – Abyat e Bahoo Most of his books are written in Persian language, this is because Persian was the prevailing language at the time. Since then, there have been numerous translations of Sultan Bahoo teachings in various languages. The only collection of his teachings other than Persian is his Punjabi poetry. This is a collection of two hundred and one couplets of Sultan Bahoo poetry. These are famously known as Abyat-e-Bahoo.
Sultan ul Faqr Publications Sultan ul Ashiqeen Sultan Mohammad Najib-ur-Rehman is the present Shaikh of the Sarwari Qadri order. Since adorning the throne of Divine guidance and persuasion, he has taken revolutionary steps to spread Sultan Bahoo teachings to mankind. For this purpose, he established Sultan ul Faqr Publications – a department of Tehreek Dawat-e-Faqr. Sultan ul Ashiqeen himself has translated many of Sultan Bahoo books in Urdu with in-depth exegesis that truly bring out the hidden message in Sultan Bahoo teachings and make it easy for Divine seekers to understand Sultan Bahoo teachings.
To read more about Sultan Bahoo teachings about Faqr, please click the desired topic…
Please click to request for Online Oath (Bayat) facility… Sultan Bahoo Teachings Faqr Seeker of Allah ( Talib-e-Maula ) Knowledge of Inner Self (Irfan e Nafs), Self Realization (Khud Shanasi), Reality of Man (Haqeeqat e Insan) The Personal Name of Allah (Ism e Allah Zaat) Contemplation of the Sacred Name of Mohammad (Tasawur Ism e Mohammad) The Perfect Spiritual Guide (Murshid Kamil Akmal) Ishq-e-Haqeeqi (Divine Love) Mohammadan Assembly (Majlis e Mohammadi) Vision of Allah (Deedar e Elahi) The Universal Divine Man (Insan e Kamil, Faqeer e Kamil) Sultan ul Faqr Inward Conversation with the Divine Self (Waham) The Knowledge of Communication with Sacred Souls of Shrines (Ilm e Dawat e Qaboor) The Sharia (Shariat) Renunciation of the World (Turk e Dunya) Surrender & Submission to the Divine Will (Tasleem o Raza) Trust upon Allah (Tawakkal) Meditation and Concentration (Tafakkur and Muraqbah) Socialize with Us Copyright © 2014 -2020 - All Rights Reserved - Tehreek Dawat e Faqr ® Email: sultanulfaqr@tehreekdawatefaqr.com Land Line # +92 42 35436600
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2020.05.25 19:36 TheTurbanatore Punjabi hidden mms

Grooming Gangs Discussion Event: Before & After Bhai Mohan Singh Ji live-streamed the talk on his facebook page. If you would like to listen to our event, you can do so here: https://www.facebook.com/sikhawarenesssociety/videos/2843682152420708
Background
On May 18th, I reached out to Bhai Mohan Singh Ji from Sikh Awareness Society, and to my surprise, he responded the same day and gave me a call on Facebook. I introduced myself and talked about the Sikh Reddit, and about our weekly event talks. Initially, I was looking for speakers for the "Sikhi & Islam" event that I scheduled for Saturday May 23rd and wanted to get Bhai Mohan Singh Ji as a speaker. However, after speaking to him , he told me that he would be ready for any event on Saturday. I recognized that Bhai Sahib was specialized in dealing with groomings, so on short noticed I asked him if he would be fine if I rescheduled the event topic to be about groomings gangs instead, and Bhai Sahib told be straight up: "I am ready to go at any moment, but if an grooming situation happens, I will need to leave immediately", and I agreed because I have so much respect for those who are passionate about their work, especially when its important community engagement such as the grooming issue that is often neglected by the authorities and media due to politics and political correctness.
After Bhai Sahib confirmed to come to the event the same day I messaged him, he sent me his WhatsApp info, and the next day he called me and I went through the tutorial steps to set up his Discord account and get him into the Sikh Community Discord server. There were some technical issues, but aside from that, I was surprised to see how quick Bhai Sahib was able to adapt to a new app. Truly, age does not slow him down.
During the event
The event lasted for about 2.5 hours, and Bhai Sahib was amazing at not only answering questions, but also providing the stats and reasoning behind them. He also gladly accepted any questions the Sangat had. It was amazing to see how he was able to endure over two hours of almost constant talking, when even youngsters like myself were getting worn out.
Aftermath
The event was amazing, and we have over 40 people join us on Discord, as well as over 15 people on the Facebook live-stream. Every step of the way Bhai Sahib was very understanding and professional. His aura was inspiring and he felt like a grandfather to me. He was also gracious enough to guarantee that he will return in the future to discuss future topics, but he just needs notice in advance as he is super busy fighting grooming not only in Europe, but also in North America, and even if he confirms to come to an event, he still has to be ready 24/7 in case he needs to dash out fast to respond to a new grooming case.
Today I had a 30 min talk with Bhai Sahib, and he said he loved the event and wants to do more!
If you liked the event and want to see more events like that in the future, please send Sikh Awareness Society a message or comment and let them know.
Closing thoughts
As a moderator on Sikh, Discord, and someone who has over the years done a lot of investigative work and has to constantly deal with trolls, creeps, etc, I cant even begin to imagine the amount of work and stress that Bhai Mohan Singh Ji has to deal with, and that too, at such an old age. I think I have it bad, but this is a drop in the ocean in the context of what others have to deal with.
Some of you might remember the event announcement post I made where I described Bhai Sahib as:
"Fearless, Multi-talented, Determined, Focused, Professional, Hard working, Compassionate, Empathetic, Academic, Iron willed".
I just want people to know that I was NOT trolling, I was 100% serious in my statement, and this fact can be confirmed by the 50+ users who came to the event and got to hear directly from Bhai Sahib and hear his stories and what he has to deal with.
Bhai Sahib is someone whose aura is overflowing with passion, and he continues to inspire me on a personal, volunteer, and professional level. I only beg that one day Vaheguru can show even a fraction of a seed of mercy so that I may become the dust of the feet of Sikhs such as Bhai Mohan Singh Ji.
With that being said, here are some of the notes that I took during the event, if you have any of your own notes or feedback, feel free to comment it down in this post so that it can serve as a resource.
Grooming Gangs Discussion Notes 6 stages of grooming:
This process can take from a couple of weeks to 6 months.

  1. Target you
  2. Gain trust
  3. fulfilling needs
  4. Isolation
  5. sexualize/radicalize/convert - the process is the same
  6. Total control
Common patterns in grooming cases:
There are 27 patterns all together, these 8 are just the most common and happen in 90% of cases:
  1. Broken/poor home
  2. Child might be naive
  3. Child too narcissistic
  4. Too immature
  5. Child is lonely
  6. Identity crisis
  7. Low self esteem
  8. Too trusting
Myths about grooming:
  1. It cant happen to us (biggest myth)
  2. If it did happen, nobody from your family/community would have done it. Is not a problem in the Punjabi/Sikh community.
Europe vs North America in terms of Grooming:
Europe:
North America:
Gurbani on Grooming
Siri Guru Granth Sahib Ji, Ang 932:
ਕਾਮੁ ਕ੍ਰੋਧੁ ਕਾਇਆ ਕਉ ਗਾਲੈ ॥ kaam karodh kaiaa kau gaalai Unfulfilled sexual desire and unresolved anger waste the body away,
Solutions to grooming problem
Interesting facts about Sikh Awareness Society
PLEASE FOLLOW Sikh Awareness Society:
If you have any resources, notes, questions, or any other feedback, feel free to comment down below! Note: We just want to make it clear that this event/post was not sponsored by anyone. We set up the event and this post because we here at Sikh are genuine supporters of the volunteer work that Sikh Awareness Society do, and will always be there for them because they are one of the few Sikh Organizations that have a backbone and can call out the problem and actually take effective action.
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2020.04.17 10:31 skros22c Is my partner (23M) hiding me (22F) from his family for the right reasons

I’ve been together with my partner for three years now, 2 1/2 years officially. He is first-gen, Punjabi/Indian and I’m White. I’ve met his family once at a huge graduation party, almost 2 years ago. I don’t think he ever really told his family beforehand who I was. It was awkward being around them but I sucked it up because I felt like this was a big step in our relationship considering the cultural differences. Since then I have never seen his family again. When he is with me, he lies to his parents about what he is doing. He even asks me to be quiet when he answers their phone calls. We are together at least two weekends a month, if not longer (I am still in college). Before I met his family, we took over a week long vacation together. He told his family he was traveling with friends but I understood as we had only been official for 6 months. Recently, he missed the last train to get home while visiting me. I told him I would drive him home (about an hour away). He insisted that I drop him off at the train station close to his home (about an hour away). During the drive, I noticed him checking his family members locations on his phone to see who would pick him up and at what time. When we reached the train station his sister hadn’t arrived to pick him up yet. He insisted I leave and make the journey home, so I did. Furthermore, when he goes on vacation with his family he doesn’t call me, and when he is home he only calls me later at night (11pm).
I have met many of his friends and spent time with them. I’ve even met his coworkers. I know he talks to his friends and coworkers about me and they all know we are dating.
I am having trouble bargaining with if I’m okay with continually being hidden or if I should quiet myself and respect their cultural norms. I’ve brought this up a few times with him. He’s told me that his sister once dated a White guy and his parents argued everyday with her about it. He said it isn’t worthwhile to bring this up with them. More recently I pushed the subject again. I told him I felt like he was hiding me. He responded, “That’s literally not it. I don’t care if they find out. I hope they do” and “I don’t hide you. They just don’t ask these things. I wouldn’t lie if they asked. I wouldn’t be with you still if I didn’t think we had a future.”
I know he loves me. He’s stuck by my side through incredibly challenging times, where many other partners would have left. We’ve talked about marriage many times and our plans for the future. I just don’t know what our future will be like if he never talks to his family about me. I can understand the hiding and lying to family as I was raised in a very religious and conservative family. I also eventually stopped and convinced my family to accept me. It was not easy and at points I was completely estranged from my family. It took a few years for them to come to terms with who I am but we are in a much better place now. To me it feels like our future is contingent on his courage to share with his family about me and I’m worried it will also be contingent on their acceptance of me.
I’m scared our relationship will go nowhere or take many more years for marriage. I’ve been so patient and understanding! It’s hard to imagine our relationship truly progressing until he shares the seriousness of it with his family. I’m curious to hear advice from Indian people on cross-cultural relationships. Will our love come above his family’s cultural norms or should I think about ending the relationship to save myself future heartbreak?
xoxo ~
dirty little secret
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2020.03.11 06:31 sanjayshah Punjabi hidden mms

Grand Show of Jassy B at Marwah Studios
https://preview.redd.it/o2zmp5vxmzl41.jpg?width=450&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=6148f941176ddd94ccd59062ca0e28255531edf7
Noida: More than 2000 students of different streams from Asian Education Group gathered and danced together on the tunes of renowned international singer JASSY B at Marwah Studios Complex and enjoyed the evening which was part of the annual two day cultural program KISSET-2020.

“Jassy B has been a wonderful choice, he is an actor, musician, model and I must say a real entertainer. He has given numerous hits in India and abroad. He has a large following all over the globe especially the Punjabi music listeners,” said Sandeep Marwah President of Asian Education Group.

Jaswinder Singh Bains better known by his stage name Jazzy B is an Indian-Canadian Punjabi playback singer and songwriter. His first album Gugiyan Da Jora was released in 1993. In 2000 Jazzy made his film debut in Shaheed Udham Singh In 2006 he appeared in Sunny Deol’s movie Teesri Aankh: The Hidden Camera with Amisha Patel and no looking back.

The show lasted for hours with all his latest and old hit numbers. He attended to the students in the most comfortable way and fulfilled their demands by singing numbers of their choices.

Later Dr. Sandeep Marwah honored the singer by presenting a memento and wished him all the success for all time to come. The show was managed by Asian Business School. Dr. Lalitya Srivastava, Saurab Sharma and Gurdeep Singh Walia Director Asian Education Group were also present there.
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2020.03.04 02:25 rwdsobe1 Queerguru"s Jonathan Kemp reviews Bedlam Chorus"s production BUTTERFLY - QUEERGURU

This was my introduction to the work of Bedlam Chorus and my first thought was how appropriate that name is (in the best possible way, no shade). There’s something gloriously ramshackle about this outfit, from the malfunctioning home-made costumes to the, at times, barely audible storytelling. They seem not to care whilst at the same time caring intensely about the performances they’re delivering, which is no easy thing to pull off.
The trains shuttling overhead drown out the already quiet monologues and at times I felt frustrated that crucial pieces of the lives being presented had been lost to me.
The only story that didn’t suffer this fate was the one dealing with an LGBT Youth Centre in rural Wales in the 1980s, which was miked up with a band and full of a kind of agitprop energy that carried it along where the others floated, or sank, in quietude.
📷The show, based on extensive research, offers hidden histories of queer lives lived on the margins: a female impersonator in the navy during World War II, a female lothario in 1732 who fashions a false beard out of her pubic hair and proceeds to marry fourteen women, to a young Scottish trans teen in 1899 who fakes her own murder in order to live as a boy, and a Punjabi lesbian in contemporary Britain.
These monologues unfold across the hour but never cohere into an overarching sense of how they might connect. At the start there’s some suggestion they’re all dead but as they never actually converse, the monologues stand alone and I was left with little sense of how they connect other than through their focus on LGBTQI lives, and the Kylie disco finale within the context of the World War II drag queen narrative felt unimpressively anachronist and a bit of a damp squib.
The performances, however, were – apart from being too quiet – engaging throughout, especially the 1980s Welsh sections and an impressive amount of ground is covered in such a short space of time and given that it appears during February’s LGBT History Month, the show’s importance is self-evident.
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2020.01.09 16:32 thurki Some movies I watched last week. No spoilers.

  1. A Death in the Gunj: Directed by Konkana Sen Sharma, this is a one time watch movie. However you won't miss much if you don't watch it. The direction is flawless, all actors give good performances especially Vikrant Massey, subject is good; however it's too slow paced which I didn't like. Actually these kinds of movies are not made for audience but only for some international film festivals. Kind of reminded me of art movies of 70s and 80s. The intellectuals, especially new ones, would like it immensely. Me being a simple bhakt could not get much pleasure out of it.
  2. Ugly: Watched it when it first came out and watched it again a few days back. A typical Anurasg Kashyap film. The thing that stands out is the performance of Ronit Roy. Why this guy didn't get the place he deserved in the film industry is beyond me. I saw his first film Jaan Tere Naam in the early 90s. He was considered a poor man's Aamir Khan, why he didn't do well, I've no idea. A must watch.
  3. Dear Maya: An absolutely wonderful film, especially for people who were in love with Manisha Koirala, I was (but then I was in love with 500 more girls, par wo kahani phir kabhi). Beautiful girls, beautiful set up and a damn good storyline. It ends with a good message too. Only one thing that bhakts will hate that the girl, Madiha something, who has a major role, is a Pakistani. Well I managed some because she looked absolutely adorable. A must watch movie.
  4. Titli: This director was way too inspired by Anuraag Kashyap. It's the Kind of movie he would have made. Everyone is fucked up in one way or the other. A one time watch.
  5. Ghost Stories: This one has four segments - the first, directed by Zoya Akhtar and the fourth, directed by Karan Johar are somewhat bearable. But the middle two, directed by Anuraag Kashyap and Dibakar Banerjee are totally worthless and revolting. I'd rate the Ramsay Brothers' movies higher than these two. A randian was going nuts over Dibakar Banerjee segment in bollywood, finding the hidden meaning about majority and minority. However as it was directed by Dibakar Banerjee he could be right. He held majority responsible for everything bad happening to minority. But he didn't mention a single word about what happens when minority becones majority. IMO avoid this shit.
  6. Mukti Bhawan: A beautiful film about father son relationship and preparing yourself for your death. The message the movie gives is that the death is just a process (महज एक प्रक्रिया) so you should not be afraid of it and your main aim should be to attain salvation (मुक्ति, मोक्ष). Adil Hussain gives a mindblowing performance as a middle class son, reluctant to fulfill the last wishes of his father,as he has tons of his own problems, but does that anyway. Not something for people from JNU, but a must watch for others.
  7. Ujda Chaman: Not as bad as it is made out to be. Direction is good, Sunny Singh's restrained acting is good too, other people also give good performance but the one who stands out is Gurusha Kapoor as a Punjabi mummy. Remember her from Zee TV serials when it first came out? Good one time watch if you have nothing better to do.
  8. 88 Minutes: What could be an edge of the seat thriller was ruined by inept direction. However Al Pacino carried it on his shoulders alone to make it watchable. Watch it only if you're a Pacino fan.
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2019.12.18 15:31 Padshahnama Punjabi hidden mms

This short story was written by Ahmed Nadeem Qasmi (20/11/1916-10/07/2006).
Trivia


Gandasa[1]
The ring had been set. The spectators had chosen their seats. The players of "Parkoddi"[2], glistening with the oil rubbed on their bodies were circling around the beating "Dhol"[3]. They wore brightly coloured loin clothes that had been tightly fastened around their bodies. Faint white straps had been run under their oiled locks towards their heads to resemble lotus flower petals.
Everywhere in the vast field, there was the hustle and bustle of people talking and the bubbling of "Hookas"[4]. The form of past and present players were being analysed and opinions about their merits and faults discussed. The famous wrestling pairs had not entered the ring yet. Surrounded by their friends and fans, these renowned athletes were being massaged with oil with such vigour and fervour that their bodies shone in the fading rays of the sun as if they had transformed into copper statues. They then entered the ring, circled around the beating "Dhol" and then went to their corners jumping and dancing, warming themselves up for the impending battle.
Suddenly a whisper went through the crowd which spiralled into a whirlwind as it went around, "Where is Maula?" All these spectators had come from far-afield, having travelled from distant fields to see the skills of Maula. "Maula's best friend is not here either". Another whirlwind now began to form as the spectators left the ringside and started heading towards the exits. They formed a crowd that surged and pushed towards the exits.
The tournament organisers beat the grounds with their sticks, making dust clouds desperately trying to stop the crowd, they knew the dispersion of the crowd was not a good sign. However, suddenly all the crowd went silent as if a bomb had exploded far away, and returned to the ringside silently when somebody whispered into their ears, "Maula has entered the ring with his best friend".
In the middle of the ring, lay a Dhol that had been heavily decorated with strings and knots. Maula circled gracefully around the Dhol three times and then touched the Dhol. He had just raised his hands in the air to shout "Ya Ali" when a cry pierced through the beating sound of the Dhol and hit him on his chest like a "Gandasa" whipping through the air, "Mauley, Mauleya my son, your father has been murdered!"
Maula's raised hand swirled like a cobra taking aim and then as if in an instant it seemed his feet had grown wings. "Ranga gutted your father with his Gandasa" his mother's voice pursued him as he ran.
Pandemonium broke out as the ringside crowd broke up, dhols stopped playing, wrestlers quickly got dressed. The crowd had begun to panic and stampeded in their haste to exit. Maula stamped through the streets, blowing dust through the air as if he were a whirlwind. Far behind him his best friend Taaja followed carrying his and Maula's clothes wrapped in a bundle which he clung to his chest. Even further behind Taaja a terrified crowd followed anxiously to see what would happen. In the village where nobody dared to walk bare-headed Maula walked wearing only his pink loincloth, piercing through the crowds of people, sheep and flocks of lambs. When he had reached in front of the courtyard of Ranga, he saw a crowd was gathered there. From the crowd that faced him "Peer" Noor Shah emerged and shouted challengingly, "Maula, stop there".
Maula seemed to leap but then almost as if his feet had been rooted to the ground stood still and seemed to transform into a statue. "Peer"[5] Noor Shah came up to him and said in his loud, booming voice, "You will go no further Maula". Maula stood panting and looked straight into Peer Noor Shah's eyes for a while. After a long pause, he said, "If I don't go any further Peer Jee then why should I live?"
"Because I say so", Peer Jee said authoritatively, emphasising and stressing the I in his sentence.
Despite panting, Maula spoke breathlessly without breaking his stride, "Then rub coal on my face and cut off my nose. I have to avenge my father's death Peer Jee. If it had been the killing of an animal then I would have turned back on your command". Maula shook his neck violently and looked at Ranga's "Chopal[6]". Ranga and his son "Bhatto" stood chests puffed out, holding their Gandasa's. The Gandasa blades glistened in the glare of the sun.
Ranga's elder son spoke, "Come son, come. If I don't spill your intestines out with one blow of my Gandasa then my name is not Qada. My Gandasa is rash and does not think where it strikes. Pampered sons who play Kabbadi don't avenge their father’s death, they weep and go searching for a shroud to wrap his corpse in".
It seemed as if Maula had just been waiting for him to finish speaking. He surged towards the stair of the "Chopal" however, now the crowd from the Kabbadi field had reached there too and stood in his way. Maula's body was slippery from the oil rubbed on his body so he managed to slip out of the hands that tried to grab him, however, the crowd crowded around him like a steel fence which he could not break through.
One part of the crowd had also surrounded Ranga and his three sons and stopped them from advancing. The blades of four Gandasas shone in the fading sunlight as if they were pearls and kept waving menacingly when suddenly the crowd went into pin-drop silence. Peer Noor Shah wove through the crowd, his hands aloft holding the Quran. He slowly climbed the stairs of the chopal and then shouted out, his voice reaching the heaven above, "For the sake of Allah's book go to your homes, otherwise, whole villages will be devastated you fools. Go, for the sake of God and his prophet, for the sake of the Holy Quran, go, leave here"
The crowd began to disperse with their heads bowed. Maula hurriedly took his "laacha[7]" from Taaja and walked off the chopal. Peer Sahib, walked to Maula holding the Quran and said, "May Allah, give you patience and reward you for the good deed that you did today".
Maula strove ahead with Taaja by his side. When he reached the corner of the narrow street that headed towards his home, he turned back and glanced at Ranga's Chopal. "Maula, are you crying?" Taaja asked very sadly. Maula wiped his tears by rubbing his bare arm on his eyes, "So, should I not even cry now?"
"What will people say?" Taaja advised him. "Yes, Taajey", Maula rubbed his eyes again with his arm, "That's just what I am thinking that what will people say. The flies are feasting on my father’s blood and here I am running through the streets like a dog with its tail between its legs to go and cry on my mother's shoulder".
However, Maula did not cry on his mother's shoulder. He entered his house just as his relatives had decided to take his father's body to the police station. His mother wailing and beating her chest came to him, looked at him and then said, "You're shameless". She turned her face away from him and went weeping to her husband's body. Maula did not react and looked on with his face fixed in a scowl. He lifted his father’s bier and left with his family.
The body had not reached the police station yet when all hell broke loose at Ranga's chopal. Ranga had descended from the chopal's stairs and was about to enter his house when a Gandasa appeared from nowhere and sliced his stomach like a hot knife through butter. His intestines spilled on to his door step in a steaming pile. For a while there was pandemonium as people panicked, however, Ranga's sons managed to collect their senses enough to mount their horses and gallop towards the police station.
They entered the police station yard but were shocked to see that the person they had come to report as their father’s killer was already there. Maula sat next to his father's body reading prayers on a rosary bead. They tried to file an FIR[8] with Maula named as the killer by hook or crook but the constable persuaded them to not do so, otherwise, they would end up losing the real killer of their father. Now was the time for them to act sensibly and not give in to their rage, "He came here some time ago to report his own father's death. How could he have killed your father at your house with a Gandasa?"
Eventually, cases for both murders were registered, however, due to there being no eyewitnesses, the accused were released without charge. The day Maula was released, the first thing after he duly received a loving kiss on his forehead from his mother was to go straight to Taaja's house. He embraced him and said, "If I had not had you and your horse to help me that day, today I would have been swinging from the gallows with a noose around my neck. I swear on your life that after I had cut open Ranga's stomach and mounted your horse I became like the wind. My father's body had not even reached the police station and I managed to slip back into the procession without my absence being noticed."
Everyone in the village knew that Maula was Ranga's killer but apart from Taaja and a few close relatives nobody knew how it had happened. Everything quietened down but then one day a rumour began to spread in the village that Maula's father had actually been killed by Ranga's son Qadir. Ranga had only been bragging. At the meeting points, in the sitting rooms, cafes, wherever people gathered, this was the only topic on everyone's lips. In the morning, everyone heard that Qadir had been found dead on his rooftop in such a state that when his brothers Phulla and Ghulla had tried lifting his body, his head had rolled off and kept rolling till it fell into the gutter.
A report was filed and Maula was arrested again. The police tried everything in their power to make him confess to the murder. He inhaled the fumes of burning chillies, stood in the burning sun on a sheet of steel. God knows how many sleepless nights he endured when as soon as he slumbered, he was poked with a stick till he woke up. Maula withstood all these torments and stood firm. He did not confess to the murder. Despite the best efforts of the Maliks who had pressurised the police constantly, he was reluctantly released after many months.
Maula returned to his village a free man. When he entered his house's courtyard his mother came running, kissed him on the forehead and said, "Two still remain my son. Only when you leave nobody behind who will bear Ranga’s name will I call you my son. Repay the debt of the milk I have fed you which has nourished you. Through your veins flows your father’s blood too. Prove yourself worthy of bearing his name. See here I did not let your Gandasa rust, it still shines".
Maula now became the terror of his neighbourhood. His moustache grew until it curled at each end, in his ears hung large golden earrings, his long hair smelt with fragranced oil. A crescent-shaped comb made from ivory shone on his forehead. When he walked through the streets, at least half a metre of his cummerbund trailed behind him marking wherever he went. A thin cotton scarf hung on his shoulder. Often one end of it would fall on the floor and scrape on the floor and would keep scraping till it wore thin. In Maula’s hand, there was always a long stick that stood taller than him and whenever he sat on the street corner or crossroad he rested this stick on his knee. No passerby dared to ask Maula to move the stick aside.
If at any time the stick became wedged between two opposing walls, people would come, look at the stick, look at Maula and then turn on their heels and go another way. Men and children no longer even went near the streets where Maula would usually be found. The problem became even worse because nobody even dared to jump over Maula’s stick.
Once, a young stranger walked through a street, where Maula was sitting. Maula was idly poking the wall opposite with his stick. The stranger came and jumped over Maula’s stick. Instantly Maula became enraged, took the Gandasa blade from his pocket and fit it to the stick. He then called out the stranger, “Stop boy, do you know whose stick you have leapt over? This is Maula’s. Maula the Gandasa-Wielder.”
The stranger became pale when he heard Maula’s name and he hesitantly replied, “I did not know, Maula.” Maula took off the blade and put it in his pocket. He then tapped the strangers’ stomach lightly with one end of his stick, “Be on your way then.” He then laid his stick again from one end of the street to the other and sat down.
Maula’s clothes, his gait, his moustache and above all his cavalier attitude became the fashion of his village and from there spread to the entire area. One aspect however of Maula that did not become fashionable was his long stick. Glistened with oil, decorated with lotus flowers, sealed at each end by steel caps that played tunes on the street pebbles as it hit them, which spread with all its length nobody dared to cross. On it, he often adorned the Gandasa blade, which was in his pocket. The blade on which his mother could not tolerate a speck of rust lest it dull Maula’s thirst for revenge.
The villagers said that Maula sat in the streets with his stick outstretched, Gandasa blade hidden seeking Ghulla and Phulla. After Qada’s death and Maula’s release, Phulla had enlisted in the army and moved away while Ghulla had sought protection from the area’s famous rope pulling champion Chaudhary Muzaffar Ilahee. Like Chaudhary's other servants, Ghulla would scour the banks of Chenab and Ravi to steal cows and buffaloes. Chaudhary Muzaffar would sell them and from the proceeds host lavish parties for the rich, ministers and politicians with whom he had photos taken that would be published in the newspapers and magazines with his name emblazoned under them.
The trail finders of Ravi and Chenab that investigated the missing livestock would start following their trail. As these tracks would approach Chaudhary Muzaffar’s village, the trail finders would think to themselves, “I had already guessed this.” They knew that if they followed the trails to the Chaudhary's house then after a while people would instead be trying to track the trail finders’ last movements themselves but would not be able to find them. Afraid of the Chaudhary, they would walk through to the coast and then return saying, “Their trail goes cold here.”
Maula had heard of Chaudhary Muzaffar and his long-reaching arms. He thought that in this whole area only Chaudhary Muzaffar had the courage to leap over his stick, however, for the moment he was awaiting the reappearance of Ranga’s both sons.
Taaja told Maula off like a big brother that if nothing else he should look after his lands. What was the point of sitting from dawn till sunset with his stick in the streets, servants and lackeys running around him, at his beck and call? Perhaps you don’t know it but you should know it for your own good that mothers have been using you to scare their children. Girls spit when they hear your name, if a girl wants to curse another she says, “May Allah marry you to Maula.” Are you listening?
“Oh Taaja, leave me alone”. The fire that Maula had been forged in had transformed him. He asked, “Have you gathered all the insults from the village to lay at my feet? Fulfilling friendship is a hard task, not everyone can do it. If you can longer bear the burden of friendship then why have you come to mislead me? The thirst of my Gandasa has not been quenched yet. Go.” He struck the floor with his Gandasa and called a servant from the house opposite. “You have not refilled the hookah yet fool. Had you fallen asleep? Bring the Hookah bowl.”
Taaja turned away. At the corner of the street, he turned and looked at Maula as if he would burst crying at his young friends' death. Maula was looking at him from the corner of his eyes. He got up and walked over to Taaja dragging his stick behind him. He stood next to him and said, “Taaja it seems as if you are pitying me because once upon a time I was your friend. Our friendship is over now though. If you cannot support me then of what use is your friendship to me? My father’s blood is not so cheap that it can be avenged by the death of just Ranga and his son. My Gandasa has yet to smite his granddaughters and grandsons. Our ways have parted. Don’t pity me, if someone pities me it dulls my Gandasa’s blade. Go.”
Maula returned and sat down. When he took the hookah bowl from his servant the embers blew and scattered. A glowing ember fell on his hand and glowed there for a moment. The servant tried to dust it off Maula’s hand but Maula swatted his hand away with such force that he doubled over in pain. He squeezed his hand tightly between his thighs and backed away to a side. Maula roared, “He pities me, the bastard.” He picked the hookah bowl and flung it at the wall. He then stormed off carrying his stick.
When people saw Maula sitting at a new street corner, they were surprised and whispered amongst one another. They then thought it best to turn away and scatter from where he sat. Women who were carrying pitchers on their return from the well saw his stick spread across the narrow street and could only exclaim in despair because they knew they could not pass it. Everyone thought Maula was out for Blood. While people around him were wondering what Maula was doing, Maula was observing an eagle sitting on the mosque’s minaret.
He was roused from his thoughts by the sound of his stick striking the pebbles. Startled, he saw a young girl had picked his stick up and rested it against the wall. She was now busy gathering up the red, long chillies which had fallen from the bundle on her head when she had bent over. Maula was dumbstruck by her audacity. Forget jumping over the stick, she a woman had laid his stick aside as if it were a filthy rag and was now sitting contently in front of him picking her chillies.
Outraged Maula shouted, “Do you know whose stick you have touched? Do you know who I am?” She raised her hands and while stuffing the chillies in her bundle said, “You seem to be some grouch.”
Enraged Maula stood up. She too arose and looking into his eyes said softly, “That’s why I did not hit your stick on your head, you looked so lost and lonely I felt pity for you”. “You felt pity for me?” Maula screamed. “Maula?” the girl held her bundles with both hands and was slightly surprised.
“Yes, Maula the Gandasa-wielder” Maula said with pride. She smiled faintly and moved into the street. Maula stood there a while quietly, took a deep sigh and then sat down against the wall. When he had spread his stick against the opposing wall he saw an elderly lady coming from the other side. She saw Maula and stopped. Maula raised his stick, put it to one side and called her, “Come Aunty, come I won’t bite you.” Shocked the woman came and as she passed by him said, “What lies people tell, people say that wherever Maula sits even a mad dog dare not go there. Yet for me, you picked up your stick...”
“Who says that?” Maula stood up and asked quizzically. “Everyone says it, the whole village says it. I was at the well just now and this is all they could talk about. I, however, have seen with my very own eyes that Maula Bukhsh...”
However, by now Maula was too far away to listen. He had leapt into the street where the young girl had just gone. He walked at a brisk pace until he finally saw her walking slowly at the end of a street. He begun to ran, women sitting in their courtyards came to their doorsteps and children climbed on to their roofs. Maula’s running in the street was interpreted as the prelude to some cataclysm. The girl had heard the sound of Maula’s footsteps; she turned around and stood where she was. All she did was to hold her bundle with both her hands; a few chillies fell from it onto her feet like smouldering embers.
“I won’t do anything to you” Maula cried out, “I will not harm you don’t be afraid”.
The girl replied, “I did not stop in fear, may my enemies be frightened.”
Maula stopped, he then walked up to her slowly and said, “Just tell me that, who are you?” A smile delicately spread across her face. From behind him, he heard an old woman’s voice, “Maula Bukhsh, She is Ranga’s youngest son’s fiancé, Rajo.”
Maula stared at Rajo in shock. He saw Ranga and Ranga’s entire family standing near Rajo. His hand went to the pocket where his Gandasa was but then fell down limp. Rajo turned and walked away slowly.
Maula threw his stick to one side and said, “Rajo wait, here, take your chillies”. Rajo stopped; Maula bent and picked up every single chilli he could find. As he stuffed them into Rajo’s bundle he asked, “You felt pity for me, didn’t you Rajo?”
Rajo’s face hardened and she walked away. Maula turned and went his way. He had walked a short distance when the old woman called him, “Maula Bakhsh, you have left your stick behind, here it is”. Maula returned and as he took his stick from the old woman asked, “Aunty, this girl Rajo does she live around here? I have never seen her here before.”
“She is from here and not from here too”, the old woman replied. When her father realised after the death of his two young sons that he could no longer carry the plough every day from his house to the fields he built a small hut in the fields 2-3 furlongs from here. Rajo lives there with her father. She only comes to the village every three, four days to buy goods and that’s about it.”
Maula could only reply with, “Hmm” and returned. The news that Maula had left his stick somewhere and forgot it there spread through the village like wildfire. In these conversations, Rajo’s name was mentioned a few times but it was instantly suppressed. After all, the only relation between Maula and Ranga’s household was that of the Gandasa and Rajo was after all Ranga’s son’s fiancé. Nobody wanted either side to accuse them of slandering them because above all who did not hold their life dear?
After this event, Maula disappeared from the streets. All-day long he would sit at home and dig the flowerbed’s soil with his stick. If he did go outside at all, he would wander around in the fields and grazing pastures for a bit and then return home. His mother was surprised by his behaviour but said nothing to him. She knew that Maula’s head was filled with rage and that he was weighed under the weight of murders. Of those that he committed and those, he had been unable to commit.
It was the month of Ramazan, the month of fasting. The drums heralding its arrival had beaten and fallen silent. Houses throughout the village were preparing for Sehri[9]. The sound of yoghurt being churned and Rotis being cooked on griddles filled the air, like the mysterious bells that rang in temples.
Maula’s mother too had turned on the stove was cooking Roti. Maula lay on a Charpai[10] on the roof staring at the sky. Suddenly, in a nearby street, a commotion broke out. Maula armed his stick with the Gandasa and leapt from the roof into the street. He ran towards where the noise was coming from. Along the way from every house, people emerged with lanterns and the noise only grew louder. When Maula reached where the commotion was he saw three strangers armed with spears and swords shepherding a herd of cows and buffaloes through the village streets. The village guard had tried to stop them but they had sworn at him and said, “This herd belongs to Chaudhary Muzaffar Illahi. This is only a lowly village when his herds pass through the streets of Lahore even there nobody dares to whimper”
Maula felt as if Chahudary Muzaffar himself had arrived in the village street and was trying to snatch his Gandasa from him. Maula snapped, “This herd of Chaudhary will not pass through my village no matter whether this herd belongs to Chaudhary Muzaffar or some minister himself. Leave the animals here and be on your way quietly, if you know what’s best for you.” He lowered his stick, the Gandasa blade shone in the lantern's light. “Go” Maula ordered.
Maula began to herd the animals with his stick to one side, “Go tell your Chaudhary Muzaffar that Maula the Gandasa wielder sends his greetings. Now be on your way.” The strangers saw the expressions on the crowds faces had changed because of Maula and were now full of rage. They thought it best to quietly slip away. Maula brought the herd to his house and while eating Sehri said to his mother, “These dumb animals are our guests, their owners will come from somewhere in a couple of days. The village’s honour is my honour too mother.”
The owners arrived the very next day. They were poor farmers and farmhands who had travelled countless miles entreating their trail finders until they had eventually arrived at Maula’s village. All the way the owners had been wondering about what they would do if their animals had ended up in Chaudhary Muzaffar’s area. When Maula returned their animals to them, the entire village had gathered in his street. Among them was Rajo too, she had fastened a cloth around her head upon which she had balanced a clay pot. As the crowd scattered Rajo too began to leave. As she passed by Maula he asked, “You have come to the village after many days?”
“Why?” She said it in such a manner as if she were trying to show him that she feared no one. “I came yesterday, the day before that and the day before that too. I came early in the week to buy some garlic. The day before yesterday I brought Baba to the Hakeem[11]. I came yesterday for no reason and today I have come to sell ghee.”
“Why did you come yesterday for no reason?” Maula asked eagerly.
“Well, I felt like coming so I met my friends and left. Why?”
“No reason” Maula answered dejectedly. He then suddenly had an idea. “Will you sell this ghee?”
“Yes, I have to sell it but I won’t sell it to you.”
“Why?”
“Your hands are covered with the blood of my relatives.”
Maula remembered that he had left his stick in the corridor and that he had forgotten his Gandasa under his pillow. His hands begun to itch, he picked up a pebble and from the street and begun to rub it with his fingers. As Rajo turned to leave, Maula spoke hurriedly, “Look Rajo, my hands are covered with blood and goodness knows how much more blood they are yet to be covered in but you have to sell your ghee and I need to buy ghee. Don’t sell it to me if you don’t want to but you can sell it to my mother.” Rajo thought for a bit and said, “Ok, let’s go.”
Maula walked ahead of her. As he walked he felt as if Rajo was staring at his back and muscles. He looked back and saw that she was observing chicks pecking at birdfeed in the street, he immediately said, “These chicks are mine.”
“They could be”, Rajo replied. Maula had now entered the courtyard, “Mother, buy all this ghee. I will have guests arriving in a few days.”
Rajo took the pot off her head and removed the cloth covering it a bit so that the old woman could smell the ghee. Maula’s mother, however, had gone inside to bring the scales. Maula saw that Rajo had golden locks on her temples; her eyelashes were bent like longbows and could touch her eyebrows if she raised them. Her eyelashes had specks of dirt on them and there were small drops, the size of pinheads, of sweat on her nose. Her nostrils were in such a state that it did not seem as if she smelt ghee but instead the fragrance of roses. On the bridge of her lips, there was sweat too and between her lower lip and chin, there was a mole, stuck as if it would blow away if you blew on it.
There were silver chandelier earrings in her ear that swung like grape bunches on a vine. A lock had become tangled in an earring. Maula the Gandasa-wielder felt like delicately untangling and either placing it behind her ear or letting it just hang there or perhaps spreading it on his palm and counting every hair in it or... Maula was lost in his thoughts when his mother brought the scales out and sat down next to Rajo.
“Check the ghee first Aunty either by smelling it or rubbing it. It was freshly prepared this morning. It’s still warm from the boiling but you should still smell it”, Rajo said.
“No daughter, I won’t smell it,” his mother said, “My fast will be nullified”. She then looked at Rajo closely and begun to stare intensely at Rajo. After a while, she asked, “You are Ghulam Ali’s daughter aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Get out of here” Maula’s mother picked the scales up, stood up and flung them away. “How dare you set foot inside my house? You have the audacity to trade ghee with us when the only trade that can happen between us is that of blood. Leave.” She then turned towards Maula and said, “My dear you, don’t buy Ghee from those who you should smite with your Gandasa. This is Ghulla’s fiancé. Ranga’s son Ghulla’s”
Rajo’s face had turned red with anger, she covered her pot quickly, picked it up and asked, “Do you have hearts in your breasts or poppy seeds?”
Maula felt as if he had been slapped on his face on one side by his mother and the other side by Rajo. He felt humiliated and when Rajo left he went and lay down on the charpai on the roof under the sweltering sun. He lay there for hours. When his mother came to call him down he was crying. “Maula, are you crying?” his mother asked in surprise and Maula replied, “Should I not even cry then?”
His mother’s head started spinning and she sat down dizzily. She was trying to find in her son’s question an answer to her own question. Now Maula no longer even stayed at his home. All-day long he would sit at Noora’s tea stall at the bus station. Every day before sunset when the coach from the city would arrive, the entire village’s youth and children would crowd around there. Everyone would drink tea at Noora’s and ask the drivers about the latest news from the city.
Maula would sit aloof, far away from everyone on his charpai and gaze at the sky. Everyone had become used to Maula by now; they would even bring the hookah from near him. However, nobody would dare touch his stick or leap over where it was spread taut from his charpai to the coach near it.
One day when the evening coach arrived and as the passengers disembarked a hush fell over the station. Slowly everyone had gone quiet as if death itself had arrived. Ranga’s son Ghulla got off the coach, four tall, broad, muscular men followed him. The five then went to a side and talked amongst themselves.
Maula noticed the silence around him and sat up on his Charpai. He saw that the crowd had flattened itself near Noora’s shop and opposite him was Ghulla pointing at him. He quickly swung his legs off the charpai and removed his Gandasa from his pocket. He fit it on his stick, “Noora bring the hookah here” he called. Noora bought the hookah over and with trembling hands placed it near him and then ran into his shop.
The five newcomers stood a distance from the coach and stared at Maula. Maula laconically/casually took a long drag on the hookah and blew its smoke in the air.
“Mauley” Gulla called out to him.
“Speak” Maula took another drag and blew its smoke towards Ghulla.
“We have come to tell you something”
“Go on then, say it.”
“Put your Gandasa aside, we are unarmed”
“Here,” Maula there his stick to one side. The five slowly advanced towards him. The crowd was almost as if it had stuck itself to the wall. The children had gone further back and climbed on the potters stoop to see above the crowd.
“What is it?” Maula asked Ghulla. Ghulla who had now reached near Maula asked, “Did you stop Chaudhary's herd?”
“Yes”, Maula replied indifferently, “So?”
Ghulla looked out of the corner of his eyes toward his companion and cleared his throat. “Chaudhary Muzaffar has sent you a reward for this. He told us to hand over this reward to you in front of the entire village.”
“Reward?” Maula was surprised. “What’s this about?”
“This is what it’s about” Gulla smacked Maula’s face with a crack that echoed through the crowd and then moved back at a lightning pace.
Maula leapt back as if he had been electrocuted, he then lunged towards the charpai and picked up his stick in one fluid movement. The Gandasa shone like a flame in the setting sun’s light. The five newcomers retreated at non-human pace but Ghulla slipped on the loose pebbles near the coaches. Maula was upon him in an instant. The leaping Maula stopped, he raised his Gandasa and brought it down but then stopped it at an angle near Ghulla. The entranced crowd came forward slowly, the children too had left the stoop to get a better view. Noora had left his shop mouth agape.
Ghulla had dug his fingers and feet into the ground as if he wanted to bury himself deep into the ground to hide as far away from Maula as possible. As everyone watched Maula who had seemed to go into shock, took a step forward and flung his Gandasa away towards his charpai. He picked up Ghulla very carefully from the ground and said, “Give Chaudhary my greetings and tell him I have received his reward, I will come to give him the receipt for it myself”
Slowly, he dusted down Ghullas’s clothes, straightened his turban’s broken crest and said, “I would have given the receipt to you but you are yet to become a bridegroom. So go, be on your way, do whatever you have to do.”
Head bowed, Ghulla walked away slowly and turned into the streets. Maula slowly walked towards his charpai. As he moved forward, the crowd moved backwards. As he tried to sit down his mother came running from the direction of the potter’s house, screaming like a banshee and beating her head. She came near Maula and spoke in an uncontrollable rage, “Ghulla slapped you and you did nothing to him. You used to be my brave son. Why didn’t your Gandasa strike him down? You….” She stopped beating her head suddenly and spoke very softly as if she were speaking from a land far away, “Maula, but are you crying?”
Maula the Gandasa-wielder sat down on the charpai and rubbed his eyes with his arm. Then with quivering lips spoke just like an innocent child, “So, should I not even cry now?”
[1] A Gandasa refers both to a blade and the weapon that is formed by combining a Gandasa blade with a stick
[2] An Indian form of wrestling
[3] Traditional Indian drum
[4] Water-pipe of middle-eastern origin
[5] Title of a holy man
[6] A raised platform
[7] Punjabi equivalent of a sarong
[8] (First Information Report)
[9] The pre-dawn meal eaten before fasting
[10] Traditional Indian bed made from vine or rope wrapped around a wooden frame
[11] Title of a traditional herbal healer
submitted by Padshahnama to Urdu [link] [comments]


2019.12.18 14:56 Padshahnama Punjabi hidden mms

This short story was written by Ahmed Nadeem Qasmi (20/11/1916-10/07/2006). The Urdu version of the story is popular but I translated this to Urdu for fun. Enjoy.
Trivia


Gandasa[1]
The ring had been set. The spectators had chosen their seats. The players of "Parkoddi"[2], glistening with the oil rubbed on their bodies were circling around the beating "Dhol"[3]. They wore brightly coloured loin clothes that had been tightly fastened around their bodies. Faint white straps had been run under their oiled locks towards their heads to resemble lotus flower petals.
Everywhere in the vast field, there was the hustle and bustle of people talking and the bubbling of "Hookas"[4]. The form of past and present players were being analysed and opinions about their merits and faults discussed. The famous wrestling pairs had not entered the ring yet. Surrounded by their friends and fans, these renowned athletes were being massaged with oil with such vigour and fervour that their bodies shone in the fading rays of the sun as if they had transformed into copper statues. They then entered the ring, circled around the beating "Dhol" and then went to their corners jumping and dancing, warming themselves up for the impending battle.
Suddenly a whisper went through the crowd which spiralled into a whirlwind as it went around, "Where is Maula?" All these spectators had come from far-afield, having travelled from distant fields to see the skills of Maula. "Maula's best friend is not here either". Another whirlwind now began to form as the spectators left the ringside and started heading towards the exits. They formed a crowd that surged and pushed towards the exits.
The tournament organisers beat the grounds with their sticks, making dust clouds desperately trying to stop the crowd, they knew the dispersion of the crowd was not a good sign. However, suddenly all the crowd went silent as if a bomb had exploded far away, and returned to the ringside silently when somebody whispered into their ears, "Maula has entered the ring with his best friend".
In the middle of the ring, lay a Dhol that had been heavily decorated with strings and knots. Maula circled gracefully around the Dhol three times and then touched the Dhol. He had just raised his hands in the air to shout "Ya Ali" when a cry pierced through the beating sound of the Dhol and hit him on his chest like a "Gandasa" whipping through the air, "Mauley, Mauleya my son, your father has been murdered!"
Maula's raised hand swirled like a cobra taking aim and then as if in an instant it seemed his feet had grown wings. "Ranga gutted your father with his Gandasa" his mother's voice pursued him as he ran.
Pandemonium broke out as the ringside crowd broke up, dhols stopped playing, wrestlers quickly got dressed. The crowd had begun to panic and stampeded in their haste to exit. Maula stamped through the streets, blowing dust through the air as if he were a whirlwind. Far behind him his best friend Taaja followed carrying his and Maula's clothes wrapped in a bundle which he clung to his chest. Even further behind Taaja a terrified crowd followed anxiously to see what would happen. In the village where nobody dared to walk bare-headed Maula walked wearing only his pink loincloth, piercing through the crowds of people, sheep and flocks of lambs. When he had reached in front of the courtyard of Ranga, he saw a crowd was gathered there. From the crowd that faced him "Peer" Noor Shah emerged and shouted challengingly, "Maula, stop there".
Maula seemed to leap but then almost as if his feet had been rooted to the ground stood still and seemed to transform into a statue. "Peer"[5] Noor Shah came up to him and said in his loud, booming voice, "You will go no further Maula". Maula stood panting and looked straight into Peer Noor Shah's eyes for a while. After a long pause, he said, "If I don't go any further Peer Jee then why should I live?"
"Because I say so", Peer Jee said authoritatively, emphasising and stressing the I in his sentence.
Despite panting, Maula spoke breathlessly without breaking his stride, "Then rub coal on my face and cut off my nose. I have to avenge my father's death Peer Jee. If it had been the killing of an animal then I would have turned back on your command". Maula shook his neck violently and looked at Ranga's "Chopal[6]". Ranga and his son "Bhatto" stood chests puffed out, holding their Gandasa's. The Gandasa blades glistened in the glare of the sun.
Ranga's elder son spoke, "Come son, come. If I don't spill your intestines out with one blow of my Gandasa then my name is not Qada. My Gandasa is rash and does not think where it strikes. Pampered sons who play Kabbadi don't avenge their father’s death, they weep and go searching for a shroud to wrap his corpse in".
It seemed as if Maula had just been waiting for him to finish speaking. He surged towards the stair of the "Chopal" however, now the crowd from the Kabbadi field had reached there too and stood in his way. Maula's body was slippery from the oil rubbed on his body so he managed to slip out of the hands that tried to grab him, however, the crowd crowded around him like a steel fence which he could not break through.
One part of the crowd had also surrounded Ranga and his three sons and stopped them from advancing. The blades of four Gandasas shone in the fading sunlight as if they were pearls and kept waving menacingly when suddenly the crowd went into pin-drop silence. Peer Noor Shah wove through the crowd, his hands aloft holding the Quran. He slowly climbed the stairs of the chopal and then shouted out, his voice reaching the heaven above, "For the sake of Allah's book go to your homes, otherwise, whole villages will be devastated you fools. Go, for the sake of God and his prophet, for the sake of the Holy Quran, go, leave here"
The crowd began to disperse with their heads bowed. Maula hurriedly took his "laacha[7]" from Taaja and walked off the chopal. Peer Sahib, walked to Maula holding the Quran and said, "May Allah, give you patience and reward you for the good deed that you did today".
Maula strove ahead with Taaja by his side. When he reached the corner of the narrow street that headed towards his home, he turned back and glanced at Ranga's Chopal. "Maula, are you crying?" Taaja asked very sadly. Maula wiped his tears by rubbing his bare arm on his eyes, "So, should I not even cry now?"
"What will people say?" Taaja advised him. "Yes, Taajey", Maula rubbed his eyes again with his arm, "That's just what I am thinking that what will people say. The flies are feasting on my father’s blood and here I am running through the streets like a dog with its tail between its legs to go and cry on my mother's shoulder".
However, Maula did not cry on his mother's shoulder. He entered his house just as his relatives had decided to take his father's body to the police station. His mother wailing and beating her chest came to him, looked at him and then said, "You're shameless". She turned her face away from him and went weeping to her husband's body. Maula did not react and looked on with his face fixed in a scowl. He lifted his father’s bier and left with his family.
The body had not reached the police station yet when all hell broke loose at Ranga's chopal. Ranga had descended from the chopal's stairs and was about to enter his house when a Gandasa appeared from nowhere and sliced his stomach like a hot knife through butter. His intestines spilled on to his door step in a steaming pile. For a while there was pandemonium as people panicked, however, Ranga's sons managed to collect their senses enough to mount their horses and gallop towards the police station.
They entered the police station yard but were shocked to see that the person they had come to report as their father’s killer was already there. Maula sat next to his father's body reading prayers on a rosary bead. They tried to file an FIR[8] with Maula named as the killer by hook or crook but the constable persuaded them to not do so, otherwise, they would end up losing the real killer of their father. Now was the time for them to act sensibly and not give in to their rage, "He came here some time ago to report his own father's death. How could he have killed your father at your house with a Gandasa?"
Eventually, cases for both murders were registered, however, due to there being no eyewitnesses, the accused were released without charge. The day Maula was released, the first thing after he duly received a loving kiss on his forehead from his mother was to go straight to Taaja's house. He embraced him and said, "If I had not had you and your horse to help me that day, today I would have been swinging from the gallows with a noose around my neck. I swear on your life that after I had cut open Ranga's stomach and mounted your horse I became like the wind. My father's body had not even reached the police station and I managed to slip back into the procession without my absence being noticed."
Everyone in the village knew that Maula was Ranga's killer but apart from Taaja and a few close relatives nobody knew how it had happened. Everything quietened down but then one day a rumour began to spread in the village that Maula's father had actually been killed by Ranga's son Qadir. Ranga had only been bragging. At the meeting points, in the sitting rooms, cafes, wherever people gathered, this was the only topic on everyone's lips. In the morning, everyone heard that Qadir had been found dead on his rooftop in such a state that when his brothers Phulla and Ghulla had tried lifting his body, his head had rolled off and kept rolling till it fell into the gutter.
A report was filed and Maula was arrested again. The police tried everything in their power to make him confess to the murder. He inhaled the fumes of burning chillies, stood in the burning sun on a sheet of steel. God knows how many sleepless nights he endured when as soon as he slumbered, he was poked with a stick till he woke up. Maula withstood all these torments and stood firm. He did not confess to the murder. Despite the best efforts of the Maliks who had pressurised the police constantly, he was reluctantly released after many months.
Maula returned to his village a free man. When he entered his house's courtyard his mother came running, kissed him on the forehead and said, "Two still remain my son. Only when you leave nobody behind who will bear Ranga’s name will I call you my son. Repay the debt of the milk I have fed you which has nourished you. Through your veins flows your father’s blood too. Prove yourself worthy of bearing his name. See here I did not let your Gandasa rust, it still shines".
Maula now became the terror of his neighbourhood. His moustache grew until it curled at each end, in his ears hung large golden earrings, his long hair smelt with fragranced oil. A crescent-shaped comb made from ivory shone on his forehead. When he walked through the streets, at least half a metre of his cummerbund trailed behind him marking wherever he went. A thin cotton scarf hung on his shoulder. Often one end of it would fall on the floor and scrape on the floor and would keep scraping till it wore thin. In Maula’s hand, there was always a long stick that stood taller than him and whenever he sat on the street corner or crossroad he rested this stick on his knee. No passerby dared to ask Maula to move the stick aside.
If at any time the stick became wedged between two opposing walls, people would come, look at the stick, look at Maula and then turn on their heels and go another way. Men and children no longer even went near the streets where Maula would usually be found. The problem became even worse because nobody even dared to jump over Maula’s stick.
Once, a young stranger walked through a street, where Maula was sitting. Maula was idly poking the wall opposite with his stick. The stranger came and jumped over Maula’s stick. Instantly Maula became enraged, took the Gandasa blade from his pocket and fit it to the stick. He then called out the stranger, “Stop boy, do you know whose stick you have leapt over? This is Maula’s. Maula the Gandasa-Wielder.”
The stranger became pale when he heard Maula’s name and he hesitantly replied, “I did not know, Maula.” Maula took off the blade and put it in his pocket. He then tapped the strangers’ stomach lightly with one end of his stick, “Be on your way then.” He then laid his stick again from one end of the street to the other and sat down.
Maula’s clothes, his gait, his moustache and above all his cavalier attitude became the fashion of his village and from there spread to the entire area. One aspect however of Maula that did not become fashionable was his long stick. Glistened with oil, decorated with lotus flowers, sealed at each end by steel caps that played tunes on the street pebbles as it hit them, which spread with all its length nobody dared to cross. On it, he often adorned the Gandasa blade, which was in his pocket. The blade on which his mother could not tolerate a speck of rust lest it dull Maula’s thirst for revenge.
The villagers said that Maula sat in the streets with his stick outstretched, Gandasa blade hidden seeking Ghulla and Phulla. After Qada’s death and Maula’s release, Phulla had enlisted in the army and moved away while Ghulla had sought protection from the area’s famous rope pulling champion Chaudhary Muzaffar Ilahee. Like Chaudhary's other servants, Ghulla would scour the banks of Chenab and Ravi to steal cows and buffaloes. Chaudhary Muzaffar would sell them and from the proceeds host lavish parties for the rich, ministers and politicians with whom he had photos taken that would be published in the newspapers and magazines with his name emblazoned under them.
The trail finders of Ravi and Chenab that investigated the missing livestock would start following their trail. As these tracks would approach Chaudhary Muzaffar’s village, the trail finders would think to themselves, “I had already guessed this.” They knew that if they followed the trails to the Chaudhary's house then after a while people would instead be trying to track the trail finders’ last movements themselves but would not be able to find them. Afraid of the Chaudhary, they would walk through to the coast and then return saying, “Their trail goes cold here.”
Maula had heard of Chaudhary Muzaffar and his long-reaching arms. He thought that in this whole area only Chaudhary Muzaffar had the courage to leap over his stick, however, for the moment he was awaiting the reappearance of Ranga’s both sons.
Taaja told Maula off like a big brother that if nothing else he should look after his lands. What was the point of sitting from dawn till sunset with his stick in the streets, servants and lackeys running around him, at his beck and call? Perhaps you don’t know it but you should know it for your own good that mothers have been using you to scare their children. Girls spit when they hear your name, if a girl wants to curse another she says, “May Allah marry you to Maula.” Are you listening?
“Oh Taaja, leave me alone”. The fire that Maula had been forged in had transformed him. He asked, “Have you gathered all the insults from the village to lay at my feet? Fulfilling friendship is a hard task, not everyone can do it. If you can longer bear the burden of friendship then why have you come to mislead me? The thirst of my Gandasa has not been quenched yet. Go.” He struck the floor with his Gandasa and called a servant from the house opposite. “You have not refilled the hookah yet fool. Had you fallen asleep? Bring the Hookah bowl.”
Taaja turned away. At the corner of the street, he turned and looked at Maula as if he would burst crying at his young friends' death. Maula was looking at him from the corner of his eyes. He got up and walked over to Taaja dragging his stick behind him. He stood next to him and said, “Taaja it seems as if you are pitying me because once upon a time I was your friend. Our friendship is over now though. If you cannot support me then of what use is your friendship to me? My father’s blood is not so cheap that it can be avenged by the death of just Ranga and his son. My Gandasa has yet to smite his granddaughters and grandsons. Our ways have parted. Don’t pity me, if someone pities me it dulls my Gandasa’s blade. Go.”
Maula returned and sat down. When he took the hookah bowl from his servant the embers blew and scattered. A glowing ember fell on his hand and glowed there for a moment. The servant tried to dust it off Maula’s hand but Maula swatted his hand away with such force that he doubled over in pain. He squeezed his hand tightly between his thighs and backed away to a side. Maula roared, “He pities me, the bastard.” He picked the hookah bowl and flung it at the wall. He then stormed off carrying his stick.
When people saw Maula sitting at a new street corner, they were surprised and whispered amongst one another. They then thought it best to turn away and scatter from where he sat. Women who were carrying pitchers on their return from the well saw his stick spread across the narrow street and could only exclaim in despair because they knew they could not pass it. Everyone thought Maula was out for Blood. While people around him were wondering what Maula was doing, Maula was observing an eagle sitting on the mosque’s minaret.
He was roused from his thoughts by the sound of his stick striking the pebbles. Startled, he saw a young girl had picked his stick up and rested it against the wall. She was now busy gathering up the red, long chillies which had fallen from the bundle on her head when she had bent over. Maula was dumbstruck by her audacity. Forget jumping over the stick, she a woman had laid his stick aside as if it were a filthy rag and was now sitting contently in front of him picking her chillies.
Outraged Maula shouted, “Do you know whose stick you have touched? Do you know who I am?” She raised her hands and while stuffing the chillies in her bundle said, “You seem to be some grouch.”
Enraged Maula stood up. She too arose and looking into his eyes said softly, “That’s why I did not hit your stick on your head, you looked so lost and lonely I felt pity for you”. “You felt pity for me?” Maula screamed. “Maula?” the girl held her bundles with both hands and was slightly surprised.
“Yes, Maula the Gandasa-wielder” Maula said with pride. She smiled faintly and moved into the street. Maula stood there a while quietly, took a deep sigh and then sat down against the wall. When he had spread his stick against the opposing wall he saw an elderly lady coming from the other side. She saw Maula and stopped. Maula raised his stick, put it to one side and called her, “Come Aunty, come I won’t bite you.” Shocked the woman came and as she passed by him said, “What lies people tell, people say that wherever Maula sits even a mad dog dare not go there. Yet for me, you picked up your stick...”
“Who says that?” Maula stood up and asked quizzically. “Everyone says it, the whole village says it. I was at the well just now and this is all they could talk about. I, however, have seen with my very own eyes that Maula Bukhsh...”
However, by now Maula was too far away to listen. He had leapt into the street where the young girl had just gone. He walked at a brisk pace until he finally saw her walking slowly at the end of a street. He begun to ran, women sitting in their courtyards came to their doorsteps and children climbed on to their roofs. Maula’s running in the street was interpreted as the prelude to some cataclysm. The girl had heard the sound of Maula’s footsteps; she turned around and stood where she was. All she did was to hold her bundle with both her hands; a few chillies fell from it onto her feet like smouldering embers.
“I won’t do anything to you” Maula cried out, “I will not harm you don’t be afraid”.
The girl replied, “I did not stop in fear, may my enemies be frightened.”
Maula stopped, he then walked up to her slowly and said, “Just tell me that, who are you?” A smile delicately spread across her face. From behind him, he heard an old woman’s voice, “Maula Bukhsh, She is Ranga’s youngest son’s fiancé, Rajo.”
Maula stared at Rajo in shock. He saw Ranga and Ranga’s entire family standing near Rajo. His hand went to the pocket where his Gandasa was but then fell down limp. Rajo turned and walked away slowly.
Maula threw his stick to one side and said, “Rajo wait, here, take your chillies”. Rajo stopped; Maula bent and picked up every single chilli he could find. As he stuffed them into Rajo’s bundle he asked, “You felt pity for me, didn’t you Rajo?”
Rajo’s face hardened and she walked away. Maula turned and went his way. He had walked a short distance when the old woman called him, “Maula Bakhsh, you have left your stick behind, here it is”. Maula returned and as he took his stick from the old woman asked, “Aunty, this girl Rajo does she live around here? I have never seen her here before.”
“She is from here and not from here too”, the old woman replied. When her father realised after the death of his two young sons that he could no longer carry the plough every day from his house to the fields he built a small hut in the fields 2-3 furlongs from here. Rajo lives there with her father. She only comes to the village every three, four days to buy goods and that’s about it.”
Maula could only reply with, “Hmm” and returned. The news that Maula had left his stick somewhere and forgot it there spread through the village like wildfire. In these conversations, Rajo’s name was mentioned a few times but it was instantly suppressed. After all, the only relation between Maula and Ranga’s household was that of the Gandasa and Rajo was after all Ranga’s son’s fiancé. Nobody wanted either side to accuse them of slandering them because above all who did not hold their life dear?
After this event, Maula disappeared from the streets. All-day long he would sit at home and dig the flowerbed’s soil with his stick. If he did go outside at all, he would wander around in the fields and grazing pastures for a bit and then return home. His mother was surprised by his behaviour but said nothing to him. She knew that Maula’s head was filled with rage and that he was weighed under the weight of murders. Of those that he committed and those, he had been unable to commit.
It was the month of Ramazan, the month of fasting. The drums heralding its arrival had beaten and fallen silent. Houses throughout the village were preparing for Sehri[9]. The sound of yoghurt being churned and Rotis being cooked on griddles filled the air, like the mysterious bells that rang in temples.
Maula’s mother too had turned on the stove was cooking Roti. Maula lay on a Charpai[10] on the roof staring at the sky. Suddenly, in a nearby street, a commotion broke out. Maula armed his stick with the Gandasa and leapt from the roof into the street. He ran towards where the noise was coming from. Along the way from every house, people emerged with lanterns and the noise only grew louder. When Maula reached where the commotion was he saw three strangers armed with spears and swords shepherding a herd of cows and buffaloes through the village streets. The village guard had tried to stop them but they had sworn at him and said, “This herd belongs to Chaudhary Muzaffar Illahi. This is only a lowly village when his herds pass through the streets of Lahore even there nobody dares to whimper”
Maula felt as if Chahudary Muzaffar himself had arrived in the village street and was trying to snatch his Gandasa from him. Maula snapped, “This herd of Chaudhary will not pass through my village no matter whether this herd belongs to Chaudhary Muzaffar or some minister himself. Leave the animals here and be on your way quietly, if you know what’s best for you.” He lowered his stick, the Gandasa blade shone in the lantern's light. “Go” Maula ordered.
Maula began to herd the animals with his stick to one side, “Go tell your Chaudhary Muzaffar that Maula the Gandasa wielder sends his greetings. Now be on your way.” The strangers saw the expressions on the crowds faces had changed because of Maula and were now full of rage. They thought it best to quietly slip away. Maula brought the herd to his house and while eating Sehri said to his mother, “These dumb animals are our guests, their owners will come from somewhere in a couple of days. The village’s honour is my honour too mother.”
The owners arrived the very next day. They were poor farmers and farmhands who had travelled countless miles entreating their trail finders until they had eventually arrived at Maula’s village. All the way the owners had been wondering about what they would do if their animals had ended up in Chaudhary Muzaffar’s area. When Maula returned their animals to them, the entire village had gathered in his street. Among them was Rajo too, she had fastened a cloth around her head upon which she had balanced a clay pot. As the crowd scattered Rajo too began to leave. As she passed by Maula he asked, “You have come to the village after many days?”
“Why?” She said it in such a manner as if she were trying to show him that she feared no one. “I came yesterday, the day before that and the day before that too. I came early in the week to buy some garlic. The day before yesterday I brought Baba to the Hakeem[11]. I came yesterday for no reason and today I have come to sell ghee.”
“Why did you come yesterday for no reason?” Maula asked eagerly.
“Well, I felt like coming so I met my friends and left. Why?”
“No reason” Maula answered dejectedly. He then suddenly had an idea. “Will you sell this ghee?”
“Yes, I have to sell it but I won’t sell it to you.”
“Why?”
“Your hands are covered with the blood of my relatives.”
Maula remembered that he had left his stick in the corridor and that he had forgotten his Gandasa under his pillow. His hands begun to itch, he picked up a pebble and from the street and begun to rub it with his fingers. As Rajo turned to leave, Maula spoke hurriedly, “Look Rajo, my hands are covered with blood and goodness knows how much more blood they are yet to be covered in but you have to sell your ghee and I need to buy ghee. Don’t sell it to me if you don’t want to but you can sell it to my mother.” Rajo thought for a bit and said, “Ok, let’s go.”
Maula walked ahead of her. As he walked he felt as if Rajo was staring at his back and muscles. He looked back and saw that she was observing chicks pecking at birdfeed in the street, he immediately said, “These chicks are mine.”
“They could be”, Rajo replied. Maula had now entered the courtyard, “Mother, buy all this ghee. I will have guests arriving in a few days.”
Rajo took the pot off her head and removed the cloth covering it a bit so that the old woman could smell the ghee. Maula’s mother, however, had gone inside to bring the scales. Maula saw that Rajo had golden locks on her temples; her eyelashes were bent like longbows and could touch her eyebrows if she raised them. Her eyelashes had specks of dirt on them and there were small drops, the size of pinheads, of sweat on her nose. Her nostrils were in such a state that it did not seem as if she smelt ghee but instead the fragrance of roses. On the bridge of her lips, there was sweat too and between her lower lip and chin, there was a mole, stuck as if it would blow away if you blew on it.
There were silver chandelier earrings in her ear that swung like grape bunches on a vine. A lock had become tangled in an earring. Maula the Gandasa-wielder felt like delicately untangling and either placing it behind her ear or letting it just hang there or perhaps spreading it on his palm and counting every hair in it or... Maula was lost in his thoughts when his mother brought the scales out and sat down next to Rajo.
“Check the ghee first Aunty either by smelling it or rubbing it. It was freshly prepared this morning. It’s still warm from the boiling but you should still smell it”, Rajo said.
“No daughter, I won’t smell it,” his mother said, “My fast will be nullified”. She then looked at Rajo closely and begun to stare intensely at Rajo. After a while, she asked, “You are Ghulam Ali’s daughter aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Get out of here” Maula’s mother picked the scales up, stood up and flung them away. “How dare you set foot inside my house? You have the audacity to trade ghee with us when the only trade that can happen between us is that of blood. Leave.” She then turned towards Maula and said, “My dear you, don’t buy Ghee from those who you should smite with your Gandasa. This is Ghulla’s fiancé. Ranga’s son Ghulla’s”
Rajo’s face had turned red with anger, she covered her pot quickly, picked it up and asked, “Do you have hearts in your breasts or poppy seeds?”
Maula felt as if he had been slapped on his face on one side by his mother and the other side by Rajo. He felt humiliated and when Rajo left he went and lay down on the charpai on the roof under the sweltering sun. He lay there for hours. When his mother came to call him down he was crying. “Maula, are you crying?” his mother asked in surprise and Maula replied, “Should I not even cry then?”
His mother’s head started spinning and she sat down dizzily. She was trying to find in her son’s question an answer to her own question. Now Maula no longer even stayed at his home. All-day long he would sit at Noora’s tea stall at the bus station. Every day before sunset when the coach from the city would arrive, the entire village’s youth and children would crowd around there. Everyone would drink tea at Noora’s and ask the drivers about the latest news from the city.
Maula would sit aloof, far away from everyone on his charpai and gaze at the sky. Everyone had become used to Maula by now; they would even bring the hookah from near him. However, nobody would dare touch his stick or leap over where it was spread taut from his charpai to the coach near it.
One day when the evening coach arrived and as the passengers disembarked a hush fell over the station. Slowly everyone had gone quiet as if death itself had arrived. Ranga’s son Ghulla got off the coach, four tall, broad, muscular men followed him. The five then went to a side and talked amongst themselves.
Maula noticed the silence around him and sat up on his Charpai. He saw that the crowd had flattened itself near Noora’s shop and opposite him was Ghulla pointing at him. He quickly swung his legs off the charpai and removed his Gandasa from his pocket. He fit it on his stick, “Noora bring the hookah here” he called. Noora bought the hookah over and with trembling hands placed it near him and then ran into his shop.
The five newcomers stood a distance from the coach and stared at Maula. Maula laconically/casually took a long drag on the hookah and blew its smoke in the air.
“Mauley” Gulla called out to him.
“Speak” Maula took another drag and blew its smoke towards Ghulla.
“We have come to tell you something”
“Go on then, say it.”
“Put your Gandasa aside, we are unarmed”
“Here,” Maula there his stick to one side. The five slowly advanced towards him. The crowd was almost as if it had stuck itself to the wall. The children had gone further back and climbed on the potters stoop to see above the crowd.
“What is it?” Maula asked Ghulla. Ghulla who had now reached near Maula asked, “Did you stop Chaudhary's herd?”
“Yes”, Maula replied indifferently, “So?”
Ghulla looked out of the corner of his eyes toward his companion and cleared his throat. “Chaudhary Muzaffar has sent you a reward for this. He told us to hand over this reward to you in front of the entire village.”
“Reward?” Maula was surprised. “What’s this about?”
“This is what it’s about” Gulla smacked Maula’s face with a crack that echoed through the crowd and then moved back at a lightning pace.
Maula leapt back as if he had been electrocuted, he then lunged towards the charpai and picked up his stick in one fluid movement. The Gandasa shone like a flame in the setting sun’s light. The five newcomers retreated at non-human pace but Ghulla slipped on the loose pebbles near the coaches. Maula was upon him in an instant. The leaping Maula stopped, he raised his Gandasa and brought it down but then stopped it at an angle near Ghulla. The entranced crowd came forward slowly, the children too had left the stoop to get a better view. Noora had left his shop mouth agape.
Ghulla had dug his fingers and feet into the ground as if he wanted to bury himself deep into the ground to hide as far away from Maula as possible. As everyone watched Maula who had seemed to go into shock, took a step forward and flung his Gandasa away towards his charpai. He picked up Ghulla very carefully from the ground and said, “Give Chaudhary my greetings and tell him I have received his reward, I will come to give him the receipt for it myself”
Slowly, he dusted down Ghullas’s clothes, straightened his turban’s broken crest and said, “I would have given the receipt to you but you are yet to become a bridegroom. So go, be on your way, do whatever you have to do.”
Head bowed, Ghulla walked away slowly and turned into the streets. Maula slowly walked towards his charpai. As he moved forward, the crowd moved backwards. As he tried to sit down his mother came running from the direction of the potter’s house, screaming like a banshee and beating her head. She came near Maula and spoke in an uncontrollable rage, “Ghulla slapped you and you did nothing to him. You used to be my brave son. Why didn’t your Gandasa strike him down? You….” She stopped beating her head suddenly and spoke very softly as if she were speaking from a land far away, “Maula, but are you crying?”
Maula the Gandasa-wielder sat down on the charpai and rubbed his eyes with his arm. Then with quivering lips spoke just like an innocent child, “So, should I not even cry now?”
[1] A Gandasa refers both to a blade and the weapon that is formed by combining a Gandasa blade with a stick
[2] An Indian form of wrestling
[3] Traditional Indian drum
[4] Water-pipe of middle-eastern origin
[5] Title of a holy man
[6] A raised platform
[7] Punjabi equivalent of a sarong
[8] (First Information Report)
[9] The pre-dawn meal eaten before fasting
[10] Traditional Indian bed made from vine or rope wrapped around a wooden frame
[11] Title of a traditional herbal healer
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2019.12.03 04:00 Darren716 Punjabi hidden mms

MATCH RESULTS
Winner Match Finish Loser Stipulation
Kevin Owens DQ when AOP attacks. Bobby LasHawkens and Ryder
Drew McIntyre Claymore Akira Tozawa
Aleister Black Black Mass Tony Neese
Andrade Hammerlock DDT Eric Young
Kyle Buch Roll-Up R-Truth (c) For the 24/7 Championship
Erik Rowan Iron Claw No Way Jose
Kabuki Warriors Insane Elbow Charlotte
War Raiders The Viking Experience Local Talent
The OC Avalanche Styles Clash Ricochet, Rey Mysterio, and Humberto Carrillo
IMPORTANT NOTES

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SHAMELESS PLUGS
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2019.10.19 07:24 5c0rp10_191 Why don’t I have any friends?

So it’s senior year of college and I don’t have any friends. No weekend crew to hangout with, no single reliable friend to confide in, to joke around with and spend quality time with. I have many acquaintances most of these relationships end after a semester and are basically for a study group that never meets. I might occasionally bump into them and say hi. I’m a computer science major and the school that I go to separates engineering and non engineering students on different campuses, which i think is part of the problem. I commute to school; about an hour. This semester I got my whole schedule for 18 credit hours into 2 days a week Tuesday and Thursday because I hate the commute, Its exhausting. So getting it down to two days helps. After 6 classes 1.5 each in a single day i just wanna go home. Needless to say i haven’t joined any clubs. As a result I spend most of my time in my room.

I’m basically a loner, I really don’t know why that is because I’m not that bad of a guy. Is it just the nature of the field and the sort of people it attracts? But then again as far as I can think finding reliable friends has been hard for me but I have managed to find them in the past. I grew up in Pakistan and it took a while for me to get a hang of making good friends there but after moving to America at age 13 making friends has become a problem. Most friends I make here are from the home country which are not many because there just aren’t many pakis around and none at my university. Most of my school is White and Asian with a size-able number of Indian students from abroad. When I hang around Indians they keep to theirs own Indian circles. I don’t really get along with whites they are too weird (and I’m sure they think that about me) most interactions are awkward. They generally have this arrogant: “I’m the Mozart of computer science” obnoxious attitude. The other group Asians I get along with but this hasn’t led to many friendships.

In class, I see that people click together immediately like they had known each other for years they immediately start talking and I’m left alone to myself, I usually find myself outside of the social circles and feel excluded from most social activities. When I’m at school and I try to make small talk with people they smile at me awkwardly and then immediately turn. I’m not asking for much, I’m only asking for a chance at a friendship. At this point you might be thinking is this guy autistic? I assure I’m not or that i must be deformed in some physical way that i repulse people? I used to think that too but plenty of women tell me that they find me attractive and would go out with me and i generally get plenty of female attention for an introverted nerd. so i must have a shitty personality, which can be argued.

So let’s talk about personality. I’m not the most extroverted man out there I’ll admit. I can have lighthearted conversation with almost anyone, but I certainly do have a nervous energy about me. When push comes to shove I’m able to power through my anxiety, when giving interviews and public speaking I have my anxiety under control. I’m decently intelligent I make a good lasting impression on my teachers, most of my professors and teachers especially in math and science do recognize my aptitude in the subject. I ask thoughtful intellectually stimulating questing about the subject I’m studying and it come from a place of genuine curiosity. I have a good intuition for math, in fact I’m in love with the subject. It has a certain hidden beauty. I’m pretty descent at programming too. I have a 3.714/ 4.0 GPA, and I’m expecting it to go up this semester, not to say that GPA measures intelligence but my grades are healthy. I really like philosophy, I’m a bit of an armchair philosopher. I have had deep philosophical with my little brother around my age, he mostly listens and judges. Politically I’m not left or right, I’m hard to define with where I stand politically in terms of left or right and i generally don’t vote. I’m an agnostic and that basically sums up my religious views.
I have great taste in music, art and food. I’m passionate about art more than most people. I have a refined taste in music, I listen to a diverse range of genres. I would like to learn an instrument someday: violin or a piano. I love playing chess and soccer. I’m not a sports fan, I’m not interested in watching sports at all but I do like to play and have some form of physical activity. I try to exercise regularly and I can do 50 pushups and 10 pull-ups max. I have beaten guys bigger and stronger than me in wrestling, the wrestling was a while back. All in all I’m a pretty well rounded guy.

When it comes to language i speak 4: English, Urdu, Punjabi and some Spanish. I speak English without an accent people used to compliment my manner of speaking all the time and now I’m practically indistinguishable from a native speaker. My Spanish is not great but people tell me they like my Spanish accent. I’m not that great at writing or when articulating myself, not as much as i would like.

Now the ugly, I’m pretty lazy, I’m a huge procrastinator but I’m still able to get my work done. I have a very limited supply of confidence. I’m very passive when it comes to dealing with confrontation. I’m currently jobless used to have a job at Walmart. It was an unloading job, my associates in the back room were mostly convicts with criminal backgrounds. I was a nice polite guy and the management walked all over me. I wasn’t allowed to go home until all the work was done it was a lot of work for no reward and wasn’t enough to even cover the cost of college. The supervisor wouldn’t let me go home even when It was the end of my shift, the work had to be done. Sometimes i would get no sleep because I would have a calculus exam at 7am the next morning. They wanted to squeeze every penny out of me. The back rooms were understaffed and mismanaged. I looked so depressed at times when i would work outside in the store customers would come up to to ask me if I was doing fine or if I’m being mistreated. It was super depressing, this job made me suicidal, and so I quit. I still had a good work ethic and worked hard to get everything done. The people the upper management basically didn’t want to let me go and offered to change department and to any position I wanted, and cut my hours to what i wanted but I had enough and left. My family is pretty well off so right now they support me. I shouldn’t have any trouble finding jobs after I graduate.

Many of you would tell me to join clubs and go out at certain places to but why should I have to resort to that to find a friend. How are other people able to click and I don’t? Am I doomed to a life of friendlessness?

I’m not sad about being lonely it is a feeling that I’m used to, and i do enjoy time in solitude, but it sure would be nice to have a friend. Its gotta be better than Netflix.

tl;dr senior in college no friends. FTW
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2019.07.25 09:05 Loud_Relationship Punjabi hidden mms

Just like “wine experts”, we also have biryani experts. This flavourful dish has become the hot-topic of discussion these days. Everyone has a favourite type of biryani and a preferred way of cooking it. Some insist on Kerela’s Thalassery biryani being the supreme biryani, whereas the others believe that the Hyderabadi biryani is the ultimate biryani champion.
In Bombay alone you will probably find a gazillion restaurants that serve biryani. But, not all these restaurants will serve authentic and finger licking good biryani. The fact is that only a few of us get to taste real gourmet biryani. So we have put together a few biryani joints across Bombay that serve the best biryani.

  1. The bohri kitchen
The bohri kitchen brings its widely famous and pocket friendly dum biryanis, samosas and the flavours of North India to your door step. Their famous biryanis being Mutton biryani, Chicken tikka biryani, and Chicken dum biryani, this place is also famous for its Dudhi and Lauki halwas. You must check this place out the next time you order biryani online.
  1. Zaffran
A very famous chain in Bombay, zaffran is the go-to place for anyone who loves Indian food. The lip-smacking biryanis served with raita will give you a taste of royal India. You should also try out their famous Butter chicken, Daal makhani, and Paneer tikka. Slightly overpriced, this place is an excellent subset of North Indian food in Bombay. The brown and golden tones in their ambiance just gives this restaurant a more Indian and authentic look.
  1. Durga
Hidden along the busy streets of Matunga, this pub serves one of the best paneer and vegetable biryanis in town. This place is well known for its courteous staff and mouth-watering Punjabi food. Their portions of biryani are huge and it is impossible for a single person to finish it. You can also order their food online if you feel uncomfortable eating at a pub. Their ambiance is also pretty chilled out with very dim lighting.
  1. Jyran
A restaurant carved with extreme opulence, luxurious golden glittering interiors, polite staff, extravagant food. Known for its Mughlai delicacies, Jyran is a fine-dining restaurant based in the star property of Sofitel at Bandra Kurla Complex. Their eclectic menu features magnificent meals that are spiced generously. The taste of their Mutton biryani, paneer lababdar, vegetable biryani, and dal makhani will leave an unforgettable impression on your taste buds.
  1. Oye pappe
A vegetarian restaurant located in Santacruz, is a paradise for every veg. biryani lover. Apart from their famous paneer tikka biryani, this place is also known for its dal makhani, parathas, and kadhai paneer. The ambience and the friendly staff make this place worth visiting
If you do not have any plans for the weekend, you must search for “biryani places near me” and try one of these amazing biryani places.
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