Namaz partner

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Namaz in Hagia Sophia: Georgia now has to wait for the expansion of the Turks in Adjara

2020.07.29 09:38 Irakly_D Namaz in Hagia Sophia: Georgia now has to wait for the expansion of the Turks in Adjara

Namaz in Hagia Sophia: Georgia now has to wait for the expansion of the Turks in Adjara
https://preview.redd.it/cngfpufn2rd51.jpg?width=976&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=e4249fce7d4d77a134cdb61adb190dfe7aeb09c4

On July 24, the first prayer in 86 years began in the Hagia Sophia, which was previously turned by the Turkish authorities from a museum into a mosque. The Associated Press reported this on Friday.
It is noted that the call to prayer, which is heard from the minarets, is read by Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan. All believers were given water and the text of the decree of Sultan Mehmed Fatih. It talks about the transfer of the shrine to Muslims before the Day of Judgment. The ancient Christian murals were reportedly hidden.
On July 10, the Turkish Council of State - the highest administrative court - unanimously declared illegal and overturned a 1934 Cabinet decision granting the status of a museum to Hagia Sophia. Prior to this, on June 5, Erdogan instructed his assistants to conduct a study with the aim of preparing the cathedral for the official transformation into a mosque. On July 2, Turkey's Supreme Court ruled that the status of the cathedral could be changed by a presidential decree.
We remind you that St. Sophia Cathedral was erected by order of the Emperor Justinian in the 6th century AD. After the Turks captured Constantinople, it was made a mosque, but in 1935 the founder of the modern Turkish state Mustafa Kemal Ataturk granted the status of a museum to the shrine.
The media also reported that Christians around the world met Friday namaz in Hagia Sophia as the "Day of Sorrow" and called namaz a slap in the face, which the Turkish leadership inflicted on the Orthodox Church and the entire world Christianity.
Well, Georgia can only get ready and wait. Wait for the Ottomans to come for "theirs" and officially declare Batumi and the whole of Adjara Turkish territory. Wait until they enter Georgian Orthodox churches and begin to perform prayers there, similar to what they do in the captured Constantinople, now Istanbul.
And if the Turks were not afraid of the reaction and retaliatory actions of world Christianity and the world political community, then will they really be afraid of little Georgia? Let us also recall that dozens of new mosques, built with Turkish money, appear on the map of Adjara, and a third of the region's population are Muslim Georgians. Let us remember that when Ankara decided to push through the restoration of the mosque of Sultan Abdul Aziz, the people of Batumi protested. After all, two hundred years ago, the mosque was built for Turkish invading soldiers. Then the Turks retreated, but after what happened on July 24 in Istanbul, they definitely will not give up their plans and will bring the matter to the end.
Only the Russians will not come to rescue this time. Because now they are not their own, and Georgia is to blame for this.
True, there is hope that Russia will not let Turkey "eat" Georgia this time too. The Turks are also afraid of this, so they do not send troops to Georgia, but simply slowly buy up the republic. They have nowhere to rush, since the process has long been launched. And it is very possible that the moment will come when Georgia will have to make its choice between Russia and Turkey. There is no hope for the USA or the EU, because they are far away and they are not so interested in Georgia to send an expeditionary force here.
So maybe it's enough to look for Turkish money and businessmen, and it's time to just turn around to face your main historical ally and partner?
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2020.07.06 14:22 Ok-Form8375 Story of someone who relapsed after 7 years, with particular focus on how to avoid relapses.

I am sharing this story on behalf of Mr. A who is close to me, ( but doesnt want to share it through his own account to keep himself anonymous). I am his accountability partner. The following is his story told in first person.
I am sharing this experience so that all others might learn from my mistakes. Its a long post, but i think it would be worth the time.
This story is for those who have a long streak. ( to tell you the novel ways which shaytaan uses to pull you in, as you refuse his call to PMO, therefore he traps you into PMO by using seemingly harmless things)
I had a long streak of about 7 years. Everything was going okay, but the greatest of the deceivers( iblees) just caught me gradually over a period of months. The story is that i was busy getting my degree over these years and i didnt have free time at all. So , finally i was free and i didnt have any job atleast at that time. So urges started to come. 7 years is a big time to get a detox, but the devil is your worst enemy. He knows how to trick you. He has plans for each one of us. I had a strong fort built against PMO during these 7 years. So I started with an islamic book on halaal intimacy. There was nothing wrong with the book except for the fact that it was meant for those getting married in a week or so and not for the bachelors.I would strongly recommend people to get to know the fiqh of halaal intimacy, but when you are actually about to get married. Otherwise, it would act as a trigger just like it was in my case. As a result, this book was a source of the so called mind pleasure or imagination. I started fantasizing about the halaal relationship thinking that i could at least imagine this. This was the turning point. I had opened the doors of my heart and the fort to shaytaan. He then started the hard work. Over some time, i looked for ladies clothes( without any real models nor mannekins) , then watched them on artificial mannekins. I was assuming that it was some halaal alternative as i was not involved in watching any women. It was not porn, nudity or partial nudity nor was i involved in any sort of masturbation. It was just a piece of cloth , which were usual lady clothes initially to intimate clothings but it was just clothing nothing else, no actual flesh no diagram. I had some idea that there was something fishy , but i was not cautious enough. I had lost the clarity and thought that it was okay. I had no clear islamic prohibitions in my mind which was my first line of defense. I thought that it was something wrong, but thought of it as makrooh , but not clear cut haraam .Time passed and since i let shaytaan work on me, i eventually progressed to real lady models and finally reached the ultimate sin. I then had to start my journey to freedom again.
For those struggling to have even one or two days break. Move one day at a time, focus your attention to the day like its the last day of your life. I noticed that while i was too focussed on having that 7 year streak back, that I lost focus on today and made relapses. In addition , i ignored the battles with the urges thinking that it was just a day. This is a jihad and each minute you spend battling your nafs is important, not to speak of days. So never ignore your effort and stay positive. Dont underestimate a single second that you fight against this evil.
CLARITY ABOUT YOUR AIMS AND THE HALAAL AND HARAAM: For muslims, there is absolutely no way other than marriage. You can not look at lady cartoons, ladies covered from head to toe or sexual literature of any nature (be it educational or religious like fatwas or videos on halaal intimacy). It doesnt need to be labelled porn for you to avoid it. Any thing which creates that tickling feeling is the door to shaytaan. I am mentioning this because i fell in this trap. All my 7 years were reduced to waste because i belittled these tickling feelings. You also need to be crystal clear about it because shaytaan will trick you through these. Masturbation is also a trick point. Many people are confused as if this is haraam or makrooh. The thing is that if you want to get rid of the PMO, you have to avoid it. Some believe that it is better to vent off your feelings by masturbation rather than looking at porn. The thing is that there is no such thing. Shaytaan is just tricking you. He always traps you through benign actions but will take you to the absolute sin. This is guaranteed. He will make you masturbate for a week or so. then will gradually lead you to porn. Rule of thumb; if you are a muslim bachelor, anything or any thought which creates that tickling feeling is wrong and fatal for your iman. Stop it there and then, otherwise you will end up doing PMO in a month, two month, or even more. But shaytaan has a lot of perseverance. He slowly penetrates your defences and makes sure you commit the sin. Dont let him enter your heart . There is no point that in asking that does ABC count as a relapse. If you want to break free. Make sure you avoid each and every action or thought that creates those tickling feelings.
Fasting is good to just have a break from this habit. But continous fasting is not a solution, you cant fast for years without a break. The perfect solution is to fast on Thursday, Monday and the ayyam beedh(13,14,15). Follow the sunnah. Yes for those struggling to get a day off and having frequent relapses, a week of fasting may help , but you have to shift to the sunnah way of fasting as you cant fast till your whole life. The problem with continuous fasting is that you have conditioned yourself to avoid PMO during fast. So the fast free days are a potential trigger. For long term control, you need to exhibit control when you are not fasting as well. That was my problem, i didnt have any problem during the ramadan or during the 6 fasts of shawwal, but the moment they ended, i got an urge and just fell into it. I had no experience how to tackle shaytaan on the fast free days. Likewise, its good to stay busy all the time, but the moment you are free; the urges will get the best of you. Its not practical to stay busy and always be surrounded by people. Its advised that once you have a slight control through fasts, staying busy and avoiding solitude (for around 10 days or more), you train yourself to control your desires during the non fasting days and even when there is no one surrounding you. You have to stay strong and learn to control yourself. I am not saying that you voluntarily stay alone in the house and sit idle and wait for shaytaan to come so that you can fight him, but you should stay prepared when such a time comes, because shaytaan has failed to get you while you are fasting or busy. So he will try his best to get through your defence when you are by some chance idle and alone. Stay prepared at all times. In otherwords, fast regularly, keep yourself busy at all times, but remember, there will be days when you are not fasting and times when you are not busy, STAY EXTRA CAUTIOUS AT THOSE TIMES AND STOP URGES AT THE BEGINING. There is no holiday from this struggle.
Stop the urge in its initial stages. If you have an urge, dont extend your hand to reach the phone, cause once you hold the phone, shaytaan will get you . That is guaranteed. If you are using a phone, then dont open the private tab window on the browser. Dont go beyond this. BEG TO ALLAH FOR HELP AT THIS TIME, CRY LIKE A BEGGAR , LIKE A CHILD FOR HELP. DONT HOLD THE PHONE OR OPEN THE PRIVATE TAB WINDOW. STOP IT. This is the most important strategy, that I have realised.
One time, i just woke up after the afternoon sleep, everyone else was sleeping. It was day 21 and so i started to study on my laptop. ( 90% of my study is on my laptop and so avoiding the laptop trigger is not possible for me) . There was a burning desire to watch something, so i held the phone, opened the private tab and searched for an item. Then quickly closed before it loaded. But like i said, i had already lost the moment I took my phone and opened the private tab and then wasted an hour in the rubbish. Although shaytaan lured me in for a certain thing which would take only a couple of minutes. It took me more than an hour to stop. Then i started to have a fast on the next two days consecutive. And didnt relapse. On the 4th day, one night i had the tickling feeling. What i did was very important, i opened the private tab, typed something and looked in the google search. Then closed it before looking at anything. I then thought of another thing, typed it and looked into google search. I thought I was battling with the urges, but actually I had lost the moment I made the benign google search. That night I didnt watch anything, i watched an islamic video and slept crying to ALLAH, thanking him for a narrow escape. At fajar, i woke up , was having the urges, but managed to offer namaz with good concentration. Then i went to bed again after the namaz. I then made another mistake, i changed my clean trouser to an old one. I had already lost, I unknowingly agreed to shaytaan, because an old trouser meant that you will be doing PMO and dont want to contaminate your everyday clothes because you have to pray in clean clothes, but i was unaware. I was about to fall asleep, but thought that i should search for something in google, i didnt click at any website. Then tried to sleep, but woke to look up another term, this happened 4-5 times before i finally opened a site. I had the screen covered with my hands, but finally gave up. I had the verses of Quran ringing in my ears, but i had lost control, i was defeated. I then wasted 2-3 hours. I had my phone charging about to end, which was a help from ALLAH, but i charged it anyway. I was depressed as anyone else would be. But i made a diary of the triggers and the events in the morning. I realised that the moment i had opened the phone and the private tab, i had lost, i was thinking that i was in a jihad with shaytaan by this opening the google search and not opening any website, but i was wrong. I was already defeated the night before when i opened the private tab and shaytaan was now simply unlocking my defences and getting me ready for the ultimate disobedience to ALLAH. The next day was tough, i had severe flashbacks and urges, but الحمد لله i begged ALLAH for help at the start of this shaytaan attack and He helped. You need to ask help at the right time. ALLAH definitely helps, but if you ask at the right time. The next morning was the toughest, i woke up for going to the washroom, everyone else was sleeping. Shaytaan came to me and asked me to pickup the phone. Just pick the phone up and look for “abc-random thought” in the google search. Just google search. No actual porn. I begged ALLAH for help, cried in my heart. My hand moved towards the phone, but then the angels came, the help came, i left the phone there and then and didnt unlock it. I went to a sound sleep . Summary, whenever there is the tickling feeling, move straight to ALLAH. ( take cold shower, do exercise, anything of your choice). But dont move ahead. not a centimeter. The time to act is then, the time to pray is then. The moment you open the phone and specially the private tab, you are doomed. Its a guarantee. So dont give up. I assure you that the help from ALLAH will come , ALLAH will not abandon you, just dont open the phone, dont go to the washroom or any other isolation room, DONT ACT ON SHAYTAANS DIRECTION, not even a centimeter. BATTLE THE THOUGHTS.
Since we are talking about PMO, i would also like to talk about the M and O part. Shaytaan says that please have a slight touch, dont move to the orgasm. Just please a slight touch. The moment you touch it , consider yourself defeated. Turn to ALLAH TA’AALAA at the first instance. I cant stress enough because THAT IS THE TIME TO BATTLE
The weekly shave;
Being muslims you have to have extra hair shaved. And this time is a tough time for some people and a potential for relapse. My advice is to do it on thursdays (when you are fasting). also keep it as short as possible. Shaytaan will put different thoughts in your mind to trap you. But remember, DONT ACT ON SHAYTAANS DIRECTIONS, EVEN IF HE ASKS YOU TO DO THE SLIGHTEST OF MISCHIEVES, BECAUSE THE MOMENT YOU LET HIM INSIDE YOUR HEART, HE WILL VIOLATE YOUR SOUL.
He will ask you to do a number of seemingly harmless things( because he is really good at these things and knows your weaknesses, but you turn to ALLAH TA’AALAA. I cant stress more, because once you follow his instructions and are turned on. You will lose. Consider this as a no go area if you want to avoid PMO.
Also , some days shaytaan will ask you that you need a shave. You will think that you are doing an islamic thing, but That is a trap for PMO. Dont shave at odd times, do that while you are fasting and on Thursdays.
CHANGE YOUR STRATEGY, IF YOU ARE FAILING FOR YEARS:
Just posting on this sub-reddit that you relapsed isn’t enough, although i appreciate your desire to quit. Take a note of the events including the triggers, how did you try to block and how did you actually succumb. You need to deeply analyse your events. Each relapse should be a lesson. Make a note of them on your phone and remember these lessons daily and specifically when you are having urges or flash backs. Also note that its in the male physiology to feel low after orgasm, one feels disgusted and vows to never do it again. You do the ghusal and offer salah. But this period is over in a short while and you have flashbacks, repeat urges on the same day or next day. You need to work out what is going wrong. Dont get depressed, but also dont loose your guard. If you are not able to get out of this even after years, you need to analyse and alter your strategy. Probably, the most effective will be having small discussion groups with team leaders, the admins /moderators can help regarding private anonymous groups. Just saying that you relapsed and supporting others is good, but not enough. You need to understand why are you failing.
CONTINUE and INCREASE YOUR GOOD DEEDS:
Never think that since you are doing this wrong deed, you should stop your good deeds as well. Pray 5 times, start memorizing the quran, and as many good deeds as you can. As i came across a persons post that if i left this PMO, i would have been a Hafiz. You can still be a Haafiz. I learn Arabic and have memorised 1/3rd of the Quraan and will inshaa'ALLAH complete it.
You need to have a high level of background imaan through constant reminders( video lectures) , daily Qur’aan. This will help you resist shaytaan. But beware, the urges will come. But if you turn to ALLAH at the time of urge and return to him, surely, He will help. If he can send angels at the time of battle of Badar , why wont he send them when you are battling for your Imaan??? But please dont respond to the urges even for a slightest micrometer and turn to ALLAH straightaway, because once you respond by opening the private tab, the battle is over. You have lost. So call to ALLAH at the right time. He will definitely help.
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2020.01.10 12:23 Marriage-Istikhara Wazifa For Problems In Marriage - Wazifa for Marriage Problem

Wazifa For Problems In Marriage - Wazifa for Marriage Problem
Marriage is one of the most crucial steps to move forward in life. Every person deserves a good life partner in our life. Marriage is the most wonderful feeling in our life. Marriage is one of the lives most beautiful feeling that makes us feel all the beauty of being alive and the feeling of having someone to love as a partner in itself is wonderful. But sometimes due to a misunderstanding or because of an enemy, your marriage can get into trouble and your partner is always fighting you. Wazifa for problem in marriage is the best solution for your all problems in your marriage life. And you should consult and meet our astrologer Hazrat Sufi Mahbub Shah Ji and get instant solution for all over the problem. To protect your marriage right from the start by using the wazifa for problem in marriage.

https://preview.redd.it/qlo3qilkrx941.jpg?width=600&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=01b274d79b7afccb142d7c9035d9cf1f1dd0c746
Wazifa for marriage problem can easily help you to get rid of all marriage problems. These wazifa covers and help all the issues regarding shadi and love relationship in marriage for both couples. If you love someone and to marry him but your parents do not agree with your marriage then you should consult our astrologer and get wazifa for the marriage problem. By using this dua your parents agree with your marriage and your marriage is possible.
Every person wants to marry their choice and want to marriage done soon then the wazifa for marriage soon will help you in receiving suitable marriage proposals or options. The wazifa for marriage soon will increase your chance of getting married to the person of your own choice.
There are following steps in wazifa for marriage in marriage:-
• You have to read this dua after every namaz
• Thus, you have to be punctual about all the obligatory prayers of the day.
• Recite this dua “Waal Kaazmieenal Ghaaizaa Waal Aafeenaa Aaninaasi Wallho Yohibbul Mohsineen” 100 times after every namaz.
• Blow it on a glass of water.
• Drink the water in three sips and make your partner drink it too.
• Perform this amal for 45 days constantly.
• In Sha Allah, your prayers will be heard and all the marriage problems between you and your spouse will be solved.
For more information visit our website @ https://marriageistikhara.com/wazifa-for-problems-in-marriage/
Astrologer Name:- Hazrat Sufi Mahbub Shah
Contact Name:- 91-9855464838
Email:- [[email protected]](mailto:[email protected])
OriginalSource:-https://marriageistikhara.blogspot.com/2020/01/marriage-is-one-of-most-crucial-steps.html
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2019.12.01 02:41 Soldierofallah1 Day 6 complete Alhamdulillah. "Our Lord, we have wronged ourselves, and if You do not forgive us and have mercy upon us, we will surely be among the losers." Quran 7:23

Alhamdulillah Alhamdulillah for another day free from PMO. I am extremely grateful to my Lord Almighty for allowing this to happen. Today was good and consisted of no urges. I had been afflicted with evil eye yesterday and still suffering the symptoms so I cannot tell if I am experiencing any withdrawal symptoms. I really need to do my daily meditation as I have missed it twice. Overall I am doing well and becoming closer and closer to my religion, spirituality and my Lord. I always return to my Lord after doing wrong becoming stronger each time. My heart yearns for the peace and tranquility I recieve when I am not attached to anything except my Lord. Alhamdulillah for everything. I am grateful for everything, good and bad in my life, from the bottom of my soul and heart. Every little and every big thing. I am indeed moving forward each day towards the right path. My intellect, memory, focus are on a different level. I am have an intense drive to achieve big things but I need to find out what. I may need to buy islamic books and learn them aswell as other knowledgeable books. I have one goal and that is to purify my heart and clear all the plaque by committing endless good deeds. I will work on this everyday. I need to negate any doubts and disbelief in my mind that comes from shaytan. I will be in the state of zikr with a meditative like state at all time to the best of my ability. Indeed Allah is great and it is He Who allows for blockages aswell as success in each and every person. Success is indeed from Allah. It is He Who wills what a person gets, so you cannot question that. I will just focus on my journey and not compare at all as my life is very different to others and should not and cannot be compared. Allah is One, Allah has no partners and is not associated with anything or anyone. He is the All-seeing, All-knowing. Alhamdulillah. I need to also begin memorising the Quran again, this time with a clean heart and intention InshaAllah. I need to continue to abstain from sins of any type and do good deeds to purify myself. I need to do Qaza of my missed namaz's and fasts. Insha Allah I will go to hajj and umrah. InshaAllah I will remove all these sins I have committed with the grace and mercy of Allah. I need to take full control of myself, my desires, my emotions, anger. I will strengthen myself and accept any illness as I know I am being purified. InshaAllah I will live an authentic life. I will stop abusing my powers. I will humble myself and stop being arrogant. I will completely remove pride. I will continue to learn and act InshaAllah. I will always be hopeful of Allah's mercy and everything in life. I will put my trust in Allah that He guides me and helps me prosper as I obey His commands at all times. I will be happy for others fortune and not give out negative energy. I will try to forgive people. I will follow the straight path. I will become stronger to not let anyone give me negative energy again. I will not let anyone tread over me in the slightest again as I have done that enough. The journey is long and is upto Allah to decide what happens so I beg Him to keep me going forever in this journey InshaAllah. I am doing this solely for the pleasure of Allah. Tomorrow will be day 1 again. May Allah give us the strength, ability, understanding, intellect to overcome this disease once and for all, help us not waste anymore of our lives, help us to not trangress against our selves and self-sabotage, help us control ourselves, help us to become pious people of God, help us to become conscious of Allah, help us remove all diseases of the heart, help us stay humble, help us remove arrogance and pride, help us to gain respect from the pious, help us to reawaken ourselves fully, help us to become our most authenric selves, help us prosper and succeed, help us remove envy from our hearts, help us to see the illusions of the world, separate us from the sinful, bring us towards the pious, help us to become knowledgeable, intellectual and understanding, help us to believe without a single doubt, help us against shaytan's tricks and whispers, help us against dajjal, guide us to the straight path, cleanse our hearts and souls, give us peace and tranquility, forgive all our major and minor sins, help to not judge and belittle others, protect and shield us from envy and other evil people, help us become stronger mentally, help us against all people, help us to remember Him more, show us our true friends and enemies, bring good people into our lives and all bad people far away from us, help us to stay patient, postive, hopeful, grateful and optimistic in hardship and difficulty, remove delusions of the world from our minds, polish our imaan for us, follow His religion more religiously. Ameen
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2019.09.14 21:29 HurrAli Do you still shave your pubic hair?

I was told by the religious elders to regularly shave my pubic area and underarms or Allah won’t accept my prayers (Salaah/Namaz) because it’s a sin for a Muslim to grow hair on those parts of your body. I began to shave my pubic hair when I turned 14 – 15, became less religious after that and finally left Islam in mid 20s but I still shave my underarms and pubic hair.
It isn’t for religious reason anymore and I don’t even have a partner asking me to shave but I feel more comfortable when those body parts are ‘clean’ and hairless. By the way this religion is so funny, it forbids the male Muslims to trim or shave their beards but orders them to remove their pubic hair.
What do the medical skin experts say? Well, they are divided. Some believe that you should not mess up with those body hair, some suggest trimming is a better option while others say that shaving keeps your skin healthy and less prone to infections etc. You can follow any of these advices; just make sure to regularly practice hygiene if you don’t trim/shave those hair and use fine quality blade/electric shaver for hair removal. Laser could permanently remove those hair but they say it’s more expensive, little painful and somewhat risky procedure and may not work well on people with darker skin tone.
So ex Muslims fellows, please tell me! Do you still shave your underarms and pubic hair even after leaving Islam?
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2019.06.23 10:33 onlinewazifaforlove Jaldi Shadi Hone Ka Wazifa

Jaldi Shadi Hone Ka Wazifa #onlinewazifaforlove #jaldishadihonekawazifa Agar kisi ki ladki ki shadi nahi ho pa rahi hai. Nikah ke asbab nahi ban rahe hai. Chahe wo jahez ka masla ho ya phir rishte ka. Har tarah ke shadi ke masail ke fauran hal ke liye jaldi shadi hone ka Qurani wazifa parhiye. Yaqinan karguzar sabit hoga.
Kisi bhi munasib din aap ye amal shuru kar sakte hain.

Fajr ki namaz ke bad ya Asr aur Maghrib ke darmiyan ye wazifa parhiye. Agar Fajr ke waqt parhna shuru kar rahe hain to rozana Fajr ke waqt hi parhiye. Agar Asr aur Maghrib ke darmiyan parhna shuru kar rahe hain to rozana isi waqt parhiye.

Wuzu ki halat me rahte hue wazifa parhiye.

Surah Fatiha ki iktalees (41) martaba tilawat kijiye. Har bar Bismillah Hirra’hman Nirra’heem ke sath Surah ka aaghaz kijiye. Alfaaz ki adayegi aur talaffuz bilkul sahee hona chahiye. Yahan How to Pray Salatul Hajat Namaz-Tarika dekhiye!

Parhne ke bad ALLAH Zille Shanahu se apni mohabbat se shadi hone ki dil se dua mangiye. Kisi achhi jagah shadi hone ke khawahishmand log ek behtareen aur achha rishta milne ki dua kijiye.

Ye amal rozana bila nagha iktalees (41) roz parhiye.

Insha ALLAH, gayara (11) roz me hi kaam ban jayega. Aapki shadi ke har mumkin asbaab ban jayenge, aameen.
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2019.03.19 13:58 roohanionline Roohani Ilaj Online

Roohani Ilaj Online
ALLAH created us and He gives us a precious gift that is Quran. And we found every problem solution from it. Quran teaches us so many things that are helpful in our life. Today there are so many websites where we found different types of people who did these types of things like Rohani Ilaj Online, Online Istikhara, Marriage Astrology, Istikhara for Marriage and Black Magic Remove. But the thing is that we don’t know about the exact people. So many fake people started online work who done Rohani ilaj, Online Istikhara, Marriage Astrology, Istikhara for Marriage and Black Magic Remove. And they misguide people. So they get big amount from them so people can’t trust every person. Be aware from these fake people. They make religion as a business. And many fool people trust them. Most of the time the Government take action about these people but their followers promotes them and they started work again. When you gain knowledge from Quran then there is no need to go anywhere to find your solution. If you read Quran deeply you know how many benefits in them. Single word in Quran has many problems solution. Then you never want to think about these people. Try to cut off these people from our society. And in any situation, if you believe these type of people or connected with them. So, you must know about their activities like they just know Quran or they know how to read. Many fake people don’t read single word of Quran but they know as a great Muslim. Even they don’t learn basic 6 Kalmas, way of Namaz some basic Quran verses. So I advised those people who trust them that don’t connect with these fake peers trust on ALLAH and make your life positive.
I worked for those people who are suffered from diseases, family issues, and baby issues etc. But I give solution from Quran according to their needs. I do Rohani ilaj without any fee just to help people. I just know the name of depressed person who interested in Rohani ilaj. And know the issue like joblessness, poorness, illness etc. Most people interested in Online Istikhara. I do for them. But I suggest them to done Rohani Ilaj online Istikhara by you. I guide them and told about Dua Istikhara. Tell them how to do istikhara at home. Because it more sufficient for you. Today so many fake people around us and its difficult to belief. Similarly we don’t belief to any fake peer and Molana. Same as to doing wedding of our children we get confused about that. So we do Istikhara for Marriage. And doing this Allah gives us hint. And many people want to know about future life. It is not allowed in Islam to know about future. Because we don’t know what is better for us and what Allah decided for us. But many peoples trust on Marriage Astrology. Because they think after know about Marriage Astrology their marriages are successful. And they choose right partner for them. But Quran teach us to do Istikhara before started any work even it’s a marriage, job and any work. And on the other hand Black Magic very popular. People are very jealousies. They don’t bear that their relatives, friends gone fast from them. But Quran give us also this solution. I guide people how to Remove Black Magic. Some Quranic Verses use to Remove Black Magic. Our dear Hazrat Muhammad (PBUH) gives us some ayat that is so helpful for us. So we tried to learn these verses for make yourself and children secure from magic.

Online wazaif marriage astrology

online black magic remove with some surah. Try to read Quran daily. Read daily all 4 Qull Shareef and Yaseen Surah. Pray 5 times in a day. Allah will protect you from Devils always. People are really worried about black magic. They don’t know how to save themselves by black magic. And they run to find out the solution. Some people said that we did Rohani Ilaj but actually they do black magic which they named as Rohani Ilaj. So please secure yourself from these people. When you started any work do Istikhara. It’s very easy to done at home by offer 2 rakat nawafil after learn Dua e istikhara for marriage. Try to do it at night because at night Allah will give you hint in your dream. Otherwise it’s not compulsory to do at night but before start istikhara you must read all 5 times prayer. You know all the restrictions. Online wazaif marriage astrology offer on many websites but they don’t guide properly and make confused people. These people who work on website have strong guts to play with humans and lose their trust on ALLAH. So please don’t you trust these people and try to advised your relatives, friends to aware of them. Some diseases of our life do not resolve from doctors but due to Rohani ilaj it is possible. Some miserable person who thought there life will not become easy for them but Rohani ilaj make it easy. Rohani ilaj protect you from evil eyes, jinnat, spiritual pains, family issues etc. So many astrologers worked on different websites. Some are working on marriage astrology. People want to know about their married life, about their partner, about successful married life and so on. They just lie with people. There’s no truth in them
Rohani wazaef of different problems improve our life. We live a religious life. We follow the Quran. Today no one can help to others, no one stampedes to others.
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2018.05.23 06:38 subreddit_stats Subreddit Stats: india top posts from 2013-06-18 to 2018-05-22 09:18 PDT

Period: 1798.85 days
Submissions Comments
Total 998 152592
Rate (per day) 0.55 84.79
Unique Redditors 694 21190
Combined Score 1170790 1708161

Top Submitters' Top Submissions

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  3. 18242 points, 1 submission: spikyraccoon
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  4. 17632 points, 5 submissions: silvercrow92
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  5. 16031 points, 10 submissions: wordswithmagic
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  6. 11273 points, 1 submission: hd-86
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  8. 9843 points, 14 submissions: sIlentr3b3l
    1. I don't know till when I will be alive. I can be raped, my modesty can be outraged, I can be killed, I can be damaged. I was threatened yesterday that 'we will not forgive you'. I am going to tell SC tomorrow that I am in danger: Deepika S Rajawat, Counsel, Kathua victim's family (829 points, 107 comments)
    2. No Prime Minister in our country has used the Office of the Prime Minister to say things about his opponent that Mr Modi has been doing day in & day out. It doesn't behove a Prime Minister to stoop so low & it is not good for the country as a whole as well: Manmohan Singh (792 points, 158 comments)
    3. I went to Phoenix Mall in #Pune for shopping. I was not allowed to enter the mall as the mall authorities said that their policy doesn't allow transgenders, when I asked them to explain, then they could not. I will now file a case against them: Sonali Dalvi (746 points, 205 comments)
    4. Dehradun: Muslim family adopted an orphan Hindu boy at the age of 12, got him married as per Hindu traditions; groom said, 'I celebrate Holi, Diwali & all other festivals in the same house, they loved me & supported me in everything including my marriage' #Uttarakhand (739 points, 61 comments)
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    9. Right To Choose Life Partner Is A Fundamental Right, Consent Of Family, Community, Clan Not Necessary For Marriage Between Two Adults: SC [Read Judgment] (668 points, 92 comments)
    10. I need to speak up now : The economy is on a downward spiral, is poised for a hard landing. Many in the BJP know it but do not say it out of fear (667 points, 357 comments)
  9. 9764 points, 7 submissions: boredmonk
    1. Someone made a stormtrooper Ganesha. (3739 points, 212 comments)
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    3. [NP] Bollywood stars making a movie a movie on rescuing abducted Indian nurses from Iraq vs Malayalam stars making a film on the same subject. (1016 points, 251 comments)
    4. What the fuck is this shit now? (976 points, 237 comments)
    5. Being bhai. (746 points, 42 comments)
    6. A memorial for Shashi Kapoor in Peshawar, Pakistan in front of his paternal home. Raj Kapoor was also born in the same house. (671 points, 28 comments)
    7. Rajkummar Rao’s political satire ‘Newton’ is India’s entry for the Oscars (621 points, 119 comments)
  10. 9664 points, 9 submissions: hipporama
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  3. GoldPisseR (7548 points, 471 comments)
  4. SirThighPiece (7405 points, 215 comments)
  5. ppatra (6512 points, 349 comments)
  6. kash_if (6344 points, 404 comments)
  7. batatavada (6211 points, 228 comments)
  8. willyslittlewonka (6072 points, 246 comments)
  9. sIlentr3b3l (5871 points, 357 comments)
  10. _2_4_8 (4881 points, 160 comments)

Top Submissions

  1. Indian reply to NYtimes cartoon on Paris climate accord by Satish Acharya. by spikyraccoon (18242 points, 1529 comments)
  2. Tragedy of India by hd-86 (11273 points, 344 comments)
  3. Image Of Smiling Baby For Hyderabad Police Officers Who Rescued Him From The Kidnappers Thrill The Internet by AudraMagnus (8977 points, 232 comments)
  4. No Yoga and Yoga. Difference by cetrog (8719 points, 460 comments)
  5. Winner of a fancy dress competition at a school in Bangalore by ironypatrol (8516 points, 218 comments)
  6. Help, ideas needed. HLL poisoned my village with mercury. There have been 250 cancer deaths in just 5 years in just my tiny village. Se[r]ious replies only. by UnileverCancerFactor (8053 points, 260 comments)
  7. An Indian woman, a Japanese woman, and a Syrian woman, all training to be doctors at Women’s Medical College of Philadelphia. - October 10, 1885. by silvercrow92 (7882 points, 239 comments)
  8. My friend passed away and TOI made a mockery of her. by ForPranitaThrowaway (6553 points, 241 comments)
  9. Memes work a bit differently when in Delhi! by thesaket (5784 points, 114 comments)
  10. Hindu cop standing guard as Muslim comrade offers namaz (photo shared by Srinagar Sector CRPF on Twitter) by wordswithmagic (5728 points, 325 comments)

Top Comments

  1. 9204 points: charavaka's comment in Caste system a curse, it should end for country's good: Baba Ramdev[P]
  2. 3125 points: StvYzerman's comment in Caste system a curse, it should end for country's good: Baba Ramdev[P]
  3. 2808 points: sassy_master's comment in Indian reply to NYtimes cartoon on Paris climate accord by Satish Acharya.
  4. 1940 points: Anon_id_43576999's comment in Tragedy of India
  5. 1827 points: AwkwardIndian's comment in My friend passed away and TOI made a mockery of her.
  6. 1677 points: charavaka's comment in Caste system a curse, it should end for country's good: Baba Ramdev[P]
  7. 1525 points: charavaka's comment in Caste system a curse, it should end for country's good: Baba Ramdev[P]
  8. 1200 points: Nemetoss's comment in Indian reply to NYtimes cartoon on Paris climate accord by Satish Acharya.
  9. 1132 points: ppatra's comment in Fuck people who behave like this
  10. 1029 points: Yeeeeeeehaww's comment in Indian reply to NYtimes cartoon on Paris climate accord by Satish Acharya.
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2018.04.29 03:53 chintpint How do you politely tell a Desi In Law not to pester you to read Salah/namaz?

Okay so I'm in my home country visiting my partner's parents. It's been two days and I can already hear them start about reading the namaz/Salah. How do I politely tell them i am not going to do so? What are some reasons I can give? I don't want to go the route of acting in front of them. Then I'd have to wake up at 4am, splash fucking cold ass water on my face. Nope.
Help me out y'all!!
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2018.03.28 06:42 ordinaryeeguy A heart-felt story of 17 years in the Saudi desert

Translated from: https://www.kantipurdaily.com/koseli/2018/03/24/15218668184772952.html
Kathmandu - “I arrived at Kathmandu, Ceni” Tek Bahadur Rakaskoti had to endure days and nights for 17 years just to say this sentence. He had to swallow a lump through his throat just to break out this line. While living in the desert of Hafar Al-Batin, Saudi Arabia for 17 years in a dire situation that almost killed him everyday, only one thought occupied his mind: “When would I be able to return to my country and talk to love-of-my-life, Ceni?”
That dream came true at 10 pm on the night of March 1st, 2018. Using the cell phone of his brother-in-law Shesh Bahadur Rana who came to the airport to receive him, Tek Bahadur hardly talked for 2 minutes to tell Ceni, “I have arrived at Nepal. God took a great test by keeping us apart. Your prayers have made our reunion possible. I'll arrive at our village in a day or two.”
The journey of Tek Bahadur Rakaskoti from the capital Riyadh to Nepal was unlike of anybody else. The story of the struggles he went through to reach Riyadh airport cannot be told at one sitting. “I will never be able to describe everything I suffered and endured in the desert; not at least in this life,” he says to his brother-in-law Shesh Bahadur.
Kathmandu was jolly with the festival of Holi on that day. The bus was to depart at 3 o'clock in the afternoon from Gongabu to Gulmi, and was packed with people returning from Malaysia and Dubai in their holidays. The Smart TV Tek Bahadur has brought was placed with himself inside the bus while the luggage were tossed into the trunk. "What did you do in Saudi Arabia, brother?" a returnee from Dubai asked.
“I looked after sheeps and goats for 8 years. Then I looked after camels,” said Tek Bahadur, "I am coming to Nepal after 17 years."
'17 years !” another passenger exclaimed, 'You spent an aeon!'
Tek Bahadur was a youthful 23 years old when he went to Saudi from Golden International Manpower company on August 2, 2001. Gulf air was operational at that time. Gulf air took him to Dammam, Saudi Arabia via Dubai and Bahrain. After waiting for three hours, a Saudi citizen came to the airport on a water-tanker to pick him up. He was directly transported to a sheep-shed in the middle of a desert. But the person was not the boss, Tek Bahadur later realized. He was an agent that supplied domestic drivers, cooks, gardeners, and shepherds to Saudi citizens. He kept Tek Bahadur in his own shed for 3 days before handing him over to another owner. The owner took Tek Bahadur to an unknown place, which he later came to know as an isolated desert near the Iraq border.
The bus hadn’t left yet. Tek Bahadur was now familiar with the passengers who were listening to his every word with great intensity.
'What was life like in the desert?' the bus driver asked empathetically as he sat near Tek Bahadur. Tek Bahadur gradually started opening up with the passengers. He gradually unpacked his pouches of sorrows and miseries.
“There were separate sheds for camels and goats. Brother Poorna from Pokhara who went there alongside me was sent to the camels. To my share came the responsibility of one thousand sheep and goats. There was a Bengali partner. He spoke a little Hindi. I learned a little Arabic from him and spent four years with him.”
Tek Bahadur continued his uninterrupted speech, “There was no real shed so the sheep were kept out in the open. The greedy owner used to say that feeding grains was not enough for the sheep and would force me to take the herd to grazing in a grassless desert.“
There was just a donkey whom Tek Bahadur could call his own in the cruel desert. When he took the goats and sheep to grazing, he used to load the donkey with tents, flour, rice, and lentils. He used to collect twigs and dried camel dungs as he walked and wherever the night would fall he took shelter. He would use the collected twigs and dungs to create a fire and cook his food. In the dry season, he would mix flour and goat’s milk for food, while if it was raining he could find some sour lettuce in the desert. Sometimes he could even find mushrooms.
Even though the Bengali was a shepherd himself, he thought of himself as the second after the Saudi boss. Call him a friend or an enemy, he was the only one Tek Bahadur had. The owner had ordered the Bengali to take care of all the work and maintenance. Though they would walk together all day, but it would be Tek Bahadur's duty to prepare the dinner and feed them both. 'We would have very little water. I would get more thirsty than him. My water would be empty quickly and I would drink the Bengali’s water" he said, "He would get furious and I would stay silent as he would proceed to slap me. I would have no other way to quench my thirst.”
“In the directionless desert, there were sometimes storm and sometimes heavy rain. The goats would not go anywhere when I stood among them during the rain. But during the storm, they would run far far away, completely out of sight. Where would I go to find them? In such situation, I had to stay at the same point until the owner returned. Somehow the owner would show up immediately and would beat me with a stick and the rope of his head-scarf as if it was my fault for bringing the storm, my fault for the heavy rain and for being unable to stop them. Not only that, if the goats died because of disease or by snake bites, or if the fox ate the kids, it would be my mistake. And there was no escaping the owner's beatings for that.”
Tek Bahadur's wife had a recent childbirth when he left for Saudi. The son was only three months old. They had only spent one and a half years together as husband and wife. It was a love-marriage with Dhankumari. “My farm was near her farm. She used to come to collect grasses on the field”, as the bus took downhill from Thankot to Naubise, Tek Bahadur started opening up about his love affair, “We became inseparable. When I asked her mother for permission to marry her, she asked me to wait until next year. I wasn’t in an ability to wait. I asked Ceni to elope with me and she did.”
Tek Bahadur lovingly called Dhankumari as “Ceni”. Until after eight years in the desert, Tek Bahadur could not speak a single word with his beloved Ceni. They exchanged letters only for three times. In the first letter he received, Ceni had sent a photo of herself and their infant son. "The water carrier would drive to our shed occasionally. I would send my letters with him. The answer to the letters which he then sent to Nepal through the post office in Hafar Al-Batin would come only after 6-7 months. It would feel like I had won a great war every time he brought a letter from my village. I would feel like my Ceni had come to the desert looking for me.” Tek Bahadur continued remembering his days and nights in the desert, “The letters really did have power. Each word would energize me. All of my pains would vanish, for that moment.”
The carrier didn't post the fourth letter for Tek Bahadur. He instead brought back a bad news that the the post office was permanently closed.
From then on, Tek Bahadur could never send messages to his dear Ceni. He couldn’t receive his village’s news from Ceni either. He used to console his heart by reading old letters and looking at the old photo of Ceni and their infant son.
Tek Bahadur had taken a note of the telephone number of a place in the Birbas village and had brought it with him to Saudi. He dared several times to visit the city to try to make calls despite not being allowed to lift a finger without the owner’s permission. Only after 8 years, the owner brought him a cell-phone so he could call to order works and know about the sheep and goats. The cost of the cell phone was deducted from his salary though. The prepaid cell-phone would get only the owner’s call, and had no balance for Tek Bahadur to make calls. Only years later when a kind-hearted Saudi gave Tek Bahadur a balance recharge card, was he able to make a call to the telephone at Birbas village and leave a message for Ceni that said: “I am alright.”
To charge the battery of the cell-phone, he would have to wander long distance to search for a shed with generator. He would call his village as soon as the phone was charged. One day, he managed to find the phone number of a place near his house. Finally, he managed to have two-way conversation with his wife. “I am not being allowed to come home.” Tek Bahadur told his compulsion to his wife, “The owner has promised to send me back as soon as another person is hired. Please wait for me.”
They would have a call for 1-2 minutes every 4-5 months. “If there was some important affair at the house, Ceni would call from Nepal and we could talk.”, Tek Bahadur remembers, “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have a balance to call.”
Coincidentally, Muglin was free from its usual traffic jam that evening. The bus stopped at 9 pm at the Bardwaghat, Nawalparasi for dinner. Tek Bahadur ordered a vegetarian meal. A fellow passenger came and sat alongside him. Even before starting the dinner, “Brother, why couldn’t you leave that desert?”, he inquired.
"I was promised to be sent back home as soon as a new hire could be found. I kept waiting. After being ignored for 6 years, one day I left the flock of sheep and goats. I walked all night to reach a highway and paid a Sudanese driver 10 Riyal to hitchhike to a police station. I was ignored the whole night at the station. Instead, they pushed me out and asked me to go search for work somewhere else. Wandering and searching for help, I reached a camp of Nepalese working in a school. They sheltered me there for 15 days. Then I was arrested and sent to jail again while wandering for a Job. I was happy thinking that they will deport me back home. I was forced to turn Muslim during my two weeks stay in the jail. Was forced to read Namaz. But I was willing to do anything to be able to return home."
Tek bahadur paused his dinner as he continued, “In order to be a true Muslim, the tip of my penis had to be cut off, I found out. As they were preparing to take me somewhere for that, my old owner came looking for me. Even when I denied returning with him, he kept insisting and pulling me by my air. I gripped the iron bars and resisted. Finally, he gave up and left. The next day, his brother came and convinced the police to let him take me on the promise of returning me the next day. I had no choice but to go with him.”
Tek Bahadur was not to be sent home until after two more years. He escaped from the shed one night, once again, and returned back to the same police station. The police would then call the owner and they would take him back to the shed. This game would go on for four more times.
The owner would keep bringing new workers. But nobody would last. Sometimes he would bring Pakistani, and sometimes Sudani. The Indians, especially from Kerala, would escape and take shelter at their relatives. Tek Bahadur would think, "Am I the only one with nobody to love and care".
One time, the owner had brought an Indian citizen. Tek Bahadur thought that if he could convince the Indian boy to stay, it could open his door to return Nepal. He started treating the boy with great care and respect. He took great care to teach the boy all the works and responsibilities. He even took responsibility for the boy’s mistakes and would take the owner’s beatings for him. While he was waiting for the owner’s phone call, one day the boy secretly sneaked away.
Things wouldn’t remain the same forever. Sometimes, unimaginable things would happen. The ambassador of Nepal, Aananda Raj Sharma, came looking for him in his own shed one day. Tek Bahadur’s brother had informed the embassy that his brother was being kept against his will. The embassy had taken a series of actions including contacting the foreign ministry, labor minister, the director general of the labor ministry, governor and the local labor officer.
But the labor office showed the ambassador a letter, written in Nepali, supposedly by Tek Bahadur, that read: “I am willing to stay at Saudi. I don’t want to go to Nepal. I want to work more.” This worked as a face-saving tool for the Saudi officials who would say, “The worker wants to stay, how can we return him?” Seeing that his two years work was about to be wasted, ambassador Sharma himself had come to visit Tek Bahadur at the shed.
After meeting Tek Bahadur, the ambassador figured out a solution. He asked Tek Bahadur to write a letter saying, “I have not got my salary for eight years. I would like to have my salary and go back home immediately.”
This letter was translated into Arabic, and Sharma took these letters to the local labor office and the governor. The new leadership at the labor ministry was deeply stung by this news of forced labor. After the leadership took initiative, the owner was forced to pay 70 thousand riyals (1.9 million rupees) for the 8 years salary. He also sent Tek Bahadur’s passport to the embassy to renew. The embassy didn't let Tek Bahadur return to the shed ever after then, and the owner was forced to deliver the ‘exit letter’ to the embassy.
Tek Bahadur got off at the Birbas hill of Gulmi at 2 am in the night. Dhawa, Pallikot was a 45-minute walk downhill, but his wife had warned him to not walk that path at night. “A vehicle will come to take you at 5 o'clock”, she had said over the phone.
Tek Bahadur's friend, who had returned from Malaysia, had bought a taxi. It was called ambulance-taxi. He gave a ride to Tek Bahadur from the Birbas hill to pallikot, for a fare.
'Please stay here in Maila-Dai’s house for now,” he said before returning, “You are not supposed to directly go to your home.”
The news of Tek Bahadur's return had spread in the village. Lots of villagers, even the old men and women with canes, came to receive him early in the morning.
“You returned son,” one old mother hugged him crying, “your mother always used to sit here and cry and pray for your return. The poor woman passed away before getting to meet you.” All the visitors were asking the same questions, “ Would you recognize your son? Your son has become as big as yourself. Why didn’t you return earlier? We have to respect your wife’s patience. She endured through all these times looking at yours and your son’s face. How was your stay at Saudi? ...”
Ruk Bahadur Rakaskoti, the president of the village ward, arrived. He said, "You have come to the village after all these years. The villagers are eager to celebrate and welcome you at your home.”
Tek Bahadur proceeded to his home from Maila Dai’s home. Ruk Bahadur led ahead. The villagers followed back, with garlands and flowers in their hands. When they reached his home, the women had filled the front yard and the porch.
Tek Bahadur was honored with garlands and colors as he entered the premise. His wife and son were watching him from the balcony. Their eyes were wet. His son, Kishor, who used to stay at his uncle’s place for his studies, had returned home for his father’s arrival. They only got down from the balcony after the villagers asked them to come and sit with Tek Bahadur. The villagers put them together on chairs and pampered them one by one with garlands and colors. Every woman's eyes were watering seeing their reunion. Even after two hours, they weren’t able to look into each other's eyes.
“Kishor, please take your father inside”, after Ruk Bahadur said this, Kishor held his father's hand. Tek Bahadur broke out in tears and sobbed for a long time before going inside with Kishor.
Mrs. Dhankumari, Tek Bahadur’s dear Ceni, had already entered inside.
submitted by ordinaryeeguy to saudiarabia [link] [comments]


2018.03.28 06:03 ordinaryeeguy 17 years in the desert

Kathmandu - “I arrived at Kathmandu, Ceni” Tek Bahadur Rakaskoti had to endure days and nights for 17 years just to say this sentence. He had to swallow a lump through his throat just to break out this line. While living in the desert of Hafar Al-Batin, Saudi Arabia for 17 years in a dire situation that almost killed him everyday, only one thought occupied his mind: “When would I be able to return to my country and talk to love-of-my-life, Ceni?”
That dream came true at 10 pm on the night of March 1st, 2018. Using the cell phone of his brother-in-law Shesh Bahadur Rana who came to the airport to receive him, Tek Bahadur hardly talked for 2 minutes to tell Ceni, “I have arrived at Nepal. God took a great test by keeping us apart. Your prayers have made our reunion possible. I'll arrive at our village in a day or two.”
The journey of Tek Bahadur Rakaskoti from the capital Riyadh to Nepal was unlike of anybody else. The story of the struggles he went through to reach Riyadh airport cannot be told at one sitting. “I will never be able to describe everything I suffered and endured in the desert; not at least in this life,” he says to his brother-in-law Shesh Bahadur.
Kathmandu was jolly with the festival of Holi on that day. The bus was to depart at 3 o'clock in the afternoon from Gongabu to Gulmi, and was packed with people returning from Malaysia and Dubai in their holidays. The Smart TV Tek Bahadur has brought was placed with himself inside the bus while the luggage were tossed into the trunk. "What did you do in Saudi Arabia, brother?" a returnee from Dubai asked.
“I looked after sheeps and goats for 8 years. Then I looked after camels,” said Tek Bahadur, "I am coming to Nepal after 17 years."
'17 years !” another passenger exclaimed, 'You spent an aeon!'
Tek Bahadur was a youthful 23 years old when he went to Saudi from Golden International Manpower company on August 2, 2001. Gulf air was operational at that time. Gulf air took him to Dammam, Saudi Arabia via Dubai and Bahrain. After waiting for three hours, a Saudi citizen came to the airport on a water-tanker to pick him up. He was directly transported to a sheep-shed in the middle of a desert. But the person was not the boss, Tek Bahadur later realized. He was an agent that supplied domestic drivers, cooks, gardeners, and shepherds to Saudi citizens. He kept Tek Bahadur in his own shed for 3 days before handing him over to another owner. The owner took Tek Bahadur to an unknown place, which he later came to know as an isolated desert near the Iraq border.
The bus hadn’t left yet. Tek Bahadur was now familiar with the passengers who were listening to his every word with great intensity.
'What was life like in the desert?' the bus driver asked empathetically as he sat near Tek Bahadur. Tek Bahadur gradually started opening up with the passengers. He gradually unpacked his pouches of sorrows and miseries.
“There were separate sheds for camels and goats. Brother Poorna from Pokhara who went there alongside me was sent to the camels. To my share came the responsibility of one thousand sheep and goats. There was a Bengali partner. He spoke a little Hindi. I learned a little Arabic from him and spent four years with him.”
Tek Bahadur continued his uninterrupted speech, “There was no real shed so the sheep were kept out in the open. The greedy owner used to say that feeding grains was not enough for the sheep and would force me to take the herd to grazing in a grassless desert.“
There was just a donkey whom Tek Bahadur could call his own in the cruel desert. When he took the goats and sheep to grazing, he used to load the donkey with tents, flour, rice, and lentils. He used to collect twigs and dried camel dungs as he walked and wherever the night would fall he took shelter. He would use the collected twigs and dungs to create a fire and cook his food. In the dry season, he would mix flour and goat’s milk for food, while if it was raining he could find some sour lettuce in the desert. Sometimes he could even find mushrooms.
Even though the Bengali was a shepherd himself, he thought of himself as the second after the Saudi boss. Call him a friend or an enemy, he was the only one Tek Bahadur had. The owner had ordered the Bengali to take care of all the work and maintenance. Though they would walk together all day, but it would be Tek Bahadur's duty to prepare the dinner and feed them both. 'We would have very little water. I would get more thirsty than him. My water would be empty quickly and I would drink the Bengali’s water" he said, "He would get furious and I would stay silent as he would proceed to slap me. I would have no other way to quench my thirst.”
“In the directionless desert, there were sometimes storm and sometimes heavy rain. The goats would not go anywhere when I stood among them during the rain. But during the storm, they would run far far away, completely out of sight. Where would I go to find them? In such situation, I had to stay at the same point until the owner returned. Somehow the owner would show up immediately and would beat me with a stick and the rope of his head-scarf as if it was my fault for bringing the storm, my fault for the heavy rain and for being unable to stop them. Not only that, if the goats died because of disease or by snake bites, or if the fox ate the kids, it would be my mistake. And there was no escaping the owner's beatings for that.”
Tek Bahadur's wife had a recent childbirth when he left for Saudi. The son was only three months old. They had only spent one and a half years together as husband and wife. It was a love-marriage with Dhankumari. “My farm was near her farm. She used to come to collect grasses on the field”, as the bus took downhill from Thankot to Naubise, Tek Bahadur started opening up about his love affair, “We became inseparable. When I asked her mother for permission to marry her, she asked me to wait until next year. I wasn’t in an ability to wait. I asked Ceni to elope with me and she did.”
Tek Bahadur lovingly called Dhankumari as “Ceni”. Until after eight years in the desert, Tek Bahadur could not speak a single word with his beloved Ceni. They exchanged letters only for three times. In the first letter he received, Ceni had sent a photo of herself and their infant son. "The water carrier would drive to our shed occasionally. I would send my letters with him. The answer to the letters which he then sent to Nepal through the post office in Hafar Al-Batin would come only after 6-7 months. It would feel like I had won a great war every time he brought a letter from my village. I would feel like my Ceni had come to the desert looking for me.” Tek Bahadur continued remembering his days and nights in the desert, “The letters really did have power. Each word would energize me. All of my pains would vanish, for that moment.”
The carrier didn't post the fourth letter for Tek Bahadur. He instead brought back a bad news that the the post office was permanently closed.
From then on, Tek Bahadur could never send messages to his dear Ceni. He couldn’t receive his village’s news from Ceni either. He used to console his heart by reading old letters and looking at the old photo of Ceni and their infant son.
Tek Bahadur had taken a note of the telephone number of a place in the Birbas village and had brought it with him to Saudi. He dared several times to visit the city to try to make calls despite not being allowed to lift a finger without the owner’s permission. Only after 8 years, the owner brought him a cell-phone so he could call to order works and know about the sheep and goats. The cost of the cell phone was deducted from his salary though. The prepaid cell-phone would get only the owner’s call, and had no balance for Tek Bahadur to make calls. Only years later when a kind-hearted Saudi gave Tek Bahadur a balance recharge card, was he able to make a call to the telephone at Birbas village and leave a message for Ceni that said: “I am alright.”
To charge the battery of the cell-phone, he would have to wander long distance to search for a shed with generator. He would call his village as soon as the phone was charged. One day, he managed to find the phone number of a place near his house. Finally, he managed to have two-way conversation with his wife. “I am not being allowed to come home.” Tek Bahadur told his compulsion to his wife, “The owner has promised to send me back as soon as another person is hired. Please wait for me.”
They would have a call for 1-2 minutes every 4-5 months. “If there was some important affair at the house, Ceni would call from Nepal and we could talk.”, Tek Bahadur remembers, “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have a balance to call.”
Coincidentally, Muglin was free from its usual traffic jam that evening. The bus stopped at 9 pm at the Bardwaghat, Nawalparasi for dinner. Tek Bahadur ordered a vegetarian meal. A fellow passenger came and sat alongside him. Even before starting the dinner, “Brother, why couldn’t you leave that desert?”, he inquired.
"I was promised to be sent back home as soon as a new hire could be found. I kept waiting. After being ignored for 6 years, one day I left the flock of sheep and goats. I walked all night to reach a highway and paid a Sudanese driver 10 Riyal to hitchhike to a police station. I was ignored the whole night at the station. Instead, they pushed me out and asked me to go search for work somewhere else. Wandering and searching for help, I reached a camp of Nepalese working in a school. They sheltered me there for 15 days. Then I was arrested and sent to jail again while wandering for a Job. I was happy thinking that they will deport me back home. I was forced to turn Muslim during my two weeks stay in the jail. Was forced to read Namaz. But I was willing to do anything to be able to return home."
Tek bahadur paused his dinner as he continued, “In order to be a true Muslim, the tip of my penis had to be cut off, I found out. As they were preparing to take me somewhere for that, my old owner came looking for me. Even when I denied returning with him, he kept insisting and pulling me by my air. I gripped the iron bars and resisted. Finally, he gave up and left. The next day, his brother came and convinced the police to let him take me on the promise of returning me the next day. I had no choice but to go with him.”
Tek Bahadur was not to be sent home until after two more years. He escaped from the shed one night, once again, and returned back to the same police station. The police would then call the owner and they would take him back to the shed. This game would go on for four more times.
The owner would keep bringing new workers. But nobody would last. Sometimes he would bring Pakistani, and sometimes Sudani. The Indians, especially from Kerala, would escape and take shelter at their relatives. Tek Bahadur would think, "Am I the only one with nobody to love and care".
One time, the owner had brought an Indian citizen. Tek Bahadur thought that if he could convince the Indian boy to stay, it could open his door to return Nepal. He started treating the boy with great care and respect. He took great care to teach the boy all the works and responsibilities. He even took responsibility for the boy’s mistakes and would take the owner’s beatings for him. While he was waiting for the owner’s phone call, one day the boy secretly sneaked away.
Things wouldn’t remain the same forever. Sometimes, unimaginable things would happen. The ambassador of Nepal, Aananda Raj Sharma, came looking for him in his own shed one day. Tek Bahadur’s brother had informed the embassy that his brother was being kept against his will. The embassy had taken a series of actions including contacting the foreign ministry, labor minister, the director general of the labor ministry, governor and the local labor officer.
But the labor office showed the ambassador a letter, written in Nepali, supposedly by Tek Bahadur, that read: “I am willing to stay at Saudi. I don’t want to go to Nepal. I want to work more.” This worked as a face-saving tool for the Saudi officials who would say, “The worker wants to stay, how can we return him?” Seeing that his two years work was about to be wasted, ambassador Sharma himself had come to visit Tek Bahadur at the shed.
After meeting Tek Bahadur, the ambassador figured out a solution. He asked Tek Bahadur to write a letter saying, “I have not got my salary for eight years. I would like to have my salary and go back home immediately.”
This letter was translated into Arabic, and Sharma took these letters to the local labor office and the governor. The new leadership at the labor ministry was deeply stung by this news of forced labor. After the leadership took initiative, the owner was forced to pay 70 thousand riyals (1.9 million rupees) for the 8 years salary. He also sent Tek Bahadur’s passport to the embassy to renew. The embassy didn't let Tek Bahadur return to the shed ever after then, and the owner was forced to deliver the ‘exit letter’ to the embassy.
Tek Bahadur got off at the Birbas hill of Gulmi at 2 am in the night. Dhawa, Pallikot was a 45-minute walk downhill, but his wife had warned him to not walk that path at night. “A vehicle will come to take you at 5 o'clock”, she had said over the phone.
Tek Bahadur's friend, who had returned from Malaysia, had bought a taxi. It was called ambulance-taxi. He gave a ride to Tek Bahadur from the Birbas hill to pallikot, for a fare.
'Please stay here in Maila-Dai’s house for now,” he said before returning, “You are not supposed to directly go to your home.”
The news of Tek Bahadur's return had spread in the village. Lots of villagers, even the old men and women with canes, came to receive him early in the morning.
“You returned son,” one old mother hugged him crying, “your mother always used to sit here and cry and pray for your return. The poor woman passed away before getting to meet you.” All the visitors were asking the same questions, “ Would you recognize your son? Your son has become as big as yourself. Why didn’t you return earlier? We have to respect your wife’s patience. She endured through all these times looking at yours and your son’s face. How was your stay at Saudi? ...”
Ruk Bahadur Rakaskoti, the president of the village ward, arrived. He said, "You have come to the village after all these years. The villagers are eager to celebrate and welcome you at your home.”
Tek Bahadur proceeded to his home from Mila Dai’s home. Ruk Bahadur led ahead. The villagers followed back, with garlands and flowers in their hands. When they reached his home, the women had filled the front yard and the porch.
Tek Bahadur was honored with garlands and colors as he entered the premise. His wife and son were watching him from the balcony. Their eyes were wet. His son, Kishor, who used to stay at his uncle’s place for his studies, had returned home for his father’s arrival. They only got down from the balcony after the villagers asked them to come and sit with Tek Bahadur. The villagers put them together on chairs and pampered them one by one with garlands and colors. Every woman's eyes were watering seeing their reunion. Even after two hours, they weren’t able to look into each other's eyes.
“Kishor, please take your father inside”, after Ruk Bahadur said this, Kishor held his father's hand. Tek Bahadur broke out in tears and sobbed for a long time before going inside with Kishor.
Mrs. Dhankumar, Tek Bahadur’s dear Ceni, had already entered inside.
submitted by ordinaryeeguy to sandboxtest [link] [comments]


2017.07.17 18:18 modiusoperandi This is the Story of my relationship with religion - A Long Read!

This is the Story of my relationship with religion:
I was in my 2nd Standard at an excellent Jesuit school in Ahmedabad when my class teacher Mrs Sinha asked “How many Hindus in this Class?”. It was for some Government count as far as I can remember. A majority of my classmates raised their hands. Then she asked “How many Muslims in this class?”, a few raised their hands. She proceeded to ask 1 or 2 more questions. I didn’t raise my hand at all. I didn’t know what those words meant, I didn’t know ‘what I was’. My bench partner on the day noticed this and complained at the end: “Ma’am, he didn’t raise his hand”. “What are you?”, Mrs. Sinha barked at me. “I don’t know”, I replied. She looked into my admission documents as I’d just joined that School and got back “You’re Muslim!”. That day I returned home and told my mother what happened. I asked her: “Mumma, what is Muslim?”, “It’s a name beta, we are Muslim”, she replied. That was how I discovered religion.
I was born & raised in an elite locality of Ahmedabad, which was predominantly Hindu but had a mix of a few others at the time. My first few years were spent in ‘Shri Krishna Apartments’ where out of 300-odd Apartments, we were the only Muslim family and this never became a problem with any neighbour ever. Our neighbours loved us and we loved them. Then in 1992, my grandparents’ home got burnt down in another mixed locality in Ahmedabad, right behind the famed IIM Ahmedabad. Some neighbours too came and joined in the loot, they were told. By this time, I had also learnt that my great-grandparents' home in the old city of Ahmedabad had been burnt a good 5-6 times over the years. Coming back to my immediate family, in 1992 our neighbours still stood by us but some people in the adjoining neighbourhood had noticed that we were Muslim and began threatening my parents to leave the place. They would wait outside our gate to threaten us when we passed. The builder of our Apartment - Kiran bhai stood by us and told us “Don’t you worry, I will deal with them”. But things kept building up. A few days later, when my father was driving his car, he was brought to a standstill thanks to a huge jam. It turned out that some BJP/VHP workers had stopped all cars and were climbing on the windshield of each to paint a Swastik. He was obviously shit scared but he stayed calm, waited for his turn to arrive, quietly got the swastik painted on his car too and then sped away like a madman.
On another scary night when rumours were growing of more riots brewing across Ahmedabad, we ran away to a family friend’s place. He taught at IIM Ahmedabad and my parents must’ve thought his on-campus-home would be a good place to hide at. Somewhere in the midst of our conversation with our hosts, loud noises from what seemed like a large group of people started coming from a distance. My parents were certain that a mob had entered IIM-A, maybe they’d heard about us hiding there. Our hosts too were obviously scared and the predicament we had put them in further troubled my parents. Then our host got an idea and said “Let me dial the watchman at the gate and ask where the mob has reached”. When he called, the watchman told him that the noise was from a Basketball match that was going on in the IIMA Campus.
Eventually things took a decisive turn. When we returned home one night, there was a paper stuck on our door, which said something on the lines of: “Last warning! Leave or else!”. That this had reached our doorstep was the last straw and my parents relented. Still, my mother was adamant that she does not want me to grow up in a ghetto and hence we moved to another mainstream locality, near the famed NID this time. Our lane was a mix of Hindus and Muslims at the time. One of the first neighbours we befriended was a lovely inter-religious couple - Indian Architects who studied in Paris. Their home in a similar Hindu-majority locality had just been attacked and they too had fled and come to this new place.
Although I was just four at the time, all these things made me further aware of Religion as a concept. As I grew up, often I was asked after a first introduction: Arastu??? Are you Parsi? First, I used to say “No, I’m Muslim”. As I grew up further, I would often lie: “Yes, I’m Parsi”. Sometimes I would say: “No no no no, I am Hindu!”. A few times when I dared to let it out: “No, I am Muslim”, I’d generally get a second response: “Oh! You don’t look Muslim”. Sometimes there would be no response but just a weird look on their face.
But regardless of whatever I said, I never felt as if I belonged to any religion. My family didn’t pray, we didn’t fast. The only time I would go to a mosque would be when my father used to take me on Eid mornings and I’d look around and rise, kneel and appear to murmur copying whatever others around me did. Post 1992, in the new Society we had moved to, gradually all Hindus moved out and it became a Muslim-only lane. So all of the boys used to gather, pray, fast and stand outside the mosque. But never me. They’d bully me from time to time, although my father’s hostility to everyone also contributed to that. I remember being bullied even for things such as wearing shorts! “Maulana says we shouldn’t wear shorts”, they’d say. “Maulana says we shouldn’t watch TV”. Sometimes when the Maulana from the nearby Madrasa used to drive by on his bicycle, they’d abandon the cricket match we were playing and hide inside the car parking waiting for the Maulana to pass. I’d be the only one still standing there wondering what just happened! We had two lovely dogs for a while and multiple complaints were made since dogs and their drool are considered unholy in Islam. I remember being called a ‘Kaafir’ and much more multiple times while growing up. My relationship with religion then could best be described as ‘indifferent’.
I remember two more instances during that period. One was when we had made a rare visit to one of our Muslim neighbour’s home and their daughter asked me to confirm the rumours she’d heard: “Tum namaz nahi padte?”, I said “Nahi”, she went on “Tumhe pata hai na ke 2 Jumme (Friday) tak namaz na pade toh Musalman nahi rehte”. My usually ultra-aggressive father too stunningly remained shut and just made an awkward face. 'Namaz nahi padhoge toh yeh hoga, aisi saza milegi, waisa gunaah chadega' - Have heard this umpteen times, yearned for someone to tell me what good it will do or at least expected them to tell me to pray out of gratitude and not fear but no one ever did, not one time. The second instance was when I got into a fight with a classmate from School over something on our Football ground. He came, pushed me to the ground and yelled: “Saale miye, ghar jala dunga tera”. I remember my first reaction to that being: ‘Shit, now the others too know I’m Muslim’. That fact had been considerably concealed otherwise because my name seemed secular (deliberately so, my mum had insisted I have that kind of a name) and my appearance or accent didn’t betray signs matching any stereotype people had in their heads either.
I don't remember seeing a Muslim girl in my lane after the age of around 10-12. They were either in burkhas or just indoors. I saw some of them the only time in their own weddings but there too, almost always, their faces and heads would be hidden. I remember another instance from this time. I have addressed my mother as "Mumma" my entire life, at times that "Mumma" would get abbreviated to "Mu" pronounced as "Mo" of "Mother". My school auto had come to pick me and as I came out, my mom waved goodbye and I said "Bye mu". A Muslim auto-mate laughed: "Yeh toh Hinduyo ki tarah mummy ko 'Maa' bolta hai!".
Then around 1998, I remember that one day when I heard that my best friend’s parents’ general store had been burnt down. There was no riot in the city, just a minor communal rumour somewhere and just that one shop had been burnt. I remember going to their rival’s store next door to buy something the next day. As I stood there, that shop-owner was speaking to another man and their conversation went on the lines of “You saw what I did!”, “Ya but I gave the Kerosene” came the reply.
Sometime around this, I discovered one day that my father, who had a habit of making powerful acquaintances had been communicating on inland letters with the then RSS chief K. S. Sudarshan. He used to keep some of those letters with him whenever a communal rumour flew around. Those letters would help him escape a potential mob he thought! Sudarshan called us one night for dinner to an RSS headquarter somewhere near Ahmedabad. We were escorted by a car, the time was around 8.30 PM when we reached. I remember walking past a group of about 20-30 stick-wielding men in Khaki chaddis practicing their drills, it was really scary for a child. As we walked in, Sudarshan was seated on a sofa in a reasonably austere room. 3-4 people sat around him. The first question we were asked was: “Aap ka ghar aur office kaha hai?”, my dad replied and two men got up and went to the other room, returning after a while. Till this day, it is my suspicion that none of our properties were ever targetted because of something those men noted down that night.
This became something that possibly helped us just a few years later. It was around 4.30 PM on the 27th of February 2002. I was about to leave for my tuition class when my mother called me from office. “Beta, don’t go, there’s some news of a riot, we too are returning home”. By then, I knew the drill, I cancelled all my plans and just stayed indoors. I remember my parents coming home soon after and us having a very interrupted half-sleep that night. When we woke up the next morning and stepped outside our ground-floor home, I could see thick, black smoke on 2-3 sides. One of those seemed to be from quite close by, could it be my father’s office building we suspected, as that was just at the next crossroads. Soon we heard from neighbours that every single Muslim establishment in that building had been burnt down except my father’s office. Maybe it was the note those two men made that night that helped, maybe it wasn’t.
The local TV Cable channels were playing ‘Gadar’ that day. Soon after, neighbours began gathering in the entire lane. Despite being raised by an abusive father, the tension I felt at that moment as a fourteen year old was new to me. I was scared for my life and that was because some people suddenly wanted to kill everyone who had the name I was born with! People around me were talking in a language I didn’t understand. There were talks about where we could run, who lived in what direction, people from what religion stayed in which neighbouring lanes. I had never felt more aware of my surroundings! Women and children were asked to go to the terraces to prepare kerosene bottles and throw them in case a mob attacked. Some of the more enterprising men said they will stand guard on both sides of our lane. "Mob aa bhi gaya toh yeh aadmi kya kar lene waala hai!" was the hushed response to that offer!
I remember my father trying to be brave and walking to one end of the lane that evening. He returned soon after and said he saw the now slain BJP Leader Haren Pandya leading a mob that was gathering at the crossroads just outside. It was many years later when my father happened to meet Mr Pandya when he told him: “Had I not been there that evening, your lane would have been burnt, I was trying to pacify the mob and steer them away”. But seeing that mob then obviously scared my father. In the meantime, my mother tried calling one family friend - A senior policeman. Always in the past, when we had called him in similar situations, he had immediately gotten a police point set up just outside. This time, to my mother’s astonishment, he replied: “Sorry, this time there’s nothing I can do”. My mother knew right then, this was different! After 10 years, it was now time for us to run again.
That same inter-religious couple who were our first friends in the whole lane approached us saying that one of their friends leads the Police Academy, lives in the Muslim ghetto of Juhapura in Ahmedabad and has offered to host us in his farmhouse. Then we tried asking some families in our lane if they wanted to join because some space could have been arranged for them too. All of them said ‘No’. Some said they were worried about the black money, jewellery etc in their homes, some said they didn't want to run, some just didn't like my father. The police academy chief was smart, he made the watchmen outside his home wear police clothes and drive down to our home in his police car. We then rode in our car escorted by them and left our home yet again. I remember seeing this burning flame in a provision store owned by a Muslim uncle right outside our lane. I also remember seeing 2-3 mobs of 4-5 men on our way, all had trishuls in their hands, all wore saffron headbands. Suddenly this mystical area of ‘Juhapura’ seemed to be a saviour.
I had never visited this area ever before. As we entered Juhapura, I remember someone in the car saying “Yeh border hai, hum aa gaye Juhapura”. The relief I felt entering a place I’d never been to still remains fresh in my mind.
I remember the next few nights. We stayed awake late into the night sitting on our host’s porch. We could see burning yellow lights (maybe flames) and hear loud noises and chants of mobs from 2-3 kms away, I discovered new practical laws of Science. The days would be no different. Every now and then black clouds of smoke could be seen in the distance and then it’d be a guessing game: “Woh Cargo Motors jala hoga”, “Woh so-and-so dukaan gayi hogi” and of course the phone too kept ringing. Gujarati newspapers too did their thing. I remember one popular Gujarati daily having a photo of a terrace taken from many terraces away with what seemed to be the vague figure of a man wearing something white having something in his hand and the following (translated) headline on their front page: “Who is this gun wielding Muslim?”. We returned to our home after a week or so, I was about to enter our door when one of our next-door neighbours saw us and screamed aloud: “Lo bhagode aa gaye vapas” (‘See, those who ran have returned’).
There had been no damage done to our lane but a few homes had been vandalized in the vicinity. One of them belonged to a school friend and classmate of mine, “One of the neighbours took our TV”, he told me much later. A few days after returning, I remember my mother speaking to a family-friend from our previous home - the one we had fled in 1992. She said they were so scared for their lives and even stopped going for their morning walks because they heard strong rumours of trucks full of Muslims coming to burn them from Juhapura. I think I almost laughed. I also remember how one night, many months later, when my father and I opened the door to the room where my mother was sleeping, she woke up startled, stood up and started howling at the top of her voice. She thought we were rioters who came to kill her. After pacifying her then, we eventually laughed it off over the years.
Two memories stand out additionally from this time. It was somewhere in March 2002 I think. We barely left home and everything seemed gloomy all the time. I got a call from a school classmate of mine inviting me to his birthday party. I couldn't understand his frame of mind and I think he couldn't understand mine. The second memory relates to yet another major change that happened in my life. My parents didn't feel comfortable sending me to my beloved School anymore as it was in a Hindu area. Remember this was March, final exam time was close and I was in my 9th grade. My father had a few calls with my school administration, they understood and gave me a promotion that year. For the next academic year, I was moved to another Jesuit school in the old city that had a healthy Muslim population. I have been asked several times why I made this strange move since the school I left was the one everyone wanted to go to, I have often cooked different stories up each time.
Soon after, my parents began working at riot relief camps. I remember my mother going to those camps quite often. I had been once, some NGO was getting kids there to draw. I remember this one girl having drawn a red haired monster. Soon my dad revived his old NGO and took it up full-time with my mother. I remember this one survey my father got conducted with some pedestrians around Ahmedabad. One of the questions was: “What do you think of Juhapura?" (the same area we had escaped to). Some of the answers were: “It’s mini-Pakistan” to “There is a helipad there where helicopters from Pakistan bring missiles for war with India”. I also remember us stumbling upon these pamphlets from somewhere. They claimed to be published by the VHP/Bajrang Dal and their text in Gujarati read something on the lines of: "These Muslim boys are very handsome and they fool and take away our Hindu girls later converting and marrying them. Let us open Gyms and beauty centers in Hindu areas too so that our boys too become handsome."
Life moved on. Social activists began coming home, some film folk came too, there was lots of activity. An year later, mom and I finally left my father. Much later I discovered what had triggered that high a sense of empowerment and confidence within her after having been trodden upon for so long. She told me that in one of her visits to the relief camps, a woman came up to her and began howling: “Aap educated Muslim aurat hai, aap hamari haalat dekho, aap hamari madad nahi karenge toh kaun karega!”.
That moment, she was liberated! The pain of 2002, the pain of that woman gave her a strange sense of empowerment. She realized that she did not need to bear anything, her pain wasn't the largest, she could be free, she could empower others too, she could still have a happy life!
Eventually she joined an iNGO and soon started the Bharatiya Muslim Mahila Andolan (Some of you may know the name from the recent Haji Ali and Triple Talaq cases). I was fifteen when we left my father. Life became shockingly kind to me ever since I got out from those clutches. It was truly beautiful, I wasn’t good-for-nothing as I had been made to believe, I had skills too, I was liked too. After this ordeal, a lot of acquaintances too opened up to me on their respective domestic issues, I realized I wasn’t alone. After a period of selfish enjoyment to satiate my sense of being deprived, I became really passionate about empowering young people and started a non-profit. We worked for 6 years with about 6000 College youth educating them about issues such as Communalism, Gender, citizenship, even happiness.
I remember this one time when we took a group of Hindu youth from a mainstream College to Juhapura for an interaction with about 20 local girls from there. On the eve of our meeting, a lot of their parents warned them: “Are you sure you need to go?”, “Be careful, very bad people stay there” and so on. Most of them still came, we still went. That interaction was amongst the most beautiful moments I have ever experienced. These folks connected with those girls on so many levels. They were laughing, sharing anecdotes. Those girls said how they have never gone out of Juhapura, these youngsters shared how their problems seemed so much like their own. As we left, they hugged and invited each other to their respective social functions. The walls had been broken, at least for those 10-15 people we had taken that evening. I remember this other time when I took the same group to visit the worst-hit Naroda Patiya riot-victims. Every single victim, without exception, said: “Hindus aren’t the problem. There are good and bad people amongst both. This was the work of politics and politicians”.
On the opposite end, I remember this time when my grandfather came home one evening. Although he once prided himself on being irreligious, by this age he had a long beard and was always in a traditional white kurta-pyjama. He told my mother: “Beta yeh NGO ka kaam toh thik hai par Arastu ko bol thoda deen (religion) ka bhi kaam karey”. My mum replied: “Papa, aap ne jitna religion ka kaam apni zindagi mein kiya hai, us se zyada isne itni umar mein is NGO se kar liya hai”. I also remember how members of the Tablighi Jamaat would come to my home sometimes. Their job was to propagate Islam further and despite knowing I have never once prayed, fasted or gone to the neighbourhood mosque, they kept coming trying to patronize me into coming to the mosque. I remember one particular line said by an elite member of their group: “Aaj kal Musalman bachho ka dhyan bohot zyada Science aur Technology pe aa gaya hai. Woh sab toh theek hai par deen (religion) pe dhyan do pehle”.
As time passed, my mother finally met a kind, loving man and they got married. He happened to be a Brahmin Hindu. Interestingly, he devours Chicken and my mother loves Dosa. On my work front, things were moving at a decent pace. I was selected as Indian delegate to a Workshop in Bangkok, that was my first international trip. I remember this one time when I was walking through a flea-market and all of a sudden this cart full of hanging ducks and pigs came in front of me! I felt gross. That entire trip remained a struggle in terms of food. A fierce non-vegetarian back home, I struggled to find simple chicken to eat as there were all other kinds of animals there I found creepy. That moment, the whole Veg/non-veg debate back home, especially the religious flavour it is given in Gujarat, took a whole new turn in my head. It has nothing to do with religion or right or wrong I realized, it's just habit!
Soon after, the Public Affairs Unit of the American Embassy backed the NGO I was leading. Somewhere down the line they selected me for their International Visitor Leadership Program and sent me for a trip to the US. We were meeting with Senators and people from the UN and US Govt, we met iNGOs and more. Towards the end of the trip, I discovered that the introduction page that had been given to all the guests listed me as a “2002 riot survivor who was working with Muslim Youth on preventing them getting radicalized”. Everyone was nice to me, I was the star! It was ‘positive discrimination’. But that introduction couldn’t be further away from the truth, I was not a ‘riot survivor’, there were people who had lost people and property of their own, I hadn’t. And I wasn’t working with ‘Muslim Youth on preventing them getting radicalized’. I was in fact going to Colleges trying to educate Hindu Youth on communalism and more. I remember telling an American friend: “I don’t think I have been made to feel as Muslim in India as I have in America”. Towards the end of my trip, I remember calling my mother from America one night to tell her: “Mum I’m done, I’m leaving the non-profit world”, “Whatever you feel is best Beta!” she replied.
Moving on, I remember one thing an ex of mine used to tell me: “Tu Muslim nahi hai! Please! Maine keh diya bas!”. It made her more comfortable to think of me that way. Romantic relationships have started for me only after lengthy discussions on my religion, some didn't start at all because of the same and I am also aware that further intense struggles await me. I have also often been told “…par tu waisa nahi hai” after a barrage of insults about Muslims. I remember a friend of my girlfriend’s asking her during the planning of an outstation trip: “Yaar, can we go with a Muslim!”. I also remember that time when I was at an event in a College when students are supposed to be dressed by themes. I was wearing a turquoise Kurta and blue Jeans and this one student came up to me and asked: "Tumhare group ki theme Al-Qaeda hai kya? Kurta pehena hai!!!". To this day, I feel uncomfortable wearing a Kurta!
By this time in my life, I knew I was an atheist. Fiercely and irrevocably an atheist. I remember being on a trekking camp in Manali when some co-travellers asked me “Aap ka kya religion hai bhaiya?”, I said “Guess”. They tried everything from Hindu, Muslim, Christian, Sikh, Parsi, Buddhist, even 'Indian' and 'Human' but they couldn’t guess ‘Atheist’. I let it remain that way. I distinctly remember what one of them did when we returned to Ahmedabad. We got off the bus and were waiting for parents to come and pick everyone up. A boy kept nagging me: “Bhaiya, bolo na, kya religion hai aap ka?”, I kept playing around, avoiding. Soon after, his dad arrived. As he sat behind his father on his scooter and the scooter sped away, the boy turned around and screamed one last time: “BHAIYAAAA BOLO NAA KYA ANSWER HAIIII?????”.
Over the years, people in my family married Hindus, Christians, even a Dalit. I remember wearing a Sikh kada on my wrist out of some fascination I had once. I have kept a tiny Buddha statue in my pocket at times. There are idols of Hindu gods in my home that were gifted to me, there are gorgeous Madhubani artworks of Hindu lords we have, there is also a stunningly beautiful Janamaz (on which Muslims offer Namaz) in my home. I have been to many more temples in my life than to mosques, simply by not saying 'No' each time I've been on a tourist visit to a new place. Have accompanied people to temples and mosques when they asked me to, they would feel good they said and I didn’t mind!
Later, I started-up in 2012. I was the only founder out of the 3 co-founders who couldn't have his name on the office lease agreement, we wouldn’t have been allowed to get that place if I did. To this day, a lot of my Hindu friends in Ahmedabad have no clue about this long-lasting, cemented phenomenon and their shock never ceases to amaze me. Most 20 odd year olds today in at least Ahmedabad have hardly ever interacted with Muslims, because after 1992 and then 2002, most of the ghettoization is complete. Muslims escaped or were forced to leave to live only with Muslims and Hindus moved out to live only with Hindus. Pull up a map of Ahmedabad and I can show you exactly who lives where and there won't be more than a few countable exceptions. And not just Ahmedabad, my cousin in Bombay was made a product for TV debates on the one hand and right-wing trolling on the other when she expressed how it's been tough for her to get a home because of her religion.
I also remember the time when one of my co-founders was warned by friends: “Be careful, you are about to get into business with a Miyabhai”. After 9/11, plus lots of global terror attacks over the years and now Trump, I am sometimes told by friends "Hey you have sometimes wanted to move to Silicon Valley, right? Do you think you will be allowed to now?". Have had several debates with Muslim acquaintances online and offline about how killing innocents in the name of religion is plainly wrong and is also harming Islam itself! 'Islam isn't flawed, some of its practitioners are' has been a common answer. On a political note, "Congress or BJP?" has often been a question put up to me with a visible expectation of me saying the former. To this, a line I read somewhere on Facebook sums it up best: "Main Musalman hu. Main marna nahi chahta. Is liye filhaal main corruption se kaam chala lunga".
After 2002, the Gaurav Yatras and more, a lot more got thrown my way but now it is made to seem as if it never happened. I remember this conversation a Gujarati Hindu gentleman was having with a curious non-Gujarati traveller in a train compartment I was sharing back in 2003. "It was necessary to teach a lesson to these Muslims. They used to kill our Cows, they used to convert our daughters but now they are scared. Haan yeh aurato aur bachho ke saath thoda zyada ho gaya par overall theek hi hua." When the other gentleman seemed to disagree and then went to the washroom, this guy told the others: "Lagta hai Muslim hai!".
Somewhere around last year, the Triple Talaq struggle my mother and her courageous colleagues were fighting for over 10 years picked up steam. Their interactions with tens of thousands of Muslim women across the Country had convinced them of the damage being propagated to women in the name of religion. That even the Quran - the holy book they all consider themselves reverent to, had no mention of Triple Talaq added further fervour to the fight.
In response, hundreds of Muslim men, even some women would attack my mother and her colleagues at events, meetings, on TV debates. WhatsApp messages were broadcasted by the thousands about not just her but about her "atheist son and Hindu husband". Somewhere along the way Prime Minister Modi and the ruling BJP climbed onto the Triple Talaq bandwagon. Now those Muslims who felt threatened by my mother and her colleagues got a new weapon to target her with: “RSS Agent”. Life took a full turn, made a complete circle! And all of a sudden the same people we felt threatened by all our lives were being accused of being her friends and backers. Soon the political sloganeering and posturing died down but her struggle, their struggle continues and will keep doing so. Before writing this post, I called her to ask: "Mumma, if I write a post about my relationship with religion, can it harm you or your work?". "Your thoughts are your own and they should absolutely be shared, fiercely and openly, don't you ever worry" she replied instantaneously. The day I decided to drop my father's secular-sounding surname and use my mother's first name as my last name, I knew my identity shall become a lot more visible but it is too small a price to pay for the respect I want to give to her.
My latest tryst with religion was when I went to the #NotInMyName protest at Jantar Mantar just a few days back with my new employers/friends. Several innocent people had been lynched in the name of religion, this time the reason used was ‘Beef’. And then just a few days later, the terrorist attacks on innocent Hindu pilgrims on their way to Amarnath occurred and I remember the same old, familiar feeling coming back yet again!
Who am I fighting, who do I hate, they’re all the same regardless of their name or appearance, who is mine and who is the other, what is the solution, is there even one, is one religion the problem, are all religions the problem, is religion itself the problem, if religion didn’t exist wouldn’t the perpetrators just create something else to use!
Who do I belong to, do I belong to anyone, Who am I? But interestingly, the answer to these questions have been the clearest out of all the above. The others absolutely evade me.
Most of my good friends today are atheist or irreligious, most of them are scarred, most of them have stories of their own. I remain an observer to religion and this is an account of what all it has done to me so far! Let’s see what more you have to offer, dear Religion!
Courtesy: Arastu Zakia
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