Asalamu alaikum wa rahmatu Allah wa barakatuh
I live in Mumbai,India. 7 years back, march 2002, after the anti muslim riots in gujarat state, my abbau was falsily accused of being a terrorist & arrested. The cops then agrees to release my abbu from jail on the condition that my ammi (mother) & aapa(elder sister) have sex with some politicians & government officers. I was just 14 at that time but I cannot forget the day 5 hindu men entered our home at midnight & took my ammi & aapa to the bedroom. I was too young to understand what was happening, but when i heard my ammi & aapa moaning loudly i became curious & quietly entered the bedroom. What i saw then is still embedded in my mind as if it was just yesterday. The 5 men raped them for nearly 3 hours before they left.
But things did not end there. This continued for 15 days & each day different men would come. Finally they let my abbu go without charge. But things did not stop here, the cops made sure our hindu neighbors know of the sexual conquest the cops had with our family ladies. Then hindu men from our neighborhood started to harass my ammi & aapa. Since my abbu didn’t know of the agreement my ammi made with the cops, she couldn’t complain to him, also she feared the cops might be helping our neighbors.
My ammi was 35 years old at the time & my aapa just 17, probably because of their young age and their lack of worldly knowledge, they succumbed to the evil plans of the kafirs. From the year 2002 to 2007 I was but a mute spectator to the sexual perversion & orgies that continued in our home. Finally I asked my father to move to a muslim dominated locality from the hindu majority area we were living in. It was only then that this bad dream came to an end. My abbu still doesn’t know what went on behind his back & I still cannot come to terms with what i have been seeing all these years. may allah guide me to the right path.
There are countless stories such as this one from Bosnia, Kashmir, Chechnya and elsewhere.
“And what is the matter with you that you fight not in the cause of Allah and for the oppressed among men, women, and children who say, “O Lord, take us out of this city of oppressive people and appoint for us from Yourself a protector and appoint for us from Yourself a helper”?” [al-Nisa 75]
Punshment of the Grave
Monday, May 18, 2009
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
The story of the rose sent to the caliph Harun Rashid
There is a story that Charlemagne sent a most perfect rose as a gift to the caliph Harun Rashid.
He gave it to his gardener and told him to plant it with great care and as soon as the first rose came from it to bring it to him. The gardener carefully planted the rose in a beautiful part of the garden.
The next day a crow came and ate the rose. Trembling, the gardener told the news to Harun Rashid. He told the gardener not to worry for the punishment of the crow will be the same as that of the rose.
A few days later a snake came upon the crow and killed him. The gardener told the news to the caliph who again told him that the fate of the snake will be the same as the crow.
The next day the gardener was working in the garden when he spotted the snake. He picked up an axe and killed the snake. The caliph told him that his fate would be the same.
As it happened the gardener did something wrong and was thrown in jail. The day he was to be hanged he requested to see Harun Rashid.
He reminded the caliph of the rose, the crow and the snake and said that if the caliph would show forgiveness toward him, then he would save himself from a like fate.
He gave it to his gardener and told him to plant it with great care and as soon as the first rose came from it to bring it to him. The gardener carefully planted the rose in a beautiful part of the garden.
The next day a crow came and ate the rose. Trembling, the gardener told the news to Harun Rashid. He told the gardener not to worry for the punishment of the crow will be the same as that of the rose.
A few days later a snake came upon the crow and killed him. The gardener told the news to the caliph who again told him that the fate of the snake will be the same as the crow.
The next day the gardener was working in the garden when he spotted the snake. He picked up an axe and killed the snake. The caliph told him that his fate would be the same.
As it happened the gardener did something wrong and was thrown in jail. The day he was to be hanged he requested to see Harun Rashid.
He reminded the caliph of the rose, the crow and the snake and said that if the caliph would show forgiveness toward him, then he would save himself from a like fate.
The Shepherd
Once upon a time, there lived in Basra an old man whose only occupation was caring for and loving his only son who was a handsome young man. The old man invested all his money on his son's education. The young man went away for a few years and acquired an education at a well known university under the great scholars of that age.
The day had arrived for the son to return from his studies and the old man waited at the door for his son. When the son came and met his father, the old man looked into his eyes and felt great disappointment. "What have you learnt my son?" he asked, "I have learnt everything there was to be learnt, father", he said. "But have you learnt what cannot be taught?" asked the father. "Go, my son and learn what cannot be taught", said the old man.
The young man went back to his master and asked him to teach him what cannot be taught.
"Go away to the mountains with these four hundred sheep and come back when they are one thousand", said the master.
The young man went to the mountains and became a shepherd. There for the first time he encountered a silence. He had no one to talk to. The sheep did not understand his language. In his desperation, he would talk to them but they would look back at him as if to say he was stupid. Slowly but surely he began to forget all his worldly knowledge, his ego, his pride and he became quiet like the sheep and great wisdom and humility came to him.
At the end of two years when the number of sheep had grown to one thousand, he returned to his master and fell on his feet. "Now you have learnt what cannot be taught," said the master.
NB. It is interesting to note that the Nabis of Allah Taala (Alayhimus salaam) at some time in their lives, generally before Nubuwwat, tended to sheep, and other such animals.
The day had arrived for the son to return from his studies and the old man waited at the door for his son. When the son came and met his father, the old man looked into his eyes and felt great disappointment. "What have you learnt my son?" he asked, "I have learnt everything there was to be learnt, father", he said. "But have you learnt what cannot be taught?" asked the father. "Go, my son and learn what cannot be taught", said the old man.
The young man went back to his master and asked him to teach him what cannot be taught.
"Go away to the mountains with these four hundred sheep and come back when they are one thousand", said the master.
The young man went to the mountains and became a shepherd. There for the first time he encountered a silence. He had no one to talk to. The sheep did not understand his language. In his desperation, he would talk to them but they would look back at him as if to say he was stupid. Slowly but surely he began to forget all his worldly knowledge, his ego, his pride and he became quiet like the sheep and great wisdom and humility came to him.
At the end of two years when the number of sheep had grown to one thousand, he returned to his master and fell on his feet. "Now you have learnt what cannot be taught," said the master.
NB. It is interesting to note that the Nabis of Allah Taala (Alayhimus salaam) at some time in their lives, generally before Nubuwwat, tended to sheep, and other such animals.
The Atheist Teacher
A young woman teacher with obvious liberal tendencies explains to her class of small children that she is an atheist. She asks her class if they're atheists too. Not really knowing what atheism is but wanting to be like their teacher, their hands explode into the air like fleshy fireworks. There is, however, one exception. A beautiful girl named Zainab has not gone along with the crowd. The teacher asks her why she has decided to be different. "Because I'm not an atheist."
Then, asks the teacher, "What are you?" "I'm a Muslim." The teacher is a little perturbed now, her face slightly red. She asks Zainab why she is a Muslim. "Well, I was brought up knowing and loving God. My mom is a Muslim, and my dad is a Muslim, so I am a Muslim."
The teacher is now angry. "That's no reason," she says loudly, "what if your mom was a moron,and your dad was a moron, - what would you be then?" She paused, and smiled. "Then," says Zainab, "I'd be an atheist."
Then, asks the teacher, "What are you?" "I'm a Muslim." The teacher is a little perturbed now, her face slightly red. She asks Zainab why she is a Muslim. "Well, I was brought up knowing and loving God. My mom is a Muslim, and my dad is a Muslim, so I am a Muslim."
The teacher is now angry. "That's no reason," she says loudly, "what if your mom was a moron,and your dad was a moron, - what would you be then?" She paused, and smiled. "Then," says Zainab, "I'd be an atheist."
Visiting the Dead
Anas b. Malik reported that Allah’s Messenger (may peace be upon him) said:
When the dead body. is placed in the grave, he listens to the sound of the shoes (as his friends and relatives return after burying him).
{Book 040, Chapter 17, Number 6863 : Sahih Muslim}
When the dead body. is placed in the grave, he listens to the sound of the shoes (as his friends and relatives return after burying him).
{Book 040, Chapter 17, Number 6863 : Sahih Muslim}
Funny Joke about Imam
Here is the story of an Imam who got up after Friday prayers and announced to the people:"I have good news and bad news. The good news is, we have enough money to pay for our new building program. The bad news is, it's still out there in your pockets."
Funny Joke
A man is taking a walk in Central park in New York. Suddenly he sees a little girl being attacked by a pit bull dog . He runs over and starts fighting with the dog. He succeeds in killing the dog and saving the girl's life. A policeman who was watching the scene walks over and says: "You are a hero, tomorrow you can read it in all the newspapers: "Brave New Yorker saves the life of little girl" The man says: - "But I am not a New Yorker!" "Oh ,then it will say in newspapers in the morning: 'Brave American saves life of little girl'" – the policeman answers. "But I am not an American!" – says the man. "Oh, what are you then? " The man says: - "I am a Saudi !" The next day the newspapers says: "Islamic extremist kills innocent American dog.
The Stranger
"A few months before I was born, my dad met a stranger who was new to our small Tennessee town. From the beginning, Dad was fascinated with this enchanting newcomer, and soon invited him to live with our family. The stranger was quickly accepted and was around to welcome me into the world a few months later.
As I grew up I never questioned his place in our family. In my young mind, each member had a special niche. My brother, Yusuf, five years my senior,was my example. Samya, my younger sister, gave me an opportunity to play 'big brother' and develop the art of teasing. My parents were complementary instructors-- Mom taught me to love Allah, and Dad taught me to how to obey Him. But the stranger was our storyteller. He could weave the most fascinating tales. Adventures, mysteries and comedies were daily conversations. He could hold our whole family spell-bound for hours each evening. If I wanted to know about politics, history, or science, he knew it.
He knew about the past and seemed to understood the present. The pictures he could draw were so life like that I would often laugh or cry as I watched. He was like a friend to the whole family. He took Dad, Yusuf and me to our first major league baseball game. He was always encouraging us to see the movies and he even made arrangements to introduce us to several famous people.
The stranger was an incessant talker. Dad didn' t seem to mind-but sometimes Mom would quietly get up-- while the rest of us were enthralled with one of his stories of faraway places-- go to her room, read the Qur'aan.
I wonder now if she ever prayed that the stranger would leave. You see, my dad ruled our household with certain moral convictions. But this stranger never felt obligation to honor them. Profanity, for example, was not allowed in our house-- not from us, from our friends, or adults. Our longtime visitor,however, used occasional four letter words that burned my ears and made Dad squirm.. To my knowledge the stranger was never confronted. My dad was a teatotaler who didn't permit alcohol in his home - not even for cooking.
But the stranger felt like we needed exposure and enlightened us to other ways of life. He offered us beer and other alcoholic beverages often.
He made cigarettes look tasty, cigars manly, and pipes distinguished. He talked freely (probably too much too freely) about sex. His comments were sometimes blatant, sometimes suggestive, and generally embarrassing.
I know now that my early concepts of the man-woman relationship were influenced by the stranger.
As I look back, I believe it was Allah's Mercy that the stranger did not influence us more. Time after time he opposed the values of my parents. Yet he was seldom rebuked and never asked to leave. More than thirty years have passed since the stranger moved in with the young family on Morningside Drive.
He is not nearly so intriguing to my Dad as he was in those early years. But if I were to walk into my parents' den today, you would still see him sitting over in a corner, waiting for someone to listen to him talk and watch him draw his pictures.
His name you ask?
We called him TV.
It makes you think, doesn't it...
As I grew up I never questioned his place in our family. In my young mind, each member had a special niche. My brother, Yusuf, five years my senior,was my example. Samya, my younger sister, gave me an opportunity to play 'big brother' and develop the art of teasing. My parents were complementary instructors-- Mom taught me to love Allah, and Dad taught me to how to obey Him. But the stranger was our storyteller. He could weave the most fascinating tales. Adventures, mysteries and comedies were daily conversations. He could hold our whole family spell-bound for hours each evening. If I wanted to know about politics, history, or science, he knew it.
He knew about the past and seemed to understood the present. The pictures he could draw were so life like that I would often laugh or cry as I watched. He was like a friend to the whole family. He took Dad, Yusuf and me to our first major league baseball game. He was always encouraging us to see the movies and he even made arrangements to introduce us to several famous people.
The stranger was an incessant talker. Dad didn' t seem to mind-but sometimes Mom would quietly get up-- while the rest of us were enthralled with one of his stories of faraway places-- go to her room, read the Qur'aan.
I wonder now if she ever prayed that the stranger would leave. You see, my dad ruled our household with certain moral convictions. But this stranger never felt obligation to honor them. Profanity, for example, was not allowed in our house-- not from us, from our friends, or adults. Our longtime visitor,however, used occasional four letter words that burned my ears and made Dad squirm.. To my knowledge the stranger was never confronted. My dad was a teatotaler who didn't permit alcohol in his home - not even for cooking.
But the stranger felt like we needed exposure and enlightened us to other ways of life. He offered us beer and other alcoholic beverages often.
He made cigarettes look tasty, cigars manly, and pipes distinguished. He talked freely (probably too much too freely) about sex. His comments were sometimes blatant, sometimes suggestive, and generally embarrassing.
I know now that my early concepts of the man-woman relationship were influenced by the stranger.
As I look back, I believe it was Allah's Mercy that the stranger did not influence us more. Time after time he opposed the values of my parents. Yet he was seldom rebuked and never asked to leave. More than thirty years have passed since the stranger moved in with the young family on Morningside Drive.
He is not nearly so intriguing to my Dad as he was in those early years. But if I were to walk into my parents' den today, you would still see him sitting over in a corner, waiting for someone to listen to him talk and watch him draw his pictures.
His name you ask?
We called him TV.
It makes you think, doesn't it...
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