|12th August 1999 - Page 2|
As Nehru and Mohammed Ali Jinnah haggled with Lord Mountbatton for villages, divisions and talukas, Radcliff drew the line .The line cut someones house someones heart and someones look
Mohammed Yousuf Afghani a Shia youth of Zafarbad (now in Pakistan) folded his prayer mat and stood up facing the west. He did not see the local mosque, nor its white dome. All he saw were Ahmediyas everywhere. On the minarets, on the terrace, on the dome.
Mohammed Yousuf Afghhanis blood boiled, "Haramke kutton .." he muttered under his breath. He gathered his brothers and walked out onto the street.
The Ahmediyas leader Rashid Mushamil let out a blood curling cry, "Kat dalo Kafiron ko". Afghanis face bore an outward calm. He remained standing and dug his staff on the ground.
As four Ahmediyas advanced towards Afghani, a melodious song floated into the air.
"Aman ke khatir, ho ja shaheed."
"Yaara no mare ke kyon ho na khatm."
An amazingly beautiful woman on the west side terrace of the mosque appeared. The sheer resonance of her melody froze everyone. Not a soul blinked, not a person breathed
Zafarabad was put in the Pakistani district of Akhnoor, dominated by Ahmadiyas.
A doctor tells a rich old man the he needs a new heart. The old man tells the doctor to
search the world for the best available. A few days later the docotr calls the old man and
says he has found three hearts but they are all very expensive. The old man tells him to
go on. The first one belonged to a marathon runner, who never smoked, ate only the most
healthy foods, was in peak condition when he was hit by a bus. But it costs $10,000!
The Shias were outnumbered ten to one. Radcliff has done his job. Nehru and Mohammed Ali Jinnah had had their pie. But what of the Shias?
As the womans melody ended Rashid Mushamil dropped his sword. So did three hundred other Ahamadiyas. Afghani embraced Rashid Mushamil, "Khuda ne who hoor ko bheja tha! (God sent that fairy like creature), Rashid Mohaamed remarked.
The woman, still standing on the terrace fixed her gaze on the two. Afghani saw light. Light of knowledge, light of harmony He saw peace and serenity of a hundred oceans in her eyes.
"Humein baksh do , hamein baksh do", cried out Afghani. Rashid Mushamil bowed his head. The four hundred odd gathering watched with stupefaction, as years of bad blood were wiped out by look.
As Rashid Mushamil looked up the terrace only had a pair of doves. Doves in summer!!!
The Last look had something magical; something enigmatic, something so pure. One cannot describe it in words.
Rashid Mushamil and Mohammed Yousuf Afghani are now old, very old, but they cannot forget The Last Look. They just say, when asked, "Khuda Janta Hai!"
Sainton Basu, XII-B
off the web
The old man waving off the last part about the cost asks the doctor to tell him about the second donor. 'This one belonged to a long-distance swimmer. Drowned, poor chap. That heart will set you back $150,000!' 'Okay', said the old man, 'what about the hird?' 'This one belonged to a 58-year old man, weighed over 300 pounds, drank like a fish... this heart is going for $500,000." "What?", the old man exclaimed, 'why so expensive?' 'Well, this heart belonged to a lawyer. It wasn't used much.'
Fortitude completes the presence of a man. It's the one quality that sets him apart. It makes him the leader leaving the audience to emulate him as their idol.
His doctors told him he'd never talk. His mother said he would. he chose to believe her.
Being the tenth out of fifteen children he had been a premature and frail baby. His chances for survival were dubious. But he had experienced his first victory.
Time flew and he took the dark turn around sharp corners; and he realised that life goes beyond the sweet to the bitter. But he led over them with an elegant and envied grace.
At the age of four he pronounced his first word, which put all medical knowledge on a run for its money.
When he was eight, he decided he wanted to be a singer. So he enrolled himself in a music class; only to become an out cast. But the debacle had not loosened his spirit. He had not learned how to lose because his pillar of support had become a winner.
She sat with him till the hours dwindled and interchanged between the "darkness" and the light. He soon mastered the art of lip-reading and his words dropped out like pearls. Seeing his mother's light of hope, he pronounced each word to its perfection. At the age of thirteen he entered a music competition in school, where his arrival was met with laughter. But, fate twisted itself and he won the first prize to a standing ovation. And soon after that he won every other competition he contested. Later on came his crowning achievement - a Grammy Award. A revolution in the making. aboy who could "never talk" had become the finest singer in the world.
They said he'd never talk. You may choose to call it a medical wonder. But i choose to call it courage.
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