Why is Egypt important to United States? The country has been America's closest ally in the Arab world.
For years, Washington has been a big supporter of the Mubarak regime giving it billions of dollars in military and economic aid.The big fear in Washington is that if Mubarak goes, then groups hostile to America like the Muslim Brotherhood could take charge.The Muslim Brotherhood is the biggest opposition and Islamic group in Egypt, their goal is to create a state ruled by sharia law.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Friday, January 28, 2011
Aqa Moula's 100th milad
There hav been many programs lined up to commemorate the D-Day..Apart from this, mumineen hav been doin taabudaat amal with the niyat of tulul umar of Aqa Moula.
We as mumineen are indeed very lucky to witness this event and we should thank Allah for it.
Another interesting fact is that the no.of days from ashura to Aqa Moula's milad is 100..Aqa Moula is the saccha aashiq of Imam Hussain and Imam Hussain na vasila si em dua kariye ke Allah Ta ala Aqa Moula ne hamesha aafiyat na libaas ma baaki raakhe...aameen
Another day in Huzurala's life
Programme for tafreeh to Raichak after seven days of not stepping outside the Burhani Masjid (Kolkata) and six days of work – ‘work’ as in performing the iftetah, rendering bayaan, attending bethak, gracing ziaafats – helicopter flies off at 10.30am from kolkata – the few mumineen relaxing on duty in Raichak stiffen and crane their neck upwards – someone shouts ‘I can hear the helicopter!’ but turns sheepish two seconds later when he realizes that it is the indigenous motor of a passing country boat.
Twelve minutes pass – someone says ‘maybe the pilot is showing huzurala a little of Kolkata’ – 15 minutes pass – then 20 – where can the helicopter have gone? – then 25 – each one is looking at the other with a morse of ‘kai khabar?’ – someone says let us call the helicopter charter company to establish a link with the pilot – that office says we have no link – it is 35 minutes, then 40 minutes, then 50 minutes, then a full hour – a message comes in that the helicopter has returned to where it started off from – Huzurala has returned – the official version is that the pilot couldn’t locate Raichak – couldn’t locate?!!!! each one is repeating shaking his head.
Google maps are scrolled, the coordinates freshly downloaded and transmitted to the copter’s office - mumineen crestfallen – all the hard work of booking out the entire Ganga Kutir resort, getting the precious NOCs for take off and landing all appear to have been wasted (in a sense) - someone is ‘maanoing’ nazrul maqaam – another is saying ‘aama zaroor khair hasey’ – everyone is waiting for a telephone call that huzurala will come, don’t worry – odds are loaded against, though – Shaikh Shabbir Chiba who put this trip together is pressing the blackberry to his ear and shaking his head after every few seconds - volunteers are leaving – the GM of the resort is exiting with his staff – the police chief of the area is leading his contingent off in patrol vans hissing ‘We should sue the pilot!’ – aamil sahib is on the highway – suddenly another call – someone has gone with an araz to Huzurala, so wait.
Then another call – it’s on! – at 96 (or 99 whichever way you look at it) Huzurala will fly a second time in two hours – copter to leave at 130pm – message comes through that the copter has left on schedule – a fire is lit on the banks of the Ganges so that the pilot does not miss Raichak this time – the Ganga Kutir people bring two large flags – someone says get a reflection mirror – 12 minutes up – then 15 minutes – people are relaxed, lightning does not strike the same place twice – then 20 minutes – see the first crease on mumineen foreheads – then 25 minutes – now there is worry – someone has spotted a helicopter 10 kms down the river – simple villagers are waving from the ground indicating with their hands that the pilot needs to move in the other direction and not towards the bay of bengal – Shaikh Shabbir Chiba calls Huzurala’s diwan who is on the flight but obviously there is no network up there.
Then suddenly someone sees a speck and shouts ‘Aavi!’ and it turn out to be only a passing bird – 45 minutes into what would have been a 12 minute flight, a copter comes into view, finally – heck, it is going to the other bank across a large meandering bend and is missing all of us – one could weep – then the copter turns – he is coming our way someone says – and sure it is – flags are being frantically waved – mumineen in white are waving their hands to attract the pilot’s attention – then the copter makes a decisive turn and prepares for descent – mumineen are crying ‘naara-e-takbeer’.
The copter lands, the blades de-accelerate, the copter stills – the pilot emerges, walks round to where the co-pilot would have sat – opens the door from the outside – bends to unbuckle his principal cockpit passenger - a wizened man, with the shawl covering his ears, looks up – mumineen run in with a carpeted wooden stairway – Huzurala emerges – smiles – the more he smiles at each one the more mumena weep – the young GM walks up to Huzurala’s window, which is rolled down for him to speak – “Welcome to Ganga Kutir! I am the GM of this property. Your Holiness, I am told that you will be only staying here for a few hours and returning tonight. We will try everything in our power to request you to not leave. Please stay just one night with us. Just one night. No guest has gone back the same day he has come!”
Huzurala looks up, he smiles through green emerald eyes, extends his hand and tells an awestruck Manish Pandey ‘You have my blessings. Are you from this city?’ and Manish Pandey finds he cannot reply because he is too busy staring in wonder – Huzurala is driven into the adjacent Ganga Kutir property – the seniormost executive is surprised to find a saintly old man extend his (!) hand to greet – most of them can do nothing but gaze and employ a bengali word that they seldom use in life, ‘obaak!’ (dumbstruck).
Huzurala is taken into his bungalow overlooking the majestic sweep of the Ganges – two hours later, he walks down the stairs and is carried on chair to his waiting car – the entourage of 20-odd walks with him - so close you can touch him, but of course nobody will – the 11-year-old who returned from school with a deep gash and had to be stitched and would not be sent to school but would accompany his mother to Raichak would now call his wound a providential act of god - Yvette Bose produces a duck for Huzurala to feed a crumb and he obliges.
Huzurala is driven to a waiting copter – when inside, the door of the aircraft is left open for him to wave to a handful mumineen – he does not just see, wave and thank you very much – he ‘sees’ each one, keeps his benign gaze on that person for a second, as if communicating to the recipient’s inner being, then moves to the next person – one mumena behen calls out ‘Happy journey, Maula’! – it struck me much later that I should have recited lines from Iqbal memorised over as lifetime ‘Tu shaheen hai, parvaaz hai kaam tera, tere saamne aasman aur bhi hai!’ and will live with this regret that I would have got the Dai’s attention for five seconds.
The door closes – the blades stir to life – the copter lifts – a gust fills jhokhaas and shirts so that each one looks twice one’s weight – the copter becomes a speck – one ingenious muminbhai produces a spade and slices away the earth on which a centurion has walked to be used selectively for shifaa across the centuries – I feel like weeping because the copter has gone and then tell myself not to be silly because Huzurala has only gone to Calcutta and I will probably see Him the following morning.
The big question mumineen kept asking is why Huzurala at his age ventured a second time (‘itli mashakkat sukaam?’) – to see Raichak and the Ganges, says one – to enjoy a copter ride over the city, says another – ‘So that the mumin’s heart, who had worked so hard over the week to set all this up, would not be broken’ concludes a third.
And that is the story of life in the day of Syedna Mohammed Burhanuddin Saheb or the other way around, whichever way you like it
Twelve minutes pass – someone says ‘maybe the pilot is showing huzurala a little of Kolkata’ – 15 minutes pass – then 20 – where can the helicopter have gone? – then 25 – each one is looking at the other with a morse of ‘kai khabar?’ – someone says let us call the helicopter charter company to establish a link with the pilot – that office says we have no link – it is 35 minutes, then 40 minutes, then 50 minutes, then a full hour – a message comes in that the helicopter has returned to where it started off from – Huzurala has returned – the official version is that the pilot couldn’t locate Raichak – couldn’t locate?!!!! each one is repeating shaking his head.
Google maps are scrolled, the coordinates freshly downloaded and transmitted to the copter’s office - mumineen crestfallen – all the hard work of booking out the entire Ganga Kutir resort, getting the precious NOCs for take off and landing all appear to have been wasted (in a sense) - someone is ‘maanoing’ nazrul maqaam – another is saying ‘aama zaroor khair hasey’ – everyone is waiting for a telephone call that huzurala will come, don’t worry – odds are loaded against, though – Shaikh Shabbir Chiba who put this trip together is pressing the blackberry to his ear and shaking his head after every few seconds - volunteers are leaving – the GM of the resort is exiting with his staff – the police chief of the area is leading his contingent off in patrol vans hissing ‘We should sue the pilot!’ – aamil sahib is on the highway – suddenly another call – someone has gone with an araz to Huzurala, so wait.
Then another call – it’s on! – at 96 (or 99 whichever way you look at it) Huzurala will fly a second time in two hours – copter to leave at 130pm – message comes through that the copter has left on schedule – a fire is lit on the banks of the Ganges so that the pilot does not miss Raichak this time – the Ganga Kutir people bring two large flags – someone says get a reflection mirror – 12 minutes up – then 15 minutes – people are relaxed, lightning does not strike the same place twice – then 20 minutes – see the first crease on mumineen foreheads – then 25 minutes – now there is worry – someone has spotted a helicopter 10 kms down the river – simple villagers are waving from the ground indicating with their hands that the pilot needs to move in the other direction and not towards the bay of bengal – Shaikh Shabbir Chiba calls Huzurala’s diwan who is on the flight but obviously there is no network up there.
Then suddenly someone sees a speck and shouts ‘Aavi!’ and it turn out to be only a passing bird – 45 minutes into what would have been a 12 minute flight, a copter comes into view, finally – heck, it is going to the other bank across a large meandering bend and is missing all of us – one could weep – then the copter turns – he is coming our way someone says – and sure it is – flags are being frantically waved – mumineen in white are waving their hands to attract the pilot’s attention – then the copter makes a decisive turn and prepares for descent – mumineen are crying ‘naara-e-takbeer’.
The copter lands, the blades de-accelerate, the copter stills – the pilot emerges, walks round to where the co-pilot would have sat – opens the door from the outside – bends to unbuckle his principal cockpit passenger - a wizened man, with the shawl covering his ears, looks up – mumineen run in with a carpeted wooden stairway – Huzurala emerges – smiles – the more he smiles at each one the more mumena weep – the young GM walks up to Huzurala’s window, which is rolled down for him to speak – “Welcome to Ganga Kutir! I am the GM of this property. Your Holiness, I am told that you will be only staying here for a few hours and returning tonight. We will try everything in our power to request you to not leave. Please stay just one night with us. Just one night. No guest has gone back the same day he has come!”
Huzurala looks up, he smiles through green emerald eyes, extends his hand and tells an awestruck Manish Pandey ‘You have my blessings. Are you from this city?’ and Manish Pandey finds he cannot reply because he is too busy staring in wonder – Huzurala is driven into the adjacent Ganga Kutir property – the seniormost executive is surprised to find a saintly old man extend his (!) hand to greet – most of them can do nothing but gaze and employ a bengali word that they seldom use in life, ‘obaak!’ (dumbstruck).
Huzurala is taken into his bungalow overlooking the majestic sweep of the Ganges – two hours later, he walks down the stairs and is carried on chair to his waiting car – the entourage of 20-odd walks with him - so close you can touch him, but of course nobody will – the 11-year-old who returned from school with a deep gash and had to be stitched and would not be sent to school but would accompany his mother to Raichak would now call his wound a providential act of god - Yvette Bose produces a duck for Huzurala to feed a crumb and he obliges.
Huzurala is driven to a waiting copter – when inside, the door of the aircraft is left open for him to wave to a handful mumineen – he does not just see, wave and thank you very much – he ‘sees’ each one, keeps his benign gaze on that person for a second, as if communicating to the recipient’s inner being, then moves to the next person – one mumena behen calls out ‘Happy journey, Maula’! – it struck me much later that I should have recited lines from Iqbal memorised over as lifetime ‘Tu shaheen hai, parvaaz hai kaam tera, tere saamne aasman aur bhi hai!’ and will live with this regret that I would have got the Dai’s attention for five seconds.
The door closes – the blades stir to life – the copter lifts – a gust fills jhokhaas and shirts so that each one looks twice one’s weight – the copter becomes a speck – one ingenious muminbhai produces a spade and slices away the earth on which a centurion has walked to be used selectively for shifaa across the centuries – I feel like weeping because the copter has gone and then tell myself not to be silly because Huzurala has only gone to Calcutta and I will probably see Him the following morning.
The big question mumineen kept asking is why Huzurala at his age ventured a second time (‘itli mashakkat sukaam?’) – to see Raichak and the Ganges, says one – to enjoy a copter ride over the city, says another – ‘So that the mumin’s heart, who had worked so hard over the week to set all this up, would not be broken’ concludes a third.
And that is the story of life in the day of Syedna Mohammed Burhanuddin Saheb or the other way around, whichever way you like it
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