Archive for the ‘Personal’ Category
سنتا ہوں سرنگوں تھے فرشتے میرے حضور
میں جانے اپنی ذات کے کس مرحلے میں تھا
چچی آج ہم سے جدا ہوگئیں – چچی جو میرے لئے اتنی ہی اہم تھیں اور رہیں گی جتنی کے میرے لئے میری اپنی امی … جو مجھہ سے اتنی ہی محبت کرتی تھیں جتنی کے میری امی مجھہ سے کرتی تھیں – ان کا میری ہرکامیابی پرخوشی کا اظہاراورنادانی پرکان کھینچنا میری رہنمائی کا بنیادی عنصررہا- ہمارے گھروں کے بیچ کی دیوارمحض نام کی ہی تھی حقیقت میں تو ہمارے گھروں کے درمیاں کچھ بھی حائل نہ تھا اور نہ ہے – بچپن سے لے کراب تک کے بےشمار واقعات ایسے ہیں کے جو چچی کے تذکرے کے بغیر کبھی مکمل نہیں ہو سکتے – میرا 4 سال کی عمرمیں غسل خانے میں بند ہو جانے پر چچی کا ہتھوڑے سے دروازہ توڑنا ہو یا میری ٹانگوں پر گرم پانی گرنے پر ابلے ہوے آلوؤں کا مساج ہو….مجھے اور شانی (میری چھوٹی بہن) کو قرآن پڑھانا ہو یا اسکول میں صبح کی شفٹ سے دوپہر میں تبادلہ کرانا ہو… کس کس بات کو یاد کیا جائے ؟ کاشف (چچی کے چھوٹے بیٹے) نے بتایا کہ جب ٹی-وی پر انہوں نے مجھے وسیم اکرم کے پروگرام میں جیتتے ہوئے دیکھا تو بے حد خوش ہوئیں، خاص کر جب انہوں نے وسیم اکرم کے سلام کے بعد میرا جواب سنا تو میری تربیت پر، کہ جس میں انکا بہت بڑا حصّہ ہے، فخر سے بولیں کہ “یہ ہوتی ہے تہذیب” – آخر کیوں؟ کیا اگر میری جگہ کوئی اور ہوتا تو بھی وہ یہی کہتیں – نہیں – اس لئے کہ وہ انکا بیٹا نہ ہوتا –
چونکہ چچی ایک زبردست خاتون خانہ، ایک بہت ذمہ دار پڑوسی اور بہت شفیق خاتون تھیں لہذا مجھے یقین ہے کے وہ جنت کہ بہترین مقام پر جگہ پائینگی پھر بھی الله سے دعا ہے وہ انکی ہر مشکل کو آسان کرے اور جنت الفردوس میں جگہ عطا فرمائے اور ہم سب کو انکی جدائی سہنے کی طاقت دے – آمین
This is a story about four people named Everybody, Somebody, Anybody and Nobody.
There was an important job to be done and Everybody was sure that Somebody would do it.
Anybody could have done it, but Nobody did it.
Somebody got angry about that, because it was Everybody‘s job.
Everybody thought Anybody could do it, but Nobody realized that Everybody wouldn’t do it.
It ended up that Everybody blamed Somebody when Nobody did what Anybody could have done.
Moral of the story?
Source : http://www.faizaneislam.org
Tipu Sahib Shaheed, King of Mysore, was a genius rather different in nature from his father, Haidar Ali Khan Sahib. Whereas, according to the British, Haidar’s attitude was frankly secular, and he cared not at all what a man’s religion might be, so long as he were a good soldier, Tipu was before everything, devout.
It has, however been claimed that Haidar was of the Sunni or Orthodox Islamic faith, in which case the difference between them may rather have been that where his religion was of the conventional order, Tipu was a mystic, with a mystic’s fervor.
Tipu Sahib regarded himself as a defender of the faith. More especially, he believed himself to be inspired by the direct tutelage of Ali, the son-in-law of Mohammed (SAAW).
His mother, Fakhr-un-nisa, the beautiful and pious sister of Abdul-ul-Hakim, the Nawab of Kalapa, had been, on the eve of his birth, to visit the ascetic, Tipu Mastan Aulia, to ask for his blessing on her first-born, and some indication concerning his future. That he ascribed some spiritual character to the child appears in that he told the Begum Fakhr-un-nisa she should give it his own name.
Concerning the origin of the name Tipu, there is some controversy, but on the grounds other than linguistic, the thesis which would make it a deviation from the Kanarese word for ‘tiger’ recommends itself.
From the first, Tipu took this beast as his personal symbol, and upon his accession to the throne in 1782, he made it the official emblem of the state of Mysore. The tiger’s head figured as his armorial bearing, and the word ‘sher’ [tiger] or it’s initial letter, appeared stamped, embroidered or engraved upon every article of his use.
Throughout India, he was known as ‘The Tiger of Mysore‘. Even the stripes upon his clothing, and upon the upholstery of his throne and the cushions of his chamber, represented the stripes of the tiger. His throne had eight corners, surmounted by eight tiger heads, and the whole was set as though across the back of a tiger, whose huge gold head projected in front.
Live tigers upon chains guarded the great doors of his palace on the fortified island of Seringapatam, and inside the palace more tigers were kept, some in cages, and some upon chains – and it is said that two of his ministers, having incurred his gross displeasure, were thrown to them alive. The proud words for which he was best known were, ‘Better two days as a tiger, than two hundred years as a sheep’
Tipu Sultan inherited the war with England in an hour when it was going badly. He was unable ever to make up his father’s losses, and in 1792, the eleventh year of his reign, he was obliged to sign a treaty with Britain by which he lost nearly half his dominions.
His dearest ambition, however, was not merely the restoration of the former boundaries of the Sultanate, but nothing less than the total expulsion of the British from India. For its accomplishment, he knew that he must be dependent upon a French alliance, and he was content to bid his time.
His first embassy to France, in 1778, had been disappointing in its results. His delegates had been, indeed, courteously and lavishly entertained by the king, Louis XVI, but had returned without concrete guarantees. Under the growing shadow of popular discontent, Louis hesitated, understandably, in sending to Tipu, arms and supplies which he might need at home.
The French Revolution coming in the same year that Tipu lost half his dominions, was a source of peculiar embarrassment to the Sultan. A monarch himself, profoundly convinced of the divine consecration, inspiration and right of kings, he could not feel sympathy toward a popular government which had arrived by the decapitation of the consecrated head.
Nevertheless, France and Mysore were natural allies. He did nothing precipitate. A little time passed. The Republic, when it took time to considering affairs in the East, expressed itself desirous of maintaining those relations of amity which had always obtained between France and Mysore. Tipu broached the question of a supply of men and arms.
Gradually both began to find their way into the Sultanate. On May 14, 1797, the Tricolor was formally hoisted in the city of Mysore, and Fracois Ripaud proposed a toast to ‘Citizen Tipu !”
The presence of French troops on his soil, though very welcome, was not entirely without embarassment to the Sultan. A devout observer of the prescriptions of the Koran, he had early in his reign issued an edict forbidding the sale and consumption of spirituous liquors in his dominions, and had followed this up by sending his officials out to require from every previous distiller or vendor an engagement to turn to another occupation. To a minister who had represented to him the loss of revenue which must be consequent, he had retorted that ‘a king should be inflexible in his orders, and God had forbidden the use of wine’.
It was not until the news of Lord Nelson’s victory in the Nile reached Calcutta on October 31st, that the Governor-General felt in a position strong enough to reveal to Tipu his knowledge of his relations with the French and evident intent to violate the terms of his treaty of 1792.
On February 3rd, 1799, the Governor-General signified that he now considered England to be at war with Tipu Sultan. In March, Colonel Wellesley was appointed to the command of the British forces serving with the Nizam of Hyderabad; and in the same month, the army marched.
After some manoeuvres and skirmishing, the Sultan found himself obliged to a defensive action, and fell back upon his island fortress of Seringapatam, in the Cauvery river, a few miles to the north of the city of Mysore.
On the evening of May 3rd, British guns breached the ramparts, and at half past one on the following afternoon, General Baird led the forward storming party.
The fighting was fierce. The Sultan himself stood with those who were attempting to hold the breach, firing with his own hand. When it became evident they could not stem the invasion, he turned abruptly, and attempted to force his way through the press on horseback, toward the Zenana. According to Rajah Khan, the only person to have been at his side the whole afternoon, the thought of the ladies of the household had been in his mind since the moment when he realized the fort was going to fall, and he had considered it his duty to put them to the sword with his own hand, lest they be exposed to outrage in the tumult.
The great gateway, when the Sultan and Rajah Khan reached it, presented already a scene of carnage. Trying to push his way through a melee, in which British soldiers and his own were closely mingled, the Sultan was wounded, first in his breast, then in his right side. Rajah Khan, seeing how heavily he was afflicted, cried out to him that he should make his identity known to the British soldiers, who would surely treat his person with respect.
“Are you mad?” shouted Tipu. “Be silent!” Rajah Khan attempted to disengage him from the saddle and they both fell to the earth together. Rajah Khan, wounded in the leg himself, was yet able to drag the Sultan a little to one side, and so prop him up under the relative shelter of a the arch of the great gate. An English soldier, catching sight of the rich gold buckle with which the Sultan’s belt was fastened, stooped and tried to take it off him. Tipu, however, was not dead yet. So many bodies had fallen across his own that he could not get to his feet, being pinned amongst the dead and dying; but he reached out with his hand, laterally, plucked a sword from one of those who had fallen, and struck upwards, slashing the grenadier across the knee. The grenadier, incensed, raised his musket, put it straight to the Sultan’s temple, not knowing who he was, and shot him.
Even in death, wrote one present, he carried such a vivacity of hatred for the English that Arthur Wellesley, standing over him in the flickering torchlight, could not believe him dead till he had felt the heart and pulse.
He was dressed in a white linen jacket, and loose drawers of flowered chintz, with a crimson cloth of silk and cotton round the waist. He was of small stature, a trifle corpulent, very dark of complexion, with aqualine nose, bold eyes and prominent chin. His brows were finely arched, and his hands and feet remarkably small and delicately shaped.
The following day, four companies of Europeans marched with his bier. It was borne by his personal attendants, and accompanied by the Kazi, chanting verses from the Quran. Thousands of the faithful prostrated themselves as the Sultan passed on his last journey through the streets toward Lal Bang, where they laid him with his father; the occasion of the last obsequies being rendered more awful by the bursting of a mighty thunderstorm.
Today, I am leaving to perform Hajj with my wife.
Inshallah, will return back in end December.
Keep me remember in your prayers.
Inshallah, after Hajj will restart the resistance against Liberals & Ahmadi lobbies with new motivation & spirit.
Kashif Hafeez Siddiqui