The unique bond of brotherhood and unity in Jalsa Salana

Jalsa Salana UK is starting soon inshAllah. Ahmadis, whether born or converted, from all over the world, regardless of their age, gender, caste, creed and race are travelling to London to experience this beautiful religious convention. Even non-Ahmadis attend this Jalsa and are always welcomed with open arms and huge smiles. The greatest attraction of all is that they get to see Huzoor (aba) and take Ba'ait on his hand. 

Jalsas are a learning as well as a very emotional experience.  Through the speeches by men and women alike, we learn a lot about our history and the sacrifices that our elders made in the name of religion. We learn about the life of the Holy Prophet (saw), his Khalifas, life of the Promised Messiah (as) and all his khalifas and everyone that has sacrificed his/her life in the name of Islam. We learn a code of conduct, we learn how to deal with life in a way that will make Allah happy with us and us with him. We learn how to do Huqooq Ullah and Huqooq ul Ibad. We get to rekindle our faith and a new fire of devotion starts inside us when attending a Jalsa.

I've attended four Jalsas in my lifetime. Each Jalsa was a different, exciting, and a very emotional experience for me. The best part about the Jalsa, for me at least, (excluding the amazing and highly emotional speeches and nazms) was the unity and brotherhood that you could see all around you. People who barely know each other, would go back home as best friends. People who haven't been talking to each other for years, will not be seen talking to each other amiably in the environment of the Jalsa. The new converts to Ahmadiyyat, who are usually feeling lost and nervous, are made comfortable within seconds. The kids are playing with each other. The Lajna, Khuddaam and Ansaar alike are ready to help out anyone who is in need for it. The old people are always specially taken care of. Everyone is united under the flag of Islam Ahmadiyyat. 

This kind of unity and brotherhood exists only in Ahmadiyyat. You won't find it anywhere else, in any other religion. And it is very prominent on Jalsas. When people who have just kept contact on texts and calls meet each other for the first time. When you're sitting at the Jalsa Gah, listening to a speech, with tears rolling down your eyes, you realise that everyone around you is crying silently at the speech as well. When someone is reading a nazm, and you start realising the meaning behind the nazm. When there is nuge 'Naara e Takbir', and the whole marquee echoes with 'Allah u Akbar'. When everyone is sitting, eating from the langar of Hazrat Maseeh e Maud (as). The feeling inside every heart when Huzoor (aba) walks into the marquee. The nazms at the end of the Jalsa, especially those African ones, which make you sob uncontrollably.

These moments, these memories of the Jalsas can never be forgotten. They have been etched into the hearts of every Ahmadi, regardless of whether they have attended the Jalsa personally or watched it on Television. InshAllah, this year more memories will be made, the brotherhood will tighten even more and the unity we have will be shown worldwide. Even though I am not attending Jalsa Salana UK, I still do not feel left out, because constant live coverage of the Jalsa has been given worldwide through MTA International. So, I can actually feel the environment of the Jalsa, listen to the speeches and nazms while sitting at home. Such is the blessing provided by Allah to the Jama'at Ahmadiyya. i hope and pray everyone has a wonderful time, and we, all of us, learn something from the Jalsa, and better ourselves for the sake of Allah and His happiness. Ameen. My prayers are with all of you. May Allah be with all of you as well. 

Jalsa Salana UK. Zindabad!!

My view of desi shaadis

Weddings. Where a man and a woman vow to be each other's forever, in sickness and in health, in joy and in sorrow, in happiness and in sadness, in life and in death... That line seems like it came out of a Christian wedding movie. Well.. This is awkward. Anyway, wedding, who doesn't love them? Meeting people after a long time, hiding from people you hate, the dances, the food, the songs, just the basic environment of a wedding.

I recently attended a wedding of the daughter of mum's friend. And well, I felt obliged to write about it. Because so much happened in it, that it just had to be shared. So here are some of the noticeable things. I wonder if you people notice them too. 

1. The Hunger Games - when the call for dinner is given, people rush to the tables as if they have not eaten for weeks, they forget all formalities and pile up their plates with food like there's no tomorrow. Some of them even manage to put more food on the plate than the plate itself can bear. There are literally mountains made on plates, literally. Why do people have to be so greedy on weddings, I ask you? Why is it that they can not take second helpings, they can not wait for the person in front of them to put food on his plate? People are pushing each other and fighting over who gets the taang ki boti and who gets the thigh, and who gets the boneless boti. It's quite fun to watch - from a safe distance though. You wouldn't want to spill all that food on your clothes. 

2. The formal, awkward small talk - when some relatives or friends or acquaintance are meeting after a long time for no apparent reason, there is always that awkward hi or salam that they do, which leads to an even more awkward conversation. It's hilarious to see how uncomfortable people get, trying to impress the other person, or attempting to get them to envy their own lifestyle with stuff like 'Oh I was going to get eggs in my BMW...' Or something along the lines of 'boys have lined themselves outside my house to get my daughter's hand in marriage.. It's such a tiresome phase..' 

3. The Dances - yes we Ahmadis do not have dances at our shaadis, but the other weddings we attend, do!! The couple dances, the synchronised, amazingly timed dances. Yes, they are fun to watch, okay? So there was this one shaadi I went to, where there was a couple dance coming up. It was pretty well choreographed and the chemistry between the girl and the guy was amazing. Turned out, the girl and the guy were siblings. Why, why would they even thing of doing a romantic, couple dance? It makes me shudder when I think about it even after all these years.

4. The Rishta Aunties - ever ready at every shaadi to check out every girl, weigh out her pros and cons and select her as the bride for the 'chand sa beta'. Some of them even send a rishta on the spot saying they have to 'go abroad and they want their son settled before they go'. Then there are some aunties who literally go to a girl and ask her her age. Then if that girl is too young, they ask her whether she has an elder sister or not.  Most of the girls that the rishta aunties fall for usually end up being married. Time for plan B now. Ask for their younger sisters!!

5. The Girls who think its their shaadi - yes readers, these girls exist. They'll be asking all camera men/women and all photographers to turn the camera towards them, and take pictures of them making duck faces. Never mind that it's not their wedding. Never mind that they're not really even close cousins. But no, they need to have like a gazillion pictures of themselves so that the whole world should know how beautiful they look with their eyes about to pop out of their heads, and making fishy faces.  

6. The Gossip - last, but not the least, the gossip and the comments on how people have dressed up. Something like...

'Oh my, did you see what she was wearing? And oh, that lipstick so does not go with suit. Call the fashion police. '

'Do you see how they're looking at each other? I'm sure they have an affair. They'll break up and then no one will want to marry the girl. '

'Look at how confident she is. Our society is never going to accept a girl as bold as she is. '

'Oh, her hair. I'm sure it wasn't that long and pretty before. She must have gotten extensions. Her family is filthy rich. I should totally ask for her hand in marriage. '

Yes, these things do happen in your average Pakistani wedding. This is why they're such an entertainment. Next time you get invited to a desi wedding, be sure to go instead lf sitting at home. You'll certainly have the time of your life, I assure you that. 

My life as a poor boy

My name is Saif. I'm 10 years old and the eldest in my family. Ever since I was 5, I wanted to study, and grow up and earn money for me and my family. I belong to a poor family, and I have 7 siblings. My mother works all day, in separate houses, trying to earn as much money as she possibly can, so that none of us would sleep hungry, as we have often had to do in the past. My father, on the other hand, is always lazy and drunk and never goes to work. He does not believe that he needs to work when there are so many people in the house who could go to work instead of him. So he stays home and drinks all day. 

My father is addicted to both gambling and alcohol. Whenever my mother comes from work with some money in her hands, he snatches it from her and tells her to cook something for him. When she timidly tells him there is no food in the house, and that this money is supposed to bring home basic necessities, he slaps her hard across the face and tells her to never answer back to him, no matter what. With a bleeding face, my mother goes off in the kitchen, trying to make something for my father, and since there's not enough food for us, all of my siblings and I go to sleep hungry. 

When I was 5, I noticed children my age going to the nearby school to educate themselves. I found this highly interesting and I told my mother I wanted to learn to read and write as well. She sighed and I knew even before she said it, that I would never be able to go to school because we don't have enough money and even if my mother puts together money by working even more, my father will snatch it all away from her. 

When I was 8, my father came home one day, sober for a change, and told me he had big plans for me and that he wanted to show something to me. On going outside, I saw a rickshaw standing in front of our house, completely empty. I looked back to my father in confusion. A smile broke on his face and he said - this is for you, Saif. I will teach you how to ride it, and once you're independent enough to ride it on your own, you should go to the nearby cities and offer your services to people who need to travel. You'll be another source of income for our family. With that, he walked back into the house, leaving me alone, staring at the rickshaw with utter confusion and disgust. 

I sit down besides the rickshaw. I wanted to learn how to read, I wanted to learn how to write. I wanted to be educated enough so that I could get a well paid job and free my mother from my father. I wanted to be someone who wanted to make an impression on the world. And instead, I got this? This rickshaw to earn money? I'm eight, I should be in school right now. 

Two years have passed since then. I wake up early in the morning, go around different cities, take passengers to their destinations. In the two years since, my father has taught some of my younger siblings how to beg. He takes them to busy intersections and sends them towards cars and pedestrians, forcing them to throw their respect on the ground, and beg for money, while he watches from a safe distance. As soon as it's evening, the kids start to turn towards home, and my father catches up to them and takes all their money away from them, and spends it all on gambling and alcohol that same night. This has now become a routine for him. 

My mother on the other hand is old now and can not work as efficiently as she used to. She has back problems and sometimes, sharp pains shoot up in her leg, causing her to stay in bed for days. When this happens, obviously she has to take a day or two off work, and my father hates that because she's not bringing home as much money as she used to. So, he beats her. Sometimes, he uses his hand. Other times, it's a stick. When he's horribly angry, it's a brick. He almost broke her back, this one time. 

As for me, I'm a 10 year old with ambitions to study and a rickshaw to drive. But even I have found a way. From all the money that I earn, I give 70% to my dad, and hide the other 30% safely in a place which I can not disclose here, for fear of father finding out. When I have enough money, I will join a madrassa or a school. We'll see what happens from there on out. And when I have enough money after school, and after getting a job, I will rescue my parents and siblings from my father. That's my promise to you. 

Disclaimer -This is a work of fiction for all intents and puposes. 

Independence Day in the eyes of an Ahmadi

Today is 14th August. The independence day of Pakistan. 67 years have passed since Pakistan became a nation under the leadership of Muhammad Ali Jinnah, who put all his might and effort into working towards a country in which Muslims could live freely. In his famous speech of 11th August 1947, he said:

"You are free; you are free to go to your temples, you are free to go to your mosques or to any other place or worship in this State of Pakistan. You may belong to any religion or caste or creed that has nothing to do with the business of the State."

Jinnah wanted a Pakistan in which there was freedom of religion and freedom of speech and no one would be forced to practice any specific religion, even Islam, even though it was considered a Muslim state. However, Jinnah passed away too soon after the creation of Pakistan and could not enforce religious freedom on the people of Pakistan. Soon, after his demise, people, mainly mullahs and extremists started an outcry against giving Ahmadis rights. They incited so much hatred by giving dishonest claims against Ahmadis, that many people joined them, believing it was the right thing to do. It was a hard time for the Ahmadis, when riots were carried out against them and they were always hatefully spoken against. 

In the 70s, Bhutto came to power. Soon after, elections took place, elections in which he specifically asked the Jama'at Ahmaddiyya to pray for him and to vote for him, promising to give them more rights. The Jama'at did indeed vote for him, because at the time, they thought it was the best to do. When Bhutto won the elections, he forgot asking for help from the Ahmadis, he forgot how they had also helped in the creation of Pakistan, and created a clause in the constitution of Pakistan, declaring Ahmadis non-Muslims and that if any Ahmadi tried to pose as a Muslim, he or she would be heavily fined and imprisoned for up to three years. 

The same constitution lives up to this day in which Ahmadis are not given rights to practice their religion freely, to call their place of worship mosques, to call themselves Muslims, to say or do a single thing which would make any third person believe that they are Muslims. Ahmadis became a forced minority because according to the state, they were declared Kafirs, while they still considered themselves Muslims. 

Ahmadis are massacred over their faith every day. The media rarely covers it though. Printed media and social media publicly publish articles mocking and instigating people against Ahmadis. Many national Urdu newspapers like Jang etc publish articles declaring an Ahmadi to be a Kafir and ordering people to stay away from them or they'll be condemned too. Parents are afraid to let their children or their women go out alone. Furthermore, Ahmadis can't meet up in religious meetings without a thousand security checks. 

I am an Ahmadi and a very proud one at that. I'm not afraid to declare it in front of anyone because I believe that religion is above everything. Needless to say, this braveness has caused lots of friends, close acquaintances to stop talking to me, and for teachers in my school to publicly declare me a Kafir, or for people in offices to create issues for me, when they come to know I'm an Ahmadi. When I first got my Id card and passport made, I was appalled by a condition in both at the end of the form which all Muslims had to agree in written form on something along the lines of - I am a Muslim and I believe that Mirza Ghulam Ahmad Qadiani is an imposter and that Ahmadis are not Muslims. Every Muslim has to agree on this statement in written form. Since, we Ahmadis could not agree to that, the officers create problems which range from mocking at being an Ahmadi to not getting the passport/ID card made on time. Even shopkeepers refuse to sell to Ahmadis, believing their trade would be affected negatively. 

I was born in Pakistan and I have lived here all my life, so naturally I know how cruel people are towards us, in general. Ahmadis have been murdered, slaughtered, raped and kidnapped. Always having lived in Pakistan, I have always been patriotic person, refusing to hear anything against Pakistan. However, Pakistan and its people have not ceased to treat us mercilessly in all the years after its creation. And there is no possible change coming up in the near future. 

Today is Independence Day. Happy Independence Day, Pakistan. I wish I could be proud of you for giving us rights, for letting us live and let live, but I'm not. While all of Pakistan is putting flags on their house's roofs and on their cars, and painting their faces green and white, and singing National Songs, while everyone is changing their display pictures to the Pakistani flag, while everyone is shouting out slogans of Pakistan Zindabad, I sit here in silence. I sit here in silence because much as I love Pakistan, I hate what it's doing to us. I hate what it's doing to all minorities. So Pakistan, this I say to you, I love you Pakistan. I always have and I always will. You are my homeland and the place which I will always call home. But I hope that someday, you will decide to love us back, to give us all the love that we want from you. 

Pakistan Zindabad! 

Humanity has in fact become a minority

Today I read a tweet which said -

@KhizerrMalik: That moment when you realise that in your country, not Shias and Ahmadis, but humanity is a minority.

Reading this statement, I realised it was completely true. I agree all of the religious and ethnic minorities are and have been considered minorities and have not been given their due rights. I agree to that because being an Ahmadi Muslim, I have not been given the rights which the state was supposed to provide to me. Shias are being slaughtered everyday. There has been so much hatred incited against Ahmadis that it is now common to condemn them to death on social and printed media. Christians are scared for their life and 70 percent of them are cleaning gutters. Hazara communities are massacred so frequently. Hindu women are raped and then forcefully converted to Islam even though the Quran clearly states that there is no compulsion in religion. And let's not even talk about atheists. 

We, as a nation, don't believe in humanity anymore. This is not about different sects or different religions anymore. This is about humanity. And this is about the value of a human life. This nation has absolutely no value for a human life. People are dying every day on the basis of sects, religions, petty disputes or matrimonial issues. People are even dying because of a personal matter which is supposed to be between them and Allah. People are dying because of their beliefs. People are dying because of their faith. 

On the other hand, people are also dying because of domestic violence. Honour killings are very common in rural areas, committed because a girl was found with a cell phone or because people thought she was talking to a boy. Raped women and girls have also been murdered because they are not 'pure' anymore. As if it is their fault that they got raped. 

Petty disputes are leading to murders. Normal domestic fights lead to murder and slaughter. Kids are killed. Wives are murdered. Fights over land lead to fights between relatives which usually result in murders. 

Murders and killings are so common nowadays that it has now literally become a norm. Pick up a newspaper, any newspaper, and it will have news of somebody dying before their time. News channels are filled with reports of killings. People have no value for the life of a human. They don't realise that once you take a life away, it does not come back. It's not something you can just go and buy once you've taken it away. It's something which when taken away can never be given back. 

Do these killers have no sense of morality? Do they not have any conscience? Why is it that they think by killing people, they will earn Heaven? Why do they not realise that Islam teaches peace, not hatred, it teaches love and tolerance, not ruthless killings. 

Humanity first. No matter who belongs to which sect, religion, ethnicity, race, caste or creed, they are humans above all. They have value. They mean something. Even if we don't know them personally, someone else does. They are the earning or keeping a family alive. They are the reason for someone's smile, laughter; they might even be the reason for someone's life. 

So before any of us goes on inciting hatred against someone especially on some public forum, we should realise this because if we start with our hate speech, people get hyped up in hatred, because we are a nation who does something first and thinks about it later. People get hyped up and have discussions, form groups, incite more hatred in front of others, which in result causes people to go and shoot said people. So, instead of hatred, promote peace. Promote love.  Promote humanity. Promote - love for all, hatred for none. This is the only possible way to remove all the negativity from our environment. This is the only way to salvation.  And this is the only possible way to live and let live. To not interfere in the lives of others, of what they believe, of what their background is. 

I hope that we go to the world's number 1 peace-loving nation from where we stand right now. I hope we are all teaching other countries and people on peace and love.  I hope all of us are able to remove all sorts of hatred from our hearts and mind and are successful in removing it from the country as a whole as well. 

Abbu this is for you

Dear Dad

I turned 22 yesterday. Another birthday has come and gone and your absence was missed every single second of the whole day. So, I felt like writing a letter to you just randomly. About stuff.

For as long as I can remember, I have always found you to be my hero. None of the qualities I found in you could be found in any one else. I remember your laughter, so vibrant; it still feels like music in my ears. I remember the twinkle in your eye especially before you were about to tell a joke. I remember your grace and how everyone who knew you always respected you. I remember your voice (even though I forget it at times), the voice that used to comfort me day and night. I remember you. Vaguely, yes, but I try to remember everything that I possibly can.

I remember your perfume, the one you used to rub on my cheeks before you left for work. I remember your smile when I used to wake you up on weekends, with a kiss on the cheek. I remember being fascinated with you shaving your face, and I always used to stand in awe while you shaved. I remember your cup of tea which you used to drink while you were driving to work. I remember your love for gol gappay and limoo soda, which you could have, but I was usually not allowed because it wasn’t good for my health. I remember how you used to know every time I’d used the computer without your permission.

I remember how you ran behind all of us with a camera, on every occasion, whether it was a family gathering or a huge occasion like Eid or some wedding, making sure you captured every moment, every smile, and every laughter on camera. I remember your love for hiking and taking us all to Pir Sohawa, making a day trip out of it, after which we would come home so exhausted but happy with the outing. I remember the cake for every birthday of mine that I remember, every cake more delicious than the one the year before.

I remember the love for my mother and your own mother. I remember your love for your siblings. I remember you waiting anxiously for your only brother to come to Pakistan from Canada so that you could spend some quality time with him, and eat pastries together, something that you loved. I remember your love for everyone who came to our house, be it immediate family or distant relatives, be it close friends or acquaintances, everyone was welcomed with a warm smile and our doors were always open to everyone alike. I remember how our house used to be full of guests coming over to meet you, and be in your company, friendly and extremely contagious that it was.

I remember your death. Every single moment of that day and the following to come have been embedded in my mind, something my mind refuses to forget. I remember that even in death, you were as handsome as you were alive, so at peace and with such a beautiful smile on your face. Anyone could have mistaken it for you having a good dream. I, however, don’t remember saying goodbye to you, because I could not believe I would not be able to think of it. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve still said goodbye.

I’ve written a lot about you. Some people say I’m depressed. Others say I’m seeking attention. Yet others ask me to just move on. But I tell them I’m none of the above. I’m just a girl who misses her dad like it’s a burning pain inside, and who needs to talk to him, have conversations with him, even if they are one-sided, because she knows that her father is listening from up above. And that he is watching over her come what may. So I write. Regardless of how many times, of how much, I write about you. To let my sadness go through my words, to remember you, to let everyone know how much of a precious gem you were. Most of all, I write about you to keep your memory alive. I try to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything about you. Because now it’s words, pictures, memories and stories that keep your memory alive. I wouldn’t want to forget a single thing about you. And I hope I never do.

I just want to let you know that no matter how old I grow, I will always be that little girl who was scared of everything unless you consoled me. I will still be that little girl at heart who has weird ideas and says stupid things and has a hot temper. I know you’re watching from above, and that is what gives me hope. All I want is to tell you I love you, Dad. I know you’re in a much better place, but that doesn’t make this hurt any less. *blows a kiss* watch over me, always. I love you. And no one can ever fill the hole that you left. I’ve learned to live with it, maybe I don’t want anyone to fill it. Does that make any sense? I hope it does to you.

Sometimes, I feel you’re alive. I can hear your voice as if you’re actually speaking to me. I can feel you sitting right beside me. It would scare the crap out of most people, but I somehow find peace in that. Then there are dreams I have about you that are so realistic that I wake up in a delusion that you’re still alive. I don’t know what’s worse in that situation – dreaming an awesome dream about you, or waking up to find out that if was only a dream.

I just want to let you know that I love you abbu. I can’t emphasize this enough. Hope you know that.

Your little girl,

Saniya