November 26

The Sons Of Hadhrat Muslim Ibn Aqeel (A.S.)



After the death of their father,

Muhammad and Ibrahim were put into prison.

Later, they escaped and walked hurriedly away

In one place they did not stay.



A kind lady who was fetching water

Saw them hiding behind a tree

Took them home and gave them food

“Don’t worry,” she said. “At the moment you are free.”



At night Muhammad saw his father in his dream

Next day, he cried bitterly with his brother, Ibrahim.

Harith, the kind lady’s husband, found the two innocent ones

Angrily and without any love killed them at once.



Captured by a beast, the older child said

Kill me first o man I can’t see my brother dead.

For I have always taken care of my brother

From the instructions given to me by my mother



With their last prayers performed at the River Furat

Martyred were the sons of Muslim Ibn Aqeel

Their small bodies floated away clutching one another

Straight to paradise they will go together.



by  F. T. Jaffer

August 8

Please Send My Son Back!

A poor couple who lived in a small village in Pakistan. They had only one son, so they gave him the best education. The son graduated as an Engineer in the nearby city.

Eventually, he got married to a rich girl. Initially, they lived with his parents in the village. Soon the wife got tired of village life and persuaded the husband to move to the city leaving the old parents in the village.

As time went, the husband saw an advert in the newspaper about a vacancy in Jeddah. He applied and was successful. He lived in Jeddah for years with his wife. Regularly he used to send money to parents. Eventually with time he stopped and forgot about his parents ever existed.

Every year, he performed Hajj, but immediately after that he used to see someone telling him in a dream that his Hajj is not accepted.

One day he related the story to a pious Aalim who advised him to go back to Pakistan to visit his parents. The man flew to Pakistan and reached the boundary of the village. Everything had changed. He could not find his house.

He asked a small boy about the whereabouts of so and so. The little boy directed the man to a house and said: “In this house lives an old blind lady who lost her husband a few months ago. She has a son who migrated to Saudi Arabia years back and never came back again. What an unfortunate man?”

The son enters the home and finds his mother on the bed. He tip-toed as not to wake her up. He hears the mother whispering or mumbling something. He gets closer to hear her voice. This is what the mother was saying:

“Ya Allah! I am now very old and blind. My husband just died. There is no Mahram (near relative) to lower me in my grave when I die. So please send my son back to fulfill my last wish”.

The moral of this dua is that the sincere DUA of a every mother is accepted.

“O Son, love your mom till the end of your life. The lady who suffered so much pain just to give you a beautiful life!”

February 2

The Wooden Bowl

nonameI guarantee you will remember the tale of the Wooden Bowl tomorrow, a week from now, a month from now, a year from now.

A frail old man went to live with his son, daughter-in-law, and four-yearold grandson. The old man’s hands trembled, his eyesight was blurred, and his step faltered.

The family ate together at the table. But the elderly grandfather’s shaky hands and
failing sight made eating difficult. Peas rolled off his spoon onto the floor. When he grasped the glass, milk spilled on the tablecloth.

The son and daughter-in-law became irritated with the mess.

‘We must do something about father,’ said the son.

‘I’ve had enough of his spilled milk, noisy eating, and food on the floor.’

So the husband and wife set a small table in the corner. There, Grandfather ate alone while the rest of the family enjoyed dinner. Since Grandfather had broken a dish or two, his food was served in a wooden bowl.

When the family glanced in Grandfather’s direction, sometimes he had a tear in his eye as he sat alone. Still, the only words the couple had for him were sharp admonitions when he dropped a fork or spilled food.

The four-year-old watched it all in silence. One evening before supper, the father noticed his son playing with wood scraps on the floor.

He asked the child sweetly, ‘What are you making?’ Just as sweetly, the boy responded,

‘Oh, I am making a little bowl for you and Mama to eat your food in when I grow up.

‘ The four-year-old smiled and went back to work.

The words so struck the parents so that they were speechless. Then tears started to stream down their cheeks. Though no word was spoken, both knew what must be done.

That evening the husband took Grandfather’s hand and gently led him back to the family table..

For the remainder of his days he ate every meal with the family. And for some reason, neither husband nor wife seemed to care any longer when a fork was dropped, milk spilled, or the tablecloth soiled.

On a positive note, I’ve learned that, no matter what happens, how bad it seems today, life does go on, and it will be better tomorrow.

I’ve learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles four things:

A rainy day, the elderly, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights.

I’ve learned that making a ‘living’ is not the same thing as making a ‘life..’

I’ve learned that life sometimes gives you a second chance.

I’ve learned that you shouldn’t go through life with a catcher’s mitt on both hands.You nee d to be able to throw something back sometimes.

I’ve learned that if you pursue happiness, it will elude you

But, if you focus on your family, your friends, the needs of others,
your work and doing the very best you can, happiness will find you.

I’ve learned that whenever I decide something with an open heart, I usually make the right decision.

I’ve learned that even when I have pains, I don’t have to be one.

I’ve learned that every day, you should reach out and touch someone.

People love that human touch — holding hands, a warm hug, or just a friendly pat on the back.

I’ve learned that I still have a lot to learn.

January 29

Beautiful Poem on Lady Fatema (AS)

Author of this article: Masoumah Murphy

Brandishing their torches
They stood outside her home
"Come out; plead thy allegiance!"
We want power for our own.

The assailants pounded even harder
And against the door they thrust
Between the wall and entrance
Our flower, she was crushed.

The assault, it wasn’t over,
Of that lady, mild and meek
The enemies of her husband
Struck her hard across the cheek.

She cried out loud, "O Father!
They’ve snapped the stem of your bud!"
She miscarried her unborn infant
And fainted in her blood.

Her health rapidly diminished
Our lady grew quiet, pale.
She knew her time was coming
She ached and she was frail.

She later called upon her husband,
"Ali, stay by my side.
I have some things to tell you.
My words you must abide."

"One request that I have for you
Is that once again you wed.
My niece, who loves my children,
I have chosen in my stead."

"Heed these words of mine, O husband!
Please don’t let them attend
My funeral – those who’ve done this –
When my life comes to its end."

"O Ali! When you entomb me,
Don’t dig a lonely grave.
Dig several all around me
So they don’t know where I’m laid."

"And, husband dear, you wash me
And wrap me in my shroud.
With your two strong arms embrace me
And lay me in the ground."

"Once I’m there do not forsake me.
Sit by my lonely tomb.
As my soul, like any mortal’s,
Is fearful of its doom."

"God’s will, you cannot alter.
I entrust my children unto thee.
This, maybe, will console you;
Of this world, I will be free.

She asked for her new garments
And camphor her father had given;
The scent of Paradise that Gabriel brought
As a gift to him from heaven.

As her strength subsided,
And she knew her time was nigh,
She made her ablution
And towards the Qiblah lay, to die.

She addressed her companion, Asma
On her lips, a secret smile
"I am fatigued and want to rest.
Call me in a while."

After an hour, when Asma called her,
Silence was the reply.
She knew her desert flower
Had wilted and had died.

As the news spread through the city,
Wailing women gathered near.
And men, impatient to carry the body,
Of Ali’s Zahra dear.

Abu Dharr called to the people,
"Please, in vain don’t you wait!
Today her body won’t be buried,
As it is very late."

Then quietly, in the moonlight,
With the chosen by his side,
Silently, they bore the coffin
Of Ali’s holy bride.

And as Ali lowered her body
To its final place of rest
Two arms just like the Prophet’s
Gathered her to its breast.

Inconsolable, grieving,
Ali’s courageous heart then broke.
And he gathered his motherless children,
All tearful, beneath his cloak.

At the break of dawn, his house grew silent.

As promised, he didn’t disclose
Nor answer any questions

Of where he buried his Arabian rose.