These Mysterious People

 

Dr. Kashif Mustafa is my friend, lives in South Africa, is a heart surgeon, has been a physician to Nelson Mandela, but of course he is a terrifying tourist, looking at the world from one end and running to the other. He wrote a wonderful travelogue about Israel and Palestine under the name of "Around the Wailing Wall" and made it wonderful. This travelogue became the source of my introduction with them and we also traveled together again. Including those who influence others, I am also influenced by them, I enjoy their company and we will soon go out to discover Latin America, God willing.

 

Dr. Kashif Mustafa sent an amazing story of his life a few days ago. What happened? Listen to him. It's about seventeen years old. I was in a small position in a big hospital in London. Salary is meager. The hospital had a two-room flat and a never-ending pile of responsibilities. I barely made a living in white. I agreed to come to Pakistan with my family for the December holidays. My wife tailored in the supermarket. I was with them as a driver. The last headline of the poplar leaves on the hills of Margalla was dying. The icy winds from the hills had confined the people to their houses. I drove in the empty parking lot. Begum stood up and went to the tailor and I sat in the car and saw her arguing with the tailor from a distance. I don't know when and from where a black bhajang type beggar came and stood near his wife. His curly hair was fluttering on his shoulders, he had a leather strap around his neck and an indescribable warmth in his eyes. His wife was unaware of his presence for a while. But then I turned around and saw him. I was sitting in the car in the distance watching the whole scene. A strange uneasiness arose in my heart and I got out of the car and walked towards the poor man. He took out a hundred rupee note from him and put it in the pocket of this poor man (it was a reasonable amount according to the time).

 

Faqir did not pay any attention to the note and kept staring at his wife. It seemed that the whirlpool was boiling in his eyes. When I approached, he did not pay any attention to me. He took a hundred rupee note from Kashkool. He took it out and suddenly put it in his mouth. After putting it in his mouth for a while, he took out the note and put it in his wife's hand. I was looking at this poor man with my wife and tailor in amazement. It was dry. Then the poor man put his hand on his wife's head and said, 

"Daughter, we are not one of the recipients, we are one of the givers."

We were both focused on the note. The wife was standing with the note in her hand in a state of amazement. On the four corners of the note there was something written in an unknown language in different colored ink. We looked at the left hand. Nowhere to be seen. We ran and searched the surrounding streets but could not find him. We took notes and came home quietly. After that day it seemed that the treasures of Ganj Chahal Abdal were opened for us. The soil we touched turned to gold. We got what we wanted immediately. Even today, when we go to Islamabad, we stop near Tobe Ikhtiar Supermarket and our eyes keep looking for this poor man. We never saw that Qalandar man again. ”

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If this incident had been narrated by an ordinary person, I would have laughed and put it aside, but it was narrated by Dr. Kashif Mustafa and it is not only a sighted tourist but also a cardiac surgeon and it is one of the most modern societies of this era. Have lived in south africa so we can say they are not homosexuals so this incident is remarkable 'there have been so many incidents in my own life' whenever i think about these incidents So I find that incredible.

 

God is witness that if these incidents had not happened to me, I would never have believed them. For example, the first incident happened 20 years ago today in Rawalpindi. My wife is very religious, devout and service-minded. I used to be the sub-editor of the newspaper in those days. I had an old motorbike and we lived in a one and a half marla house. There was a room, a lounge, a small bathroom and a five or seven foot yard. And just finished our house. One day when I came back home, I saw two jogi type guys in the yard.

 

They were sitting on the ground. There were plates of food in front of them and they were eating deliciously. I looked at my wife in amazement. She said in fear. They were walking down the street. They were hungry. They were begging for food. I sat them down in the yard and gave them food. I got very angry. I always told him not to open the door for anyone but he considered it his religious duty to give alms to the passing poor. He sat down and watched the jogis eating. They were enjoying the meal and watching me. After the meal, the old jogi belched loudly and said to my wife, 

"Do you have any coins in your house?"

I could have considered this incident as a coincidence but ten years later I met a dervishes in Syedpur. He lived on a hill above Syedpur. I went to see him with a professor from the Islamic University. "You always misleading people by turning incidents into spirituality. Baba used to laugh and avoid me every time. When I said this for the fourth time, he got angry and said, 'You understand yourself.' What happened? You fed two slaves, one got up, closed the door angrily and that's it.

 

Some good deed of yours had come to you. If you had lifted them both on that day, you would not be on your feet today. You would live lamely. Go away and thank your wife. He saved you. " I was drenched in sweat from head to toe. My tongue became dumb. The dervishes kept looking at me with red eyes for a while. Then they came to me and slapped me. But beware that you come here again. Get rid of it. Believe me, I got nervous. I got up and never went to Syedpur village again after that. The slap left behind made it really wonderful. I never got tired and I never got hungry.

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You may call me and Dr. Kashif Mustafa superstitious, but where do you place the McDonald's case? McDonald's was invented by two brothers, Richard MacDonald and Mori MacDonald, in California in 1948. It was a new idea and it failed miserably in the beginning. The two brothers got tired of waiting for customers one day and closed the restaurant. Suddenly a small child came, knocked on the window and asked for a burger. Richard refused, but Mori told the child to stop. He lit the stove, heated the meat and made a burger and gave it to the child.

 

The boy paid but did not take the money. The boy crossed the road and disappeared into the woods. It was too late for the baby to leave. Who was that child and where did he come from? The company is still looking for it, but has not found it. McDonald's has a tradition of giving free burgers to children, especially orphans, on the first day of each of its restaurants, thinking that the child might rejoin them again.