“Appearance in the Burial ground: An Excursion of Self-Revelation”
As the specialist uncovered the consequences of my blood tests, a flood of shock overwhelmed me. The trepidation that had waited to me turned into an unmistakable reality – I was determined to have late-stage malignant growth. Considerations dashed through my psyche coming back, thinking about how to inform my better half and what to tell my kids. After arriving at home, I buried the reports in a protected, keeping my interests stowed away. Everything appeared to be typical, or if nothing else, that is the thing I depicted.
READ IN URDU BELOW
After supper, I branched out for a walk, and a weighty inclination got comfortable my chest. How might I abandon my adored spouse and valuable kids? How might I exist in the tight, dim limits of a long and thin grave?
I strolled carelessly, out to lunch, until I wound up at the burial ground. The gravestones appeared to entice me, similar to open books gathering me to investigate their accounts. I wandered through the lines of graves, contemplating whether the quiet above covered a much more profound quiet inside.
The isolation felt creepy, and had I seen such a scene previously, dread would have held my spirit. In any case, this evening, my heart was not apprehensive; all things being equal, it reverberated with a quiet sympathy from the quiet tenants of the graves.
There were little and huge graves, a few bearing the names of men, others of ladies. “Ghulam Mustafa child of Ghulam Muhammad,” “Late Javed Islam,” “Chaudhry Mukhtar Khan,” “Ansa Alifat Batool,” “Khurshid Anwar,” “Begum Razia Sultana,” “Maria Ahmed little girl of Muhammad Waris.” I kept perusing the names.
A few graves had sections from heavenly sacred writings engraved on them:
“No apprehension will arrive, nor will they lament.” (Quran 2:262)
“To Allah we have a place, and to Him, we will restore.” (Quran 2:156)
There were additionally melancholic lines engraved on specific headstones:
“He left, changing the actual night,
One individual crushed the whole city.”
“Sir, it’s very late. We ought to head home,” my driver’s voice took me back to the real world. I pivoted and saw my glimmering vehicle washing in the evening glow.
“What’s the utilization of this vehicle now? All that will be detracted from me – my significant other, my youngsters. What great are my hands?” I contemplated with a feeling of looming destruction.
I kept on mulling over as I strolled back towards my vehicle. I had everything – a house, a vehicle, a cell phone – yet, harmony evaded me. To find comfort, I subtly enjoyed watching express recordings, spoiling my generally honest picture. Out in the open, I seemed ethical and ethically upstanding, with a light facial hair growth and ordinary supplications. In any case, inside, I held onto firmly established malignance, and regardless of my endeavors, I was unable to end liberated from the propensity that had caught me since youthfulness.
“Ok!” Out of nowhere, a sharp stone showed up under my foot, and I staggered. At that time, the sum total of my views evaporated, and I was unable to recollect how long I had been strolling among the graves.
I wished somebody from the graves could reawaken and recount to me their story – what befell them when they set down in the grave? When they set down to rest, and every one of their family members speedily left the burial ground, what unfolded inside the limits of their last resting place?
However, I was unable to ask anybody. Everybody here was quiet, enveloped with their own prizes and disciplines.
Then, my eyes saw a little piece of paper lying on a burial chamber. The light from the lamp gushed out past the brink, uncovering it to be a torn page from a book. It vacillated in the breeze, and as I got it, I saw it was a section from the compositions of a strict researcher.
“Baba Ji! I was searching for you all over the place. I was concerned,” my driver drew nearer, and I welcomed Baba Ji prior to turning around towards my vehicle. As I sat in the vehicle, I cast one final look at the burial ground. A few graves’ tenants grinned, while others appeared to be immersed in distress. They were consumed by their own predeterminations, totally assimilated in their singular destinies.
I pondered the experience with Baba Ji, who emanated harmony in spite of his straightforward way of life. His words reverberated to me, encouraging me to learn submission to the genuine Master. Maybe, when I lay alone in my grave, that Ruler would turn into my buddy.
“Sir, you are here. I was so stressed,” my driver’s voice shocked me back to the real world. I welcomed Baba Ji and got back to the vehicle. As we drove away, I checked out at the burial ground one final time. A few graves radiated happiness, while others exuded the unmistakable air of disappointment and misery. They were caught up in their own universes, careless in regards to the living.
Days passed, and I found comfort in Baba Ji’s lessons. His words, “Genuine acquiescence to the genuine Ruler brings harmony,” resounded inside me. I drenched myself in petitions and looked for pardon for my past sins. I longed for the serenity that had evaded me for such a long time.
At some point, Baba Ji shared a colloquialism of Prophet Muhammad (harmony arrive) about individuals in the great beyond who might resemble dust particles because of their great deeds. Captivated, I requested that Baba Ji elaborate.
He recounted, “I’m mindful of individuals from my ummah who will come Upon the arrival of Judgment with deeds like the mountains of Tahama (a scope of mountains in Arabia). Nonetheless, Allah will make their deeds like dispersed dust.” (Sunan Ibn Majah, Book of Zuhd, Part 29, Hadith 4386)
Inquisitive, I looked for additional direction. I requested that Baba Ji share indications of those people and their state, expecting that I probably won’t remember them and end up with them.
Prophet Muhammad (harmony arrive) answered, “They will be your siblings, sharing your confidence, and supplicating around evening time as you do. Nonetheless, when they are separated from everyone else, they will enjoy what is taboo by Allah.” (Sunan Ibn Majah, Book of Zuhd, Section 29, Hadith 4386)
His words struck me profoundly. The symbolism of individuals accompanying heaps of good deeds, just to see them transformed into dissipated dust, left me in stunningness. I understood the significance of earnestness and certified commitment in each activity.
As the days unfurled, I dove into an excursion of self-revelation, endeavoring to retouch my methodologies and achieve the genuine harmony that had evaded me for such a long time. I started to esteem each second and tried to redress my previous oversights.
In the tranquil snapshots of reflection, I frequently wound up back at the graveyard, thinking about the accounts engraved on the gravestones. The stanzas from sacred texts and the strong lines scratched in stone filled in as tokens of the transient idea of life and the significance of genuine deeds.
Baba Ji’s lessons turned into a directing light, controlling me away from the way of bad faith. I looked for shelter in certifiable contrition, petitioning God for absolution and solidarity to beat my shortcomings.