While ascending stairs made of devri stones to reach the shrine of Hazrat Sheikh Hamza Makhdoom, my eyes were focused on the summit of Hari Parbat encircled with century old stony Kalai (wall), the minuscule replica of the Great Wall of China.

The Shrine of Harzat Makhdoom is itself surrounded by such mysterious environment, that each changing situation around the hillock was answering my questions eloquently. Each rock reminded me of my childhood days, when I used to avoid the stony stairs and preferred to climb over these rocks swiftly to reach the Shrine ahead of all. I recalled one glorious and miraculous incident when thousands of devotees disturbed by the long dry spell, broke thousands of earthen water pots on these rocks at the threshold of the Shrine, and instantly clouds gathered and the land was drenched. The scene of devotees chanting prayers still reverberates in Kohi-Maran hills.
Today, because of restricted movement of people, huge gathering was missing, as I was the lonely one ascending on each stony step. But I could vividly see the reflection of such glorious past on magnetic tomb of the shrine positioned in a commanding manner overlooking keenly all the affairs of devastated Paradise, particularly surrounding Shehr-i-Khas. No doubt I was keen to reach quickly to Shrine but I could not resist my urge to stop for a while to look towards my Shehr-i-Khas as if it with folded hands it was looking towards Makhdoom Sahib, waiting for deliverance. The fragrant winds emerging from Shehr-i-Khas were mildly knocking wood carved doors and windows of the Shrine, whispering secretly the miseries of human souls.

Suddenly entire hillock echoed with a painful cry, flying birds abruptly halted and sat meekly on rocky stones around. I saw one crippled woman wearing ragged Pheron fast approaching towards the devri stony stairs of the Shrine. In the process my eyes struck on the huge area of Malkha graveyard just below the hillock; Malkha seemed stretching in all directions. Not a single soul was visible around. In such circumstances an old crippled woman coming to Shrine was unusual.

Whether I look down towards ravine below hillock or quench the thirst of eyes by looking towards captivating Shrine tomb, in all its reflections, the remarkable features of my valley and my Shehr-i-Khas were evident. Who will dare to belie the historical fact that my valley was the symbol of human relationship since times immemorial! But today like an injured bird whose wings have been slashed, the crippled woman was not being supported by anyone. She was fast crawling over the stony stair and passed by my side without looking towards me, probably disappointed with all human beings or obsessed with her faith in this shrine

Hazrat Sheikh Makdoom who had attained the spiritual heights only at the age of fourteen, was not only given spiritual sway over the territory from Kashmir to Kashger, but his close spiritual companion Hazrat Mushkawati writes that Hazrat Makdoom deliberately selected hillock of Kohi-Maran to be his abode for spiritual meditation as he also saved people of Kashmir from Mars, Snakes and Dragons abundantly present inside rocks at that time. It is Hazrat Sultan who is still protecting all of us from great harms and evils.

While trying to overpower my fatigue I reached near the Shrine. The scene was inexplicable, when I saw the crippled woman tossing her head at threshold of the Shrine, the tears were rolling down as if river Jehlum was flowing with its full ferocity or entire population had again broken their metallic pots this time in the lawns of the shrine on brown spherical rocks.
“Yah Hazrat Makhdoom_” humanity is bleeding, calamities are devouring lives, families are being shattered, human dignity is sinking in ocean of tyranny, one catastrophe is followed by another, “Yah Hazrat”, help us to pray to Almighty to save humanity; Yah Hazrat! scatter pearls of blessing to fill ever waiting empty bowl of valley.

While praying I flicked my eyes again and saw the old woman wailing and crying. Yah Hazrat! whole universe can’t suffer the pain which I see in the eyes of old woman.

My befuddled thoughts were yet confined inside my heart and mind, I saw the crippled woman catching the Linen Chadar of the Rosa Sharief of the shrine and standing upon her frail legs as if Hazrat Sultan had given her full strength. She looked towards me, there was strange strength displayed on her face. Her eyes which were earlier full of tears were looking as rocky as the peaks of Kohi-Maran and as shining as jewel of Kohi-Noor.

Entire room reverberated with a cry. She brought out five year old child from inside her long ragged Pheron and handed over Shireeni to me “Mubarak, our child who was dumb can talk now. I continuously prayed to Allah in Darbar of Hazrat Sultan for last one hundred and ten days so that my dumb grandchild could speak”, she said joyously. The smile on the face of the woman was the victory of her faith.

I took the child in my lap and started escorting the woman, down towards the valley, with same childhood energy when I used to swiftly run over the rocks of hillock.

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Lastupdate on : Tue, 17 Aug 2010 21:30:00 Mecca time
Lastupdate on : Tue, 17 Aug 2010 18:30:00 GMT
Lastupdate on : Wed, 18 Aug 2010 00:00:00 IST