Oracle Story (Translation of a Storybook of Eminent writer Muhammad Zafar Iqbal)

https://bdebooks.com/books/biggani-safdar-alir-moha-moha-abiskar-by-muhammed-zafar-iqbal/

Our office is a weird place. Day by day, it is turning into something stranger, condensed with a higher degree of barometric pressure. One morning, I reached the office, only to find section officer Mr. Idris , who was shirtless, sitting with one small sized half-pants with his right leg on his shoulder. He had a curious bunch of people encircling him. I asked around and came to know that Mr. Idris prescribed this yoga to the senior officer as the officer was aching with back pain. This yoga was to be exercised every morning, for half an hour. Another day, I reached the office in the afternoon, to find a big pan , full of steaming hot water, and Mr. Mowla was putting some weeds there. Supposedly, this would turn into an inevitable production story of an ointment, never to be a failure story for producing hair on a bald head. The ointment would be a venture for our old accountant. He has a wider range of baldness involved and rumors were spreading about his huge hype for taking steps to marry again. Every morning, someone must be sitting in front of Mr. Jalil. He was the one to describe the meaningfulness of a dream. One day, I found our typist girl, sobbing in front of him. She had a dream where her mom died from a snake-bite. Mr. Jalil is consoling her with his graceful words, “There is nothing to worry, my child, the dream of death is the most pleasant dream. Your mom will be a gainer of life, with ten more years, you may be sure about that. Now please pay attention, and try to remember, was the snake a male one or a female one?”

This office is a weird place full of weirdos. Quite an interesting perception to me. Between, our Mr. Mowla turned into a follower of a virtuous oracle. The name of the lead oracle is Hazrat Shah Khabib Ullah Qutubpuri. One has to utter his name with the deepest sound resonating from throat. I was permitted after trying for five individual efforts. In front of us all, Mr. Mowla used to address his oracle persona as “The mighty one”, or “The omnipotent one.” The entire first week we had to enrich ourselves with overwhelming praises about his appearance that Mr. Mowla, his follower, experienced. The description was about a graceful figure, six feet tall, with pure white skin, about cheeks with a light blossom of pink, about the beard, as delicate as the muslin, that touches him down to the chest, and about the silk turban. The entire set of attire had a white cloak, with white unstitched garment known as “lungi”, and gold laced shoes. The beard had a spectrum of graceful colors, quite capable of comforting an “aching heart.” It is not precisely known about the exact figures of his followers. Some say five lac, some say ten lac and even after that, some say it is mere fifty. Because, he does not adopt a follower until he is sure about the degree of piety. Mr Mowla turns into a late starter in his own office everyday, after spending a whole lot of meaningful time praising Hazrat Shah Khabib Ullah Qutubpuri.

Every morning, we were to be involved with receiving news threads about Hazrat Shah Khabib Ullah Qutubpuri from Mr. Mowla. One day we heard that a chief engineer of a big company was hurting from a stuck fish bone inside his throat. When he was groaning in utter pain, like a wounded chicken, all family members cared for him and took him to Hazrat Shah Khabib Ullah Qutubpuri. Hazrat Shah Khabib Ullah Qutubpuri placed his graceful hand on the painful throat and asked, “Dear, where is the fish bone?” Before he could even reply, he started to cough. Instantly the six inch long fishbone came out with it! If one is not a gullible one, one can visit the living room of the chief engineer! That six inch long fish bone was preserved in a framed case in the living room of that professional!

Before the fish bone story could turn any older, Mr Mowla started with another story. The husband left the home six years ago. A restless , sleep deprived, and starving wife crashed on the holy feet of Hazrat Shah Khabib Ullah Qutubpuri , while mourning deeply, “Baba, Please make a miracle possible, so that my husband returns home to me!” Hazrat Shah Khabib Ullah Qutubpuri consoled, “My child, life and death are unknown decisions of the divine, but, if he is still alive, you will see him, for sure.” Then Shah Qutubpuri grounded himself. Within just a minute, a roar sounded “Huwa!” can be heard, only. After two solid hours, Shah Qutubpuri could open his eyes. His entire body was soaking wet with sweat. Then he informed her, “Do not worry, your husband is alive! One non-believer casted spell on him to ground him on the mountain, our holy one made him free from the spell. He started his journey to return here. By tomorrow morning he will reach his destination.” The next day there was no space left for anyone, as a huge gathering was witnessing the return of the long missing husband! One could say that he was someone, and that someone returned with long hair, longer beard, and the largermost nails, although after the treatment of Barbar, he simply regained his older appearance.

Mr Mowla did not meet him personally, but he heard the story from a senior follower of Hazrat Shah Khabib Ullah Qutubpuri. How could he disbelieve the pal, he was quite an angel!

It was quite okay to proceed with all these, but then, all these problems turned overwhelmingly chaotic and an utter discord was predominant, everywhere. An exposition of this problematic thread could be just an observation. When the entire thread started with the daily speeches of Mr. Mowla, this did transform our steno Mr. Akmal. And then, he became an avid follower of Hazrat Shah Khabib Ullah Qutubpuri. It is quite advantageous to become a follower of an oracle persona, per se, as eventually, all these influences will guide you through the assigned duties that the heavenly figure did earn earlier, in a blessed and graceful way. It is quite an unimaginably impossible task for a lazy person like Mr. Akmal, as he will not be someone in the consideration to be assigned promptly, with a materialistic world like this one, let alone the world in the hereafter. However, gossip mongers spread rumors, that oftentimes Mr. Akmal steals in trivialities like quarters or even in dimes, when the basic need of this lowly world did overrule him. The situation rapidly changed as his life situation dealt with the fact of becoming a follower. Following his steps, a bunch of people in this office turned into followers also. The office is now filled with a controlled pacing of religiosity, quite spectacularly so! We are receiving news in a regular manner , of the oracle leadership dealing with “Urosh,” where it meant a funeral procession, or a sermon service labeled as “Waz” or a religious gathering to be labeled as “Milad-mahfil.” The followers of that oracle persona, which is quite an organized collection, in tangible numbers, often start remembering praiseworthy “The mighty one,” white sitting there, in smaller groups, mourning all through.

Those pals who are still not malleable on the question of becoming a follower of that oracle person, their future are scrutinized heavily through the lens of the follower groups, only to try more and more in a harder way. The anecdote unfolded like this:

One day, Mr. Akmal found the head clerk Aziz Khan, in an isolated corner, after lunch time. He asked him, “Aziz brother, is there anything left to say about this transitory life?”
Mr. Aziz replied, “Quite a long content to say! It could be a life saver in the other wise storytelling!”
Mr. Akmal , quite overlooked the entire reading in between the heated lines, and started again,”Now, if we are not turning to God, when will it happen, so?”
Mr. Aziz said,”What is the problem with you for not going there? Who is prohibiting you?”
“United we are stronger, you know!”
Mr. Aziz turned quite red, “What do I need to do for that?”
“If you become followers of Shah Qutubpuri, then all of us, followers….”
He could not even finish his sentence, Aziz Khan burst into a rage, “Do not even bother with these Qutuubpuri or Sambandha Puri in front of me! Bunches of frauds, my holy one will not even swipe the holy feet with that beard of yours!”
Even before the sentences were finished fully, the lean and thin Mr Akmal jumped on Aziz Khan, and a menacing situation was almost underway, but promptly, we tried to calm the situation down, with much difficulty.

Since the incident , Mr. Akmal and Aziz Khan stopped their socialization. But the news was spreading quickly. A person like Aziz khan has his own followership too! Not only this, that lead will not agree to swipe his feet with the beard of Mr. Akmal’s lead! Interested people are finding interesting stuff there. Although reluctant, a reserved person like Aziz Khan was also, adding a line or two, here and there. Everyone was dumbstruck to hear all these. One story took control there, in this way,

A mother took her eighteen year old daughter to the oracle lead. Strong rumors were there that the daughter was suffering ill whispers of jinns or evil spirits. The girl was not ready to step any further, after seeing the lead. Since, she was not a mere possessed soul, she was possessed with a non-believer spirit. There are practicing believers and non- believers among the clan of spirits. The lead just glanced once, then he started with a pile of sewing threads. As he kept on, with his recitation, he knotted the thread one by one, and with every knot, the evil spirit was diminishing with a cry. The moaning and groaning took these words in ,”Release me, with the name of my parents! Release me with the vow of Prophet Solomon!” The lead slandered,”You, fool, get out from here, right at this moment!” Then the reluctant spirit started a fuming episode with the lead, such a quarrel! But who will have the upper hand with the lead himself? At last the spirit did agree. The lead instructed, “Before leaving, leave a sign here.” the spirit asked,”What sign?” He replied, “Break a branch of that huge mango tree in the yard.” Within a blink of an eye, the possessed girl did open her eyes, and the branch of the mango tree did collapse with a loud noise! Aziz Khan not only stopped here with a mere story, he committed that he would take his people there, on this coming Friday. They can be an eye witness of that broken branch of that mango tree.

The following week, a group visited the location with Aziz Khan. Truly, it was not a bogus camouflage, with that broken branch of the mango tree in the yard! Some of that group turned into his followers, right on the spot.

Then, the office got divisive into two distinct groups. The follower group of
Hazrat Shah Khabib Ullah Qutubpuri and the followers of Mawlana Nur-e Nawaz Nakshbandi. We, some vulnerable souls, who remained neutral, got into the most difficult hardship. We felt almost bankrupt after continuous funding for Urosh, Waz and Milad-Mahfil for both the parties. After donating five for one group, another group shows up and takes ten, and then the first group returns to make it an even story of ten. There is no escape other than funding their causes. After spending only a minute or two, they simply start blackmailing. After observing all these, one can be fanciful of becoming an equipped one as an oracle lead, so to say. Or at least, a convert of the faith. There is one buddhist clerk in the office, his name is Dilip Kumar Barua. No one ever disturbs him.

That day, Safdar Ali and I met, in our coffee shop, and we were having an important conversation, on this very sensitive topic of disturbing preachers. It covered how these two groups are intoxicating the unity of the office atmosphere, and how it is making us more and more vulnerable everyday. All these were getting discussed in a detailed manner, in the hope of shedding lights.

Upon hearing everything, Safdar Ali seemed to fall short in understanding.
“Do they need to pass an exam? These oracle people?”
I was trying hard not to burst into laughter. “No.”
“Then how will you be certain about virtue?”
“It is a matter of belief.”
“Then, why will you believe one, and deny the other one?”

I was in dire need to explain to him in further detail. To convince in the matter of belief, there are numerous miracle stories about the virtuous preachers. Ordinary people are bombarded with hardship in their daily life, they are easily convinced with these miracle stories. But the interesting thing here is that none tries to justify the fact. Till today, I have not met anyone who witnessed the miracle first hand. Most of the time, these all are spread words, the junior brother-in-law of someone witnessed something, or it could be the senior brother-in-laws too. The senior officer of an office did witness and, bla.. bla.. bla. Once interrogated thoroughly, many of these are exaggerations or factual biases. I, too, tried once or twice with these questions of followership , on my own. But, it was a mere wastage of time and wealth.

Seemingly. Safdar Ali, was still a puzzled one. He was scratching his head,
“Then, why will one turn into a preacher?”
“Have you ever seen the houses of preachers?”
“No.”
“It will make your head spin! There is no preacher without constructed buildings, fridges or televisions. Glory of their appearances will mesmerize you, milk and buttery treats turned each one into a heavy mass , measuring
huge, and each one is glowing with pinkish charm. Who could be that comfortable, elsewhere, in this market? Once you are a follower, merge with some influential police and army officers and the rest will be an anxiety- free domain.”

Safdar Ali, with his puzzled face, took a longer pause of thoughtfulness. Then he asked, “Then, all of these preachers, to be seen everywhere, are bad people?”
“It depends on your perception of bad people. But if they are frauds, they are definitely bad people. What else?”
“Everyone…cheaters?”
“Have you ever seen a poor preacher? No, as there is none! All the famous ones are with enormous wealth. What is the source of this wealth? I have never come across a service holder preacher!”
“Then, there is no true preacher?”
“There must be some, but with the least expectation of gaining attention. Therefore, they are hard nuts to crack!”
Safdar Ali, sitting there for longer thoughts, seemed quite absorbed with this problem.
Fortunately, once the enormous enthusiasm evolving the official preachers hits the pinnacle, it slowly starts to dissipate, and disperse. Everywhere there is a pattern, who can sustain an eternal monotonous pattern? Those who submit themselves and become a follower group of a particular preacher, they are also beset with their own problem patterns , too. Toward the beginning, they used to have a firm belief that the situation would be a problem solver. A preacher can never be a problem solver. However, the follower groups never become hopeless, they hang there in cloth lines with a tremendous energy. And then, it slowly dissipates too. And with all these, I was able to foresee the diminishing enthusiasm with the follower groups of Hazrat Shah Khabib Ullah Qutubpuri and the followers of Mawlana Nur-e Nawaz Nakshbandi. And therefore, one morning, when I saw after reaching office, that Mr. Idris is shirtless, and he was lying on the floor to glorify yoga, and lean and thin Mr Akmal was stomping on his naked belly, I felt quite consoled. It is a virtuous effort, virtuous in reasons of thousand better nuances, to start something from scratch, than to bring a blind thoughtless black box with religious preaching.

Gradually, the office situation was reverting to normalcy, we could even escape the fundraiser mayhem, during the Month of Muharram, but then, things turned problematic again, and problematic like a twister situation. One morning, I reached the office, only to discover a gathering, in accumulation, keeping our typist Mr. Sultan’s office desk in the center. I cannot keep myself in distance, once I see a gathering. So, I had to merge with the gathering. Mr. Sultan brought the news of a new preacher. There is no single confusion about the miracle power of this new preacher. Mr. Sultan’s older brother had witnessed this already. This one, becomes senseless, after the meditative contemplation takes control. Then the innermost soul transcends into the higher domain and the entire body starts dissipating light with the power of 40 watt bulbs. In this condition, he surpasses all sensory feelings, and then, he is able to escape the sensory feelings, like getting burnt, or getting hurt with something sharp. He turns into a soul, not to be damaged easily. Once he was left alone in a fire, he stayed there, with a graceful smile, only to be rediscovered unharmed, with a blissful smile on his face, with eyes closed, once the fire was extinguished.

Once the storytelling of Mr. Sultan wrapped up, everyone was gazing at me. By this time, everyone knew that I am an atheist. Mr. Wali asked, “So, you did not believe anything. Now what will you say about this?”

I heard my sarcastic mannerism, “Do not believe in eavesdropping! No one is an eye-witness here, otherwise it could be a whole different story!”

Mr Sultan turned into an agitated voice, “So, you mean to say that my older brother is a liar?”

The troublesome situation was menacing enough, so I returned to my desk, immediately.

The next day, before I could even settle after reaching the office, I had to face an angry set of questionnaires. Mr. Sultan was taking the lead. He started with a roaring sound, “Now? What?”
I was feeling afraid, “What?”
“You were telling me that you do not believe my older brother. Yesterday, I witnessed it myself.”
I was truly astonished. An eye witness is a rare thing regarding miracle events, there is no doubt about it. I asked, “What was there?”
“I attended there in the twilight hour, there were a thousand people who gathered there, and the pious influence was obliging in contemplation through meditation. He did that for an hour or so, then had a seizure. His hands and feet were in agonizing emotion, indomitable by ten others. There was a glow in the entire face. There was no explicit expression of pain or fear..”, there was a certain hue defining Mr. Sultan’s expression too.
I was scratching my head, “How could you say that this is a painless event?”
Mr. Sultan’s voice changed in a minute in a ridiculing hype, “Now, take into account an eye witness. You were never a believer of my older brother, my older brother, a saint in my life! When the preacher collapsed, a big chowki was brought in, (as they named the big wooden structure as chowki). Did you know what happened to that chowki?”
“What?”
“Screwbolts. Nailing screwbolts that are describable as six inches long. Not one or two, there were hundred screwbolts in arrays, resting there, and one could easily be a victim of fear just to see them there. A breathtaking scene! The followers took the one to rest on that bed of screws, and I had to close my eyes, in tremendous fear! It felt as if his entire body was forked with nth terms to bring the condition into a porous Morobba (a highly prestigious homemade delicacy). Quite a bloody scene to even think about! Then, I opened my eyes, cautiously, and slowly. What did I see there? Do you have any idea?”

Everyone, quite familiar with the story in its entirety for multiple times, did not lose energy. Quite a few people asked at the same time, “What?”
“We witnessed the heavenly body is intact on that bed of screws! It felt that those are not even screws, rather, quite a comfy cushion!”
I had to ask a question, “Did you see it for yourself?
Mr. Akmal was quite a snobby voice to belittle the whole question, “What did I tell you, for so long, then? I saw it myself, only from a negligible distance! A distance not even worth mentioning!”

Aziz khan interrupted the whole conversation, “Please! Wrap it up, you are hardly making sense here! Where is the main topic?”

There was an added layer of pseudo formal tone, as Mr. Sultan continued, “What is the use of trying to convince a non- believer? Those who do not believe will never believe, even after the most concrete evidence!”
“Even then, please carry on, for ourselves!”
Mr. Sultan looked at me, “Are you listening there… Truly?”
“Let’s continue.”
“Then, please listen. When I saw that soul, lying on the bed of screws, I felt certain about the miraculous unseen. But was it not the fact that they had one or two people like you, too! Those are the skeptic ones. To mitigate their skeptical interrogation, one follower placed a slab upon the chest of the pious soul. And on that slab, there were two solid bricks. It simply took my breath away!”

Frankly speaking, Mr. Sultan, turned breathless, just thinking through the happenings.
“Please, carry on!” We were not a bunch to stop there, on the spot.
“They placed the bricks on his chest and took a hammer in! Within a minute, the hammer took a blow on those bricks! It shattered the bricks into pieces, and the pious soul was unharmed there, in his absorbed introspection, engrossed in contemplation!”
The public released a hidden breath, and relaxed themselves, quite in a cautious way!
Mr. Sultan was gazing at me, once more. “Now?What?”
I was busy with my head scratching, “Unless I see it, myself…”
“Then, are you telling me, a liar?”
“No , I never said it, for once. Since you are so deeply convinced, maybe it could be just that, that you overlooked many simple facts there. Once I will see it for myself, I might understand it in a clearer manner.”
Mr. Mawla interrupted the conversation. “Are you suspicious that it is fraudulent?”
“I will not decide, until I will witness there. It is not wise to believe blindfolded. A magician assembles the fragmented human body parts. Does it turn them into miracles of oracles?”
The next minute, I earned the fiercest gaze of my official colleagues. If they had an inch of miraculous power, I might turn into an obvious ash!

The next few days, I became a regular in attending the preacher. It is quite spectacularly true that Mr. Akmal was not exaggerating as a narrator! Truly, that holy guy lies upon the bed of screws, regularly. The followers break bricks on his chest, and then, he is to be found there, unharmed, undisturbed. Not only this, one day, I saw big chunks of wooden logs were burnt, till it was hot and red, with a scorching fire. The followers helped the preacher stand on that fire barefooted, and he crossed the place, as he was, barefooted, unharmed. One can hardly believe his own eyes. Along with many, I was one who witnessed his barefoot, there was no clue of scars, not even a blister! Observing all these, I was dumbstruck, almost on the verge of a decided one on faith, but the last part is still a bit itchy, skeptic in manner, here and there. Every night is the same old story. When everything is finally finished, the preacher collapses, half-conscious, upon a mattress. Then the followers show up, one by one , and underneath his feet, they unfold their unending tragic stories. The holy one might kick one of them, bless the other one with rice, someone with a gifted memento of a fossilized burnt coil, and supplication for some other. The followers donate money to their ability in the big container, placed near the feet of the holy one. He and his followers back check there, at times, to discover the amount of donation. When the amount was found to be a lump sum, the smile on their faces got wider. And the preacher starts treating his visitor, in a more cordial manner. There is a possibility that he would not kick, rather he will be a comforter, with his blissful hand on their forehead. Eventually, the container was filled with donations. Every night with a thousand or even more. And right here, it itches me somewhere, there is an eternal discord in the happening, where divinity earns a question of finance. Does true divine bliss ever need a financial profit?

The official colleagues who were the followers of Hazrat Shah Khabib Ullah Qutubpuri and the followers of Mawlana Nur-e Nawaz Nakshbandi, all became followers of this new one, Hamla Baba Bikram Puri. Mr. Sultan had ulcer problems, after taking the blessed rice from the preacher, his gaseous hiccups got reduced in half, in numbers. Mr. Mawla had an acute back pain, that day, when Hamla Baba kicked him, the back pain got cured, entirely. Every day is a whole new story. Now, none of these are third person accountabilities, all of them involved, fresh eye witnesses. When the official faith group started to poke me, it felt like soon I would turn into a full blown believer! With my unconditional love, a full swing believing system, grabbing the holy feet of Hamla Baba!

I was having this exact conversation with Safdar Ali, in our regular coffee shop. Throughout my entire life, I believed that nothing miraculous was possible overnight. Now, how can I deny these obvious eye witness accounts? Maybe, Mr Sultan was quite right, long enduring meditative contemplation turns a soul into an improbable divine entity!

I described every single thing to Safdar Ali. Upon hearing, he was not startled, there, seemingly.

He raised his eyebrows and he had a question for me, “The mattress on which they rest him, how many screwbolts are there in numbers?”
“So many! Even Though, I never tried to count!”
“Even then, is there a guess?”
“With a finger space apart, the number could be five hundred or six hundred or it could reach even a thousand!”
Safdar Ali, took a paper note out from his chest pocket of his shirt. Then he shook his head.
“The bricks lying on the chest of the divine preacher, do they shatter completely?”
“Yes.”
“Approximately, how many fragments are there?”
“So many! It crushes them into a loose fine content, so to say.”
Safdar Ali did a speculation, attentively and then asked, “When he walks on the hot coil, does he do that quickly or slowly?”
“Quickly, quite at a quicker pace.”
“Does the event precedes with his feet soaking in water?”
I was trying to remember while I was scratching my head. Never could remember the soaking part, but it came to my mind that the followers help him in doing ablution. Safdar Ali had a simpering smile throughout his face, he took a booklet out from his pocket, took some notes, made some calculations, and then, started to giggle!
I asked, “What happened?”
“He is the imposter, the number one, to be precise.”
“Who?”
“Yours holy one.”
“Why?”
“Look here!” Safdar Ali opened his note book, there through some doodles, was a handwritten note, (200/1000) x 2 = A thief (600/10,000)+100= An imposter.

I was absorbed in the deepest contemplation. A math calculation to filter out the thief along with the imposter is a first hand experience! Safdar Ali looked through my puzzled gaze and surmised, “In a fix? Let us begin to understand!”

Safdar Ali took a longer bit of time to explain the whole thing. All through, I had thicker skin. It takes a bit of time to make me understand anything. But once understood, it became clear to me too, that undoubtedly, the oracle miracle is not something tangible at a quicker pace. The content becomes a matter of this, one person can weigh 150 lbs, to its best. There, our oracle miracle is a different story. Not anything lesser than a mass of hundred or hundred fifty pounds, not anything less than that. While resting on a mattress of nailing screws, his body mass gets evenly distributed through these sets of screws. If the whole mass is loaded with just one screw, it could pierce through the flesh, but it never happens there, in that way. An array of screws is fearsome to observe, but each one takes barely an ounce of load or so. It is not a substantial load. Anyone can endure a load of a few ounces on a screwhead, even a nourished oracle lead! It is only gruesome to see a brick breaking event on a chest, but it is not a grave matter to that degree. A hammer to be used to break the bricks, uses most of the energy to break the bricks. The residual energy dissipates gradually there, on the set of screws to increase the load only an ounce more, perhaps. To walk on the fuming heated coil is obviously not an easy one, it is dangerous too. A mass of hot coil could be six hundred or even seven hundred degrees in temperature, it is not a funny thing. But, one should be mindful that it is a mere coil. It is not a heavyweight mass. Therefore its capacity of heat retention is also lesser in amounts.If one, presses the mass of the coil, not a whole amount of heat can reach up to the feet. Before the coil could burn the feet, the feet cool down the mass of the coil. The latent heat takes time to reach up to the feet, and walking at a quicker pace allows lesser time in allotment to heat transfer. Therefore, when one steps into the heated coil mass, the evaporated water underneath the feet creates a fine layer of gaseous matter. A gaseous layer, however finer it might be, the medium is not the one to trespass heat so easily. Safdar Ali gave a simple scientific exposition. The shopkeeper was cooking the lighter snacks, the metallic pot was very hot then, Safdar Ali, let a few drops of water enter there. Those drops of water did not dissipate into evaporation, right that very moment, these particles were roaming around on that hot content. The droplets of water had a gaseous layer underneath, and so, heat could not pass through that gaseous layer to reach the water surface, and so, water was not turning into vapors. Quite an interesting observation!

Safdar Ali’s explanation was a source of enormous joy to me. Throughout my whole life, I believed that there is nothing supernatural that is beyond explanation. If I had to give up that truth, it could turn into a grave tragedy. However, the deepest source of joy had another reason. A scientist like Safdar Ali , did observe to capture the fraudulent pattern. It is not that difficult for him to catch the imposter preacher red handed!

This one did startle Safdar Ali. “No! No!No!Never!How come!”
“Why?”
“Why should we shame an old person in this manner? How come is it possible?”
I was simply astonished. “An imposter is making his fortune with his gangsters, and the other ten innocent ones had to pay for him, this is not a cult. And the grave cult is to highlight his mannerism, is it so?”
Safdar Ali shrugged, quite vehemently. While shaking head, he thought loudly, “Therefore, you will shame an older man! How come is it possible?”

It took me hours to make Safdar Ali understand that, if someone is not catching him red handed, he will carry on with his imposter syndromes throughout his life. Safdar Ali agreed somewhat to a degree, after putting in an effort of explanation , enduring half an hour in length. It did not take him a minute to plan the masterplan to expose the imposter. It became so clear to me that I understood the whole plan, hearing only the first time. Thinking about what would happen to the imposter preacher, did bring a smile to his face. He was ready to begin his journey toward the oracle lead. I was taking all the trouble to stop him from starting the journey. We should be prepared before the imposter is caught red handed.

The next two days were a story of my preparation. The first one had the residence of the oracle lead. I needed to talk to his senior follower too. For the last few days, I was observing myself , seated in the first row, but never cared to donate a penny in his container. So, today, my visit raised his eyebrows, with a significant undertone. But, I simply overlooked, and tried to talk in terms. I told, that I am a vegetable marchant. Here in the conversation, I winked to add that my merchandise production house has other oddities, not to be discussed in louder manners. I also added that my merchandise production house is glorified with materialistic properties, has income tax issues and in addition to that , there is a trend of problematic believing systems. If he is able to locate a truly virtuous one, he is ready to spend an amount of one lac or two, with ongoing credulous believing system, and dissolvable income tax issues, in between, too.

It gave a high voltage energy to that follower, he simply started to glow on the spot! He took me by the shirt on one hand, spared a seat for me, and called someone for a cup of tea. I lowered my voice as if I was whispering!
“Our merchandise production house has only one fear, and that is that the whole plan should not be ambushed with a fraudulent pattern! I have been searching for true grace for quite a long time ! So far, my experiences are closer to a nightmare! For the first time, in the very first time, I have met true grace!”
I got intervened by the follower, immediately. He started to elaborate about own junior brother-in-law, senior brother-in-law of the extended family and about the brother-in-laws of the preacher himself ! He did not even stop here, he started to unfold about the preacher’s ability, along with lying on a bed of screwbolts and walking on fire, what other miraculous abilities are there, in his arsenal. He has an X-ray vision and foreseeably, he can see through attires. He is able to cure evil witchcraft of jinns or evil spirits, and his six homeopathic containers had six captivated stories of six jinns!
Patiently, I heard the speech, to its entirety, and after the concluding moment dissipated, I declared my unanimous opinion in favor of the topic, and I am already having a vision that the preacher will succeed, and Kalu Khan after reaching the event will turn into an avid follower after witnessing the moment. However….
“However…what?”
“Every merchant is a story behind a skeptic pattern of introspection. Then, what is the use of taking undue risk here! The day Kalu khan will visit here, the preacher should have an arrangement, where he would lie on the bed of screwbolts once, and then walk on the fiery coils the next, to mesmerize Kalu khan on the spot!”
The follower surmised. “Obviously! Certainly! Hundred times and hundred times more!”
The follower notified me, that the soul of the preacher aches there on that day, when he has to lie on a bed of screw bolts, so he is relieved from walking on fire, that day. But to be inclusive in the graceful matters of Kalu Khan, they are ready for the no-break show! It only could be a matter of temporary discomfort on the hurting soul!

After the conversation elongated for a few more minutes, I had to part. The follower is one from a deep sea, he agreed to come in terms if Kalu Khan is ready to spend two lac, with my percentages included in. Not only this, the senior follower of the preacher is a senior cop. If Kalu Khan needs, that cop is ready to look closely into the deeper layers of the law, inside and outside too! It made me speechless, to be precise.

My second preparation had to involve a newspaper agency. One of my friends is a journalist there, but the trouble is, he is always off season to schedule something to meet onsite! After spending a whole lot of effort, I could grab him in the middle of the night.
He simply was curious.”Are you looking for me? What’s up?”
“There is an emergency. We need to meet,”
“Graceful Lord! Fortunate me!”
“You have to allow this Wednesday evening, only for me.”
“What’s up buddy? Nephew’s birthday celebration?”
“No, Nothing like that. We are going to visit an oracle miracle!”
The friend scratched his head, unsure. “But, I have an interview, scheduled on this wednesday, with a film-star.”
“No. No more of this. Please show up this wednesday. You must. With your cameras, flashlights and every other thing.”
“Where?”
“I will confirm the address of the Oracle guy.”
He was truly astonished. “You are… a follower of a preacher? Since when in the fanclub?”
I said, “we will talk more, there.”
The journalist friend disagreed, “Okay. I will be there. But, I cannot commit to praising publicity for preachers.”
“As you wish. And please do not treat me like a stranger, there!”
“Why?”
“Because, I am not the one who I am, there. I am a manager of Kalu Khan, a potato merchant!”
The friend had a blank gaze, with a wide spread mouth in utter surprise. I left the spot, leaving him there.
My task two is accomplished. The third task is a difficult one. The mystery behind the bed of screwbolts and a dangerous walk on fire, to note it down on a piece of paper. I am not a good writer, it took me a whole amount of time. Not only a simple note, it needed a hundred xerox copies, with a self-pay!
The last task is not only difficult, it is risky in nature too. A little bit of preparation was needed in advance, to catch the imposter. The preparation should be staged on that day, not before that. Safdar Ali consoled that he will manage everything. Once caught, who would face the public rage? But, what good did it ever do to start without taking a risk?
On Wednesday evening, I showed up to meet the scheduled commitment. While coming there, I picked up a little one named Nantu. I picked him up from the frontside of the New Market. He agreed on twenty, ten in advance, and the rest upon performance. The task is not that of a difficult type. When the divine courtyard will turn into utter chaos, he needs to enter there and start circulating his handbills. “The fraud preacher!'' will be the cry, and the circulation will keep moving on. The plan made him enthusiastically happy. He poked one hand with the other, “The brook had a lake, the chilly earned a fake!”
I could not fully understand the inner meaning and the reason behind this one. However, I did not put in a huge effort. What is the use of intellect , when it understands an innocent mind, to the fullest extent? If I would be the one understanding the kids, why are they kids, anyway?
After entering the destination, I met the senior follower of the preacher. In a low voice, he asked.”Kalu Khan, is he with you?”
I pointed my finger to the gathering, outside.”Sitting right there, does not want to disclose the identity. Once finished, I will take him to the preacher.”
The senior follower got a bit disheartened , but he carried on with his conversation about spirituality, this lowly world, and the world in the hereafter. While the conversation went on, I kept an eye toward the doorway. Safdar Ali was supposed to come, all by himself, he is already in. Near the stage, the bed of screwbolts was resting, one or two brave spectators were touching the bed of screwbolts, I observed that Safdar Ali was also among the visitors, to check the screwbolts on the bed. He was acting as if he were checking the bolts, as he was pressing those screwbolts with his bare hand. A rather rusty acting, indeed! And one could easily understand that, just by being there. I was busy managing the senior follower. But there was no use of that. Just because, Suddenly, I saw that Safdar Ali was approaching the fire. That means that he is done with the bed of screwbolts.Standing right beside that fire, Safdar Ali was looking here and there, with a quite huge risk of being a suspicious person, himself. I was warned to see a follower, approaching him.The follower asked something to Safdar Ali. Safdar Ali replied something to the follower. Then, these two, kept on with continuing words, in a relaxed manner. The follower was using a stick, to dig the fire, so that it can burn brightly. Safdar Ali was helping the guy. In an unknown fear, I closed my eyes. What will happen, if they capture him! After coming so close to the end, if someone captures him, standing this close to the follower… I was looking elsewhere. I was not able to think it through, to think it over.After a while, I was looking for him. I realized that he was returning. Once our eyes met, I saw a smile, with a nod. He is finished with his assignment, and I felt simply relieved.
The preacher was punctual to be present, on the stage. A body of four feet, almost identical in length and breadth. His skin color was pure bliss of white. He had blossoming pink on his cheeks. He was wearing a white lungi. The preacher put a big smile on his face , and then, he sat on the center of that velvet carpet. Right then and there, the present gathering had a little unsettling moment, a little competition, to be the first one to send greetings to the holy feet of the preacher. Those who were a bit advanced, tried to kiss underneath the feet of the preacher. The preacher, with his smile intact on his face, was replying to the greetings, and he was sending his blessings along the way.

After a few minutes, the senior follower announced that the preacher will be starting soon, those who are sure about their state of ablution may continue, with him.

The pious figure had cold lemonade on a big glass bowl, sitting in front of him. He took a glassful of that, had a few sips, and then started to meditate with the finest recitation. Almost a hundred people, present in the Mahfil, started to recite, along with him. They were loud, too loud for a peaceful conception of an isolated rooftop.The noise became louder, and the motion got quicker and quicker. The preacher started to tremble, eyes got wider, and before anything could be understood , he simply collapsed on the velvet carpet, and started to make a strange noise! The senior follower lightly jumped to take the stance, and the public calmed down!.The preacher was still in a noisy state, some followers rushed toward him with wet warm towels, tried to help in ventilation with a fan, and after a while, he was truly calm. The senior follower lowered his voice, “Please take caution! Do not make any sound! Our holy preacher is in the highest state now! His soul is traveling to the higher domain, selfless and in denial with his earthly body. Now if you are too noisy, he might not have a safe return to his body. Everyone, please be with remembrance of the divine, and do not be noisy!”
The gathered people, with serious faces were all in the holy remembrances.
The senior follower continued with his lecture, once more, “The preacher is in a state beyond pain! How beautiful to state it otherwise, to say it is not so! The innermost state, where there is no worldly self, how could it not be so! If you are not believing, he is going to rest on the bed of screwbolts in a while, and he will float there!”
The big chunk of the holy mass, well treated and well nourished, got a bit too spacious. Too greasy to hold a surer grip. It took ten or twelve strong men to put quite an effort there to place him,
But, once they placed him, the strangest thing happened!
The selfless preacher had a painful groaning. A simple notion of exclamation, an utter expression of pain!
The gathering had already started to be noisy, in utter astonishment.The senior follower was the first one to get back in sense. He uttered a supplication to ask salvation, warned that someone was attending there, without ablution.
“Nauzubillah! (May God save us!), Nauzubillah! Nauzubillah! Everyone, please recite ! “
The recitation of bold praiseworthy words covered the aching preacher. He can hardly be seen or heard! The preacher tried to jump, but the followers took him to bed, they placed the slab and the two pieces of bricks on the chest. I could see his eyes, now, a pair of fearful eyes, that turned in another dimension to sense the state of pain! He was trying to talk in between. But, in vain. A guy brought a hammer, and with the hammer he took the first blow! Only to crush the bricks to transform those into finer particles!
The preacher was groaning in pain! Ten followers were trying to place him back, and he had the loudest cry, “Please! Save me! O dear!”
The public turned speechless.
The followers followed the preacher, to grab him, and threw him down on the carpet, as he was, the expected martial Art hero!
The senior follower started to whisper into his ears and he was with his loudest gesture, seemingly, in denial.
Some followers rushed with some band aid and ointment. His silk clothing had traces of blood, they forced him to change clothes, on the spot.
Quite unsettled and puzzled, a gathering was wandering in front of me. Then, I saw Nantu, approaching me, with his bundles of handbills. I rushed toward him, “Not now!” I tried to forbid him.
His smiling teeth were visible, he was having quite a muse. He simply asked, “Anything…more?”
I replied, “Yes.”
He poked one hand with the other, “The brook had a lake, the chilly earned a fake!”
At last, the senior follower took the lead. He stood up and cleared his throat. “I told you a hundred times, not to start without ablution!But, someone among us within, did not pay any attention. He started without any ablution!”
The silence grew stronger in the gathering. The senior follower had the loudest cry, “Those who do not love the holy piety, should be destined to hellfire! Do not start without the state of ablution!”

The preacher started to meditate, once more. This time, they were lesser in numbers. Hardly there could be anyone certain, with possibilities of an unbreakable ablution! They grounded the body, one more time. One lac is not a negligible amount!The senior follower stood up one more time, and lowered his voice.
“The inner spirit of the holy one is traveling beyond the seven seas now! Please! Do not be noisy! Otherwise, the self will return to the body, causing utter pain to the entire body! Once the merciful witnessing God is present there, there will be no traces in the body, other than an angelic body! Now you will witness the foolproof!”
There were some wooden logs resting there in the fire, burning brightly, for quite a bit of time. Now, the followers were placing the coils evenly. It was 10 feet long and 2 feet wide, to facilitate the preacher to have a walk on the pathway. In a half dark space, the fiery presence of those coils is quite uncomfortable, it is not an easy task. Today, it is a whole different story though. Safdar Ali managed everything. Every bit and piece of fraudulent mannerism will be evident today! The bed of screwbolts worked so nice that I felt certain about the management of Safdar Ali.

The preacher was senseless, for quite a long time.Everyone washed his feet and helped him stand up on the fiery mass of coil. The poor soul was trembling, he was trembling a lot!
The senior follower pushed him and he got dumped into the fiery mass of the coil. His calm face changed within a minute, He wanted to step back, helplessly. But the follower group was an insistent one!
With the bittermost face, he tried to step in. And then…
He had an utter cry! “O savior! Help us! Please help us, O God!”
And then, the big holy mass tossed and turned, and ended in landing the cold lemonade with his holy feet!
It had a few flashes in between! My journalist friend must be in, also!
It truly startled the gathering. They were told not to be noisy. But, now they had nothing to lose. Slowly they started to be noisy. People started talking, unsure and agitated. And in the midst of this…
The clear and loud voice of that streetboy!
“The fraud preacher!''
“The fraud preacher!''
“The fraud preacher!''
It casted as if a spell bound moment appeared on the spot! The preacher himself was charmed and looked at him.
Everyone was looking at Nantu!
No one was ready to believe their own ears! Within a few minutes, the whole room got silent, silent as a graveyard. Nantu was startled and looking back, unsure and puzzled, he stopped before he could start running.Perhaps for the remaining ten, he took his handbills out. There were some other ones too.
The hand bills had the boldest letters!
“The fraud preacher!''
Underneath the title, there were two questions.
“Why could the preacher not lie on the bed of screwbolts today?”
“Why the preacher could not walk on fire today?”
Some interested people started approaching him, and he started to circulate these handbills. One after another, they started to read about the fraud preacher. It was quite an agitation for the gathering, they were spreading there, that the preacher was a fraud! They started to approach Nantu, for the handbill. In utter surprise, I saw Nantu, with a reserved, calm face he was holding the papers back. The gathering encircled him, but he was not letting the papers go. Someone requested, and he simply replied, “It costs five, but today’s special is two.”
The one who was requesting was quite surprised. “How is it so? You were giving it for free!”
Nantu was precise in reply.
“It is a business tactic. The brook had a lake, the chilly earned a fake!
Undecided ones, please make way! Do not waste my time!”
I was in utter surprise to see the gathered people, already started to give him money. Someone tried to buy twice. But he never took them more than once. Within a blink of an eye, the papers got finished. Nantu had paid amount, quite handful of that! Too large a pocket is to be there to fill in the aftermath!
The followers were also ready to read a copy of the note, “The fraud preacher!” Before they could even finish, some tried to escape. But the public took control of them.
The preacher never tried to escape. He had blisters on his feet. He was still there, with his leg resting on the container of lemonade! Without taking him in the lap, there is no way they could heal him. The followers were very busy trying to save themselves.
Now, who will be taking time to heal the heavenly mass?
Those followers, busy in kissing the holy feet of Hamla Baba, just a while ago, have taken the moment to tie the body, alongwith his followers, He is a graceful wiser appearance, otherwise, public rage was quite inevitable. Interested people started to check his beard already, if it was a fake one or not, this took a toll on him, already, quite heavily! My journalist friend is a responsible one. He guessed my plan, right after coming here, and called the police.The police did not reach yet, once they are here, they will not be victims of the mob rage.

I waited there, with Safdar Ali, for a bit longer. Then we had to return.
The journalist wished to stay till the end. This will surely make the news! I could not even convince Nantu. He received his ten, already. He just started with his speech, in front of a huge gathering. The speech was as follows:
“Then sir approached me, and wished to unfold the masterplan , and warned me that it is not risk free. And I simply said, The brook had a lake, the chilly earned a fake! There is nothing to lose, God is our witness! It means a lot to die for a good cause. Then sir said “Sounds like a plan! Let us sit on it! “
And then, we started with a cup of tea and cigarette!”

I am not a heartless one, how can I be a footnote there, elsewhere?

The next day, I arrived in the office, earlier, by choice. While coming to the office, I collected some newspapers. Upon arrival, I found everyone, reached there, earlier than me. There was a huge gathering , centering Mr Sultan’s desk. On the very last page of the newspaper, they published a feature article.
“The misfortune of a fraud preacher!”
Yesterday, Nantu circulated a few handbills, the entire content is already published there. My own writeup, I had a sheer feeling of fulfillment! My Name or the name of Safdar Ali was not seen anywhere. They kept it a secret, willfully. To take control about fanatic followership or blind enthusiasm. It got an introduction with a scientific explanation about the bed of screwbolts and the walk on the fire. It took the most thoughtful moment in me, as everyone nodded as if they understood the whole content after reading it once. The lower part of the handbill goes like this:
“But there is no miracle power in a figurative one. He turns into a selfless one, while resting on a bed of screwbolts or walking on a hot mass. We have granted you a detailed explanation earlier, never here to be a reason for your lapsing patience.
But, in case, the bed of screwbolts had only one screwbolt, longer than the other one, then it will be the cause of an unbearable pain, landing on the lone screwbolt, sustaining the whole mass. To check the fact secretly, one screwbolt was capped today, with an iron cap. As a consequence, you will witness the painful aftermath of the subject.
The capacity to heat retention is very little for hot coil, so it is easier to walk on those at a quicker pace.But if there is metal present in that hot mass , it can create a condition where the heat retention is higher, and someone trying to walk on that will surely follow up with blisters on their feet!
To find the fraud preacher, some metal nuts and bolts were placed in the hot mass. Things will be clearer once the preacher will step into the hot mass.
Dear brothers and sisters, today’s….”

Then, it had clear advice to fund in a better way, without wasting money on fraud preachers.
Mr. Sultan got done reading the news, and looked at me.
“You were right, it is truly difficult to trace a miracle oracle. If it was so, why so much materialistic bargain?”
Aziz khan said,”Yes, I had to treat a bulky one for so many days, for no good reason! My youngest one was requesting for a meccano set for so many days!...”
Mr, Mowla said, “I am aching with back pain already, and the kicking of that fraud one that day!...”
Mr. Sultan said, “ We should have listened to you earlier, brother Iqbal! Rather than wasting money on fraud preachers, we could fund for food welfare!
Mr. Mowla simply joined there, “Yes! We are so many in numbers, if we fund only ten, it can turn into a huge fundraiser, including all of us in!”
Mr. Idris said,”Iqbal is right about these, all. Why don’t we make him the president and create a committee!”
Mr. Mawla shook his head, “It is hard to guess to read people, to read their minds. Here is Iqbal, a cunning one, in appearance! But, he has a heart too, sensitive, somewhere!”
“Then, we agreed on this.”The old accountant said,”We will hand over the donation to Iqbal. He will manage the rest.”
Mr. Akmal was scratching his head,”Never paid attention to Iqbal.He has some graceful words, so to say. If we sit for half an hour, after the school hour, and Iqbal can be the speaker, is it okay?”
Section officer simply grabbed the call. “Yes!Yes! Not a bad idea! Anyhow it is the peak hour of bus service, then!”
I was left without an option to talk.I got my chance, when everyone was finished. I said, “Would you let me talk?”
Mr. Mowla was the spokesperson among them, “But before that, let us know if you are agreeing to that.”
“Alright,”
Everyone had a smiley face, a comfortable one. I gave them a chance to have a wider one.
“Then, how about I change my name, how is that? Hazrat Shah Baba Zafar Iqbal Nakshbandi Kutubpuri Gulguliya– how about this one?”
I could be wrong, but for a moment, I felt some happy eyes looking back, not from a far!

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