Why do we need the arrival of an anti-Christ? Why do we need that he arrive and evaluate our so-called faith? Whenever I observe the anarchy and chaos surrounding me , this query strikes my skull.
The soul of Tipu asks me, “Do we really need the wrath of any Dajjal? “
“If our people intend to slaughter us and they are more than enough to perform the job,” Tipu asks me, “Why do we need this false God Dajjal (anti-Christ)… if my loved ones are ready to show the path and my weaknesses to the English Army. And for their reward they ask for gold equal to their filthy weight. “
The bitterness of this question compels me to turn my face from my pathetic past… I try to peep into my present, but I watch a leather-sewed corpse, which stops me from turning to 2011.
“Yeah, I am the one who turned Sind into the Door of Islam (Bab ul Islam). The magic wand of whose angelic character transformed most of the living entities and species into living humans. Then what happened? What happened to me? My high command, my own people smashed my body and my soul. I was ruined in controversy weaved by my loved ones; they sewed me in leather. Are we really waiting for some anti-Christ who will just punish us for our Muslim blood? Aren’t we self sufficient in foes among us?”
It’s been said that this leather-sewed martyred warrior was a result of Prophet’s Prayer in Taif.
My mind turns to the present—the chaotic present. Then a voice strikes my ear drum “infidels, infidels. Outcaste, infidels” and I hear voice of those people who labeled Quaid-e-Azam as Kafir (infidel) Azam and those whose ancestors stabbed us in our back—more than our foes did. And some of their offspring these days are enjoying luxuries and other perks of Rajia Sabha in India.
If I just try to ignore them and bury the memories in the grave of past and walk back to the present then where should I hide myself? Sometimes, I see Malik Ghulam Muhammad making the power corridors even more stinky than they had been. The one who said with a finger pointed towards an elected Prime Minister, “You are dismissed.“ No formalities, no paper work, nothing. A finger is enough to send a Primer Minister home.
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