If Al-Dajjal Comes Now  ( POET : Sahil Sharifdin Bhat)  How man does seek after wealth, pleasures, and fame, Blinding himself to righteousness, faith, and the infernal flame.  Heaven and hell, mere concepts, forgotten and left behind, As he toils for riches, in this world, lost and blind. If Al-Dajjal comes now with promises of luxury and gain, We would fall for his deceit, and join his unholy campaign.  Knowing his path of darkness and deception, leads only to doom, And his followers shall face the divine wrath and gloom. Greed has consumed mankind, like a raging fire, Love and compassion, replaced by selfish desire, But let us not forget, that goodness will exist And righteousness and faith, shall forever persist. Let us shun the temporary pleasures, of this transient life, And strive for the eternal home, beyond pain and strife, For only in goodness, can we find true peace and grace, And separate ourselves, from the greedy race.

  Eid Is Not A Holy Festival Any More  ( Poet:  Sahil Sharifdin Bhat) Once upon a time, Eid was a magical day, When the world was painted in hues of play. A young boy dressed in his finest attire, Smiling wide, heart filled with desire. Running and laughing with friends galore, Memories that he'll always adore. With a few coins jingling in his pocket, He felt the world hanging as his locket.  Oh, how he wished Eid would never end, And the joy it brings would forever extend! As time went by, his thoughts strayed,  Because, the charm of Eid began to fade. He loathed the new clothes and festive cheer, And wished he could make it all disappear. The once jubilant day now brought him pain, And he felt trapped in a tunnel of bane . He locked himself away, away from the light, And concealed himself in the darkness of night.  Now , Eid was a time to display assets  And mock those caught in poverty nets.  ''Now the spirit of Islam, it does ignore.  Eid is not a holy festival any

    A Prayer To God  [ Poet Sahil Sharifdin Bhat] Dear God, I seek your wisdom deep To answer my questions or I shall weep.  I studied books and met gurus wise, Thus drowned myself in doubts and lies.  Tell me the truth of creation's birth? Of scattered stars ? of amazing earth? The purpose behind the cosmic jugglery ? The secret of my happiness and misery?  Oh, God, I've sought you in temples grand, Mountains, seas and pleasant land.  I looked around me through and through And saw your footprints but not you . Please meet me, God, in solitude profound, And tell me the truths that prophets found.  I long to hear your voice, so clear and true, To find my purpose, to know what to do. Tell me, God, how shall I worship thee? In rituals and rites, or by softening me? Or is it in kindness and love for all, In humbling oneself or standing tall? Whom do you make your companion? Do you see appearance or intention?  Guide me, God, on this journey unknown, Show me the shortest way to

Great Teachers Learn From Their Little Students An Urdu  teacher was teaching poetry to his students and he was explaining the couplet given below:  پاؤں  جنّت میں نہ رکھا تھا کہ تن سے نکلی روح  بے کسی نے رو دیا دیکھ کر منہ شداد کا  The Urdu teacher was explaining his students that once  a man named Shadad attempted  to enter the Paradise without the permission of God but the angel of Death killed him outside the door of the Paradise. A  small student  whose parents were well-read and well-educated  stood up and asked the Urdu teacher to allow him to tell the class the complete story of the king Shadad. The Urdu  teacher granted him the permission.   The little student narrated that there was a cruel king called Shaddad. He was the son of Aad and he  was fully drunk on his worldly  power and pelf. He refused to accept the Prophet Hud's  call to Islamic faith. Instead, he claimed that he himself was God and that there was no god other than him. He told the Prophet Hud [MBUH] that he