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

  28 Important questions of General English for the students of 10th Class   [Kashmir Division, March 2023]  1.How would you assess Griffin as a scientist?  2.What was the 'curious episode' that took place in the clergyman's study?  3. Why does Mrs Bennet tell her daughters that they have an excellent father? 4.Character sketch of Mrs Bennet. 5.How does Anne feel about her father, grandmother, Mrs Kuperus, and Mr Keesing? 6.Why is May10 an 'autumn day' in South Africa? 7.How does Mandela's understanding of freedom change with age and experience?  8. Sketch the character of Pappachi or Mamachi. 9.How does Mammachi stand out as an independent and resilient woman in the text? 10.Pick out the elements of irony in the lesson 'Pappachi's moth' 11.Describe the themes of the play ‘’The Merchant of Venice''.  12.How does Shahid face death? Describe the hospital scene? 13."Subject me not to the trials, shame not my human form" Explain.  1

Kashmiri English Literature  (1880CE–2030CE) The best literature of the valley of Kashmir has been written in Kashmiri language. However, the number of the writers preferring English language to Kashmiri or Urdu languages is growing with the passage of time. My dream is to make the list of all the writers of the Kashmir valley writing in English language. It will be my pleasure if you help me fulfill my dream. Kindly email me the name of the Kashmir writer and the titles of his/her published books. My email ID is sahilsharifdinenglish@gmail.com .  Introduction English language arrived in the valley in the   final quarter of the nineteenth century .   The first English Medium school , Tyndale Biscoe School   was opened by missionaries in 1876 CE at Lal chowk in the heart of Srinagar . J   Hilton Knowles was the first principal of Tyndale Biscoe and he held the post from 1876 CE   to 1880 CE . He also authored ' A dictionary of Kashmiri Proverbs and sayings (1880) ' and '

  Someone Whom I Want To Eat  There are people called ' Strangers '  Who pose me no threats , no dangers.  They see me daily but do not talk; I see them daily and ahead I walk.  Then there are people ' Less Friendly ' Who like to speak with me rarely. Or, chat in a year once or twice.  Or, call when they need my advice.  Next group is made of my ' Ex-friends '  Who could not leave me for two seconds.  Then they grew clever and left me alone— No meet , no message and no telephone.  Then there are people ' Very Friendly ' Who meet me often and talk Kindly. They laugh and eat and travel with me.  I love them like the whale loves sea.  Then there is that ' Intimate Person ' , Sweet and sour like a lemon.  Someone who increases my heartbeat; Someone whom I want to eat.  Someone who knows my private life Someone dearer than friends and wife.  [ Poet : Sahil Sharifdin Bhat ]