Ved Nagar: 52Posted: April 29, 2013
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan laughed.
“I’m destroying the Musalmīn and the Musalmīn are so foolish that they are calling me Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allahu tålā ånahā reincarnated.”
“Because you are using your Seven Movements to advertise your extraordinary spiritual capabilities among Musalmīn.” I smiled at her niftily, still fucking Amīnah Zahīr.
“And Musalmīn don’t understand it?” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan kept smiling.
“You are shrewd enough to understand the shortcomings of Musalmīn. Most of them are blindly superstitious, because they are Uneducated/Under Educated. The Uneducated/Under Educated Mullahs and Maulavīs oppose their modern education so that their followers may not abandon them. You are influencing the Mullahs and Maulavīs themselves.”
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand looked at Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan complaining.
“Bājī, I’ve myself seen you and your agents bribing these Mullahs and Maulavīs and other Musalmīn of influence.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan watched him curtly.
“The problem with Abbū Imām, Durgesh, you and other similar ideologists is, you always argue about means. You never see the practical impossibility of your ever Utopian suggestions.”
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand smiled at me.
“Jījū, your utmost successful Practical Chief Wife is criticizing even you now.”*
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled.
“Well, what’s wrong in criticizing him if he is wrong? He never claimed to be Omniscient.”
I smiled merely.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan continued to say.
“He himself admits no one is Omniscient except Allah Rabbil Åālmīn. He knows so many things more than we do. He has experienced so many incidences than we have. Naturally he understands so many things more than we do, and more deeply too. But that’s all. That’s the limit of your Jījū too. Beyond that he too assesses everything. And his assessment may be wrong too as well as it may be right. Am I right, my love?” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan looked at me.
“Right.” I smiled, “Sorry Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand, I’m too a human being. Even my assessments may be wrong. I too don’t, and can’t, know everything.”
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand smiled.
“The difference between Abbū Imām and Durgesh is that Abbū Imām is an ideologist only, while Durgesh is a Practical Ideologist. Abbū Imām can dream better but as he is far more behind than Durgesh in both knowledge and experiences, he doesn’t know how to make his dreams true optimum as Durgesh does.”
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand beamed at me with immense pride.
“But,” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled unwearyingly, “similarly Durgesh isn’t a woman, is he?”
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand laughed.
“Jījū is the Absolute Man.”
“Yet, not a woman.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan repeated insistently.
“Therefore he can’t understand what we womankind need actually as optimum as I can.”
“Bājī,” Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand protested.
“There are so many things, Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand, that we womankind never tell even our life partners.”
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand looked at me.
I was grave now.*
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled at Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand.
“Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand, you believe your Jījū more than you believe your Bājī, don’t you?”
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand watched her gravely.
“My morals are more identical with Jījū, Bājī. I never hide it from anyone.”
“You, your Jījū, Abbū Imām, you all never try to understand how to get Pseudo Musalmīn votes. The Pseudo Musalmīn are actually the most confused persons in the Multiverse.”
“I see.” Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand said gravely.
“The Pseudo Musalmīn are actually always the pendulums between True Islam and Pseudo Islam.”
Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr interrupted.
“The police has told me that it isn’t established beyond doubt that the victim of the murderer is Colonel Åbdul Raħmān.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled ironically.
“The police is playing a deep game so that Ved Nagar can’t be held politically responsible for the murder of one of my Commandos. It’s only a razzle dazzle. Both the nations India and Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat do understand they don’t want to antagonize Ved Nagar. They can’t afford it.”
Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr laughed.
“Ved Nagar can do anything?”
“Almost anything.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled triumphantly.
Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr looked at Amīnah Zahīr.
“I’m unable to understand, my lady, Al Sadar Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat is smiling triumphantly however her reliable commando is murdered. The police say they can’t establish beyond doubt that the body is really that of Colonel Åbdul Raħmān. She has deputed Colonel Åbdul Raħmān on some secret mission and Ved Nagar administration itself has helped her, Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat actually.”*
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan laughed.
“Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr, you are promoted to be the leader of Kħulfa-e-Rāshidūn. Congratulations. You really understand what we do more efficiently than the rest of you.”
Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr bowed half to Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, respectfully.
“Shukriyah, Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allahu tålā ånahā reincarnated.”
Amīnah Zahīr smiled.
“Bājī, Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allahu tålā ånahā reincarnated, I own a ranch in Nevada as well as I own a ranch here at Ved Nagar too, both with Durgesh, of course, as you yourself own each and every property you have, with Durgesh, yourself, everywhere, even in Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat. It’s rather a large holding. Durgesh likes it. I like to live there with Durgesh. Durgesh loves Musalmān Beauties, Musalmān houseladies especially. There’s a guest ranch, a so called dude ranch, adjoining our property in Nevada. I find some of the guests women who stay there are rather interesting. It’s unfortunate that they find Durgesh more interesting rather than me.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan laughed sensitively.
Amīnah Zahīr only kept smiling respectfully.
“As you can well judge yourself, Bājī, Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allahu tålā ånahā reincarnated, Al Sadar Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat, Everfirst President of Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat, many of these guest Musalmān Beauties, Musalmān houseladies, are not there simply because they like the idea of recreation on a guest ranch in Nevada. They are there because they want to establish a six weeks’ residence in order to get a divorce.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled cunningly.
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand watched his wife, Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim gravely.*
Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim winked at her husband impishly.
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand averted his eyes hastily to look at Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, me and Muħammad bin Qāsim whether anyone of us has noticed it.
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand was not backward, yet he was relatively more sophisticated than his ever impish ever naughty wife, Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim.
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand respected Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and me both more.
Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim, instead, always teased both of us.
She was my Sālī after all, my sister in law.
Amīnah Zahīr joined Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan this time in smiling cunningly as well.
“I am frank to admit that most of those Musalmān Beauties, those Musalmān houseladies, take interest in Durgesh usually, naturally.”
“Naturally?” Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim nudged me.
“Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim!” I admonished her.
“Sure,” Amīnah Zahīr said, “yet we can’t blame them. They are there for divorce. It’s obvious they are separated from their husbands already. Consequently, missing sex and a loving masculine attention already for a relatively long time. When they find even Durgesh is available to them, well, they start to enjoy sex with Durgesh sooner or later.”
“Every one of them?” Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim teased us impishly.
“Almost every one of them.” Amīnah Zahīr smiled sophisticatedly, “Usually, I mean, of course.”
“Of course.” Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim’s impish eyes twinkled conspicuously.
Amīnah Zahīr winked at Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim and continued.
“The women who sever their domestic ties go to a state where they have no friends. They find themselves, usually for the first time in years, entirely on their own. They are apt to be lonesome, naturally. Consequently, apt to be seeking companionship too with as powerful a man as they can get. I happen to have a ranch that is accessible. Durgesh happens to be available as an utmost caring, utmost lovable, utmost loyal, utmost reliable, masculine friend. Why the hell they don’t take the advantage of the opportunity?”
“I agree with you, Amīnah Zahīr.” Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim smiled cunningly.*
Amīnah Zahīr smiled.
“I had always lived on my ranch and enjoyed it until Al Samīnah Al Qāsim came to Nevada, to establish a residence on this adjoining dude ranch. She liked Durgesh and enjoyed more sex with Durgesh than she had enjoyed with even Abbū Imām, her husband. Al Samīnah Al Qāsim was a very determined and a very resourceful woman. She had a very definite plan of operation. We became very good friends gradually. Yet, I had long been for the right sort of investment here in Ved Nagar. Who doesn’t now, if s/he is capable? My real estate broker found this place. It was offered at what I considered a bargain as price go these days. I talked with Durgesh. Durgesh approved my decision. I told my dealer to close the deal without letting the owners even suspect that Durgesh was too involved anywhere. It would have caused the price to go to the sky. The deal was closed very quietly keeping the news as far as possible out of media.
“When our dealer had the property all in escrow, I simply slipped from my ranch in Nevada. Durgesh told Al Samīnah Al Qāsim that I had been called away very suddenly on business that would keep me out of state for some time. I would get in touch with Al Samīnah Al Qāsim as an opportunity presented itself. In the meantime I was working on a deal that was so confidential I couldn’t take any chance of having any slip.
“Durgesh and I jumped in our own private plane and flew to Denver. We had to stop for a few hours at our Denver branch office of HVSI Group of Companies, then flew for Ved Nagar. We picked up a new automobile that had been ready for delivery to our order, and came here to this place.
“I was very careful not to let Al Samīnah Al Qāsim know where I was. Durgesh was already available to her in his another body. Why the hell she had to pay any attention to what the damn I was doing? When Durgesh is available himself, the all a Musalmān Beauty, the all a Musalmān houselady is interested ever is undress Durgesh completely, undress herself completely, and enjoy sex with Durgesh as much as she can.”
Amīnah Zahīr was smiling cunningly now.
It was not easy for Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand to believe a Just Eighteen Just Adult Musalmān Beauty could be that cunning.
His Bājī, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, was really transforming the Musalmān Beauties, the Musalmān houseladies, miraculously.
Actually, his Bājī, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, was herself a miracle after the greater miracle, Durgesh.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan Bājī was following Durgesh step by step very adroitly.
Moreover, she knew very well, very meticulously, where to deviate from Durgesh to transform Musalmān Beauties and extraordinary beautiful Musalmān houseladies to use them optimum for establishing her dream Ummat, Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah.
It was a miracle the Pseudo Musalmīn terrorists, criminals/criminal minded Musalmīn were being cuckolded fastest under her Cuckold Your Musalmān Husband movement.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan Bājī knew very well how to deal with the bastards.
Now, almost the entire global media even is acknowledging her ever great achievements.
It’s being written and discussed now surreptitiously that the Seven Movements of Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan had effectively decreased the terrorist and criminal activities of Pseudo Musalmīn, even though the movements are in themselves not as humane as they should have been.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan has laughed.
“Humanity with the animals who never respect any human life except that of Pseudo Musalmīn? Never. I’ll cuckold every one of them, bastards. I’m not Durgesh. They are enjoying Durgesh’s so called humanity on the cost of innocent persons’ very life. I’m Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan. I have my own definition of humanity. Cuckold the bastards who never respect human life if it’s not a Pseudo Musalmān.” *
Amīnah Zahīr was grave now.
“The information that Al Samīnah Al Qāsim was in Ved Nagar comes out as a distinct surprise to me. She did not come here, however, last night or any other time to have the gasoline tank of her automobile filled. I haven’t seen her since I left Nevada. She is a very lovable woman, however. I happen to know that, Al Samīnah Al Qāsim, however, had a deep seated fear of her husband, Abbū Imām. She was planning something. I don’t know exactly what it was but I do know that Al Samīnah Al Qāsim was very much afraid of what her husband, Abbū Imām, would do when Al Samīnah Al Qāsim started to put her plan into execution.
“There are some things, however, I won’t like to say here in the presence of witnesses. But Al Samīnah Al Qāsim was talking of a picture, Abbū Imām and Durgesh’s yacht.”
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand was suddenly all alert now.
“How do you know Al Samīnah Al Qāsim was talking of Durgesh Jījū’s yacht? I think it was another yacht that belongs to Muħammad Ůsmān and Muħammad bin Qāsim. My wife, Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim, knows about it more, I think.”*
Out on deck, on my ‘yacht’, I found the fog had thickened until it was impossible to see more than a few feet in any direction.
The ship was facing upstream now.
Standing up there, I could hear the sullen gurgle of cold water as the current swirled around the anchor chain.
Confidently, thoughtfully, I moved aft, reached the stem of the vessel.
I saw a member of the crew.
He appeared to me to be so.
I didn’t know him personally.
Neither it was possible for me to know everyone personally who was in my staff.
I had a large staff even on this ship.
He was bundled up in a heavy mackinaw.
Standing motionless, I thought he must have been a night watchman.
If my assumption was correct he hadn’t to care anything for the guests.
He had only to wait simply the night out, standing there as still as a statue.
I walked back again toward I came from.
Suddenly, I stumbled over a piece of rope.
I couldn’t kick it to one side.
It must not be there.
Hell, the security must be instructed to find out and inform me why it was there.
The security in charge regretted the incidence and promised me to find out immediately.
I walked back to a position amidships on the starboard side.
I stood there for some ten minutes lost in thought.
I was aroused suddenly.
It was a sudden stabbing sound of a woman’s shrill scream, from the vicinity of the bow.
A sharp report followed almost instantly by a peculiar series of muffled splashes.
I looked to the stem.
The man who had been on duty as watchman was no longer there.
It was possible he had run to the bow, keeping to the port side.
Was he really a watchman?
Now I doubted even it.
I turned to dash back toward the bow.
I heard the soft patter of hurrying feet and then, almost without warning, a figure, walking confidently down the deck, collided with me.
I felt the soft touch of damp silk.
My nostrils caught the faint scent of perfume.
I realized the woman I was holding in my arms was stunning, confident and definitely not in panic, even infinitesimally.*
My first assessment was that she was the woman who screamed.
She was the woman the soft patter of whose hurrying feet I had heard.
But the stunning Beauty I was holding in my arms was neither hurrying, nor she was in any condition so that I could say she was the woman who screamed.
It was a sudden stabbing sound of a woman’s shrill scream, from the vicinity of the bow.
I couldn’t forget it.
I could feel the pumping of her heart, the tension of her muscles.
Her hand moved and inadvertently it touched my ever sensitive rising Uncut Hindu Penis.
Yet I was suddenly all alert.
I had caught the glint of faintly reflected light from some metallic object.
I realized immediately she was carrying a gun.
From up near the bow I was expecting the cry that was so ominous to seamen the world over.
‘Man overboard. MAN OVERRR-BOARD!!’
But no, it wasn’t there.
Nevertheless, from the sea, there came a series of thumping noises against the side of the ship.
It seemed that some struggling kicking object was swept past by the current on the side of the ship opposite to that where I was standing.*
There followed an instant of silence.
The extremely stunning Beauty in my arms had deliberately grabbed my Uncut Hindu Penis now.
She was even playing with it now, even more confidently than she came into my arms colliding with me.
It was my ship.
I owned it.
But I didn’t know who this dazzling Beauty was.
She was anywhere around twenty eight.
The most she could be, thirty, not more.
Her build, body and behavior was telling me that she herself was too a Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Beauty.
Her frankness was telling me, she belonged to one of the ever notorious Seven Movements of Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan.
I didn’t know why I had a feeling now that I had seen her with Taqdīs Aħmad Kamāl.
She resembled Åābidah Ibrār Ålvī very much.
Yet, I could not place her still now.
Then I suddenly placed her.
I hadn’t seen her with Taqdīs Aħmad Kamāl.
I had seen her with Farkħandah Aħmad Kamāl instead.
She was present when I kicked Muħammad Kamāl and Aħmad Kamāl both out of their own house, claiming that Kħālidah Muħammad Kamāl, 54, Farkħandah Aħmad Kamāl, 39, and Taqdīs Aħmad Kamāl, 20, were, all the three, my wives now.
She was standing there enjoying the incidence very much.
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