Durgesh Sidrah: One More Mastermind–7

Posted: May 3, 2010 | Author: Durgesh | Filed under: Ashvinatam, Muslimahs, Muslimat | Tags: ACP Vikrānt Pratāp, Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī, Rājesh Rājpoot, Sidrah Aħmad |2 Comments

Durgesh Sidrah: One More Mastermind

Chapter 7

It’s been years since my husband and I separated. Though there is no chance of us getting back together, we haven’t filed for divorce yet.

During these years, I’ve been no saint.

I was no saint ever.

My husband is right.

I love sex adventure with Hindus.

Not in singular, Plural.

At least three, in my three Sunni Musalmān holes, simultaneously.

I love it very much.

My priorities were Durgesh, Rājesh Rājpoot, and ACP Vikrānt Pratāp.

Sidrah Aħmad and Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī were my best friends.

“Ħumairah Qāzī has settled with her son Durgesh now.” I smiled to Sidrah Aħmad, when do you, Sidrah?”

“Never.” Sidrah Aħmad said contemptuously, “I have enough money and enough youth left in me still. I don’t need Durgesh even.”

I laughed.

“Why did you laugh, Āmnah?” her eyebrows implied her strong disapproval, “You think I need Durgesh’s Uncut Hindu Penis still now?”

“Every one of us needs.” I smiled, “Once with Durgesh, all else is trash.”

“Nonsense!”

“He has incredible sex prowess. He is alone more than all the rest of mankind combined.”

Sidrah Aħmad laughed ironically,

“When are you, yourself, settling with Durgesh?”

I’ve had a couple of short-term relationships with couple of Hindus and quite a few onetime hook ups.

I fell in love with the first Hindu I was with, after the separation.

I haven’t been able to get him out of my heart still.

So any Hindu I’ve been with since, just doesn’t do it for me emotionally.

Don’t get me wrong.

I’ve had good sex with the Hindus, but no connection otherwise.

Sorry.

Only sex with Hindus, nothing else.

I’m an ardent Muslimah, and I can’t allow any Hindu, to fuck my Īmān, damn it.

My everhottest eversexy Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān body needs savage Hindu sex kicks.

In all my ravenous three Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān holes .

That’s all.

I refuse to be slave of Hindus even, for it.

Hindus, my darlings, my husbands, Come to me, fuck me, enjoy me, but please, please, never try to possess or command me.

I believed in Sidrah Aħmad’s life style more, than in that Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī has surrendered to now.

Yet, I was so tired of trying to find the Hindu who will make me forget that first Hindu, that I’ve sworn off men for the time being.

He was Vishvās Shakr Mānav, Durgesh’s Pitr’shrī, after all.

At the end of my forties and with a houseful of young kids, I was not getting many offers, from Hindus I mean, as I can never even think of any Musalmān having sex with, other than for quick, no strings fun.

I’ve been focusing on my kids and trying to keep a roof over our heads.

As my twenty year old son, Durgesh still lives at home and has been like the man of the house the last couple of years.

He hasn’t found a job yet, but earns his keep by helping me with my jobs or baby sitting while I work.

He’s a very very good looking guy, about six inches taller than me and long straight hair.

Since I grew up in the seventies, I like a guy with long hair, I’m also attracted to guys without moustaches and beards.

Durgesh also was clean shaved always.

It’s been months now since I’ve been with anyone and when you happen to have a high sex drive it can be hell.

I’ve been taking care of myself while browsing porn sights, but it just doesn’t compare to full one-on-one, hot and heavy sex with a Hindu.

I know I swore off guys but something that has happened several times over the past week has me worried.

I’ve found myself looking at Durgesh in a way an Ammī should never look at her son.

Allah, am I myself surrendering to incest now?

First, Hindus!

And now incest?

Allah, NOoooooo!

Never!

Not Durgesh!

Yes, Durgesh is my top priority in my imaginations, but only in my imaginations!

Durgesh is my fantasy, but never anything more!

Maybe if I can find a one time hook up to release the tension building up inside me, I won’t do something I know is morally wrong.

It’s now ten PM, all the kids were in bed but the oldest.

I’ve been online now for hours and none of my possible hook ups were available tonight.

Allah!

Are Hindus losing interest in fucking me?

No!

It can’t be ever!

They have fucked me entire my life.

Now, they can’t leave me alone!

I am the same Āmnah Muħammad, the Hindus always loved to fuck, all in my three Sunni Musalmān love holes.

They have always tried to top my Ever Good List.

Sidrah Aħmad and I always competed to get best of the Hindus available to us.

Yes, Sidrah Aħmad always defeated me succeeding to get even Durgesh for her.

But it was because her Bhābhījān, Āmnah Ħabīb, helped her.

Āmnah Ħabīb’s second choice, Ajay Pratāp, helped her.

I was horny as hell and getting even more frustrated.

I mixed myself a strong drink that wasn’t helping, so I decided to go downstairs to mix another.

Durgesh was where he usually was, in front of the TV.

I walked past him to the kitchen and started mixing my drink.

My mind started fantasizing about Durgesh.

What it would feel if I were in his arms!

Why I can’t be one more Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī, damn it?

Why I can’t be one more Imāmzādī Al Tauħīd Al Muħammad?

Why can’t I be?

Today, it’s almost a fashion for mature Musalmān women of prominence, to have a younger Hindu boy for sex!

They help poor Hindu boys for it, ab initio.

Being immensely grateful to them, the poor Hindu boys call them Ammījān.

And the Ammījāns seduce their Hindu sons when they come to eligible age.

Incest?

How?

They are not their real son from any Hindu whosoever!

Yes, the jealous Musalmeen spread such rumors about them.

But I know, of my own knowledge, that the rumors are ill intended.

Always, at least almost always ill intended.

Should I too follow the same path?

The second option is—

Follow Sidrah Aħmad.

Can I do it?

I know Sidrah Aħmad very well.

She maintains to write her daily diary on her personal laptop.

She is so proud of her activities that she gives access to her personal diary to her extremely close friends too.

I remember she has written:

‘I love my Abbū’s frustrations and helplessness.

He wants to control me.

Me?

Poor Abbū.

He doesn’t understand what his daughter understands even in this early age of hers.

His daughter is a Mastermind nympho maniac.

She enjoys the variety of Uncut Hindu Penies into her ever ravenous Sunni Musalmān Cunt.

You can’t stop her.

Durgesh can’t stop her.

Even Sidrah Aħmad can’t stop herself.

Poor Abbū has written in his diary:

It was Friday, Jumā, time around 11.00 of forenoon.

I left office for an official visit and passed through house lane.

My sixth sense told me to make a round of house.

It was to be locked.

Last evening my wife left for her native to attend her ailing Ammījān with our younger daughter.

She was scheduled to return after about 15 days.

I stayed back with my elder daughter Sidrah Aħmad who has just entered high school and did not want to miss her classes.

She was to return at about 3.30 in afternoon.

Besides, there was our young servant of around 18 year of age, Rām Shankar to take care of the daughter, father, we two.

He was expected to stay around our house.

But I got alarmed the moment I saw outside door of house unlocked.

I thought that Sidrah Aħmad had forgotten to lock the door or might have permitted servant to stay in.

I silently pushed open the door.

I could not hear any sound.

I moved towards our room and then I heard clear voice of a girl,

“Ohhhh, Rām Shankar, kyā kar rahé ho?” Rām Shankar , what are you doing, Rām Shankar?”

It was my daughter’s voice.

I moved ahead and heard clearly, ohhh, Sidrah Aħmad…ab bardāsht nahīn hotā….aaj pūrā pyār karné doo..”

Ab bardāsht nahīn hotā….aaj pūrā pyār karné doo?

Now I can’t control, let me love you fully?

Allah!

Yā Allaaaaaaah!

Is my daughter in love with my servant?

It was servant’s voice.

It was clear that both my daughter and servant were busy in fondling.

Then I heard,

“Aréy, to mainé manā kab kiyā hai? Aaj to pūrā din hamāré paas hai. Jo karnā hai, karo.

I never stopped you. Full day is with us. Do whatever you want to do.

My daughter had permitted my servant to fuck her whole day.

Allah!

For how many days/ months/ years, Sidrah Aħmad and Rām Shankar are fucking?

Foolish girl!

Why doesn’t she fuck Durgesh only?

Haven’t I allowed Sidrah Aħmad to fuck Durgesh as much as she wants to?

The horny little bitch had tried to fuck even me.

She has already fucked my so many Hindu friends.

They laugh at me in whispers.

Even aloud when I’m not present.

And why not?

They fuck my nudist daughter Sidrah Aħmad to their hearts content.

I had to allow my Hindu friends even to fuck my wives, all my four wives, to keep their mouth shut.

Even then, this horny Sunni Musalmān girl of mine, is not learning,

“So what Abbū?” Sidrah Aħmad argued with me, “Why can’t your Hindu friends fuck my Ammīs, while you can’t fuck them too?”

“Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?” I shouted on top of my lungs, “Who says I can’t fuck my wives even? I have four of them, idiot!”

“When you can’t fuck even your daughters—“

“Allah! Allaaaaaaaaaaaah!” I snatched my hair in helplessness, “No sane man can fuck his own daughters ever, understand?

Sidrah Aħmad retorted,

“Well, they are not sane.”

“What?”

“Can you allow someone to fuck your daughter?”

“Well, haven’t I allowed Durgesh to fuck you?”

“Are you insane?”

“It’s better to let Durgesh fuck you, than to let you fuck the entire Hindus.” I said curtly.

“Why are you so communal, Abbū?”

“I am not communal in the least. I’ve allowed Durgesh to fuck you. Haven’t I? Is Durgesh not a Hindu?”

“No!”

“What?” I was startled.

“Durgesh is not a Hindu.” Sidrah Aħmad informed her Abbū calmly, “Durgesh is Imām Mahdi in disguise.”

“That’s only what you horny Musalmān Beauties fantasize about Durgesh.” Dr. Aħmad Muħammad said scornfully, “Durgesh himself denies it.”

“Abbū darling—“

“Never darling me, idiot.”

“Do you really think I’m an idiot, Abbū?”

“Your brain is sharp only when you want to fuck some Hindu.”

Sidrah Aħmad smiled mischievously,

“I’d tried to fuck you too. Are you a Hindu, Abbū? It maybe that my real grandfather is a Hindu, but—“

“Shut up, you filthy girl. How dare you?”

Sidrah Aħmad smiled tranquilly and assertively,

“I have a video. Durgesh fucks my Grand Ammī in it, in all the positions of Kāmsūtr.”

“You claim it always. I say—“

“I inherit my nympho maniac attributes from my Grand Ammī, Ammī, and Buā Ħuzoors.”

“Stop it, you filthy bitch!”

“I never say anything that I can’t prove.” Sidrah Aħmad smiled urbanely, “Want to watch their porn videos with Durgesh and some other prominent Porn Star Hindus.”

“Nonsense!”

“I propose you to show all of them, now and here.”Sidrah Aħmad kept smiling placidly, “My Grand Ammī, Ammīs, Buā Ħuzoors, Kħālājāns, watch all of them, how successful Porn Stars they can be.”

“Stop, I say.”

I remembered what Abbū had written:

‘I moved nearer and then I saw through window.

My daughter Sidrah Aħmad and my servant Rām Shankar, both were standing in middle of room, near our bed.

The boy was caressing her Sunni Musalmān breast and Sidrah Aħmad was kissing Rām Shankar.

I never knew that my daughter is so sexy to have sex with even a young Hindu servant.

Sidrah Aħmad herself was a kid.

Her Sunni Musalmān body never attracted my gaze.

I felt like rushing in and slap both.

But something stopped me.

I wanted to see my daughter nude. I wanted to see whether she goes to the extent or I’m angry to her in vain.

There was one reason more.

Allah!

How ashamed of me now to realize it.

Except my wives, I did not see ever any virgin after our marriage.

I waited.

Sidrah Aħmad pushed Rām Shankar a bit and I saw Rām Shankar pressing Sidrah Aħmad’s Sunni Musalmān breasts with his both hands.

“Tumné inhén, mérī choochiyon ko, chhah mahīné mein dabā-dabaa kar kitnī bađī kar diyā hai, Rām Shankar, Mérī Jān!” Sidrah Aħmad said.

‘You have made these so big by fondling them for last six months!’

Means, they were having sexual relation for over six months.

I cursed myself that servant was fucking my daughter under my nose and I did not know anything.

But I felt very happy when servant replied ,

“Lékin tumné kabhee apnā ye maal (cunt) nahin dikhāyā.”

‘But you’ve never shown your cunt to me. “Rām Shankar caressed Sidrah Aħmad’s Sunni Musalmān Cunt over the skirt and again said ,
“aaj is choot kaa bhee mazaa lūngaa.”

‘Today I will take enjoyment of your Sunni Musalmān Cunt as well.” Telling this Rām Shankar unzipped her skirt and it fell down on her legs.

Thanks, Sidrah Aħmad had a white panty.

Rām Shankar kept caressing and pinching her Sunni Musalmān Cunt over panty….

“Tumko maalum hai kya karnaa hai?”

‘Do you know what you have to do?’

Sidrah Aħmad asked whether Rām Shankar knows about fucking he is supposed to do…”

“Aur kyaa….mujhe målūm hai…aaj apnaa lund teri is pyari choot ke amndar daal kar khub chodūngaa.”

‘yes , I know. Today I will push my Uncut Hindu Cock into your Sunni Musalmān Cunt and I will fuck you thoroughly.” Rām Shankar said and without any hesitation he pulled off all buttons of Sidrah Aħmad’s blouse.

He pulled it off her body.

Sidrah Aħmad had a white slip on her chest.

She lifted it by holding bottom and pulled it off through her head.

Now my daughter, Sidrah Aħmad was topless.

Seeing her big, tight round Sunni Musalmān breasts even my cut Cock jumped under trouser.

Even I could not stop my hand rubbing it.

A dirty wish raised its head suddenly in my mind,

‘Alas, Durgesh fucks her, but I can’t.’

I’m ashamed of it now very much.

Yet, my daughter Sidrah Aħmad was really a Sunni Musalmān Sex Goddess.

I remembered what my daughter had written in her personal diary:

‘Hi, I’m Sidrah Aħmad.

I’ve come to realize at the grand old age of twenty years and eleven months that I’m a sexual oddity.

There’s rarely a minute that goes by in any waking hour that I don’t think of sex, yet I don’t yearn to do it.

I can’t go without sex with a Hindu ever.

And, like what some of my more active friends at stage school, say, I do too get warts and pimples after a time without sex.

In fact, I even get that frustrated if I go sometime without it.

Maybe part of my oddness is that I enjoy Hindu mental sex.

I can sometimes be shagged six or seven times a day up there, but be celibate down below.

I also prefer older Hindu men.

Not because of their paunches or baldness, but because of their experience.

A slow lazy fuck based upon years of knowledge always beats a quick urgent one where we’re learning together, or, mega times worse, where I’m the teacher!

I have no inhibitions about sex except one.

I want Hindu men only, none else.

Why?

Well, they are the sexiest men on the earth.

They die to fuck us Musalmān Beauties, secondly.

Thirdly, the idiots are fanatic to enjoy what’s hidden under the burkās.
I’m an inexperienced, incredibly open-minded sexual adventurer, who doesn’t do it much but when she does she prefers it with older Hindu men.

Now is that odd or what?

Sweet smelling candles, luxurious, silk sheets preferably on a four poster bed, wine or champagne, vases overflowing with roses and me in the finest, sheerest, laciest, sexiest nightdress imaginable.

With me, a handsome, tall twenty something Hindu man with the consideration of a Sidrah Aħmadaritan, the tenderness of a nurse, the experience of an octogenarian and an Uncut Hindu Cock like a strong bull.

That was how I imagined being deflowered.

Loving, caring, considerately and so absolutely romantically it would make Mills and Boon, yes both of them, cry with envy.

An Audi TT isn’t the ideal car to get laid in at any time.

It may look funky, corner like a train and go like shit but as a fuckwagon, forget it.

There’s no proper back seat and the tunnel running down the middle with the gear lever sticking out makes acrobatics essential for all those brave enough to try.

So, in the back, half-standing, half-kneeling bent over the pushed forward front seats I gave up my Sunni Musalmān virginity.

Maybe it was inelegant, unladylike, undignified and uncomfortable, but for me it was also fabulously exciting and pleasurable.

I’m the only person I know who thinks they had an orgasm when their cherry popped; possibly that accounts for my sexual oddness.

On the other hand, of course, it may have been pins and needles or a bout of cramp, but as the somewhat nerdy kid from down the street shoved his thing in me, squeezed my tit, my left one actually, and humped away for a few seconds I believe I climaxed.

Oh yes that’s another part of my oddity.

I adore intelligence, hence the nerd.

A really smart remark, an incisive comment, a statement about a little known fact or an analysis of a complicated issue can, literally, have me creaming myself.

And if someone tells me something that’s wonderfully intellectually challenging I can almost feel my knickers sliding downwards before the end of the sentence, well let’s say paragraph, after all I’m not that easy!

I could hardly believe when I got home and Ammījān said.

“Had a nice evening dear?” that she couldn’t see that I’d changed.

Surely, she’d notice I was no longer a kid. Surely, she can see I was now a woman.

But no, all she said was,

“You’d better get off to bed Sidrah Aħmadrrrrrrrrrr,”

She always emphasized the ending a of my name as a long arrrr, like the sound you make when a doctor looks down your throat.

That’s why, to all but her and Abbū Dr. Aħmad Muħammad, when he’s trying to get in her good books or wants shag, I’m now Sidrah Aħmad.

I like my full name.

I’m never ashamed of it.

I love my full name.

It gives me a confidence of being grown up.

It was Sidrah Aħmad, now, with Abbū Dr. Aħmad Muħammad too, the next morning.

Not a spark of interest in his new daughter.

No reference to my new Sunni Musalmān womanly look!

Well, I guess that was diluted somewhat by the cream and red striped summer blazer we wore at my ultra posh private school.

I forgave him for not welcoming me to the grown up world of people that fucked, for I was also wearing the blue gingham, pleated skirt, white blouse and tie of a schoolgirl.

I desperately wanted to tell someone, anyone almost, so the lollipop lady was extremely lucky, I didn’t whisper, as she showed us a cross the road by the school gates.

“I got laid last night by a Hindu, I’m now a grown up, complete, Sunni Musalmān woman.”

I mulled over whom I could tell.

But I couldn’t think of whom I wanted to tell.

I wanted loads of Sunni Musalmān girls and some Hindu boys to know that I was now in play, up for it, fully experienced and ready for anything.

But to tell them it, was that prick Shankar Pralayankar and that he’d had me in the back of his Ammījān’s car, an uncool Audi TT with no back seat at that, just wasn’t on.

I decided to be enigmatic about it, although I wasn’t quite sure what that was, but it sounded good.

So I wandered around for the next few days with an enigmatic smile on my face and an enigmatic look in my eye.

“Are you ok Sidrah Aħmadrrrrrrrrrrr?” Ammījān, Nādirah Aħmad Muħammad, asked after a day or so, “you sure you’re not sickening for something?”

So much for me being enigmatic.

I had sex with Shankar Pralayankar a couple more times; more as a reward really for services rendered rather than as a strong need on my part, but I could see it was going absolutely nowhere.

Not that I wanted it go any special place, for, after all, there is a limit to how much raw intelligence compensates for looks; and being able to decline Latin verbs as you deflower a Sunni Musalmān maiden doesn’t really compensate for acne!

In any case, I’d got what I wanted and needed.

I was a Sunni Musalmān woman now.

NOT a Sunni Musalmān kid anymore.

I’m proud of my being a Sunni Musalmān.

I hate Shiåās at my heart very much.

I don’t know why.

Perhaps it’s in my Sunni Musalmān blood.

Perhaps it’s in my Sunni Musalmān genes.

Perhaps it was in the environment and in the teachings of my ardent Sunni Musalmān parents.

Many of us Sunni Musalmeen don’t agree with the Shiåās that they are Musalmeen too.

I was experienced; after all, I’d been fucked six or seven time now by Shankar Pralayankar, of course.

My everfirst lover.

I’m proud of the fact that he is a Hindu too.

The mystique had gone.

I could have sex whenever and with whoever I wanted.

I think that may well have been the first time I realized just what a sexual oddity I was.

For now I’d done it, I did have a desperate urge to keep doing it.’***

It’s certainly not good for a supposedly happily married Sunni Musalmān woman, to fall in love.

That’s what happened to me, as I fell in love with a man, Durgesh, much younger to me.

And, to make matter worse, the man with whom I fell in love was none other than my own young Hindu Son, Durgesh.

After remaining faithful to my husband for nearly twenty years, one fine day I found that I was interested in my own teenage young Hindu Son, Durgesh.

My feeling towards my young Hindu Son, Durgesh, had nothing to do with a motherly love; an Ammījān has for her young Hindu Son.

In contrast, I desperately wanted him between my Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān thighs, thrusting his rigid Hindu love tool into my willing receptacle, driving me wild with joy and ecstasy.

I badly wanted to feel his naked Hindu body lying top to me, his strong Hindu hands caressing my plump Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān body, his fingers pinching my tits and exploring my sex.

When these thoughts started haunting me; in the beginning, I was deeply ashamed of myself.

I was terribly shocked how I could think about having sex with my own young Hindu Son, Durgesh, probably, the worst kind of sin.

I spent numerous nights crying with shame, cursing myself.

I started Panjvaqtā Namāz regularly, I was not so careful about some times, now without fail, and prayed to Allah Subħān wa tålā to help me to overcome my immoral thoughts.

Time and again, I resolved to abolish my lewd Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān thoughts for my Hindu son.

Yes, I knew Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī and Imāmzādī Al Tauħīd Al Muħammad were already having such sexual relations with Durgesh, entirely unashamed of them.

To recompense any guilt due to it whatsoever, they have become now more ardent Sunni Musalmān women, than even the rest of them.

Panjvaqtā Namāz is their utmost important activity now.

Now, they could leave to take food even, but never left, their Panjvaqtā Namāz at any cost whatsoever.

They performed tilāvat-e-Qur’an-o-aħādīs now more than ever.

Every now and then, now they were on rozā.

Zakāt was now utmost necessary for them to give to various Islamic foundations and institutions.

They have donated a large amount to Anti terrorist squad too, announcing that terrorism is quite against Islam , and fighting against terrorism is Jihad itself, Al Jihad fil Islam , fī sabīlillāh.

Surprisingly, this new strategy was working successfully too.

They are now so popular in Ummat-e-Muslimah and even in Mullahs and Maulavīs too, that they could themselves not believe their new grand success.

It was utmost surprising that none was talking of their incestuous relations with Durgesh now, though their opponents were doing their utmost efforts to advertise it day and night.

Both Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī and Imāmzādī Al Tauħīd Al Muħammad had come closer forever now.

They were enjoying grand successful live in relationship with Durgesh now, with more respect in Ummat-e-Muslimah and in Mullahs and Maulavīs too.

I too started to follow Imāmzādī Ħumairah Qāzī and Imāmzādī Al Tauħīd Al Muħammad to get rid of my incestuous thoughts.

However, the incestuous thoughts remained very potent and after every brief stint of remorse, the fantasies came back more strongly, overwhelming even my toughest resolve.

I was well aware of the risks; my thoughts could bring on my family and myself in particular.

Living in a traditionally orthodox South Asian country, I knew very well what could happen if my feeling towards my young Hindu Son, Durgesh, become public.

My married life would be ruined permanently, and I would be a pariah for rest of my life.

Nonetheless, I could not do away with my incestuous thoughts about my young Hindu Son, Durgesh.

The sense of shame and guilt diminished over a period of time and finally, I succumbed to the temptation.

I gave up my resistance and started enjoying my lewd Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān thoughts about my young Hindu Son, Durgesh.

I convinced myself that I was only fantasizing, not actually doing anything with my young Hindu Son, Durgesh, thus my incestuous thoughts were no way going to harm anyone.

Little did I know that it was a stepping-stone toward my full-fledged sexual relationship with my young Hindu Son, Durgesh.

I started with fantasizing about my young Hindu Son, Durgesh, while masturbating.

To my surprise; I found that I was drawing immense pleasure out of it; I relished the terrific orgasms, every time it induced into my extremely beautiful, still athletic, Saåūdī Årab Sunni Musalmān body.

Chapter 8

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More Creative Adult Sex in English from Durgesh

1. Bahoo Bégum

2. The obsession

3 The daughters and wife of my Musalmān friend

4.The Extramarital affair: Durgesh Åāýéshah Siddīqah:Social Service

5. Årab Mahā Bhārat: 1/18: ‘Ādi Parv: Saůūdī Årabia’–1