Al Jihad Al Vaqār glanced about the spacious office once more.
Was Al Nādir Al Ghāzī shrewd enough to play all these games?
Was it possible he deliberately gave her his media empire?
His father, Al Muħammad Al Ghāzī, allowed him to have it for a trial year.
Now, his former wife, Al Jalāl Al Vasīm Al Wahāb was claiming it was her property.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār sighed.
In Delhi, Aap had gotten a landslide victory even on BJP.
INC was finished there altogether.
It couldn’t get even a single seat in 2015 Assembly Elections.
What did it mean?
The Anti- Hindu forces were winning again?
Was it the beginning of a Counter Revolution?
Against the ever first Psychological Revolution in the entire history of humankind?
It might be.
The Original ever first Psychological Revolution started with the demand of Midterm 2012.
It took two years to build up the required reality and to bring it up to the reality then.
And now the Counter Revolution?
Well, it isn’t so easy.
If they think they can do it so easily, they were living in fools’ paradise.
The most we need are anal rheostats to destroy the anti human desires.
They are also there.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār directed her sight toward her desk calendar.
She was ready to get going.
She had only one trial year.
“Be right in, Al Jihad Al Vaqār. We have everything set.”
Al Kħālidah Al Jibrān was carrying a handful of folders.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār motioned her friends and lieutenants to the rattan chairs across from her desk.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār felt comfortable with them.
Both of them were as creative as Al Jihad Al Vaqār herself was.
They were aggressive, daring, and filled with energy.
These were Al Jihad Al Vaqār’s confidants and her loyalists, and from now on, they would be properly rewarded
Al Kħālidah Al Jibrān indicated to the projector.
There was a running information,
“HVSI Times manages its subscription always on the top.”
Al Kħālidah Al Jibrān smiled at her, “I thought we should too adopt the procedure.”
“HVSI Times represents the revolutionaries that successfully ended the Scam era.” Al Jihad Al Vaqār said, “We haven’t enough capital to compete with HVSI, No one has.”
“Sure, but it’s today. When HVSI started HVSI Times they didn’t have this capital.”
Al Jihad Al Vaqār smiled.
HVSI Times was the dream newspaper.
It has survived the biggest threat of news TV channels.
It somehow always maintained to give something new to its readers the news TV channels couldn’t provide.
As soon as Al Jihad Al Vaqār got the media empire in settlement, she visited HVSI Times herself personally.
It was a multi-story building.
None knew how many stories it had.
They said it was an endless building.
No one believed it.
How a building could be endless.
It was certainly a publicity strategy.
It was the tallest building nevertheless.
The heart of the structure, the one that pumped activity into all the other stories was its Seventh floor.
Most of it was given over to the HVSI Times newsroom.
Its one portion was reserved for the publisher’s suite.
It consisted of the publisher’s main office, the office for my personal secretary and receptionist, a conference and electronic media room, two offices for the advertising director and her assistant, and glassed in cubicles for the managing editor and the assistant managing editor.
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī never changed anything.
He surrendered it to Al Jihad Al Vaqār as he did find it.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār, the temporary heir to the suite and to the building had made few personnel changes.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār retired Al Muħammad Al Ghāzī’s elderly female secretary on a generous pension and replaced her with her own secretary, Al Åāyeshah Al Sheikħ, a smart, brisk, thirtyish young woman with short-cropped dark hair and horn rimmed glasses.
Her ambitions were the driving force that would never let her stop anywhere.
Again, the difference in the intensity of their ambitions was the decisive factor.
Al Åāyeshah Al Sheikħ lacked it.
She stopped somewhat before getting resources she was after, while Al Jihad Al Vaqār didn’t deliberately.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār had more patience in the matter.
“Let’s start with the two of you. I’ve been giving it some thought. You will both be answerable only to me. Outside of general orders, everything I tell you will be kept in strictest confidence. Al Kħālidah Al Jibrān, this is a bigger job, much bigger than Special Projects. Your work will be greatly expanded, naturally, accordingly.”*
Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās straddled me with her beautiful face towards me.
She was enjoying my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Uncut Hindu Lund into her comparatively immensely young Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot once again.
I knew it would never be a once only phenomenon.
Once with Durgesh
All the rest is trash
The more aged I grew the crazier they were for me.
“I don’t want to burn my bridges, Anant Muslimātchod Hindu Piyā.” Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās said fucking my ever stout ever pleasure giving ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Uncut Hindu Lund wildly, “And why should I? Al Nādir Al Ghāzī has played with my beautiful body, even if in his own peculiar way. I couldn’t help that. My entire body was at his discretion. If instead of fucking me, Al Nādir Al Ghāzī enjoyed tongue fucking me more it wasn’t my fault. I am not responsible for it. He has to pay for my time I spent with him. It was precious.”
“Sure,” I agreed with Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās squeezing her excellent exquisite boobs and buttocks both.
My ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Uncut Hindu Lund was harder and harder now into her young Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot with her each aggressive thrust.
She was kissing me wildly.
Her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot was squeezing my entire ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Uncut Hindu Lund around its shaft.
“I’m really entitled to this alimony if you should warn Al Nādir Al Ghāzī that HVS Law Internationals were going to ask for an increase if he dragged me into court again. It would keep Al Nādir Al Ghāzī from making a move.”
I laughed cunningly.
“Done, however if all the alimony is going to cease in a few months, why not…”
Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās said bitterly.
I smiled coldly.
“And you want me to engineer that deal for you. Is that it?”
“Well?” I asked.
“You think I’m terribly scheming and designing.”
“You are cautious. You are protecting your interests.”
Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās kept fucking me wildly.
“Priyavrat Chaturvedī wants to fix things so marrying him won’t entail a financial sacrifice on my part. Do you think I’m a gold digger?”
Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās kissed me gratefully as my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Uncut Hindu Lund penetrated her young Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot entirely.
“Thank you,” she thanked me once again for letting her fuck me.
“Are you deceiving Priyavrat Chaturvedī for marrying him?”
“Certainly not,” Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās said earnestly, “Priyavrat Chaturvedī knows each and everything of my previous marriages and my recent relationship with you too. I never play dirty with the persons who never play dirty with me.”
“Yet Priyavrat Chaturvedī wants to marry you?”
Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās smiled triumphantly.
“What do you think? Am I not that much beautiful?”
“You are too beautiful. Priyavrat Chaturvedī can do anything for you.”
“What do you mean?” I smiled cunningly.
“You won’t do anything for me, even if I keep fucking you?” Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās looked into my naughty eyes.
I winked at her.
“If you keep fucking me, Al Saåīdah Al Åbbās, I can do anything for you, myself, if it isn’t immoral and illegal.”
“Even if I’d be married to Priyavrat Chaturvedī?”
“That’s Priyavrat Chaturvedī’s problem, not mine.” I said gravely.*
There was a note on his table.
His father, Rām Shankar Chaturvedī, had called him.
Everything has changed fast.
Narendr Modi was delivering fast what he had promised to the one hundred twenty five crore Indians.
His father, Rām Shankar Chaturvedī, was worried as the other Congresspersons were.
INC couldn’t win even a single seat in 2015 Assembly Elections.
It was the absolute change in Time Dimension too.
It was Infinite BrāhmKalp now.
“I know. There was a note to the effect on my table.”
“You don’t understand Infinite BrāhmKalp, Muħammad Shakīl.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your Kħālāzād cousin, Ambikā Tripāŧhī, is no more interested in me.”
Muħammad Shakīl was startled.
He entered His father, Rām Shankar Chaturvedī’s Private Chamber.*
He never knew why.
Rām Shankar Chaturvedī was a Congressperson.
Imāmzādī Al Åārifah Al Muħammad retorted.
“You fool; do you want to make me responsible for what my Abbū did?”
“Certainly not, Ammī, certainly not.” Priyavrat Chaturvedī agreed, “Nevertheless, you can’t blame Pitājī too. He loved you very much. Nānājān was trying his best to convert Pitājī to Islam. Pitājī couldn’t infuriate Hindus by converting himself. He would have lost Hindu votes for himself and INC. INC never permitted him.”*
Despite his increasing age, his eyesight was still very good.
It wasn’t any rare thing now however.
They said it was Infinite BrāhmKalp now.
“The Bachhalyās were always the best about publicity. They always use superstitions of the people to spread white lies favorable to them.”
He straightened his cuffs, leaned back and said normally,
“Sit down, Priyavrat.”
“As always Ammī has reported you with heavy bias, Pitājī.”
“I doubted that myself. Yet, son, she is right in one thing. You should marry now.”
“What’s wrong in it if it happens?”
“Durgesh is immensely against Brahm Padminī Brahm Jagdambā Act everywhere. Yet the entire Brāhmañ Brahmkanyā Brahmāñī Creations are passing it one by one. Durgesh can’t oppose Democracy. Therefore it doesn’t make any difference whether Durgesh is against it or not.”
He touched an inconspicuous contact switch and a section of the wall grew transparent.
“You are blundering in the same way, my son, the Brāhmañs of the ever first Satyug did.”
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī watched Al Mujāhidah Al Ghāzī disappear into the Masjid.
A good girl, this one, Al Nādir Al Ghāzī thought, and brave for so young.
She was nineteen only, wasn’t she?
They were lucky to have her enlisted in their cause.
He wondered what she was doing in the Masjid right now.
I smiled at Al Mujāhidah Al Ghāzī in the Masjid.
“You are right, sir. Your stepson is actually a terrorist.” Nineteen years old, Al Mujāhidah Al Ghāzī, reported to me.
None could believe she was a journalist and hated terrorism very much.
“You know your Ammī and I had a close relationship.” I said gravely.
“Am I your daughter?” Al Mujāhidah Al Ghāzī asked impatiently.
Al Qahar Al Īmān smiled.
“Durgesh is incapable to father any daughter. Don’t worry.”
“Would you still let your daughter, Al Jihad Al Vaqār, marry that pig terrorist?” Al Mujāhidah Al Ghāzī asked Al Qahar Al Īmān.
“Al Jihad Al Vaqār wants to cuckold him to Durgesh and herself.” Al Qahar Al Īmān smiled, “Moreover, you need a supporter and friend in the enemy’s camp.”
“I admire your Ammī.” I said.
“Yet you couldn’t keep her with you.” Al Mujāhidah Al Ghāzī said bitterly, “My Ammī, Dr. Al Faraħ Al Shams, left her husband for you, and…”
“For me?” I interrupted her, “Who told you?”
Al Mujāhidah Al Ghāzī hesitated somewhat.
“Didn’t you both love each other?”
“We do. We still love each other, but your Ammī is fighting against Muslim terrorism. She wants to remain in the enemy’s camp.”
“Leading a life of celibacy?”
“Certainly not. She is a lot smarter than even you think of her.” I smiled, “She pretends that she is working on me to expose me.”
“To expose you?”
“Sure, she is writing a biographical book on me. She wants to blast my ever unconquerable image of a Profound Multiversalist Humanist and the ultramodern Messiah of the entire womankind.”
“And they believe her?”
“That’s where your Ammī’s skills come to play the utmost critical role. It wasn’t easy to convince them. Yet she succeeded.”
“How do you know?” Al Mujāhidah Al Ghāzī asked gravely unemotionally.
I looked at her gravely myself.
What did Al Mujāhidah Al Ghāzī want to say?
Did she suspect her own Ammī, Dr. Al Faraħ Al Shams, too?
Was the nineteen years old miraculously intelligent young woman doubting my so vast experience with Musalmān Womankind?
Well, why not?
Even I wasn’t all knowing, Allah Ålīmun Kħabīrun.
Lā ilāh illillāh.
Ekam Sadviprā bahudhā vadanti.*
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī’s hands remained at rest on the keyboard of his HVSI laptop.
He contemplated the last sentence he had written.
There were only few educated persons among mujāhidīn.
Among mujāhidāt this number is almost zero.
Entire efforts to kill Narendr Modī have always backfired.
Now Narendr Modī is the 15th Prime Minister of India.
The more he thought of Narendr Modī, the more confirmed he was that Durgesh was himself Narendr Modī in his one more subtle body.
No one believed him.
They even laughed at him.
Yet, Al Nādir Al Ghāzī was still confident.
It was powerful enough to cap the opening section of his book, a provocative, a confrontational sentence that would surely bring a million readers excitedly into the heart of his sensational story.
Yet, perhaps, as things stood, it promised too much.
His book ‘Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan: Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu Tålā ånahā’ was still a best seller.
No one had approved it before publication.
But now it was a blockbuster in sales.
Yes, there are so many critics too.
But the more the book was criticized the more its sale was increased.
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī is an established writer now, perhaps even more popular than Durgesh himself now.
Durgesh has destroyed his entire career as a writer himself knowingly.
He is more devoted to his Family Movement now than he is devoted to anything else.
The moron is crazy to reestablish family everywhere.
His organization of similar morons, HVSI, is no doubt now ruling the entire creations actually.
Yet, Durgesh is only its Lifelong Chairman, nothing more.
Considering the evidences that he was providing in his book ‘Narendr Modī or Durgesh himself?’, the categorical and authoritative ring of that sentence might invite a subsequent letdown and a reaction of antagonism from his book’s next reader.
And that might be fatal.
Thoughtfully, Al Nādir Al Ghāzī weighed the possibility of modifying the last sentence, in fact the last paragraphs:
‘I would never claim that Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is really Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu Tålā ånahā.
I have listed my entire arguments supporting my view in my concerned book ‘Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan: Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu Tålā ånahā’ already.
Similarly, I would never claim that Narendr Modī is really Durgesh himself in his another subtle body.
I am enlisting my entire arguments why I do think so.
Peruse them carefully, I request.
Think on them.
And then take your own decision for yourself.
Is there any solution to this dilemma fairer?’*
A year ago, Al Mujāhidah Al Ghāzī’s Ammī, Dr. Al Faraħ Al Shams, had been press secretary for Durgesh, the Mayor of Ved Nagar.
She had given up her job as managing editor of the HVSI Times and moved to the Mayor House.
“It is not exactly the Front Page,” Dr. Al Faraħ Al Shams said ruefully, smiling somewhat, “But I like being on television and meeting rich socialites. Now I’ve got to leave you for an hour.”
Al Mujāhidah Al Ghāzī pointed at her beautiful Ammī, still immensely beautiful despite her thirty eight running.
Almost entire ladies that had sex with Durgesh did never appear of their age.
Durgesh himself looked anywhere between twenty eight to thirty five, never anymore.
Imāmzādi Ħumayrah Qāzī was the most wonderful of them.
She was eighty eight years actually, twenty three years older than Durgesh even.
Yet she never appeared more than sixty.
Was Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan correct in her Hindu Lund Musalmān Choot vaginal rheostat theory changing lines of force with every penetration?*
Bābarah Åālamgīr was immensely pleased that ultimately she had gotten Durgesh inside her.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan guided her step by step how to do it.
“Durgesh is an ever over moral damnfool.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan had grimaced.
Bābarah Åālamgīr smiled.
“I do understand. But we need him.”
“That’s right.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan said, “He still opposes the cuckolding of terrorists, criminals and criminal minded Pseudo Musalmīn while they are still killing the innocent non Musalmīn, and even true Musalmīn, in the name of Islam.”
Bābarah Åālamgīr watched her mentor spellbound.
She could not forget, however:
On Nargis Sunil Dutt street, in Bājī Rāo Mastānī Nagar, facing the wall of the old city, sat a large luxurious house.
It belonged to Al Åbd Al Mustafā.
He was the father of the owner of the Al Mustafā Shipping Company.
His daughter was not only the owner of the Al Mustafā Shipping Company, she was the owner of the most of the taxicabs of the island as well.
The island was one of the utmost infamous Hindu Lund Musalmān Choot Islands.
Al Åbd Al Mustafā and Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr waited anxiously as Muħammad cleaned up and changed into dry clothing after his swim ashore.
Al Åbd Al Mustafā and Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr both knew that the appearance of Al Muħammad on Modern Democratic Årabia meant a top level mission for Al Fataħ Al Islam.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s policy had been adamantly to cuckold almost every Musalmān to his over ardent Musalmān wife and Durgesh/her Hindu lover.
Neither Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan nor her ever insistent ever persistent anti-Muslim Young lady Musalmān Brigade was ever ready to listen to anything reasonable from any Musalmān whosoever.
They had immense undisputed faith in Dr. Ålī Sina’s claim that every Musalmān was either a terrorist or a potential terrorist.
Despite Durgesh’s open disagreement with Dr. Ålī Sina in this matter, and in so many other matters too, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and her Young lady Musalmān Brigade never stopped to cuckold Musalmīn to themselves and Durgesh.
Modern Democratic Årabia wasn’t actually democratic only.
It was Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s and her Young lady Musalmān Brigade’s obsession too, under different rational and humane disguises.
Yazīd Malåūn lånat ålayhi had never succeeded in disgracing Islam as much as in Modern Democratic Årabia.
Al Fataħ Al Islam was an organization devoted to the exodus of Musalmīn from Modern Democratic Årabia.
The emigrated Musalmīn thus were not being settled to any particular country.
They were just fleeing away from Modern Democratic Årabia to protect their dignity, manhood, self-respect, honor and their religion as well.
Modern Democratic Årabia too had its religion Islam mostly but constitutionally it was a secular country now, as India was.
The Musalmīn that opposed her new secular constitution were warned by Modern Democratic Årabia government to decide to obey the constitution or be punished according to the new secular penal code of Modern Democratic Årabia.
Even Durgesh refused to interfere in the internal affairs of Modern Democratic Årabia.
“It’s an internal affair of Modern Democratic Årabia. I haven’t any moral, legal or political right to comment on it.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and her Young lady Musalmān Brigade smiled on it, triumphantly.
Al Fataħ Al Islam was helping smuggle Musalmīn to anywhere they chose to immigrate.
However, as fast as the Modern Democratic Årabia government caught the Al Fataħ Al Islam boats trying to run the blockade the Musalmān muhājirīn, refugees actually, would be transferred to the detention camps.
Al Muħammad, in a fresh change of clothing, entered the room and nodded to Al Åbd Al Mustafā and Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr.
Al Muħammad and Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr were intimate friends for a long time.
Yet, both of them didn’t trust Al Åbd Al Mustafā blindly ever.
The risk was not the lives of the Musalmīn.
It was their cuckolding.
That was the very thing they were running away from.
They played a role of formality in front of Al Åbd Al Mustafā.
After all, Al Åbd Al Mustafā was only a sympathizer, not a member of their organization, Al Fataħ Al Islam.
Al Muħammad got right to the point.
“Headquarters has sent me here to stage a mass escape from the detention camps. The reasons are obvious to all of us. What is your opinion, Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr?”*
Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr watched Al Muħammad gravely.
“She is absolutely anti-Muslim. Even her dream Hindu man, Durgesh, is against the cuckolding of anyone, but…”
“I don’t believe.” Al Muħammad said harshly.
“Is it correct that even you are cuckold to your wife, Zaynab bint Åāmir and Durgesh?”
Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr smiled forlornly.
“It was the only way to survive then. Not only me, even Imām Ůmar Fārūq, Muħammad Ůsmān and Ålī Abī Tālib too have been cuckolded, not to their immensely righteous Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān wives only, but to their entire Musalmān houseladies that are beautiful.”
“Why the hell you, all the four, didn’t opt for Hijrat already, instead?” Al Muħammad was furious.
“Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan never allowed. She called us four her Kħulfa-e-Rāshidīn. Ridiculed and disgraced us tremendously.”
“And you couldn’t do anything?”
“Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was disgracing our Musalmān houseladies in front of us. We had to protect them.” Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr said helplessly.
Al Muħammad paced the room thoughtfully.
He had been sent to Al Riyāz months before by the secret army of Al Wahābīs.
It was a shame that Musalmīn were still fighting desperately for their own particular denomination, instead of fighting for entire Ummat-e-Muslimah.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was too smart to be defeated.
“She is the lady Iblīs personified.” Al Åbd Al Mustafā had said, “Perhaps Yazīd Malåūn lånat ålayhi himself has come again as Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan now.”
“They call her Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu Tålā ånahā herself reincarnated.”
“She has learned black magic from Durgesh.” Muħammad Ůsmān had commented.
Al Muħammad had watched them sympathetically.
The morons didn’t even know there isn’t any black magic anywhere.
Allah, how superstitious his Ummat-e-Muslimah is.
No doubt the utmost smart, utmost cunning, young Musalmān lady, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and her Young lady Musalmān Brigade is successfully cuckolding these damn fools to their Musalmān womankind and Durgesh.
Yazīd Malåūn had carefully watched the Musalmīn never get proper education.
Al Muħammad and dozens of the other members of Al Fataħ Al Islam smuggled themselves into the compounds of refugees without the knowledge of the forces of Modern Democratic Årabia, or so they thought.
They set up the schools, hospitals and Masājid, built sanitation facilities, and organized light industry.
Some of the refugees, however, turned back.
They were hopeless people who cared for normalcy and facilities more than their own dignity self respect and freedom.
Perhaps Durgesh was right.
Perhaps there were really some persons who are immensely under evolved that could be classified as ‘Vixu Jantavah’, ‘worms among the people’.
Despite every effort from Al Fataħ Al Islam the refugees were so afraid of Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and her Young lady Musalmān Brigade that they refused outright to fight against them and Modern Democratic Årabia.
They still said that the former rule on Saåūdī Årab was worse than Modern Democratic Årabia.*
Was it really?
Al Muħammad couldn’t contradict it truthfully.
If even a few of the Musalmīn preferred even their cuckolding instead of choosing to live in an Islamic country, it was certainly the time to think how Islamic the so called Islamic countries were.
It reported the horrific truth.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and her Young lady Musalmān Brigade was absolutely correct.
Most of the present day Musalmīn were not Musalmīn actually.
They were Pseudo Musalmīn.
Their countries were not Islamic countries.
They were Pseudo Musalmīn countries too.
Al Muħammad was horrified for a moment to realize it.
Yet, he knew very well, not to surrender to the truth even if you know it.
The rest of the Pseudo Musalmīn would kill you as they were killing the non Musalmīn.
It wasn’t Islam.
It could never be.
It was really the bloody Årab Imperialism as Anwar Sheikh claimed.
Nevertheless Al Muħammad wasn’t a damn fool to sacrifice his precious life for something called truth.
He wanted to survive.
Who the hell doesn’t?
Al Åbd Al Mustafā and Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr, with the other members of Al Fataħ Al Islam, gave military training to several thousand men and women among the muhājirīn.
They used sticks as rifles and rocks as grenades for the training.
They did it, because it was the only thing they could do.
However, the continuous constant triumphs of Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and her Young lady Musalmān Brigade on the traditional mujāhidīn, had raised a doubt in their hearts whether Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and her Young lady Musalmān Brigade is actually correct?
Is a Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān Cunt really a rheostat and a Stavak Uncut Hindu Lund is really an electro bar magnet that cuts lines of forces while penetrating a Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān Cunt?
Is Hindu Lund Musalmān Choot Science really true?
Al Muħammad must know better.
Yet, how was it possible Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan won Modern Democratic Årabia only by fucking Durgesh?
If Hindu Lund Musalmān Choot Science isn’t true, how Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and her Young lady Musalmān Brigade is never defeated?
How Narendr Modī won India?
There are some questions to be answered.
Musalmīn were always a military power.
They defeated Christians, Jews, and Persians.
But Hindus were never defeated fully.
If the military power was the ultimate power really as the Musalmīn still believed, why Hindus were ever unconquerable?
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and her Young lady Musalmān Brigade claim it’s Hindus’ Vajr.
Hindus’ male genial organ that is converted into Vajr when Hindus meditate, offer Stavans.
Allah, who the hell could believe in this utter nonsense?
Even if a Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān woman converts her Musalmān Cunt into a vaginal rheostat, why not a Musalmān penis similarly becomes an electro bar magnet?
Why an Uncut Hindu Penis is needed instead?
It’s utter nonsense.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is an anti-Muslim.
So is her Young lady Musalmān Brigade too.
Al Åbd Al Mustafā was only twenty two years of age.
Yet he was the commander of Al Fataħ Al Islam here.
If the Modern Democratic Årabia government had gotten wind that there were the members of Al Fataħ Al Islam inside the camps they kept quiet about it.
They were still guarding from the outside.
They didn’t have any desire to go into the hate riddled compounds.
“How many people do you want to escape?” Al Åbd Al Mustafā asked.
“Three hundred, more or less.”
Al Åbd Al Mustafā shook his head.
“We have a few tunnels dug but those lead to the sea. As you know the main problem we have is our people themselves don’t want to leave their own homes. They lack jazba-e-hijrat very much.”
“That’s right,” Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr said, “Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and her Young lady Musalmān Brigade call us terrorists outright, instead of mujāhidīn. Even our extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān houseladies are with them, not with us. Durgesh never wants to cuckold even us, even if we kill, massacre, the so called innocent persons.”
“Innocent my foot,” Al Muħammad shouted, “They have successfully replaced our pro Sunni pro Wahābī administration with their so called Modern Democratic Årabia administration. Modern Democratic Årabia doesn’t discriminate any more among Sunnis, Shiås, Aħmadīs etc. All the denominations of Islam are living in Modern Democratic Årabia now entirely legally.”
“They are imitating Hindustan.” Al Åbd Al Mustafā laughed ironically, “The Musalmān womankind now don’t have her ideal in Ħuzūr sallallāhu ålayhi wa sallam. Her ideal is Durgesh now.”
“They claim we are wrong.” Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr said, “Durgesh himself respects Ħuzūr sallallāhu ålayhi wa sallam, Kħulfa-e-Rāshidīn, Saħābah karām razī Allāhu Tålā ånahum ajmaåīn. Durgesh himself is a Muslim. He has a Hindu father and Wahābī Musalmān mother.”
“Then why doesn’t he support us Musalmīn for our Al Jihad fil Islam fī sabīlillah?” Al Muħammad shouted.
“Instead,” Al Åbd Al Mustafā laughed sarcastically, “his Young Musalmān lady Brigade declares Al Jihad fil Durgesh fī sabīlillah.”
“It was not what Durgesh wanted himself.” Sheikħ Al Abū Bakr explained gravely, “Durgesh is against it. It’s one of the Seven Movements of Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and her Young lady Musalmān Brigade.”
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
The June morning dawned bright and warm.
It was a beautiful day for a wedding.
I had set my alarm for 6 a.m.
My criminal minded, ever anti Hindu, ever anti humanity, ever communal Pseudo Musalmān stepson, Al Nādir Al Ghāzī, was getting married today.
Despite Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī’s every effort, she could not make her ever-stupid son to see the changing environment of the globe.
He wasn’t ever a member of any terrorist group, nevertheless he never found anything irreligious in any of that anti justice anti human organizations.
Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī decided not to marry him ever until he isn’t human at least somewhat.
Nevertheless, Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī’s scheme again backfired.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār loved Al Nādir Al Ghāzī, as he was himself now.
“You do understand he can join any terrorist group anytime,” Al Waħīdah Al Ghāzī told Al Jihad Al Vaqār curtly, “Don’t you?”
“I doubt it, Ammī.” Al Jihad Al Vaqār cooed, “Al Nādir Al Ghāzī didn’t join them when it was easier for the Pseudo Musalmīn terrorists to survive and succeed. Now, Narendr Modī is in power in India. Have you forgotten what Narendr Modī did in Gujarat with these bloody Pseudo Musalmīn terrorists?”*
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī smiled confidently.
The bloody Alkuffār.
Everyone is thinking Islam has lost forever.
Hindutv is in power now.
Not Narendr Modī.
No doubt, the Hindu scoundrel is lucky.
Every effort to kill Narendr Modī has backfired till now, without any exception.
There are millions of Musalmīn.
How many of them the Hindus can arrest?
How many of them the Hindus can hang till they don’t die?
He had proposed to kill Nawaz Sharif in India, at least, if not Narendr Modī.
However, none listened to Al Nādir Al Ghāzī.
They think Al Nādir Al Ghāzī is stupid.
Allah Ålīmun Kħabīrun!
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī sat at the wheel of the marvelous green seat of his Station Wagon.
The Indian Mujahidin are too afraid of Narendr Modī.
They think he is immortal now.
Nonsense, no one is immortal.
Let Al Nādir Al Ghāzī kill the root, Imām Muħammad Ħasan, first.
It was Imām Muħammad Ħasan, Nafīsah Salmān, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and her ever unashamed shameless Musalmān lady brigade that always protect Hindus.
They always betray Musalmīn.
The persons like Jāved Akħtar, Salīm, etcetera have surrendered to Hindus already.
It’s not important what they say.
They have to do it for their own survival.
Kalma-e-kufr is allowed in Islam to self survival if there isn’t another option.
Islam isn’t a dīn of stupidity, irrespective of what the foolish Al Kuffār say.*
I got out of the hotel bed, and walked into the bathroom to get showered before seven.
According to the plan of the bride and groom, each one would share a wedding day breakfast with the other’s parents.
In this case, it meant that Al Nādir Al Ghāzī’s bride-to-be, Al Jihad Al Vaqār, would be having breakfast, with me, in my hotel room, and Al Nādir Al Ghāzī would have breakfast with Al Jihad Al Vaqār’s parents, Al Jalāl Al Wahāb and Al Qahar Al Īmān.
I was grave for my criminal minded, ever anti Hindu, ever anti humanity, ever communal Pseudo Musalmān stepson.
He was marrying a great girl.
It didn’t hurt that she was beautiful from head to toe either.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār was a 26 year old interior decorator who’d met Al Nādir Al Ghāzī through mutual friends.
The attraction was immediate and after 2 years of courtship, he’d asked her to be his wife.
I slipped on a pair of loose fitting sweats and a casual t-shirt.
A knock on the door announced that room service was there.
The bellhop wheeled a cart in filled with different covered trays.
Quickly and quietly the bellhop set the table up for two.
I paid him a tip and he left.
I lifted the lids of each dish and found Belgian waffles under one, strawberries under another, a bowl of whipped cream, scrambled eggs on a plate, and sausages under another.
A carafe of coffee and a bottle of orange juice completed the meal.
I imagined Al Jihad Al Vaqār wouldn’t be too hungry, as is, having wedding day jitters.
But just in case, I’d made sure I ordered a good breakfast.
Promptly at 7 a.m., there was a knock on my hotel room door.
I answered it and there stood my knockout beautiful, soon to be ‘daughter in law’, Al Jihad Al Vaqār.
“Good morning, dad,” Al Jihad Al Vaqār said as she smiled, leaned in and kissed me on my cheek.
I invited her in and ushered her over to the table of waiting food.
I pulled her chair out for her as she sat down.
I took the chair across from her.
Like me, Al Jihad Al Vaqār was very casually dressed for this hour of the morning.
She wore a thick bathrobe under which she wore a short cream colored chemise with boy shorts.
“Would it bother you terribly if I took my robe off, dad?” Al Jihad Al Vaqār asked.
“Of course not Al Jihad Al Vaqār, get comfortable girl.” I replied.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār stood up and took the robe off.
She walked the robe over to the coat rack by the door and hung it there.
I was mesmerized as I watched her walk over to hang the robe up.
I’d never seen Al Jihad Al Vaqār in anything other than classy suits or blue jeans.
The chemise she wore was soft ivory and hung just below the cheeks of her excellent heavy plump luscious Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān butt.
Her legs were long and slender and she was very shapely.
When she turned and walked back towards the table, even I had to catch my breath.
The front of the chemise was cut low and rested on the top of her breasts that were full and filled out the front of the chemise.
I could actually see her beautiful nipples poking through the fabric.
She was one beautiful Musalmān woman I thought again.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār smiled as she sat down across from me.
She enjoyed a good relationship with her soon to be father in law.
I’d made her feel like part of the family from the start.
I razzed her just as much as I did Al Nādir Al Ghāzī and my 3 other Musalmān stepsons.
She’d always admired me.
She also found me very attractive.
Even far more attractive, far more romantic and far sexier than her soon to be husband was.
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī was a handsome man, but he looked more like his mother than his father.
More feminine than masculine.
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī’s hair was sandy brown like his mother’s, as well as having his mother’s green eyes.
My hair was a dark black, and I was not even starting to grey at my temples, as some men in my age did.
My eyes too were black and framed by spiky long lashes.
Even in my medium height, I stood a full 3 inches taller than my criminal minded, ever anti Hindu, ever anti humanity, ever communal Pseudo Musalmān stepson.
I stood up and started to remove the lids from the food.
“I didn’t know what you’d want, but I knew you liked Belgian waffles so I ordered them and all of this. I hope you’re hungry, young lady.” I smiled warmly at Al Jihad Al Vaqār. “Would you like me to make the bride a plate?”
Al Jihad Al Vaqār smiled back at me,
“Actually Dad, I am hungry, but my nerves are a little edgy. May we just sit and talk for a little bit before we eat? It will calm my nerves.”
“Sure hon'” I said, “C’mon, come sit on the bed and we’ll chat like friends.” I smiled.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār and I got comfortable on the bed.
I sat with my back against the headboard and Al Jihad Al Vaqār sat cross-legged in front of me.
“Is that better?” I asked.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār laughed at my friendly remark and said,
“This is fine, dad.”
She sat there looking at me and couldn’t explain the weird feeling coming over her.
I was sitting there smiling at her and she had this unexplainable urge to kiss me.
How incredible it was.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and her entire Jet Musalmān Beauties Squad always said,
“No beautiful woman, irrespective of her age, can ever resist Durgesh’s infinite masculine charms. Durgesh complains that no woman let him continue ever a platonic relationship with her. But how the hell can anyone? Durgesh has infinite Bhogchakr.”
Is it true?
Al Jihad Al Vaqār laughed.
She never believed in the ever ridiculous Bhogchakr theory of Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and her Musalmān lady brigade.
It was a nonsense.*
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī had parked his station wagon from the Iron Gate at the entrance of the massive Ashvinātam Masjid.
He kept an eye on the University young ladies and even mature Musalmān beautiful ladies going inside for Al Fajir mass.
It was the tenth and last day of their Ijlās.
If their quarry arrived today, as he had the previous nine mornings, the pattern was set.
They would place the dynamite in the tunnel beneath the street tonight.
They would detonate the explosives and assassinate their tremendously scorned enemy, Imām Muħammad Ħasan, the founder of HLMCIC.
Hindu Lund Musalmān Choot International Clubs.
Let the ever-democratic scoundrel go to hell.
Even if they couldn’t kill Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan the so called Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu tålā ånahā reincarnated due to her immensely incredible black magic powers, they could kill at least her immensely respected Abbū, the devil incarnate,
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī peered at his wristwatch.
“You’d better go in now,” he said quietly to the young lady in the front seat beside him. “If the bastard is on schedule, he should be here in five minutes.”
“Do I have to?” Al Mujāhidah Al Ghāzī smiled devilishly, “What purpose? He’d never get to the damn Masjid, Ashvinātam Masjid, hunh, tomorrow morning.”
“For positive identification,” Al Nādir Al Ghāzī smiled cunningly, “They want to fuck our muqaddas, pious, Pāk, Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān ladies. Let them. Who the hell are more pious than the Mujāhidāt themselves? Hindu scoundrels, fuck Mujāhidāt and be damned. Our Mujāhidāt would keep you busy 24×7 in sex with them. They’d give birth to your Hindu sons who would be the Mujāhidīn next generation, as we are.”
“Imām Muħammad Ħasan has planned to expose us to the true Musalmīn, as he calls them.” Al Mujāhidah Al Ghāzī smiled sarcastically.
“True Musalmīn? Who support the ever coward Hindus?” Al Nādir Al Ghāzī smiled curtly.
“Now they are in power, don’t forget.”
“I won’t, ever,” Al Nādir Al Ghāzī said bitterly. “I want you to see him close up. We’ve got to be certain he is Al Saåīd Al Qādir, the deputy prime minister in charge of defense, and no other. Go ahead, Al Mujāhidah Al Ghāzī, it’s the last time.”
“Allah Ålīmun Kħabīrun,”
“Allah Ålīmun Kħabīrun,”
They never said, “Allah Ħāfiz,”
They always said, ‘Allah Ålīmun Kħabīrun’, instead.
It was their code somewhat even.
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī was nineteen only, while Al Nādir Al Ghāzī was twenty nine already.
“Fa qatulū almusharikīn,” Al Nādir Al Ghāzī said.
“Ħaysu wajadttumūhum.” Al Mujāhidah Al Ghāzī said.
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī watched her leave the car, cross over, and reach the landing below the massive Masjid door.
Al Mujāhidah Al Ghāzī fell in among other worshipers at the steps, climbing up and going inside the Masjid.*
Al Jihad Al Vaqār tried to dispel the thought from her mind, but it wouldn’t shake.
Even worse, her thoughts started getting more provocative about me.
I sat there a little thoughtful by the strange look on Al Jihad Al Vaqār’s face.
One moment she’d been smiling at me and now she was sitting there staring at me with this peculiar look.
“Al Jihad Al Vaqār, are you okay?” I said in a concerned voice.
As if in a daze, Al Jihad Al Vaqār got up on her knees and inched herself intimately close to me.
Without saying a word, she placed her extremely beautiful red crimson luscious Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān lips on mine and tenderly kissed me.
Inhaling she could take in my masculine Hindu scent and her kiss became a little more searching as her tongue pried its way between my lips.
Now I fully understood the weird look on Al Jihad Al Vaqār’s face, but what I didn’t understand was why in the hell was I returning her kiss?
She was about to marry my criminal minded, ever anti Hindu, ever anti humanity, ever communal Pseudo Musalmān stepson.
Oh how her mouth was warm sweet though.
I sucked her extremely beautiful red crimson luscious Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān lips in between mine while my hands began to explore what was under the chemise.
Right before my eyes, Al Jihad Al Vaqār raised the chemise above and over her head and threw it on the floor.
Her breasts were stunning.
My mouth watered just looking at them.
My hands reached out for them and I grasped and caressed them.
No words were spoken as passion overtook the both of us.
We both knew what our actions were leading up to, but as if possessed by a hunger we couldn’t explain we didn’t stop.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār, only in her boy shorts straddled My lap and began to kiss me again.
Our kiss was hungry and passionate.
My cock was hard and I could feel it pressing against Al Jihad Al Vaqār’s pussy.
I grabbed a hand full of her excellent heavy plump luscious Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ass and pulled her even closer to me as we kissed.
Pushing myself away from the headboard, I laid Al Jihad Al Vaqār down in front of me.
Staring at her sexy body, I removed my t-shirt and stripped my sweats off.
My Uncut Hindu Cock was long, thick and very erect as my sweats came off.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār started to slide her boy shorts down, when I took over and slid them completely off for her.
Smiling at her, I bowed my head down and inhaled her excellent young smart Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Pussy.
It was warm and musky.
Easing myself down between her legs, I spread them apart.
Her excellent young smart Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Pussy was beautifully shaven.
Wrapping my mouth fully over it, I kissed it passionately.
My lips ravaged her.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār’s excellent young smart Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān buttocks bucked under me and her hands pressed my head deeper into her excellent young smart Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Pussy.
“Yes, Durgesh, kiss me, kiss me there.” Al Jihad Al Vaqār huskily whispered.
I drove Al Jihad Al Vaqār wild when I kissed across her clit.
I loved this.
At this moment, I did not care that Al Jihad Al Vaqār was about to marry my criminal minded, ever anti Hindu, ever anti humanity, ever communal Pseudo Musalmān stepson.
She had chosen to allow me this privilege and I sure as hell wasn’t going to pass it up.
Let the anti-human Pseudo Musalmān terrorist suffer, even if he was my stepson.
Let him get punished.
I knew once with me, Al Jihad Al Vaqār would never return to Al Nādir Al Ghāzī completely.
She could never forget the immense sexual bliss she would get from me.
Al Nādir Al Ghāzī couldn’t give its ten percent even.
Pressing my head hard against her excellent young smart Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Pussy, Al Jihad Al Vaqār felt herself about to cum.
Her orgasm overtook her and spread through her entire body.
I had already stopped doing what I was doing.
As her orgasm subsided, I kissed her clit once more and then got up on top of her.
Kneeing her legs open a bit more, I positioned my ultra-hard Uncut Hindu Cock and then drove it deep inside Al Jihad Al Vaqār.
Her excellent young Musalmān body bucked and we both moaned loudly.
With an ardent intensity, I began to work my Uncut Hindu Cock in and out of her silky Musalmān pussy.
All the while, Al Jihad Al Vaqār moaned loudly and called out my name.
It was a good thing that her parent’s room, was on another floor of the hotel.
Anyone walking by the room would have clearly heard what was going on inside.
Her calling out my name only turned me on more and I worked my Uncut Hindu Cock even harder pounding into her.
Getting up on my knees, I flipped Al Jihad Al Vaqār’s legs over my shoulders and proceeded to drive deeper and deeper into her tight Musalmān pussy.
Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā, she felt so good to me.
I knew I could cum at any moment, but I wouldn’t allow myself as I suspected this moment could never happen again.
With that thought in mind, I gave it all I could working my Uncut Hindu Cock in and out, my balls slapping against Al Jihad Al Vaqār’s beautiful Musalmān ass.
Grunting with each thrust, I watched the ecstasy etched all over Al Jihad Al Vaqār’s beautiful young Musalmān face.
I loved knowing I was the one giving her this pleasure.
As much as I detested my criminal minded, ever anti Hindu, ever anti humanity, ever communal Pseudo Musalmān stepson, I wanted to make sure that nobody ever fucked Al Jihad Al Vaqār as well as I was at this moment.
I wanted her to remember this.
“Yes darling! Is this what you want?” I said out of breath.
“Allah, Måshā Allah, Subħān Allah, yes,” Al Jihad Al Vaqār breathlessly replied. “I want you to cum into me, dad, sorry, not dad now, Durgesh darling, my actual husband from now on!”
“That’s right. What the hell do you think? I want to cuckold your terrorist stepson to both of us. And Wallāh, I promise to do it. Let him clean my Musalmān Cunt licking it, after you fuck me.”
I didn’t say anything as to its response.
I dropped Al Jihad Al Vaqār’s legs off of my shoulders and laid down on her.
Kissing her very lovingly, I rhythmically began to slide my Uncut Hindu Cock back and forth until I felt my orgasm began to build up and finally explode.
A loud guttural cry escaped from my lips as My body froze and I emptied my Hindu seed into Al Jihad Al Vaqār’s fertile Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān womb.
“Thank you darlin'” I said, as I smiled and kissed Al Jihad Al Vaqār afterward. “You’re something else, you beautiful woman. My stepson is a lucky man.”
No more words were said as we got up, enjoyed a shower together and then ate breakfast leisurely.
Al Jihad Al Vaqār got dressed again, and slipped off to her room to prepare for her wedding day.
No one smiled more, at the wedding, than the bride and the father of the groom that day.
About a year later, I could only smile when people told me how much my 3 month old namesake grandson looked like me.
There would be more in the line.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam