Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan sat back in the green swivel chair and contemplated her Abbū, Imām Muħammad Ħasan, across her favorite desk.
Her Abbū had a dream to be the Mustafa Kemal Atatürk of entire Islamic World.
But whereas Mustafa Kemal Atatürk was practical, her Abbū, Imām Muħammad Ħasan, was utopian more than practical.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan could not understand that the Musalmīn were never democratic practically except when Ħuzūr sallallāhu ålayhi wa sallam and Kħulfa-e-Rāshidīn were alive.
Maybe Abū Sufyān had embraced Islam ultimately sincerely after the victory of Mecca.
Yet, his ‘crown prince’, his Walī Åhad, Ħazrat Muåāwiyah bin Abū Sufyān, never forgot he was the crown prince of Mecca before Ħuzūr sallallāhu ålayhi wa sallam conquered Mecca.
He was never democratic, nor as sincere to Islam as Ħazrat Kħālid bin Walīd, Saifullah, razī Allāhu Tålā ånahu.
Her Abbū, Imām Muħammad Ħasan, was almost always in a state of high enthusiasm.
He had congratulated his daughter profusely, abundantly.
She had fulfilled his dream in Saudi Arabia.
Even her Ammī, Nafīsah Salmān, had ignored that Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan had revenged her for betraying her father.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan never listened to her Ammī.
Nafīsah Salmān always tried to explain to her daughter,
“Your Abbū is a bloody terrorist. He is a munāfiq, a Pseudo Musalmān. I punished him for his munāfiqat, his pseudo Īmān.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan laughed sarcastically.
“And I punished you for your insincerity to my Abbū as his wife. I can please Durgesh more, sexually, than you can. I’ve successfully replaced you in his life.”
“Because you are thirty two years younger than Durgesh?” Nafīsah Salmān, her Ammī, had smiled cunningly.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan realized once again she owed her cunningness to her Ammī, Nafīsah Salmān, she detested so much.
Her Abbū, Imām Muħammad Ħasan, wasn’t cunning at all.
He was a utopian idealist Musalmān.
Al Tawaħīd Al Muħammad Al Ħasan was Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s utmost close sister.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was happy that Tawaħīd Bājī was too not less cunning than herself or their Ammī, Nafīsah Salmān.
What a great Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān female body her Ammī, Nafīsah Salmān, had.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan could not deny her own immense Musalmān beauty was due to her Ammī’s incredible eternal Musalmān beauty.
Nafīsah Salmān knew very well how to maintain her magical magnificent figure.
Al Tawaħīd Al Muħammad Al Ħasan had congratulated her younger sister too.
She had happily recounted the details of her airplane trip down from Ved Nagar, accompanied by the Secret Service commando who had shown at Ålīgarh Muslim University a week ago.
Al Tawaħīd Al Muħammad Al Ħasan had reported proudly that every passenger aboard was absorbed in a newspaper or weekly magazine filled with pictures of Al Sadar Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan.
Al Tawaħīd Al Muħammad Al Ħasan had recounted the excitement of her ride in the President House limousine too, of the photographers who had surrounded her outside the Al Ajm lobby, of her rescue.
Momentarily muted by her first visit to the Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah Office, Al Tawaħīd Al Muħammad Al Ħasan had then wanted to know everything about it.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan happily led her Tawaħīd Bājī on a tour of the Presidential House, Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah Manzil, pointing out the historical curiosities about which Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan had learned and dreamed of ever since she understood why Durgesh was so loved and so admired by even his enemies.
Even Durgesh’s enemies wanted to be what Durgesh was today.
Yet they only wanted to be Durgesh.
It was their fantasy only.
They only fantasized to be Durgesh.
They never were serious about it.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was serious about it.
She studied gravely, deeply, profoundly, what Durgesh always cared for and his opponents never did, even though they were always jealous of Durgesh.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan always watched Durgesh fucking her eternally beautiful Ammī, Nafīsah Salmān.
She wanted to know what her Abbū, Imām Muħammad Ħasan, lacked and Durgesh doesn’t that her Ammī, Nafīsah Salmān, left her Abbū for Durgesh.
She found Durgesh loved animal wild sex similarly as her Ammī, Nafīsah Salmān, did.
Her Abbū hated animal wild sex.
It was the first reason her eternally beautiful Ammī, Nafīsah Salmān, preferred Durgesh on her Abbū, Imām Muħammad Ħasan.
When having sex with each other, her eternally beautiful Ammī, Nafīsah Salmān, and Durgesh, both were not even human.
They were entirely unashamed beasts, surrendered to their ever wild animal lust, without caring anything else whatsoever.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan could not believe her otherwise ever sophisticated Ammī, Nafīsah Salmān, was so horniest the female beast.
Durgesh was so horniest male beast.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan decided to have Durgesh for herself too.
Yes, Durgesh was thirty two years elder to Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan.
Ħuzūr sallallāhu ålayhi wa sallam were also even far more elder than Ummil Mominīn, Ħazrat Åāyeshah Siddīqah, razī Allāhu Tålā ånahā.
She was surprised by my firm tone, but always welcomed our conversations.
“Åāliyah Kamāluddīn, we need to talk!”
For over ten year now it was just Åāliyah Kamāluddīn, her fifty five years old Hindu friend of her husband, Durgesh, and her nineteen-year old daughter Sādiyah Raħīm.
Åāliyah Kamāluddīn was near forty now, a homebody, and still in pleasing shape.
Her tresses were raven black, only her hair-dresser knew for sure… Her ample bosom hadn’t sagged even a little.
Even forty years couldn’t do that.
Her skin showed no signs of age.
She could still turn heads if she wanted to.
I had not seen my friend’s wife, Åāliyah Kamāluddīn, in anything form-flattering since the old man, my friend, Muħammad Raħīm, was around.
At home she always wore a bra under her frumpy, baggy sweats.
Mostly green, or on a daring day, for her, I sometimes caught a glimpse of a black strap and once even, a red bra.
Though I thought that might have been Sādiyah Raħīm’s on a laundry day.
An occasional glimpse of the beautiful Musalmān cleavage showed the wear of four decades on a full exquisite female Musalmān figure.
Her chest never revealed even some wrinkles and the natural effects of gravity on a well-endowed Musalmān woman.
Her legs were nicely muscled, as she had never been taught to drive, so biking and walking had served her well.
And either by design or comfort, she often wore very skimpy, tight shorts in her garden or for her daily runs or rides.
Åāliyah Kamāluddīn sometimes got wolf-calls and whistles from bold Hindus and she could truly catch my eye when she leaned over the handle bars and peddled swiftly.
The pumping motion often made me wish that her swaying Musalmān breasts would one day spill over the top of her almost transparent bra.
Åāliyah Kamāluddīn had been a middle-management secretary back in the day.
Schlepping, filing and pleasing a typical ladder-climbing idiot of a boss.
She worked overtime and through lunch, and ordered her own flowers for “appreciation day.”
After closing a big deal, the boss would escort her to a hotel lounge for a single appletini and offer a snide jab that her career would advance quicker if she spent more time under my desk than in front of it.
The crude sexual remarks elicited only a smirk.
She sometimes daydreamed that if my remarks were sincere or even clever, she would drag me into the elevator and up to one of the luxury suites on the upper floors.
She once joked that they could settle a sexual harassment suit out of court.
Her boss merely smiled, drained his glass and scanned the room for younger talent.
For the past ten years, Åāliyah Kamāluddīn had become a stay at home Ammī for her children.
She cooked, cleaned and cared for kids while nearly abandoning her own identity.
I was, beside the Mayor of Ved Nagar, a web designer and programmer.
I spent countless hours online and on porn sites to know how to make and use them positively.
I dreamed-up various positive scenarios on my laptop, with every fantasy woman from Xena to the Flying Nun.
After trolling internet spank-sites into the early morning, I would “run one off” and then hunker down for another day.
I had never been a jock.
Though my upscale, early life had afforded me rich-man privileges. I surfed the Pacific off the shore of their Malibu beach house.
I took riding lessons and belonged to a posh club.
This however was long ago.
Åāliyah Kamāluddīn’s wealthy husband had left them with nothing but bills.
Åāliyah Kamāluddīn won custody of a beachfront home they could not afford and platinum cards that served only as anchors.
In came the dot.com.
Boom and soon, my dexterity with a mouse came as a saving grace.
I was soon able to pay down the family debt and transfer Sādiyah Raħīm from a community college to a “big-name” Pac-10 school.
Their life was suddenly golden and the family adored me.
I was classically handsome in this “Hollywood” town.
With dark hair and warm black eyes I always got an offer or a look, every now and then.
When I sat my friend’s wife, Åāliyah Kamāluddīn, down for our “talk”, I had already steeled my nerves with a little juice and had worked my diabolical scheme online for weeks.
In my mind, all my money went into this home and to Sādiyah Raħīm and Åāliyah Kamāluddīn.
I believed I could easily be on my own, living the high-life.
Instead, every day was a round-up of shopping-lists, utility bills, school work and more.
The beach-bunnies and bachelor-pad were nowhere to be found and it was time someone paid.
“Åāliyah Kamāluddīn,” I began, “it’s time for some changes. You and Sādiyah Raħīm have to start doing more around here.”
“Well of course Durgesh, you are the breadwinner and we would do anything to help out. What can I do for you, dear? Anything we can do to help, you just ask.” This was the only way Åāliyah Kamāluddīn knew how to answer.
She sat pleasantly on the couch, in shorts and a thin blouse.
Dark, full black locks framed her face and lay gently on her shoulders.
Her family was European Årabian and they all inherited the shiny, black hair and olive complexion.
Åāliyah Kamāluddīn seldom wore makeup at home, and that only lipstick and liner to high-light her big, doey eyes.
She was content to remain invisible and anonymous.
Her hands were folded delicately in her lap, her long fingers intertwined.
Light-green shorts riding up her thighs and stretching tightly across her wide hips.
Åāliyah Kamāluddīn’s tanned legs showed her toned calves and thick quads.
And her bare legs were crossed at the ankles with one canvas sandal precariously balanced on the toes of her right foot.
These Åāliyah Kamāluddīn-Durgesh talks always lifted her spirits.
She sat her teacup on the inlaid coffee table and scooted to the edge of the sofa.
She looked directly into my eyes.
It was good to see me taking charge of a situation and she was pleased to see me assert myself more.
Åāliyah Kamāluddīn had taken on the role of the facilitator and always tried to ease family friction.
No sense beating around the bush.
“Åāliyah Kamāluddīn, frankly I’m horny. I’m not getting enough sex in this home, and I want to make some changes, here.”
She was surprised at that, naturally.
And coming from her husband’s ever best friend, even if I was the ever infamous Anant Muslimātchod Hindu.
She wasn’t sure what I was trying to say.
“Åāliyah Kamāluddīn,” I tried again, “I’m going to change the dynamics here.”
She was thoroughly confused, shifting her position, and taking on a look of concern.
She tried her best to discern my intent.
“Do you mean you need more privacy, or that you want to have more beautiful Musalmān girlfriends over? Would you like us to stay out of the way on certain nights? You want to have sex. That’s fine, you’re a Hindu, I understand.”
This just tended to infuriate me.
And now anger was increasing moreover.
“Yes, sex, that’s it. In this house. And whenever I want it. And it starts tonight!”
My face reddening as I rose and paced the room ominously.
My ego grew with each repressed desire.
Åāliyah Kamāluddīn was flustered and not quite comprehending.
“Durgesh, it’s late, Sādiyah Raħīm’s staying with a friend and I can make myself scarce. Let me gather a few things and I’ll ride over to my friend, Lailā’s.”
Åāliyah Kamāluddīn rose to leave and as she tried to pass, I grabbed her wrist and said,
“You don’t get it, do you? I want sex. I want it, now. And I want it from you.” I blurted it out and liked the way it sounded.
Then I roughly pulled her back onto the couch.
She was just catching up with my last words, ..
“I want it from you.”
Her beautiful dark, brown eyes grew wide. “Durgesh, are you crazy? I’m your friend’s wife, Åāliyah Kamāluddīn, your Bhābhījān!”
Beads of sweat appeared at her temples and her heart-rate soared.
I sat on top of her to plant her in her place.
Her head started thrashing wildly, her ebon locks clinging to her face and loose strands flying in all directions.
Her strong gams kicked at me as her sandals flew across the living room.
Her grunts of exertion were working like a tonic on my conception of things and she felt my Hindu manhood begin to swell.
The thrill of the hunt was always better than the trophy!
I pushed her sweaty, disheveled excellent Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān body into the cushions and figured my next move.
It was now or never and I had already gone too far to stop.
Her protests increased verbally and physically as her resistance started.
Allah, Allah, Nooooooooooooooo!
Yes, she had lost her mind while flirting with Durgesh.
But not sex!
She teased Durgesh, seduced Durgesh, but it was only a tease.
She wasn’t prepared even to have sex with the ever infamous Anant Muslimātchod Hindu.
She shrieked in my face and tried to heave me off her.
I was sitting on her belly, my left hand clasping both her wrists and my right hand violently yanking her shorts down her legs.
“You grab my Uncut Hindu Penis every now and then, don’t you? You play with it and suck it every night when you think it’s safe and I’m sound asleep. You even undress me yourself then, undress yourself too, straddle me and fuck me almost entire night. Don’t you?”
Åāliyah Kamāluddīn was dumbfounded.
“You, you were never asleep? You, you were always wide-awake?”
“What do you think? Aren’t you one of the utmost beautiful Musalmān wives my Musalmān friends have and always crazy for me? You are already enjoying the ultimate pleasure with me, while I always suppress my feelings for you.”
“I, I’m sorry. I was fed up, frustrated actually.”
“What the hell do you mean, Åāliyah Kamāluddīn?”
“I needed such videos to show to my husband.”
I was startled.
“He always refuses me to straddle him. He doesn’t have sex with me properly. I boasted to him that even you let me straddle yourself. He didn’t believe and laughed at me.”
“Your ever righteous Musalmān friend challenged me to make our videos and show them to him, if you really allow me to straddle you.”
“And you did it? Are you crazy?”
Åāliyah Kamāluddīn blazed at me suddenly,
“Shut up, you damn fool. Every Musalmān houselady that’s beautiful, is crazy for youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu! Not me aloneeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”*
I watched her incredulously.
“So, you prepared our videos yourself and gave him?”
“It wasn’t necessary.” Åāliyah Kamāluddīn said disinterested, “I only had to agree. He himself made entire arrangements.”
“And do you know what he is doing with those videos of us? He is using them to make our adult movies. You are now a wonderful, one of the utmost successful porn stars, with me.”
Åāliyah Kamāluddīn wasn’t startled.
She wasn’t dumbfounded.
Instead, she smiled cunningly.
“And my husband himself is doing it?”
“That’s what I wanted.” Åāliyah Kamāluddīn smiled triumphantly.
“I told him he is a pimp, not any sophisticated person. And now he himself has proved it.”
“Are you crazy? He is selling our porn videos.”
“He isn’t alone,”
“What do you mean?”
“Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan has made Pseudo Musalmīn either to surrender to their cuckolding to their beautiful Musalmān womankind and you, or leave Modern Democratic Årabia and live the vagabond life of a refugee.”
“That’s the exact punishment the terrorists, criminal and criminal minded Pseudo Musalmīn deserve. Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan has decided even not let them unite anywhere. Their unity has always proved harmful to humanity.”
“Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is right, but…”
Åāliyah Kamāluddīn mused.
“Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is always right.”
“Not always.” I said disapprovingly, “No one is always right except Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā, Allah, God. Åāliyah Kamāluddīn, you are a Musalmān lady. You can’t appreciate anyone beyond a limit. Alhamdulillah. Y’ ék ittamu sŧuhi. Mā chidanyasvishansat sakhāyo mā rishañyat.”*
Damn Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan!
She has spread so many white lies about my unique legendary sexual prowess that almost entire Musalmān houseladies believed if they hadn’t have sex with me ever, they haven’t enjoyed even their life optimum as a woman.
My Uncut Hindu Penis wasn’t the biggest one, neither the monster as Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and her ever cunning, ever shrewdest, ever smart, ever preplanned untrue Young Musalmān lady Brigade spread the white lie everywhere.
“Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan,” I gritted my teeth, “Stop spreading white lies about my ever incredible unique legendary sexual prowess.”
“Am I harming you, Anant Muslimātchod Hindu Piyā?” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan cooed straddling me aggressively as usual.
“Not me, and don’t try to bribe me by straddling me aggressively every when I want to talk with you on some grave matter.”
“It’s bribery?” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan looked into my eyes seductively, “It isn’t my ever exclusive wifely love for my ever sexiest Hindu husband?”
“Why do you and your ever obedient Young Musalmān lady Brigade spread white lies about my Uncut Hindu Penis? You and your entire Young Musalmān lady Brigade know with your own constant experiences that I don’t have the biggest penis…”
“Who the hell is interested in the damn biggest penis? They want only to experience the thrill of having sex with the utmost sexiest Hindu.”
“Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan,”
“A large number of them want to have only the ultimate intimacy with you, to feel the pride of it their entire life. They damn care about the truthfulness of the fantastic stories we spread of your ever miraculous sexual prowess. They live in dreams. They want to keep living in dreams. They never want to come out of it. That’s the tragedy of not only us womankind, but of us entire humankind as well.”
“Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is right, Durgesh.” Imāmzādi Ħumayrah Qāzī smiled gravely at me.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan watched her father.
“Do you understand, Abbū, what you’ve done? Please, don’t stand there and strive for wit. Sit down. Put your mind into gear, if you can, and answer me rationally.”
“Madam President, Al Sadar Al Jamhūriyat Al Årabiyat,” Imām Muħammad Ħasan addressed Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan sarcastically, “I know what I’ve done. I’ve told the truth as I see it. You may have more information than I do. Yet, you still lack in experiences. Wisdom isn’t generated from informations only. It needs experiences too to generate wisdom.”
“You think you are wiser, Abbū?” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled.
“Because I have more experiences than you do.”
“Experiences of what?”
“And you think instead of fighting with the bastards, I should protect myself?”
“Isn’t it needed for the mission itself? If they kill you, the mission would stop then and there. Wouldn’t it?”*
He was not only the office manager at Al Qāsim Rolling, Casting and Engineering Company, he was the husband of Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim, one of the daughters of Al Qāsim Al Muħammad, the managing director of the company as well.
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand glanced at the clock.
He was gratefully surprised.
“Thank you very much, Miss Åbbās.” He smiled.
Al Waħīdah Al Qāsim was her best friend’s younger sister.
“Not at all, Prañav. I realized these should be in the mail tonight.”
“That’s right.” Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand kept smiling, “Yet, not all our girls are that considerate. We certainly appreciate your loyalty to the job. It surprised me you were willing to waive overtime.”
“A good job is worth being loyal to.” Al Ħamd Al Åbbās also kept smiling, “There’s a rumor that you are our next managing director as Al Zakāt Al Qāsim has also decided to support you, instead of her younger brother, Muħammad bin Qāsim.”
Prañav Yogéndr Divyānand laughed.
“That’s a rumor only. Never mind the rumors.”
“That’s the greatness you have, Prañav. You still work with us as the office manager.”
Al Ħamd Al Åbbās wished good night to him.
The rain had turned into a cold drizzle.
Reflected lights shimmered on the wet paving, wet tiling, of the parking lot.
Al Ħamd Al Åbbās hurried to her car, opened the door, got in, turned the key and stepped on the starter.
Sometimes the car took a little longer to start on cold, rainy nights.
Al Ħamd Al Åbbās wasn’t too concerned at first.
The only sound that emanated from underneath the hood was the grind of the battery-driven starter with no explosive response from the motor.
After the first minute and a half, she became distinctly worried.
She looked around at the now all but deserted parking place.
Only a few cars were spotted here and there.
Al Ħamd Al Åbbās suddenly realized her battery was not turning the motor as fast as it had been.
Her car seemed definitely stalled.
Suddenly a cheerfully competent voice said,
“What’s the matter? Having trouble?”
Al Ħamd Al Åbbās smiled.
It was the voice she was waiting for.
She rolled down the left window to inspect my smiling confident eyes.
My raincoat was belted about my trim waist.
Allah, how handsome the Hindu playboy is.
Of course, he is thirty-three.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is right.
“I seem to having trouble with my motor.” Al Ħamd Al Åbbās smiled seductively at me.
The multi zillionaire.
“Better let the battery rest for a minute,” I said, “You are not doing any good, just grinding away at it. Let me take a look.”
Al Ħamd Al Åbbās smiled.
She thanked Allah silently.
That was what she wanted.
If her scheme only worked…
She controlled herself.
Control your body language, idiot.
Al Ħamd Al Åbbās admonished herself.
I stepped to the side of the motor, raised the hood adeptly, and plunged my head and shoulders inside.
After a moment, I emerged and said.
“Watch my right hand. When I wave it, press the starter. When I move it down sharply, stop. Be sure the ignition key is turned to the ‘on’ position. All ready?”
Al Ħamd Al Åbbās nodded gratefully, yet impishly somewhat.
I’ll fuck you tonight.
How, the hell, longer would I wait?
You act too blind to my incredible Musalmān beauty.
I can’t bear it any more.
You are insulting me.
Once more, my head and shoulders vanished from sight.
Al Ħamd Al Åbbās watched my right hand.
It waved gently, and Al Ħamd Al Åbbās pressed the starter.
Almost at once my hand was plunged downward in a swiftly emphatic gesture.
Al Ħamd Al Åbbās took her foot off the starter.
I lowered the hood of the car, walked around and shook my head.
“No spark.” I said.
Al Ħamd Al Åbbās was praying her Allah that I don’t find she has already taken a part out from the distributor.
“What does it mean?” she asked innocently.
“Something’s definitely wrong with your electrical system. There’s no use running down your battery by using the starter. You’re just not getting current to the spark plugs. I’m sorry there’s not much I can do in the rain. With the hood up, water keeps dripping down on the distributing system. That’s probably what the matter with it is anyhow. I think you’d better leave it right here tonight. By tomorrow the rain will be over, the sun will be shining and the car will start right off.”
“But,” Al Ħamd Al Åbbās said, “I…”
My smile was engaging.
“Exactly, I have my car here. I’ll be glad to take you home.”
Al Ħamd Al Åbbās thanked Allah very much, yet silently.
Her scheme had worked ultimately.*
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan watched her father scrutinizing him.
“Who do you love more, Abbū? Your daughter or the mission?”
“Both.” Imām Muħammad Ħasan said bluntly, “I can’t sacrifice one for the other, and won’t ever.”
“If you are a true Musalmān you should be prepared always to sacrifice everything fī sabīlillah.”
“Not, if I can manage aqāmat-e-Dīnil Qayyamati without sacrificing anything. No.”
“Ħazrat Ibrāhīmå were asked to sacrifice his son.”
“Durgesh interprets it in a different manner.”
“I don’t think so.”
Imām Muħammad Ħasan didn’t say anything.
“You tried to defy me this day? On this one day when my prestige is such that I can pluck you out of the Council Chamber and arrest you, with no one daring to protest?”
“I can sacrifice myself, not you.”
“Abbū, I’m safer than even you realize it.”
“Not all of them.”
“Even then, most of them.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan said, “Moreover, the Pseudo Musalmīn that aren’t cuckolded even yet, are under constant nonstop surveillance. They’d be arrested immediately if they even tried to do anything mischievous. Yazīd Malåūn won’t be allowed to counter revolt once more ever now.”
“But my seven movements Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club, Cuckold Your Musalmān husband, Ashvinātam Gangbang Club, Al Jihād fil Durgesh fī sabīlillāh, Jet Musalmān Beauties Squad, Durgesh Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ Sex Therapy and Durgesh Åāýéshah Siddīqah Social Service, have left nothing for them to offer to Hindus.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled cunningly, “Your daughter wasn’t born yesterday, Abbū. Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah is the permanent solution to snatch away every weapon from the wretched Pseudo Musalmīn Årab Burdāfaroshs. They won’t have anything to offer to Hindus ever after the permanent establishment of Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah.”*
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan laughed.
“You think they were morons?”
“I can’t believe you, Naåīmah.”
“You are furious, Abbū.”
“Yes, even if they were Pseudo Musalmīn, they did it for their subsistence and for their subsistence only. India was Soné kī Chiđiyā, the Golden Bird then. Årab lacked the means of subsistence in those days incredibly. The only product they had, in even more than abundance, was their incredibly extremely beautiful women, nothing else. Their economy depended on the trading of their extraordinary Beauties. They didn’t have another option.”
I smiled the appreciation, at being caught walking the house naked, the fact that obviously everyone heard our lovemaking and the matter of fact way Nishāt Nazli had just sucked my Uncut Hindu Cock clean in front of Zubaydah Bābar and Jamīlah Aurangzeb’s daughter, Bābarah Åālamgīr.
The possibility that, Nasīm Muåāwiyah wasn’t as innocent as everyone thought of her, had made everyone at least somewhat cautious of her.
Al Zakāt Al Qāsim smiled ironically.
Al Zakāt Al Qāsim smiled condescendingly, sneeringly,
“Listen Al Ħamd Al Åbbās, I’ve done enough for you. Don’t say I can’t recognize my best friend too. I don’t want to make any trouble, but you and I have certain things to discuss and we’d better talk them over quietly.”
Al Zakāt Al Qāsim laughed.
“You know, my Ammī is a trillionaire. I am myself a multi-millionaire at least. I don’t need your money, even a damn cent.”
“I merely want to discuss the accident with you. I’m a sophisticated highly educated young lady, you know. Your friends are with you. Your Vedic Monotheist Hindu lover/Live in Relationship Partner is with you. You don’t need to be afraid of me, even a bit.”*
I smiled at Hudā.
“I’m glad now you are a successful defense attorney, Hudā.”
“Muħammad Ůsmān is creating problems once more?”
“Not directly, indirectly.”
“Yes, he wanted to sell it to HVSI. We didn’t need it, so he gifted it to Ruqayyah Muħammad Åbdullah. He said he wanted to serve humanity more ardently. He didn’t have proper time to take care of that island. There were some gamblers, terrorists, Criminal/Criminal minded Musalmīn who were after to misuse it.”
“Well, forget it. Ruqayyah has sold it now successfully to HVSI. Prakāsh has some planning in developing the island into a profitable investment. I’ve approved the purchase already.”
I smiled too.
“Don’t worry. I know how to keep Muħammad Åbdullah in his pants. I didn’t purchase it then, because Muħammad Åbdullah is perfectly capable in dealing with the terrorists, gamblers, and Criminal/Criminal minded Musalmīn that were interested in misusing that island.”
“You are right.”
“There you are.”
“Muħammad bin Qāsim, is playing some game now, as soon as he knew you have purchased the island.”
“I see.” Hudā said gravely.
“Muħammad bin Qāsim warned me, that if I wanted to get a good title to the island I’d have to make some arrangements with him. He had an oil lease on it and he was intending to start drilling. He said he took it for granted that being the utmost successful businessman of the entire history of humankind so far, I wouldn’t care to buy an island and then have him put some oil derricks of Al Qāsim Rolling, Casting and Engineering Company, in it.”
“I can’t imagine the damnfool talking to you that way.” Hudā smiled, “Doesn’t he know how you deal with such damnfools?”
I smiled cunningly.
“Something like that.”
“So Muħammad bin Qāsim misjudged Prakāsh?”
“That’s right. And consequently, he has misjudged me too. After all, I’m the real elder brother of Prakāsh. Am I not?”
I kept smiling.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan watched his daughter patiently.
“You know better, Naåīmah. I oppose Ashvinātam Ummat-e-Muslimah only. It doesn’t mean I support Yazīd Malåūn lånat ålayhi. He revived the Pre Islamic Jāhiliyat. Muħsin-e-Insāniyat, Ħuzūrs, sacrificed his whole life. Kħulfa-e-Rāshidūnrz too sacrificed their whole life for Ummat-e-Muslimah to get rid of Pre Islamic Jāhiliyat and Årab Burdāfaroshs. The damnfool Yazīd Malåūn lånat ålayhi could never understand what theyrzn had achieved. He fought for the traditional kingdom of his own clan. Lånat ålayhi the damnfool.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan said patiently.
“Abu Sufyān couldn’t adjust ever with the paramount leadership of Ħuzūrs. The entire conduct of Ħazrat Muåāwiyahrzu confirms the conclusion. He had always reported even every infinitesimal mistake Saifullah Ħazrat Kħālid bin Walīd razī Allāhu tålā ånahu did. He did it deliberately to widen the gap between Ħazrat Fārūq-e-Åāzamrzu and Saifullah Ħazrat Kħālid bin Walīd razī Allāhu tålā ånahu.”*
Imām Muħammad Ħasan sighed.
“That’s why I do agree with Durgesh’s Kālchakr Theory, his Time Cycle Theory, I mean.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan sighed again.
“I think even Ħazrat Muåāwiyahrzu appointed such pseudo Mullahs and Maulavīs. How the hell otherwise he could successfully revolt against Ħazrat Ålīrzu?” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan retorted, “He himself acknowledged that he was the first king in Islam as if Islam allowed the kingdom of human beings on humankind.”
“They brought even Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu tålā ånhā and Ummil Mominīn Ħazrat Åāýéshah Siddīqah razī Allāhu tålā ånhā against each other for their own vested vile personal political interests.” Imām Muħammad Ħasan retorted scornfully, “It wasn’t an easy achievement for the Pseudo Musalmīn. How could they do this miracle, it deserves to be studied deeply.”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan said appreciating me, almost in trance,
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam