Mullah sat on a rocky coast with his lover.
The tide was coming in and loud waves crashed into jagged
rocks. It made the faint-hearted recede but he held his ground. The lady was not
too impressed though.
‘The ocean reminds me of you Mullah’, she said wistfully.
Swelling with pride he half-inquired, ‘Is it because
it is wild, untamed and virile like me?’
‘Err, excuse me? The two of you make me sick’, she retorted.
**
‘Whether the skies are pouring hell-fire or the ground is
turning to quick-sand; even if there is a nuclear fall-out, I will come to
see you, to be with you. Nothing could stop me’, Mullah told the exquisite
young woman he was courting.
Positively aroused, biting her pallu, she asked if he would take her to the movies the following
evening.
‘Oh.. I would love to’, Mullah replied as he blew her a
kiss, ‘if it is not raining!!’
**
Emperor Taimur Lang
summoned Mullah to his court. He had
heard many accounts of the fakir’s
wisdom, mystical powers and enigmatic style. Strangely, he felt a bit pissed about him.
As Mullah walked
in, Taimur pulled out his sword and rested
it on his shoulder.
TL: Too many stories of your tomfoolery going around Mullah. Let the truth be told about you possessing
mystical powers. And if not, yer head
shan't rest on yer shoulders anymore for ye
should have denied it by now. (speaking
like the Scots for no reason. Weird.?!?)
MN: I most certainly do Sir. I’ve attained many sought-after
siddhis (special powers) through ritual worship and diligent practice.
TL (playfully
poking Mullah’s throat with his sword): Splendid! Tell me stories of the other-world
Mullah. What have you known? And bear in
mind your fate if they be any dull.
MN: My Emperor, as I look up at the skies, I can see all the
way to the seventh Heaven; the verdant hill-gardens, rivers of musk-scented wines,
fruits and delicate meats and of course, the glorious Hoors with generous bottoms.
And when I look under my feet, I see way down to the lowest
Hell. The shrill cries and scalding bodies emanating from frying pots, the bleeding
faces, fruit of the bitter, thorn-plant of Dhari
and only boiling water for the thirsty.
TL (swallowing the lump
in his throat, sheathing his sword, utterly awed): How have you developed such faculties Mullah?
What is your secret?
MN: No secret. Only fear, my Lord. I saw nothing, neither jannat not jahannum. But your sword perched so close to
my jugular provokes hallucination. Who wants any trouble?
**
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