Interview with Shaikh Ali Mohammed, Surat, by Mudar Patherya

We were preparing for the 1415 hijri ashara in Mumbai.

The sehen of the Raudat Tahera was among the various locations where seating arrangements were being temporarily arranged. Meanwhile, Huzurala (TUS) had arrived for ziyaarat and the result was that while beams and girders were being brought into the sehen and makeshift ‘floors’ were being commissioned, people were moving here and there with an air of urgency.

I accompanied Huzurala’s (TUS) entourage on the way out; en route, Huzurala’s (TUS) turned in my direction and then froze his gaze on me for some seven seconds. When Huzurala (TUS) looks at you, you expect that his gaze will shift after an instant. In this instance, he kept looking intently. Not the predictable nazar, which one is fairly accustomed to. This gaze was niraali; there was something intrinsically protective about it.

Thereafter, one proceeded with the flow of mumineen movement and when outside, Huzurala (TUS) turned again to me from inside his motor and pronounced: ‘Elaan karo ke kaaley maghrib-isha ni namaaz Badri Mahal par thaasey.’ I did as was told to all those who had assembled around the motor.

The car left. I went back into the Raudat Tahera. Work resumed.

Some 30 minutes later, someone on an upper tier must have reclined against a just-installed metal pillar, shifting it out of place. This 400 kg girder dropped 20 feet - and on my head.

I was thrown on the floor. My kurta was soaked red. I was being carried to Saifee Hospital. The general whisper: I would be lucky to live.

Live I did. I was discharged from hospital a day later. I carry a gash on my head as a proof of what was and what could have been.

This is what I want to tell mumineen: when you stand in queue and Huzurala (TUS) looks at you, unknown to us he is already communicating with our destiny at another level. Unknown to us, he has already worked his magic without our realizing it.