I would never have come to the UK in the spring of 1966 if the events of life had been public. I was the last daughter of a Muslim Syed family called Gulshan Fatima. The Prophet Muhammad came through their daughter Fatima. She lived quietly in my house in Punjab, Pakistan.
Not only did I grow up in Barda with my face covered by the zealous Shia Muslim rule from the age of seven, but I was too crippled to be able to leave my room on my own. Except for my father, two brothers and uncle

It’s the burda that no other men can see in my face. For fourteen years I spent my frail life within the confines of our home in Jiang, 250 miles from Lahore.

My father brought me to England. My father considered it an insult to the English to worship the three gods so that God would be one. He did so out of fear that I would not deviate from our classic religion and that the false doctrine of purity would not be compromised.

However my father brought me to England. My father spent a lot of money in our country and took me there believing that I would get the best medicine because I did not get any relief. As someone who cares, towards my future well-being

My father made this arrangement. So we landed at London Heathrow Airport one day that April. When I grow up today and close my eyes I see the majestic figure of my father Abayan ... Ah! slim tall figure: long black line studded with gold buttons. Neatly sewn. High neck. A long-sleeved T-shirt and a white turban paired with a leash often come into my room. He teaches my religion.

Dad comes and stands in front of the picture of the church in Mecca, hanging near my bed. It was built by Abraham and rebuilt by Muhammad. Dad takes the Quran from the highest echelon for it. The tradition is that nothing should be placed above the Qur’an. So that room is given its highest place.

The first kisses on its greenish envelope. Bismillah. Rakuman Ir-Ra him (In the name of the Most Merciful and Compassionate God, I begin this). He unwraps the green silk envelope as if he has already performed the rites of purification for his sins. Saying Bismillah again, he takes the holy Quran and puts it on the frame and turns it with his fingertips. I'm sitting in a chair looking at him. I have also performed voodoo rituals.

With decorative writing

He reads Arabic words with his fingers. Written sacred

With an interest in pleasing the father I tell Fatiriha (to start what he has to say). This is the prayer that unites all the Mohammedans everywhere

"Praise be to Allah, the Lord of Creation, the Merciful, the Merciful God, the King of the Day of Judgement! We will only worship you." Today we are going to read, "said the father.

We will pray for help only in You, who will guide us to the right path,

Your kindness in the way of parents

Not in the way of those who deserve your wrath. Not in the way of those who leave you.

From the power of Imrans

We

"Allah! The Living, the Eternal."

There is no god but He, "he said

He has already revealed the Torah and the Gospel. "

"He has revealed to you this book which contains the oath to confirm the earlier scriptures."

I read the stinking Quran in Arabic just like the children of every zealous Mohammedan family do. Written in Arabic, it can be understood in that language. It is not possible to translate it as other books as Mohammedan knows. Because this is a sacred book. Translated will mean something different.

My family celebrated the achievement of reading the Holy Quran for the first time by the age of seven, which is considered to be the age of attaining rationality. Friends, neighbours celebrate.

Men and women are assembled separately. Wow what an ecstasy! Mullah (Mohammedan Guru) prays for the special Dua for the most important stage of my life. All the women listen to it very quietly ...

My loving father looks at me with a smile. ‘Little grandma (daughter), you read very neatly today. OK. Let's answer this question:

"Where is Allah?" "Allah is everywhere"

"Does Allah know everything you do in this world?"

"Yes. Allah knows all the good and bad deeds I do in this world. He knows my secret thoughts." 

"What has Allah done to you?"

"Allah created me in this world. He loves and cares for me. He will reward me in heaven for my good deeds. He will punish me in hell for my evil deeds."

"How can you receive the love of Allah?"

"I can receive His love only if I submit completely to the will of Allah and obey His commandments."

How can you know? 

"I can know the will and imagination of Allah from the Holy Quran and the words of Prophet Muhammad (pbuh)." (May the peace and blessings of Allah be upon him).

That is great, responded very nicely.
Do you want to know anything else now?
Do you have any questions? 
Yes, Dad. How is our Islam better than other religions?) Please explain. "

I did not ask this question by knowing about other religions.

The Father Himself is the speciality of our religion

I just wanted to hear what he had to say about it.

The father's answer was clear and conclusive. '' Gulshan. Always remember what I say, our religion is better than all other religions, because 

First of all, Muhammad is the glory of God.

Second, Muhammad was the beloved of God. He destroyed all the idols and converted all the people who worshipped them to Islam. 

Third, God gave the Qur'an to Muhammad as the final holy book. That is the last word of God. For that we must strictly obey. All other books are unfinished. As I listened intently, Father's

I felt these words register well inside my mind. If I have time I ask my father to explain about the pictures of Mecca and Medina in my room. I eagerly ask Father to explain what it is like to go on a pilgrimage to the holy city of Mecca and what is the magnetic force that makes all the Mohammedans pray back to this city 5 times a day. 

We did the same when we heard the call of Moses' teacher from the branch tower of the mosque in our town on the streets and markets of the town that prayer call, which resonates over the noise of traffic devices, will flow into our homes at dawn, noon, evening, and night.

Allah in La Ila ha,

Mohammad Rasoolulhu "

(There is no god but Allah.

Muhammad is the Prophet of God)

Father explains all this to me. He has already made the pilgrimage to Mecca twice. It is his duty to make the pilgrimage to Mecca at least once in his life, once alone and again with my mother. The rich will travel to Mecca many times.

"Dad can I go on a trip to Mecca?" Dad smiles and bends over and kisses my forehead. "Yes. My little Gulshan. You're definitely going. When you grow up, maybe ..."

Father, do you want to say that only after our prayers have been answered for your comfort?

The Mohammedan religion is like the five main pillars

With obligations. The basic principles that unite the trillions of Mohammedans in different countries of the world are:

1. Iman is the belief that God is one, and that Muhammad is the seer of God.
Praying
2. Pray 5 times a day.
3. Being fasting during the month of Ramadan.
4. Giving Zakat property to the little poor.
5. Pilgrimage to Hajj Mecca, Medina.

I learned Godliness during these kinds of teaching times. I had a deep attachment to my religion and its rituals. I had more pride and dignity because we came from the lineage of Ali, the son-in-law of the Prophet Muhammad.

Since my father appeared in the dynasty of the Prophet Muhammad, he was not only the head of our family, he was also a Syed ', a Shah and a religious leader called Bir. And the bungalow we had. You know how big the garden that surrounds it is! Mohammad mullahs and maulvis used to come to my father to listen to and understand religious ideas they did not know.

'' Kulshan '' means "flower garden" in Urdu. My father cared for me with care and concern as I was a diseased little plant. The flower that blooms in our garden is like a rose

My mind and heart are blossoming, with a grand plan in it

It is only now that I realise what was built. My father loved and raised all of the children. My brothers' names are Safdar Shah and Alim Shah. My sisters' names are Aniq Bibi, Samina. When I was six months old I was suffering from typhoid fever on the left side of my body and my left arm and left leg were paralysed.

At a very young age my mother fell ill and became bedridden. They feared that I would not be subjected to the cruelty of a stepmother. The children of the stepmother were also afraid that they would seize the property that I owed to my father. So my mother, who was on the verge of death, called my father,

K'shaji! I beg you not to remarry for the sake of our little Gulshan. "

My father kept his promise. My father never remarried even though according to the Qur'an one has the right to have four wives at the same time. I was 14 when I landed in England that day. Many incidents that completely changed my lifestyle took place one after the other.

The third day we arrived in the UK, my father, Dr. David, a medical specialist, came to check on me. When the doctor came to the hotel room where we were staying, my nurses Salima and Seema went to work. They adjusted their droplets. They also covered my face. I tremble with fear. I started.

The doctor greeted me with a happy face and polite words. He examined my left arm and my numb left leg. Spoke after a minute of silence.

There is no cure for this. Prayer is the only medicine

In the tone in which Dr. David looked at my father and spoke, there was undoubted authority.

What is this alien doctor talking about God

I was surprised by that.

I wondered what God knew about sin. What the doctor kindly said makes my siblings cringe. I can not marry my cousin who was engaged to me when I was three months old. What ashamed! I was in a much more humiliating situation than a woman being divorced. But I was comforted when the doctor told me that I had faith through prayer.

My father sent the doctor after that came to see me.

"How comforting that English doctor said we should try to pray." Dad said. Salima helped me sit up straight. "Dad, can this doctor cure me?" That

I asked my father in tears. Dad gently tapped my lifeless hand. Now there is only one way. We can knock on the door of heaven. We can go to Mecca as planned. God hears our prayers. Maybe you can get well there and we're back with praise, "Dad said without revealing his grief.

My grief was as deep as my father's grief. Dad looked at me and smiled. I smiled too. Dad was still optimistic.

Truly we can see the fulfilment of our hearts' longing in the house of God or in the healing fountains of Aim, "said my father. We stayed at that hotel because we had to arrange for a trip to Mecca. Thus arranged.

In those days my father would go out to visit his friends and many relatives. Many came there to see him. Usually, women from the families of those friends wanted to see me, but very few came to see me because I was ashamed of my plight.

Who would want to date a person who can not even spell his name correctly? Women my age, usually dressed in red wedding dresses, wearing fancy jewellery and special outfits, imagined the scene of their husband going home but me in isolation. Abandoned, isolated from others, unfit to be considered a woman, unable to be healed by the veil of shame, able to look forward to her own future.

We were in a room on the second floor of the hotel, next to Dad's room. The room was covered with thick carpet and had a separate bathroom.

Salima and Seema looked at me alternately eye to eye. I spent time reading books, attending religious ceremonies, and caring for my needs.

I was bored listening to the humorous things my nurse said about the strange habits of the Englishman we saw outside the window. We smiled heartily as we compared the English women's shorts with all the hard face masks of salwar kameez, dupatta and burqa worn by Punjabi women.

Our veil made way for us to see the world, but the world hid it from us. The burqa of women in Muslim homes and the burqa that hides men from seeing them gave women protection and aided in dignified behaviour. Mohammedan though we stayed in the UK

Pay close attention to your diet according to the basic tenets of the religion we were. Pork was considered excluded. When my father took us on a trip in a small car one day, he explained why the English are so different from us.

'Kulshan, this is a Christian country. The people here believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God. Did you see how much went wrong? God has never been married! How could he have a son like that! However, like us, the people of a book are, in fact, Mohammedans and Christians based on the same book. "

I was shocked to hear this. How can two classes be so different even though they are based on the same book?

These people are entitled to do many things that we are not allowed to do. They are not afraid to eat pork, drink alcohol, get close to women, and live with women without getting married. Young children do not value their parents as they grow up. Nevertheless, these people have good manners. Those who have good principles. People who do things on time.

Dad is a genius at these things. He is experienced in these matters as he has always exported cotton from Pakistan to the upper countries.And finally he said, "We may differ from their religion, but the kindness with which mothers are willing to do anything for you,"

Those with humanity. I explored the contradictions of this Englishman. Gentle moms live in a country of lush greenery. How much freedom has their book given them? However our book is related to their book. What was the main secret of the difference between us and them was so deep that I, as a fourteen-year-old little girl, could not comprehend it. So I removed that question from my mind. It took me many years to get more light on the subject. However when it came down to it the question could not be taken lightly. 

My imagination was blessed before us marched towards the pilgrimage...