Chapter 2
Aurangzeb was furious.
He could not bear Dārāshikoh was still following Dīn-e-Ilāhī.
Roshan Ārā smiled cunningly.
“Muħīuddīn, are you crazy?”
“Bājī,” Aurangzeb looked at her furiously.
“Xatrasāl was laughing at your foolishness.”
“And you think Xatrasāl is right. I am really a damn fool?” Aurangzeb asked his sister heatedly.
He was fed up of Dīn-e-Ilāhī.
He could not understand why Mughal-e-Åāzam Shahanshāh Jalāluddīn Muħammad Akbar devised this new religion.
Wasn’t it Hinduism itself renewed?
He could not bear that Bairam Kħān killed Samrāŧ Hém Chandr Vikramāditý with his sword, despite Shahanshāh Jalāluddīn Muħammad Akbar had ordered Bairam Kħān not to kill him.
Why the hell his great grandfather, Shahanshāh Jalāluddīn Muħammad Akbar, could not bear it?
Didn’t he know then Hindus were not as innocent as they claim to be?
If they were why their ever mysterious leader, Kumār Durgesh of Shivgađh, had raped his Nagađ-Dādī Ħuzūr, Ħamīdah Bano Bégum, in her Shab-e-Ůrosī?
Roshan Ārā smiled.
“He has a point, Muħīuddīn,”
“Xatrasāl?”
“Sure.”
“What?” Aurangzeb was not interested actually.
“It’s in our favor that Dārāshikoh still believes in Dīn-e-Ilāhī. The entire Musalmīn would favor us against Dārāshikoh Bhāījān.”
“I’ve already thought about it, Bājī,” Aurangzeb said disinterestedly.
“Oh,”
“They are not as many in numbers now even as they were when our ancestor, Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar, invaded India.”
Shahzādī Roshan Ārā was dumbfounded.
She could not believe what her ever ambitious brother, Aurangzeb, was reporting to her.
How the hell was it possible?*
Humāyūn’s Wife Ħamīdah Bāno Bégum, Maryam Makānī, and Humāyūn were in Humāyūn’s bedroom, making out.
Humāyūn had one hand inside her blouse and another up her skirt, and it was just getting really good when Humāyūn’s Hindu Brother in law Durgesh walked in.
Humāyūn’s beautiful sister, Shahzādī Gulbadan Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar, wasn’t married to me now exactly.
Yet, Humāyūn knew she loved the mysterious Kumar Durgesh of Shivgarh and even Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar was interested in this relationship, to retain it at every cost.
There were some communal Musalmīn who thought it was an insult to them.
Yet weren’t such damn fools always present everywhere?
“No successful Musalmān Badshah ever heard such Pseudo Musalmīn.” Zahīruddīn Muħammad Bābar had grimaced, “They are damn fools. Actually they are jealous of our success with ever powerful Hindus.”
Humāyūn agreed with his father.
“Whoa, sorry,” I said seeing them. “Don’t worry, I’ll sleep on the couch.”
Humāyūn felt bad because he knew I’d get no sleep outside in the dorm common room.
Humāyūn pulled a blanket over Ħamīdah Bāno Bégum, Maryam Makānī, and himself, and told me to stay a while.
Humāyūn figured the least we could do is drink a wine with me before requesting me out.
Humāyūn could tell Ħamīdah Bāno Bégum, Maryam Makānī, was embarrassed, and Humāyūn felt her buttoning up her blouse and pulling her skirt down under the blanket.
One beer led to another, and Ħamīdah Bāno Bégum, Maryam Makānī, and Humāyūn had already had some before I got there, so Ħamīdah Bāno Bégum, Maryam Makānī, and Humāyūn were getting pretty buzzed.
Then I rolled a joint, so soon Ħamīdah Bāno Bégum, Maryam Makānī, and Humāyūn were high on beer and grass.
Humāyūn started kissing and fondling Ħamīdah Bāno Bégum, Maryam Makānī.
The blanket got pushed off and Humāyūn’s hands were inside her blouse and up her skirt again.
It got so hot Ħamīdah Bāno Bégum, Maryam Makānī, and Humāyūn, both forgot about me.
When Humāyūn remembered, he looked over to me and expected to see me asleep, or politely pretending to be asleep, but I wasn’t.
Instead, I was intently watching as Humāyūn kissed and fondled Humāyūn’s Wife.
Surprisingly, being watched by me turned Ħamīdah Bāno Bégum, Maryam Makānī, and Humāyūn on.
Consequently Humāyūn didn’t stop or tell me to look away. Instead, Humāyūn unbuttoned Ħamīdah Bāno Bégum, Maryam Makānī’s blouse so I had a clear view of her lacy bra.
Right around then Ħamīdah Bāno Bégum, Maryam Makānī, remembered that I was in the room, and Humāyūn felt her body tense.
Maybe it was the beer and pot talking, but Humāyūn whispered “Let’s give Durgesh a show. He is proud of his unique legendary Hindu sex prowess. The ever sexiest Hindu is sleeping now with almost our entire beautiful Musalmān houseladies whether Sunni, Shiå or else. I want him to show that even if we Musalmīn don’t have any Kām Sūtr, neither we ever worship their Shiv Ling, we Musalmīn are still not very much far behind than Hindus in sex too.”
Ħamīdah Bāno Bégum, Maryam Makānī’s eyes grew wide.
“Are you serious, Jahānpanāh?”*
Humāyūn understood the hardships of life more than Ħamīdah Bāno Bégum, Maryam Makānī.
It was Humāyūn Shershah Sūrī had defeated, not Ħamīdah Bāno Bégum, Maryam Makānī.
She didn’t know how Durgesh saved his life and the honor of his extremely beautiful Sunni Musalmān houseladies.
Shershah Sūrī had followed him when he was defeated and running away from Shershah Sūrī to gather his power once again.
The wind howled and swept down, almost ripping the tent flap from its seams.
Frigid air elbowed in, sending arctic fingers down warm napes, devouring the thin blue flames of the fire.
The beautiful woman lying on the muslin mattress on the bed put her legs on both of my nude shoulders.
“There’s only one way, Kumar, to save the beautiful Musalmān houseladies of my cousin, Nasīruddīn Muħammad Humāyūn. Yet, you are too moral to do that.”
I penetrated her smiling cunningly.
“You don’t know me exactly, Nādirah Jahāngīr Mirzah. I don’t belong to this era even. My actual homewhen is Sr’shŧi Samvat 1, 97, 29, 49, 115.”
Nādirah Jahāngīr Mirzah laughed.
“I do understand. Mughalistān isn’t very much faraway from Hindustan. Our mankind are too much rough and tough. They are fighters, looters, attackers and hate a peaceful life intrinsically.”
“They are Pashavo Jāymānāh. Theyare underevolved still now.”
“My father, Jahāngīr Mirzah Sānī, says you always act mysterious to make us believe that you don’t belong to this era.”
I smiled paternally almost.
“You can’t understand me, neither can your father, Jahāngīr Mirzah Sānī, too. However, I’m glad you Musalmān cuties love us Hindu mankind more than even your own Musalmān mankind.”
Nādirah Jahāngīr Mirzah smiled cunningly.
“Our mankind loves wars even more than us, while you Hindus even war with Musalmīn for us. It’s quite natural that we Musalmān cuties too love you Hindus in return. You always protect us from our ever inconsiderate rough and tough war loving Musalmān mankind. While our ever inconsiderate rough and tough war loving Musalmān mankind even use us to get the inside information from you Hindus even if we sleep with you Hindus for it. They say it’s our religious duty.”
“To sleep with us Hindus?” I smiled scornfully.
“Everything is fair in love and war. You Hindus don’t understand it.”
“Sure, neither we want to understand it ever. Anyway what’s it now you are doing with me actually, love or war?”
“Love for us, war for my ever inconsiderate rough and tough war loving Musalmān mankind.” Nādirah Jahāngīr Mirzah chuckled.
I laughed caressing her heavy pink glorious Musalmān buttocks, increasing my pace too.
“There are some Musalmīn that are very afraid of you.” Nādirah Jahāngīr Mirzah constricted her vaginal muscles around my ever utmost experienced Uncut HinduPenis, “They say you don’t want Muslim rule on India.”
“Sure, they are correct. I can even appreciate Islamic rule on India, if it’s really Islamic. That’s even better than humanity. Yet, why the Muslim rule anywhere, until and unless there aren’t Musalmīn in majority?”
Nādirah Jahāngīr Mirzah smiled.
“Don’t worry. You Hindus are too obsessed to fuck us MusalmānBeauties now that most of you Hindus have more Musalmān wives than Brāhmañ, Rājpūt, Vaishý and Shūdr wives even. Your Musalmān wives may preach your Hindu sons Islam even. Can’t you ever smart Hindus even understand it?”*
I smiled affably yet more confidently than Nādirah Jahāngīr Mirzah had thought I might.
“Ħuzūr sallallāhu ålayhi wa sallam got his ever first revelation in 610 CE. It is 1542. 942 years have passed now since Ħuzūr sallallāhu ålayhi wa sallam were blessed with the ever first revelation of TafsīlAlKitābi.”
Nādirah Jahāngīr Mirzah interrupted me.
“Why do you Hindus usually always call Al Qur’an Al Karīm TafsīlAlKitābi, not Al Qur’an Al Karīm as we Musalmīn do?”
“Well, that’s what Al Qur’an Al Karīm itself calls it in its tenth Sūrat-e-Pāk, Yūnus. Doesn’t it?”
Nādirah Jahāngīr Mirzah laughed ironically.
“Hindu Scoundrel, don’t think I can’t understand what the hell you imply when you call Al Qur’an Al Karīm TafsīlAlKitābi.”
I smiled.
“If you really, why do you ask me?”
“You imply that Al Qur’an Al Karīm isn’t a separate book, dependent on itself, it’s only TafsīlAlKitābi.”
“Not, ‘only’. That’s what you Musalmīn imply from what we Hindus’ say. We Hindus never say that.”
“Sure,” Nādirah Jahāngīr Mirzah said sarcastically, even curtly somewhat, “But that’s only your Diplomatic courtesy with us Musalmīn, nothing more.”
“How do you know?”*
Nādirah Jahāngīr Mirzah grimaced.
“If you were not only diplomatically courteous to us Musalmīn ever, why you Hindus haven’t embraced Islam even after 932 years of the first Islamic revelation?”
“Who says we haven’t?”
“What do mean?”
“Originally Islam was an ideological social movement.”
“Not a religion?” Nādirah Jahāngīr Mirzah said sarcastically.
“That’s the problem with you Pseudo Musalmīn, Pseudo Christians, Pseudo Jews and even Pseudo Hindus.”
Chapter 3
———————————————————————————————————
4. On Hinduism
5. On Islam
Hisory Untold: DSM Satyarthi 