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yet-another-heathen · 3 months

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Fire on the Mountain - V

2,611 words. Original Work: The Jackal of An-Nadr.

For new readers, The Jackal is an ongoing whump series set in 1,200 BCE, where pre-Islamic fantasy meets the love of bloody sword fights, worlds that are as vivid and alive as the characters, and the agonizing loss being dragged away from home into a life you never asked for.

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Chapter Warning | defiant whumpee, cauterization of an already agonizing wound, manhandling, non-con drugging (aphrodisiac, repurposed as a sedative), ancient medical practices, vivid hallucinations, staring up into your captor's eyes and begging with everything you have for them to stop, UNREALITY, xenophobia

Taglist | @killtheprotagonist @secretwhumplair @ink-and-salt @kixngiggles @brutal-nemesis @thebewilderer @whumpsical @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @whimperwoods @shydragonrider @pizzasthengym @thecyrulik @ceph-the-writing-spook @mylifeisonthebookshelf @ohwhumpydays @redwingedwhump @whump-queen

The big ifrit had gone up to summon the others. Nadeem was left to try to pull himself back together. His head was a mess of that golden, swirling pleasure, and he couldn’t push it to the background no matter how he tried.

He wanted so badly to get up, to run. But his dizziness left him clinging to the bed, barely able to move.

Something was happening to the room around him. As he lay there trying to breathe through the waves of sensation, the shadows began to move.

Some very far-away part of his mind felt like it was being lit on fire. He watched it from the window above his sisters' beds, barely making out shapes in the night as the blue sky over the hills burned. He wanted to wipe the fog from his eyes, but when he tried all it did was blur the light.

Red light poured into the dark as far-distant embers glittered and shifted, swimming with such incredible radiance that he couldn't tear his eyes away. Everything was still. Everything was so still, and so quiet, and so soft.

"Fahime, Hasti," he gasped. "wait—”

He was slipping. Everything was slipping.

The sound of footsteps returning down the ladder. Dark hands. A careful touch. Someone lifted him from the bed, weightlessness making his head swim. He glanced down, Fahime gathering herself in his kurta as the light played off his face. He pulled her closer, running a soothing hand over her hair.

“Nadi, are we safe?”

He didn't...this wasn't right…

What was happening to him?

"Of course we are," he reassured her, lifting her up so she could see, too. "Look. The wind is taking it away from the valley. See how it goes brighter near the top?”

"But won't it destroy the trees?”

His mouth twitched, blinking slowly toward the distance.

"Yes it will," he murmured, resting his cheek on her head. "But it will be alright, ukhti. Sometimes things have to be destroyed before they can grow again.”

---

He didn't know where they were taking him. Only that there were more hands on him than he could count, and that he was going whether he wanted to or not.

Tendrils of darkness and dreams were still tugging at his mind like water weeds at his feet, pulling him downward as if there were something waiting for him in the cold, black muck below. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

The bright light of day flickered and disappeared as he was taken below deck to a different part of the ship, feet barely touching the steps as he stumbled down the ladder.

Down into the mud, down into the shallows where the sunlight gleamed between wave crests. Blooming gold and green, casting columns of daylight through the silt.

The room they entered was like nothing he expected to see aboard a ship. One of the entire walls was lined with tall mosaic windows, arched at the tops into elegant points. They splintered and reformed in shapes Nadeem could swear were moving, casting white and lavender light throughout the room. The opposite wall towered with shelves, glittering with vials and dried bouquets of herbs. Rows of empty cots stretched onward toward the daylight pouring through the open space at the far side of the gallery. The air was soaked in smoke and the sweet, earthy perfume of decaying plants.

And then there was the table. A great, solid slab that looked as heavy and unmovable as the pillar it was pressed against. Metal instruments, the likes of which he had never before imagined or seen, were swaying gently where they lined in racks along that pillar. Though the discoloration around the hinges betrayed their age, there were so many sharp points gleaming in the light that it made him nearly crumble to his knees in panic.

Blood smeared across the wood as his injured foot caught on uneven deck planks, though the jarring pain was not nearly enough to stop him from skidding along as he was dragged toward the massive table at the center of the room.

One of the ifrit from before, the one with the white turban, was busy directing the others about the space. His voice was sharp and clear, hands gesturing and digging about in narrow wooden cupboards as he spoke.

"G̶͇̔e̵̮͑ẗ̵͍́ ̶̹̎ẖ̶̎i̴̢͋m̴̼͌ ̷͉̽ő̵̧ñ̵͓ ̴̧͝t̶̟̋h̵̼̀e̵̼͒ ̷̖̾t̶̲̃a̶͇͘b̴̲͝l̴̘͝e̷̖̓.̶̳̓ ̸͔̔N̶̪͘e̷̲͠s̴̠͝a̵͛͜r̶̜͠ē̶̢,̶̪͘ ̵̦̃h̴͈͘a̷̻̒ņ̷̃ď̵̖ ̴̗͛m̷̗̈́e̴̺͌ ̵̘̈́t̷͌͜h̸̺͐ë̶̘́ ̶̮̇s̶͉̾i̶̼̓l̶̻͆k̸͖̃ ̵̝̅m̵̛̺ḯ̷͚n̶͔͆t̶̯̕,̸͇̇ ̵͔̋i̸̟͆n̴͉̓ ̵̛̭ẗ̵̝h̸̥͋ȇ̵̮ ̴̈́ͅl̶̗̽ë̴͙́f̶͎̀t̵̟̚ ̵̰̓c̵̥͛u̸͈͐p̶͊ͅb̶̨̈ō̶̮ä̵̺́r̴͇̒d̵̢͂—"

"Let go of me!" Nadeem snarled. He seethed and clawed into the arms of his captors, but could do nothing to stop them as they lifted him onto the table.

The world was still dark and morphing and swaying around him, and there were so many hands with so many unbreakable grips holding him down and moving him. He could barely tell up from down.

Part of him was drifting, untethered, even as his own heartbeat grew deafening in his ears.

The woman from that night around the fire was leaning against one wall with her arms crossed, watching them. Their eyes made brief, but searing eye contact, before his attention was torn away.

"Ṕ̵̱a̴͖͌s̴̤͐s̸̝̀ ̷̼͘m̷̜̕e̸͠ͅ ̷͚̈t̷̛ͅḣ̵͚a̸̹̔t̵͕͑ ̶̺̕s̶̳͌t̸̠̀r̸̭̐a̷̢̚p̸̢͝.̸̼͒ ̴̞͆W̸̬͊a̶͔͋t̵͎̓ċ̷̺h̸͝ͅ ̴̟̇h̵͚͊í̴̝s̶͚͋ ̷̱̑t̵̂ͅę̴̕ë̸͚́ţ̷́ĥ̷̳!̵̠̈".

Leather straps were cinched tight around his wrists and chest, the wide buckles tightening until he could hardly move. What was this? He wrenched and fought, gasping when someone grabbed his injured foot and strapped it down even harder than the rest of him.

Oh no. No no no no—

Someone shouted from the other side of the room where it stood open to the daylight on the opposite side of the instrument wall. Nadeem tried to turn and look, but two long hands pressed into either side of his head and turned his back up. The big ifrit that had captured him was bowed over his head, keeping his face steady and forcing him to look away from what was happening. Making him meet its eyes.

It spoke quietly to him, low words tumbling from its lips as it watched his face.

"L̷̲̏o̸͕͝o̶͕͠ķ̴̿ ̵̢̈́a̶̰̍t̸̅͜ ̸̬̑m̵̦͊e̶͖̾.̸̲̎"

The world was spinning, this was all so wrong—

"Coenta help me, I'll curse your bloodline to oblivion!" He twisted in his restraints, what very little he could. "Get off!"

In the very corner of his vision he saw another ifrit, a burly older woman with hair like a halo, hand something long and straight to the one with the white turban. He tried to focus on it, to see what he was holding...

And his stomach dropped through his spine.

His entire body arced off the table in absolute panic, thrashing so hard the leather straps and their hardware creaked with strain.

"NO! No, nonono, DON'T!" he yelled, almost dislocating his shoulders in his effort to get away, thrashing so hard that several of the ifrit crowded closer to push him back down. "Keep it, no, keep it away from me—"

A long metal iron sent ripples out into the air around it, the tip glowing orange with heat.

The ifrit circled around toward his foot, nodding once to his captor.

"Ľ̷̺o̵͙͑o̵͇̒k̶̪̈́ ̵͕̂ą̶͠t̴̯͑ ̷̇͜m̷̰̐e̶̝͆,̵͍̈́ ̷͔̇s̸̡̒w̴͍̓ĕ̶̬e̴̲̚t̷̲͝h̸̠͠e̵̟̿ä̴͇́r̴͈̀t̸̮̏," the ifrit above him tilted his face back up, obscuring his view of the iron. "T̵͕̀h̶̃ͅe̶̩͊r̸͈̓è̷̘.̵̨͆ ̸͖̃J̸̞̊u̶̘̒s̷̘͝t̶̰̃ ̷̢̓l̸͉͛o̸̩̍o̸͖͂k̷̦̈ ̶̝̋a̴̘̎t̶̛̳ ̵̻̽m̵̞͐e̴̦̓.̶͔̏"

"NO, no, not this! Oh gods please, I can't—" Nadeem felt the heat getting closer to him, and every attempt at hiding his terror crumbled. He stared up into its eyes as open fear poured across his face, stark and open beneath the ifrit's gaze. "No no no NO NO—"

His vision went white, heat spearing up his entire leg with agony like nothing he had never felt before. Everything was pain, so bright his mind couldn't truly process it. And Nadeem lost every ounce of control over his voice, and screamed.

And immediately the sound of metal clattered violently against wood. Every set of hands jerked away from his body at once.

He was sobbing through the darkness as the world swam back into existence, heat radiating up his foot like he was still being burnt. He was babbling at them to make it stop. The shocked eyes of every ifrit in the room fixed on him. The iron lay discarded on the wood behind his torturer, as though it had been flung violently out of his hand. Smoke was beginning to pour from the wood beneath it, smoldering and threatening to light.

The people around him were burning too. Smoke poured from their shoulders, their chests lit from within like embers surging to life with a change in the breeze. And every single one of them was staring at him.

The ifrit with the white turban was the first to break himself out of his shock. His fanged mouth snapped shut where he'd been gaping at Nadeem. He turned and scooped up the iron just before it could ignite.

"Y̵̖͐e̶̯̊ḙ̴͝z̶̯͂ǘ̴̦m̷̢̏ȏ̷̹n̵͇̅," he called. There was not a sound in all the room but his voice and Nadeem's crying. Then again when he didn't look up, "Y̷͈͒e̷͇̅e̷̯̅z̴̫͛ú̶ͅm̸̼̒ö̷͓n̶̗̂!̷̲́ ̵̫̃H̷̻͐o̵̭̎l̵͎̉d̷̾ͅ ̶̞̑h̷͍̒i̵̫̅m̶̠͝. T̵̲̓͝h̶̻͙̊́ë̴̟̪ ̷̜͇͋͑ȑ̵̗̼͋ȇ̶̲̦̚s̵͉̀t̵̫̫̑̋ ̷͉̘̾ọ̵̿̚f̵̙͒͑ ̶͎̺̈́y̶̰̲̆̀o̷̥͌u̷̒ͅ,̶͚́ ̶͕̯͗g̶̜̞͋̀ȇ̸̳͕́t̴̰͝ ̶̨̑̉ò̵͎̩ũ̶͈͒ṯ̵̤͝!̵̢̤̓̕"

His captor blinked, shook his head as if to clear it, then his hands returned to either side of Nadeem's head. Nadeem was still sobbing, every inch of him trembling with the violent aftershocks of the burn.

“D̸͖̑i̸̡̛d̶̗͝ ̷̻̒y̸̨̚o̵̼͂ú̵͓ ̶̡͝g̵͉͐ȅ̷̯t̴̢̑ ̸̢͂î̸͈ť̴̗?̵͎͗"

"N̷̰̈́ó̵͜,̷̛͜ ̴̙̂I̴̟̋.̴͎̓.̵̙͗.̶̢͐I̶͖͝'̸̧͛m̴̨̈ ̸̢̍g̶͓͐ö̷̩́ǐ̷̙ñ̶͖ǵ̷̜ ̸͙͐t̴̮͘o̴̠͌ ̴̜͛h̶͙͂a̶̙̋v̵͎̾e̸̬͆ ̷̥͊t̸̺̊ŏ̵͕ ̶̳͌d̸͉̑o̴̝̍ ̶͙̀i̶̭͘t̴̲̃ ̸̘̋á̶̫g̸̈́͜a̵͔͝i̷̳̎n̴̤̄,̸̡̈́ ̴̧͒Ĩ̵͇ ̷̜́d̴͚̃i̶̥͛d̵̪͝ṅ̸̡'̶̪̂t̶̩͑ ̸̤͑ĝ̷ͅe̷̖̕ţ̶̇ ̴̭̈́ę̵͐n̵̡͠o̵̜͒ǔ̴̙g̵̪̎h̸̖͠ ̴̳͆o̸̭̿f̶͖͑ ̶̖̃t̴̟͊h̷̞̽ȇ̴̤ ̶͈̐ẘ̸̤o̵͔̾u̸̬͋n̶̳͘d̶̜̒.̸͎͝ ̸̗̄P̸̦͊u̴̖̽t̸͈͗ ̴͈͛t̴̲́h̶͎͝i̸͉͝s̴̮̑ ̶͈̽i̵̝̍n̸̳̋ ̷̧̒h̸͍̏i̴͉͛ṡ̶͓ ̵͑ͅm̸̮̓o̶̭̐u̸̠͘t̶͖̄h̵͓̐.”

He didn't even have words to express his horror when the ifrit pried his mouth open and forced a leather bit between his teeth. A clawed hand clasped firmly over his mouth, muffling the horrified sobs and pleading cries that poured out of him behind it.

The ifrit raised the iron again, and there was nothing Nadeem could do but stare up into his captor's eyes as it was pressed into his wound all over again.

Everything after that was a blur of darkness and rippling, uncontrollable agony. He came to as he was being carried across the deck, clinging to the big ifrit's smoke-drenched chest and weeping as they descended back into the cabin.

Furious shouts were being exchanged by what sounded like a dozen ifrit, their argument being cut off only when the deck hatch closed above them.

His keeper sat on the edge of the cot, cradling him in its arms.

"I̴̯̍ṯ̷̄'̸͓͛s̶͔͋ ̵͕͠o̴̝͘ṽ̴̤e̶̙͐r̵̺̐ ̵̦͒n̶̖̎ŏ̵̰w̸̛ͅ,̵̧̈́ ̸͓͐l̸̳̉í̶̭t̵͍͗t̵͇̏l̵͎̋e̷̅͜ ̵̢̎o̴̖͂n̶̛̝e̴͉̅.̶͈͐ ̷̪͌Ȉ̴̞t̶̳̉'̴͇̈́s̵̝̓ o̸̳̿ṿ̸͘ę̴̈r̸̹͋."

Nadeem's fingers were locked so tightly in the ifrit's sash that he couldn't figure out how to let go. He just buried his face against the fabric, trying to muffle the sound of his sobs now that he knew he couldn't stop.

Its chest rumbled with its words as it spoke to him, those strange sounds that could almost been hushing.

A few minutes later the deck hatch opened again, and the white-turbaned ifrit descended into the small space. Nadeem sank further into his captor's arms, trying to get as far away as he could.

"Don't ccome any c-loser—" he choked out, his voice reedy and thin.

But there was none of the expected malice in the ifrit's features. Only indiscernible worry, and a glance toward his captor that Nadeem had no way of reading.

When he reached for Nadeem's injured foot he yanked it away so fast he nearly knocked the breath out of his own lungs, tucking it under himself to keep it away.

His captor wrapped another arm around him, hushing him before looking to the other ifrit. "Ĥ̸͓a̴̺͠b̷͓̀ỉ̶͇b̵̀ͅi̷̥̊,̷̤͌ ̵̦̚ ̸̭̓g̴͈̾ì̵̗v̶͚͑e̵͖̕ ̶̰͒h̷̠̊i̸̡͑m̷̟͑ ̵̣̂a̵͔̓ ̴̜͛m̶͚̽o̸̦͒m̸̻͛ĕ̴̬n̸͉̿ț̵̀."

Nadeem nearly crumbled with relief when the other ifrit hesitated, then backed away.

Hands continued running up and down his back as he tried to get his breathing under control, sobs still tearing out of him with every fresh wave of pain. Had part of the iron poker been left in his foot? It felt like it was still burning him, so much deeper inside his body than it could have possibly gone.

The weight of a blanket settled carefully over his shoulders, tucked close to him. Only then did he realize his jaw was clattering, entire body shivering violently from head to toe.

"Ḥ̵͋ȇ̶̳'̶̟̈́s̸̩͠ g̷̫͒o̵̺̎i̶̤͐n̸̻͌g̷͖̕ ̵̢͂u̵̫̅n̸̥̉d̴͈̑ḛ̷͝r̶̩̀,” the other ifrit murmured, scrubbing a hand down his face. "...ā̵̰ñ̴͔d̵͎̈́ ̶̮͂Ị̶̀ ̵̬͗ṫ̶̲h̵̲̋i̷̲̐n̴̛͎k̴͖̓ ̴͍̂Ȉ̶̲ ̶̗͠m̴̹̏i̶̥͋g̷̩̎h̷̲̍t̴̙̓ ̵̰̕b̴̻͋e̴̢͠,̷͎̆ ̷̳̄t̶̙̔ȯ̷̝ȍ̷͜.̴̱͆ ̷̭͌Ÿ̴̡́è̴̫e̸̻͗ẕ̸̿ŭ̷͎m̵̪̄o̶̳̅n̸̦͆,̸̟̌ ̴̱̚t̶̫͐h̶͕͗į̸̛š̴̡ ̶̩̀ḯ̸̙s̶̹̊n̷̼̏'̴̧̉t̴̳̓ ̴̯͗ș̷́a̸̚͜f̷̖̔e̶͚̓, w̴͖̐͛e̸͕͂̏ ̶̝͠h̸̲̀̐ä̴̮͘v̶̛͍̟̄e̸̯̦̒̆ ̸̖̋t̵͖́̅ó̸͚—"

"Ṅ̶͔o̶̡̾t̴̛̟ ̵̙̉n̴̰̈ó̸ͅw̶̯͘." Then, softer, "N̴̰̎o̵̰͌t̸̡͝ ̴̼̉n̸̗̍o̸͇̚w̶͖͑,̷̞̅ ̶͔͂h̸͕̿ä̴̹́b̷̬͗i̵̳͠b̷̭̀ỉ̶̭.̷͕̒ Ȉ̴̘ ̴͉̆ċ̷̗ã̷͚n̶͚̎'̷̠̀t̶̖̀…I̶͈̾ ̸̖͌c̸̛͈a̸̱͌ṉ̶̈'̴̞̉t̵̳́ ̴̲̌ľ̴̜e̷̮̾a̷̱̎v̷̜͋e̴̝̍ ̶͈͌i̶͔̍t̷̳̓ ̸̫̚ ̴͙̄l̷̈́͜i̸͇̇k̴̩̃e̶̻͊ ̷̖̍ṱ̷̃ẖ̶͝ȋ̸̢ş̸̊.̴͈͝."

It looked down where Nadeem had tucked his face against its chest, too sick with pain to care who or what he was clinging to.

"W̵̕ͅè̴̜'̷̮͝l̷̮̓l̵̦̈́ ̴̘̔f̵͙̋ḁ̷̉c̶̯̅e̴͍̋ ̴͝ͅĀ̵̻d̶͎̃r̸͎̎s̷̳̀i̶̛ͅa̵̡͂e̸͈͛ ̵͈̋ẉ̶̆h̷̩̒e̷̫͘n̶͚̾ ̷̫̉t̵̛̙h̸͇̀e̸̖̍ ̸͇̇t̵͚̚ì̷̜m̸̪̉ë̶͕́ ̸͇̀c̵̨͆ọ̴̉m̴͙̓ẻ̸̜s̷̹̕," he said, his body shifting against Nadeem's as he reached a hand out for the other ifrit's. "B̶̰̒u̵̙͗t̵̢͗ ̷̯͠n̶͖̕o̶̙̒t̷͍̃ ̸̘̔n̶͖̏ỏ̷̢ẁ̴͈."

The edges of reality had once more begun to blur. Dark, waking dreams spun through the shallows of his thoughts, pain spearing up through his foot as he waded out into the reeds.

Gods, he was losing it. But the water had to be safer than this.

He was still trembling a few minutes later when both ifrit coaxed his foot back out from underneath him. He had to bite back the whines of pain that pressed up his throat and against the back of his teeth, tears gathering uselessly in his eyes as he watched the ifrit turn his foot over and inspect it.

A moment before it began probing into the wound, a long hand clasped over his mouth. It was only just in time to suffocate the whine of pain that flooded out of him when the ifrit lifted a shallow bowl full of thick, white paste and began pressing the mixture into the wound. His nails dug into its skin, head going fuzzy and dark as black waves of agony rolled through his whole body. No matter how he struggled he couldn't pry his foot out of its grasp. He just sank down in its hands, while the big ifrit purred against his temple.

He'd never felt so hollow with exhaustion before in his life. He was still only one day past dying. Was this torture all that lay in store for him, now that he'd lost his chance to get away?

He wasn't going to survive. Not if this was what was waiting for him.

The ifrit was quick to bandage his foot, and then released him and let him once more hide his injury out of sight beneath his robes.

An uncaring part of his mind realized he'd sunk into the heat of its skin, eyes barely staying open as the adrenaline in his system crashed and whatever they had drugged him with took back over.

Ripples spread out around him at waist-height, opaque under the cold moonlight. The reeds stirred, wind caressing the nape of his neck.

He couldn't walk. There was no way he was getting away, even if he somehow got off the ship. He was helpless. He was stranded. The realization hit him like a sandstorm, dragging at his clothes and peppering his skin with pain.

They had burned him. He was alone. And he wasn't going to be able to get away.

The crickets sung in the reeds, nothing disturbing the water but him. All around him, for miles and miles, the dark spread silent and cold across the landscape.

He was alone.

He was never going to see his family again.

Nadeem fell to his knees, and plunged beneath the surface of the water.

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dear-indies · 1 year

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Hello Cat and mouse! hope your doing well! may i ask if you have Asian German deaf men face claims, preferably under the age of 30! tysm!

Ace Mahbaz (1986) Iranian - is deaf.

Virender Singh (1986) Indian - is deaf.

Kim Li Hoo / LIHOO TV (1990) Korean - is deaf.

Prithvi Sekhar (1993) Tamil Indian - is deaf.

Taehyun / Nam Tae Hyun (1994) Korean - deaf in left ear.

Nadeem Islam (1996) Indian - is deaf.

Lee Duck-hee (1998) Korean - is deaf.

Mustafa Alabssi (?) Syrian - is deaf.

and then if you're accepting non-binary suggestions I'd like to suggest:

Chella Man (1998) Hongkonger and Ashkenazi Jewish - is deaf, also is trans genderqueer (he/him).

Here you go!

#fc help #rph #rpc #deaf fc #sorssims

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goharshahi · 20 days

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youtube

New Video: Surah Al-Muzzammil | Sufi Master Younus AlGohar | ALRA TV https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r2S5R4AjFXI

Experience a transcendent moment as Sufi Master Younus AlGohar invites Hafiz Nadeem Siddiqui to immerse in the divine essence by reciting Surah Al-Muzzammil eleven times consecutively, without interruption.

This sacred encounter unfolds on the auspicious occasion of Laila tul Qadr, the Night of Power, a time of unparalleled spiritual significance in the Islamic tradition.

Join us in witnessing this profound expression of devotion and connection to the divine during this extraordinary event.

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xlnc1 · 4 months

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Baitay Baitian - PTV Classic Drama

Baitay Baitian – PTV Classic Drama Series : Qasmi KahaniPlay : Baitay Baitian,Starring : Arifa Siddiqui, Masood Akhter, Jeevan Sultan, Yousaf Saeed, Kajal, Nayyar Abbass, Barkat UllahWritten By : Ahmed Nadeem QasmiDramatisation : Amjad Islam AmjadDirected By : Ayub Khawar

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dgpr-punjab-newsroom · 4 months

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With compliments from, The Directorate General Public Relations,

Government of the Punjab, Lahore Ph. 99201390.

No.1514/Zafar/Umer

HANDOUT (A)

CM MOHSIN NAQVI ALONG WITH THE PROVINCIAL MINISTERS PARTICIPATE IN THE PRAYER CEREMONY IN CONNECTION WITH CHRISTMAS AT THE CATHEDRAL CHURCH

LAHORE, December 24:

Chief Minister Punjab Mohsin Naqvi along with the Provincial Ministers participated in a prayer ceremony at the Cathedral Church so as toparticipate in the festivities of the Christian community on the eve of Christmas.

Bishop of Lahore Bishop Nadeem Kamran presented flowers to the Chief Minister Mohsin Naqvi. CM Mohsin Naqvi cut the Christmas cake with Christian community. Bishop of Lahore, Bishop Nadeem Kamran presented a copy of the Bible and a sample of the Holy Zabur written by the hand of Hazrat Dawood (AS). CM while congratulating the Christian community on Christmas said that he wishes the Christian community a Happy Christmas. Tonight and tomorrow's day are very important for all of us. The Holy Christ is not only yours but ours also.

We are as happy as you are on the birth Anniversary of Holy Christ (AS). What we all have in common is that we worship one God.

We also worship the same God that you worship. From the Holy Prophet (SAW) to Quaid-e-Azam, from the beginning of Islam to the creation of Pakistan, we were well informed about the rights of our Christian brothers.

Mohsin Naqvi said that when the rights of Christian brothers are usurped, it is a matter of great shame that we have forgotten the teachings of the Holy Prophet (SAW). Our Pakistan is incomplete without Christian brothers. In the Pakistani flag, green colour is for the Muslims while white colour is for the minority communities. He said that no matter how much the Jaranwala incident is condemned is less. As a result of the Jaranwala incident, the affected churches and houses have been restored. The affectees have been redressed and our feelings are with the victims. CM underscored that every possible effort is being made to award strict punishment to the perpetrators of the Jaranwala incident or any such other incident.

Bishop Nadeem Kamran and Maulana Abdul Khabeer Azad are working a lot for the unity of the country. Bishop Nadeem Kamran and Maulana Abdul Khabeer Azad immediately reach wherever it is needed. It is our duty to provide complete security to our Christian brothers. The administration and police are vigorously active in providing foolproof security across Punjab. Christmas celebrations are being organized at the district level. We do not have to unite on any tragedy but have to live with unity the whole year. CM outlined that it is our religious and constitutional duty to provide protection to the minority communities.

Provincial Minister for Auqaf Azfar Ali Nasir, IG Police Dr. Usman Anwar, ACS, Khateeb Badshahi Masjid Maulana Abdul Khabeer Azad also addressed the ceremony.

Provincial Ministers Mansoor Qadir, Aamir Mir, Azfar Ali Nasir, Bilal Afzal, Adviser Wahab Riaz, IG Police, ACS, Commissioner Lahore Division, CCPO, Secretary Human Rights and Minority Affairs, Secretary Auqaf, Secretary Information, Deputy Commissioner and prominent personalities of the Christian community participated in the ceremony.

****

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kimskashmir · 6 months

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Rutba Bilal — A budding Calligraphy artist from Anantnag

SRINAGAR (Ess Nadeem/Zubair-ul-Islam) — Rutba Bilal, hailing from Khanabal area of Anantnag district in South Kashmir is one of the youngest Calligraphy artist in the district. Rutba, a 14-year-old girl is a student of Class 9th at Scholars Scientific Institute in Anantnag. She developed her interest in Calligraphy two years ago by impressing cousin brothers art and Skills. Rutba said that people…

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toptopic4u · 1 year

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Property administrator jobs

Description: Employer name: Nadeem Islam Realty P.C. Inc.Job type: fulltime-PermanentLanguage: Englishno of positions:01salary:$24.00 / hourNOC:PROPERTY ADMINISTRATOR (NOC 13101)Job start date: As soon as PossibleJob location: 1237 Albert St. suite 14Regina, SKS4R 2R5Job duties: Rent and lease properties on behalf of property ownersEnsure that the terms of lease agreements are metSet up…

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financguru · 1 year

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GULF INTERNATIONAL FINANCE LIMITED

Finance/ Byzakria Nadeem

Gulf International Finance Limited (GIF) is a leading provider of Islamic banking, investment and financial services. GIF is headquartered in the United Arab Emirates and has offices in Bahrain, Jordan, Kuwait, Oman, Qatar and Saudi Arabia.

GIF was established in 1974 as a joint venture between the Abu Dhabi Investment Council (ADIC) and the DubaiFinancialGroup (DFG). The company has grown to be one of the largest Islamic financial institutions in the world with assets of more than $100 billion.

The company operates under Sharia principles which means that its products are based on Islamic law. This means that no interest can be charged on loans or investments and all transactions must comply with Islamic law. It also means that GIF does not offer any products or services that involve forbidden practices such as gambling or alcohol consumption. Their international division offers products such as multi-currency mortgages, foreign exchange trading and wealth management services for high net worth individuals from non-Muslim countries. (Gulf International Finance Limited)

The firm’s customers include multinational corporations across various industries such as healthcare providers, food manufacturers, banks and construction companies among others. (Gulf International Finance Limited)

INTERNATIONAL FINANCE COMPANIES IN DUBAI

Dubai is one of the world’s most important financial centres, and is home to many internationalfinance companies.These companies play a vital role in the city’s economy, and provide a wide range of financial services to businesses and individuals.

The Dubai International Financial Centre (DIFC) is the city’s main financial district, and is home to many of the world’s leading banks andfinancialinstitutions. The DIFC is a hub for international trade and investment, and provides a gateway to the Middle East’s financial markets.

The Dubai Financial Market (DFM) is another important financial centre in Dubai, and is the largest stock exchange in the Middle East. The DFM is a major regional player in the global financial markets, and offers a wide range of investment opportunities.

Another few international finance companies in Dubai are Emirates NBD, Emirates Islamic Bank, Abu Dhabi Commercial Bank, and National Bank of Abu Dhabi.

Dubai is also home to many privatebanksand wealth management firms, which provide a range of services to high-net-worth individuals. These firms offer a wide range of investment products and services, and provide expert advice on financial planning and investment strategies. Some of these firms include Barclay’s Wealth Management, HSBC PrivateBankingServices, and Standard Chartered Private Wealth.

TOP LIST OF FINANCE COMPANIES IN DUBAI

There are many finance companies in Dubai that offer a wide range of services. These companies can help you with everything from getting a loan toinvesting your money.The List is too long But I am Sharing with you Some of the top finance companies in Dubai include

-Emirates NBD

-Citibank

-Standard Chartered

– Emirates NBD

– HSBC

– Standard Chartered Bank

– Mubadala Development Company

– Abu Dhabi Commercial Bank

– Investment Corporation of Dubai

– Dubai Islamic Bank

– Mashreq bank

So, If you’re looking for a loan, these finance companies can offer you competitive rates and terms. If you’re looking to invest your money, they can offer you a variety of options and help you find the best investment for your needs. No matter what your financial needsare, there’s a finance company in Dubai that can help you. You just need to take some time to do some research on the different companies and figure out which one is right for you.

PRIVATE FINANCE IN DUBAI

Private finance in Dubai is an important and growing industry. With the city’s economy booming, there is a growing demand for private financial services.

There are a number of privatefinancialinstitutions in Dubai that offer a range of services, from investment and banking services to insurance and financial planning. These institutions play an important role in the city’s economy, and provide a vital service to its residents.

So, The private financial sector in Dubai is highly regulated, and all institutions must adhere to strict guidelines. This ensures that the industry is safe and sound, and that consumers are protected.

The privatefinanceindustry in Dubai is a vital part of the city’s economy, and plays an important role in its development. Many institutions offer a wide variety of services, with new ones continually opening. As long as you choose wisely and abide by the laws set out by regulatory bodies such as DIFCA or DFSA, then you will be well looked after.

TOP FINANCE COMPANIES IN UAE

There are many finance companies in UAE that cater to the needs of different customers. These companies offer a variety of products and services that can meet the needs of individuals and businesses. These companies offer a variety of financial products and services, such as loans, investment banking, asset management, and more.

Some of the top finance companies in UAE are Al Hilal Bank, Emirates NBD, HSBC, Mashreqbank, Abu Dhabi Commercial Bank, First Abu Dhabi Bank, Dubai Islamic Bank, and more.

Al Hilal Bank is one of the leading banks in UAE that offers a range of services including personal and corporate banking, investment banking, and Islamic banking.

Emirates NBD is another leading bank in UAE that provides a wide range of banking products and services.

HSBC is another multinational bank that offers a variety of banking products and services to its customers.

Mashreqbank is another leading bank in UAE that offers a wide range of banking products and services including personal banking, corporate banking, and investment banking.

Abu Dhabi Commercial Bank is also a leading bank in UAE which offers a variety of banking products and services for individuals, SMEs, and corporates.

First Abu Dhabi Bank is another popular bank with diverse banking offerings for all types of customer segments.

Dubai Islamic Bank is also an established company offering various types of financial services like mortgage financing, consumer financing, leasing financing, vehicle financing etc.

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latestinbollywood · 2 years

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Shariz Ahmad (Cricketer) Parents, Wiki, Age, Height, Brother, Net Worth, Nationality & More

Shariz Ahmad's Parents:- Shariz Ahmad is a Dutch cricketer. In October 2020, Shariz was named to the Dutch academy squad at the under-18 level. Ahmad plays as a Left-arm orthodox bowler, and he made his ODI (One Day International) debut against West Indies on 2 June 2022 at Amstelveen. In this blog, you'll read about Shariz Ahmad's Parents, Wiki, Biography, Birth Date, Age, Religion, Net Worth, Education & More.

Shariz Ahmad's Parents

Shariz Ahmad's parent's news is not available anywhere on the web, we've no information about them, neither their names nor their professions. We'll update it soon as we find out about Shariz Ahmad's Parents.

Shariz Ahmad Brother

Shariz Ahmad also has an elder brother whose name is Musa Ahmed (Musa Nadeem Ahmed), and he is also a cricketer. He is an Opening Batter in the team. Musa is a 24-year-old batsman who plays for the Netherlands Team.

Shariz Ahmad Brother Musa Nadeem Ahmed

Shariz Ahmad Age, Birthdate

Shariz Ahmad was born on 21 April 2003 in the Netherlands, and he is 19 years old now as of 2022.

Shariz Ahmad Biography

Full Name Shariz Ahmad Nick Name Shariz Profession Dutch cricketer Gender Male Birth Date 21 April 2003 Birth Place Netherlands Age 19 years old Marital Status Unmarried Education Qualification Pursuing Graduation Current Team Netherlands national cricket team National Side Netherlands Batting Style Left-hand Bat Bowling Style Legbreak Googly Playing Role Bowler

Shariz Ahmad Nationality, Religion

Shariz Ahmad holds Dutch Nationality and his religious belief is Islamic. View this post on Instagram A post shared by Shariz Ahmad (@shamofication)

Shariz Ahmad Height, Weight

Shariz Ahmad's physical status (Height or Weight) is not available at this moment.

Shariz Ahmad's Net Worth

Shariz Ahmad is a dutch cricketer who plays for his national team The Netherlands, he just started his career as a Bowler, so his exact net worth is not known as of now.

Shariz Ahmad's Social Media Accounts

Instagram Click Here Twitter Click Here Facebook Click Here LinkedIn Click Here FAQS About Shariz Ahmad Q.1) What is the age of Shariz Ahmad? Ans. Shariz Ahmad was born on 21 April 2003 in the Netherlands, and he is 19 years old now as of 2022. Q.2) Who is Shariz Ahmad? Ans. Shariz Ahmad is a Dutch cricketer, who plays as a Left-arm orthodox bowler. Q.3) Who are the parents of Shariz Ahmad? Ans. Shariz Ahmad's parent's news is not available at this moment. Q.4) What is the nationality of Shariz Ahmad? Ans. Shariz Ahmad holds Dutch Nationality. Q.5) What is the religion of Shariz Ahmad? Ans. Shariz Ahmad's religious belief is Islamic. Q.6) What is the net worth of Shariz Ahmad? Ans. Shariz Ahmad's exact net worth is not known as of now. Also, Read About:- Who is Michaella Mccollum? Wiki Read the full article

#SharizAhmadage #SharizAhmadbiography #SharizAhmadbrother #SharizAhmadheight #SharizAhmadnationality #SharizAhmadnetworth #SharizAhmadparents #SharizAhmadreligion #SharizAhmadwiki

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yet-another-heathen · 10 months

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Rising to the West - I

2,576 words. The first re-penned chapter in my original series, The Jackal of An-Nadr.

For new readers, The Jackal is an ongoing whump series set in 1,200 BCE, where pre-Islamic fantasy meets the love of bloody sword fights, found family, and handsome men who long for nothing more than home. I am so excited for this unveiling, the love that you all have shown this series over the past several years means more to me than I could ever say. This is for you <3

- Masterpost -

<< | previous | next | >>

Chapter Warning | environmental whump, epic worldbuilding, demonic pirates and the massive sandships they sail, marooned in the middle of the desert with no hope of rescue, deadly levels of dehydration, very near-death experience, very brief allusion to noncon, prayer/fantasy religion, evading capture, foot injury

His name was Nadeem el-Azimi, and things had not gone according to plan.

He stumbled on the loose crest of the dune, barely able to blink his eyes open enough to right his path. His body swayed as he adjusted back onto course, aching with the effort it took to take those few extra steps. Sand cascaded down the face of the drift in steady intervals behind him, rushing toward the base like trickles of water.

Of all things, his mind kept circling and circling about how raw his feet felt. The loose, ever-shifting sand ground between his toes, and there was nothing he could do to make it stop.

The sun had set over the An-Nadr desert, and the temperature had plummeted with it. Nadeem pulled his waist sash tighter around his shoulders, clenching his jaw to keep it from clattering against the cold. The stars overhead were dying out one by one, but the warmth of dawn was hours away, even though the light would come sooner.

He kept walking. It only made it harder if he stopped.

In the distance, a low patch of scrub hugged the earth. The traders had taunted him with it when they marooned him amongst the sand. A sun-wrinkled face leered down at him as the others dumped him over the stanchion, the breath knocked from his lungs when he hit the ground. He struggled and gasped against his binds, while the men above him laughed.

“Three days to the east!” the old one said to him. The one whose filthy hands he could still feel roving over his body when he closed his eyes. He leaned over the rail and grinned as the other men tamed the mast behind him, the wind catching its girth and pulling it taut.

Nadeem thrashed and cursed through his gag, shouting desperately as the sandship began to move.

“Three days to the east you’ll find water,” he called back, “Better get going, little thief!”

And the shadow of the hull slid over his body, sunlight blinking between strips of rope. And then the white of the mast shrank beyond the waves, and the sandship had disappeared from sight.

It had taken him nearly half a day to struggle free of his bonds. By then he was utterly, entirely alone. For hundreds of miles in every direction, the only thing was sand.

That had been two and a half days ago. Anger had burned out into sorrow, then to hopelessness, then to a numbness that he couldn't shake. The leagues had passed underfoot slowly, pace worsening as his body had slowly begun to fail. Nadeem had never been a particularly stout man and, while he knew hunger like an old enemy, his body still was not made to endure the absence of water. Not like this. He rubbed mindlessly at the friction burns circling his wrists to try to distract himself from the endless drone of thirst.

Through the dark he could just barely begin making out the green against the washed-out blue of the surrounding sand, peeking between the dunes. He thought he could make out the shape of date trees, but he no longer trusted his eyes not to play tricks on him. They couldn’t be more than a few more hours away.

And as soon as he saw the oasis he knew he wasn’t going to make it.

And still he kept walking.

---

The first pearls of sunlight caught his shoulders, and he shuddered with relief. It wasn't enough, but with the night having long since sapped away his warmth, he’d take whatever he could get.

Those who crossed these deserts knew to travel after dusk once the savage temperatures had fallen, and to take shelter and sleep as much as they could through the long days when the heat would kill anything that moved. Any other day, he would have kept walking for another hour as the sun rose, then taken shelter behind one of the dunes to collapse until night fell again.

But not today. Today he could not afford to stop even for the dawn prayer. He knew it in the ache of his bones and the relentless throbbing of his head. He was dying. And if he stopped now, even for this, he wouldn't get back up.

He could not begin to describe how tempting the thought was. How loudly his body begged him to let him rest one last time, how shrilly his heart tried to convince him he had already done all he could. He could lay here and watch the colors of the sky change, feel the warmth wash over him. He could give himself one more sunrise. One more chance to watch the beauty of it all before it was gone.

His feet slowed to a stop, despite his commands. A slow breath, in and out through his nose. He reached up with puffy fingers to fumble with his face cloth, loosening it until the linen fell free.

Nadeem turned slowly back toward the glint of the sunrise, and closed his eyes. He had both won and lost his own bet. He had lived for one more day. He would take that victory, even if…even…

Keep moving, Nadeem. Those thoughts are going to kill you.

Today he would either make it to the oasis, or his body would be slowly being covered up and buried by the ever-creeping drifts that surrounded him. Those were the only two possibilities left, and it was getting harder and harder to believe that he had any hope of the former.

Control of his body was slipping, and apathy dulled his thoughts more and more with each passing breath. And still he mumbled out the soft, broken consonants of the prayer he had been clinging to, words repeated so many times in the last day that they had become nothing more than foreign sounds devoid of whatever had once made them words.

The comforting lines he had known since he was a child fell from him in a broken, confused tangle of what they were meant to be. He hoped the gods would still take the whisper for its intention rather than its delivery. He was fairly certain someone had once told him they would. That they knew.

He couldn't remember their face. He hoped it had been Hanona. She had always been right about such things.

Keep moving, Nadeem. You have to take one more step.

He whispered a quiet little apology to the air before him, reaching out as if to gently cling upon the fabric of someone’s robes. His fingers closed over nothing, and he let out a shaky little breath as he pulled the imagined cloth closer to the ache of his chest.

He swayed, felt the knot of dry tears in his throat. But he knew crying was beyond him now.

When eventually he realized that the strength to continue on was slipping for good, he summoned one last, Walk, Nadeem.

His foot answered him sluggishly, one barely-there step backwards. He cracked open his eyes.

And stopped.

Far in the distance, slipping along the razor’s edge between waves and sky, a pinprick of black was making its way across the sand.

A mirage. It had to be.

He stared at it in doubt, blinking to see if it would fade.

He watched it for what felt like a lifetime, so afraid that if he looked away it would be gone. But as the minutes passed and the shape grew closer, a fragile hope began to smolder in his chest.

A ship.

His head was swimming. The mast rose and dipped over a bank, light catching flecks of metal. But he could still make out the shape of the bow, cutting across the tops of the dunes.

He didn’t have the strength to cry out. He didn’t have the strength to move.

They were coming straight for the oasis, straight to him.

He couldn’t—he...he…

...he stopped.

The sandship rose to the top of another peak, sail catching the light of the sun beyond. For a moment everything was dark, then the cloth rippled and his heart ground to a stop.

The vibrant, cobalt blue sails of an Al Qururaqin cutter shone in the morning sun.

He stumbled backward, and ran.

The ground gave away beneath him as he bounded down the dark side of the dune, slipping and catching himself when he hit the bottom. His heart was pounding as he pressed his back into the side of it and began pulling armfuls of sand over his body.

He barely managed to cover his legs and the lower half of his chest, limbs burning with exertion. Black spots swam across his vision. His breaths came shallow and ragged through split lips. Still he clawed at the sand until he’d covered as much of himself as he could.

If the ship hadn’t already spotted him, the dunes gave him a chance of being passed unseen. If they had...

He held his breath, straining to keep his gasps under control.

And then he heard it. Someone singing loudly enough for their voice to carry. The unmistakable shuffing of wood, the sound of voices calling back and forth to one another.

It grew closer until someone gave a sharp shout, and the sound of the sail straining at its rigging changed. The sandship was close—far, far too close—and it was slowing to a stop.

Something heavy hit the ground and he shrank further back into the dune. Then another, then more.

Too late he realized his mistake. As he lay there straining to stay calm, there came the petrifying moment when he remembered the trail of footprints he’d left along the tops of the dunes. The ones that would lead them straight to him.

The sand gave him nowhere else to hide. If he stayed here, buried or not, they would find him. Casting around, he caught just the barest hint of green through the split in the dunes.

He didn’t have the strength. He knew he didn’t. But panic summoned every last shred of energy into his trembling legs, and before he could think he pushed to his feet and stumbled into a run.

His feet pounded against the earth. All his vision was a blur as he slid around the corner of a dune and up the channel between.

Dizziness swept over him, and he gasped and shook his head to try to clear it. He scaled the next dune on his hands and knees, sinking deep into the sand as he sprinted for the shelter of the brush.

He knew the moment they’d spotted his trail. Strange voices rose into the dawn behind him, and when he couldn’t resist the urge to look back he saw the sharp rise of a mast against the sky.

Vibrantly embroidered bolts of sailcloth whipped and curled in the breeze, the sun’s first strands of light striking it from behind and setting the fabric ablaze. The blue sails burned against the pale of the morning sky, and dread smothered his thoughts.

He didn’t see the shale until it was too late. Something sharp speared up through the bottom of his foot, and before he could catch himself he’d gone sprawling across the outcropping and into the dirt. He let out a low groan of pain as he blinked the darkness from his eyes.

He'd collapsed at the edge of the oasis. Behind him a jagged shard of rock pointed in the air, covered in blood.

He struggled to his feet and stumbled into the bank of shrubs, barely slowing as he made his way deeper into the growth. His ankle kept trying to give out beneath him, the thick litter of sticks and twigs jabbing into the wound. Slowing him down.

He bit back his voice as he clambered over the thickest piles of stone he could find, hoping to every single god he could name that they would help hide his footprints. The distant shouts were growing closer.

He stumbled over a ridge and found a thicket of shrubs, and realized that the glinting just beyond was water. He slid down the bank into the spring, wading out into the knee-high water that spread out between pools of algae.

He realized then that there was no cover. None but the branches of shrubs that overhung the basin, clinging to the overgrown shore.

Without even stopping to savor the feeling he never thought he’d have again, he fell to his knees in the water and ducked beneath their low branches. Spines ripped at his clothes as he crawled toward shore, as close as he could get to the place where the water met the earth underneath their leaves. He wormed his way deeper into the silt until his back was pressing against half-submerged trunks and the surface of the water reached his throat.

He forced his shivering body to still, schooling his breath in an attempt to hide the sound. As quickly as the ripples around him faded into the reeds the sound of snapping twigs approached.

On the shallow ridge, less than a hundred paces away, a dark figure broke through the trees.

Nadeem forgot how to breathe.

As a boy, bright-eyed and impatient, the Mothers had spun tales of Al Qururaqin caravans, moving from port to desert port. Tales of four-armed demons with ashen skin as dark as the mud at the bottom of the Parattu, swords gleaming in their hands. Of monsters who steal boys away from their ships, taking them away into the blackness of their holds.

Stories of the ifrit.

He never thought he'd be cornered by one.

Nadeem may have been scrawny, but he was no short man—by the time he was twelve he’d already stood a full head taller than his Maaman, as well as half the men in his town. This ifrit dwarfed him. It must have stood three heads taller than he did, with such strength coiled in its body that he felt sick with fear.

It scanned the water, a beautiful and broad face silhouetted by the rising of the sun. Thin wisps of smoke rose from its shoulders, disappearing into the air. One of its upper limbs rested at its hip, blackened fingers curling loosely around the hilt of a sword.

As its gaze swept out across the bank and over his hiding place, he could only pray that it didn't see the impressions his feet had left in the algae.

An entire lifetime passed as the ifrit searched the grove, scanning the silhouettes of trees. So many times Nadeem was certain he’d been spotted, and yet the figure came no closer.

Then it turned, cast one more look out over the water, and went back the way it had come.

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