Believers Beyond Belief (standard:non fiction, 920 words)
Author: Juggernaut	Added: Feb 02 2012	Views/Reads: 2520/1637	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
80% of devotees are Hindus to a Dargah (Grave of a muslim preacher died in 1600's name Medina or now popularly called 'Coconut Baba.') are beleivers beyond belief.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story


precious stones and colorful stone chips. 

“A rich Hindu devotee of Baba donated lot of money to restore 

the dome recently,” said the custodian with emphasis on Hindu devotee. 

“Do you get more Muslim or Hindu worshippers at Dargah?” asked 

Juggernaut. 

“Believe it or not more Hindus attend this Dargah than 

Muslims, you see Coconut Baba is more popular among Hindus than Muslims 

though he was a Muslim clergy man,” the custodian was now more relaxed 

and eases with Juggernaut's inquiries. 

A woman in Muslim garb came with a young lady with a jar of 

clarified butter as offering to the Baba's grave.  “Would you take a 

spoonful of butter as an offering and return the rest?” asked the 

Muslim woman with a pleasant face. 

The custodian was unwilling to give the jar back to the lady 

told her the entire contents was an offering and could not be returned 

and uttered some prayer lines loudly to her satisfaction.  The woman 

with his face half covered with a black veil stepped backwards slowly 

bending her head few times. 

“Do you travelled a long distance to come here?” inquired 

Juggernaut looking at the lady with dark mascara around her black eyes. 

“Yes, we travelled two hundred miles to come here to worship 

Coconut Baba and hoping for a miracle in favor of my daughter to get 

married soon to a good husband,” she said looking at her daughter.  To 

Juggernaut the young woman resembled her mom in physical stature and 

facial futures.  “I am sure with blessings from Baba you will get a 

good husband soon,” said Juggernaut turning towards the young woman. 

Both the daughter and the mother looked happy. 

Walking on the winding descending steps Juggernaut bounced 

into a tall young man in dark skin in long Muslim garb.  “Me Ishmael,” 

he said. 

“Are you a Sunny?” asked Juggernaut. 

“Me Ishmael Sunny.” 

“You are not a Shea?” 

“Me Ishmael Shea,” said Ishmael. 

“Are you a Shea or a Sunny? 

Ishmael appeared confused. “Take my picture,” begged Ishmael. 

“Me Ishmael, me Ishmael,” Ishmael pulled camera from 

Juggernaut to touch his picture on the camera screen with his fingers. 

Ishmael looked and spoke like an alien; he spoke only few 

words in Urdu (Muslim language) and could not understand one word of 

local language as if he grew his entire life on the hill top at the 

Dargah and never came down the winding steps to the street level to mix 

with the local population.  He refused to accompany Juggernaut to walk 

to the street level; instead he climbed back the steps half-way to the 

street level towards the Garbah in a hurray as if somebody would catch 

him on the street. 

Ishmael, a Muslim but not sure whether a Sunny or a Shea, may 

be is an incarnation of ‘Coconut Baba.'  At the foot of the steps at 

the street level, several Hindu faithful, believers beyond belief were 

getting ready to climb the winding stone steps to reach the Coconut 

Baba's Garbah to receive a miracle blessing. 


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