By Novid Shaid, 2011
For Data Saheb, Ali Al Hujwiri, Qaddus Allahu sirruhu
As he strode by blessed Bhatti gate,
The CEO’s pulse quickened with contractions of hate,
for what he deemed a place of superstition and ignorance.
But his mother told him to pass by Daata’s gate,
Weekly visits she instructed, to his growing distaste.
No longer just his mother’s son, but a man of wealth and weight.
Earning millions, with a flourishing global trade.
Founder of his brand, with growing conglomerates.
Still his old mother insisted he pass by Daata’s gate,
As he neared, he heard his mother’s words reverberate
Entreating her son, so loving and affectionate
With these lines she had sung since he was a weeping babe: