πβͺοΈοΈ Nationalist
Sultanate of Kashmir
Joined November 2018
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My first love was my mother, second love Religion and last love my homeland. I never desired to be loved by anyone, whenever I thought of companionship 'it was always because of the Sunnah of Prophet(pbhu) and a passion to basically have a family. Baaki wallahu alam.
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And stop this Abdullah, mufti, ruhulla bullshit, it's literally a matter of shame that we even give a flying duck about them bastards.
We are honourable, stop this men vs women, misogny, feminism bullshit and focus on what we are known for. we don't want to be known for something as great and unachievable of a feat like "hating men" and "hating women", lol seriously? Find Allah
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One of my dumb friends worked so hard on a state of the art project and another cunning one took all the credit and got his name in the Patent. Now he's bolstering that thing all across his LinkedIn without even mentioning the "Dumb" oneπ€¦ββοΈ. People are shameless and begairat
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How much shall a man cry, how long shall this glorious body remain lifeless inside? Is there an end to sufferings? Has anyone seen the other side? how not to force happiness? I don't feel alive.
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When I see any mufti sahab actually preaching islam without any ulterior motive of sectarian terrorism and has guts to accept his mistakes, Admiration becomes natural. Other than that, call it arrogance or anything else: mya chu nΓ© keansi hund wasn hattΔ± boan.
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Only the ones with no exposure of it will take it easy and simple, you enter something, live through it, only then will you realize things aren't that easy and simple, that you were an overconfident donkey.
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I don't know if Allah(swt) is Punishing me or Training me for what's about to happen. Major things aren't going how I planned them go and it is not good.
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Speak to any mullah and they'll takfir him within a split second, mullhas collectively couldn't achieve in 200 years what gazi mustafa kemal pasha did in his 18 years of military service.
Mustafa Kemal AtatΓΌrk died at just 57 years old.
At 7, he lost his father.
At 12, he entered military school. For the next 12 years, he studied in Selanik, Monastir and Istanbul, eventually graduating from the War Academy in 1905 at the age of 24.
At 24, he became a staff captain.
At 30, he was fighting Italian invasion in Tripoli, thousands of miles from home.
Then came the Balkan Wars. Then the First World War.
At 33, he was commanding troops at Gallipoli, facing one of the largest military campaigns ever.
At 35, he was fighting Russian army on the Eastern Front.
At 37, while the Ottoman Empire was collapsing, he was still commanding troops on the Syrian front.
Think about that. Before turning 38, he had witnessed the collapse of an empire, fought on multiple fronts, watched generations of soldiers die and experienced the devastation of a world war.
And then came 1919.
At 38, with his country under occupation and its army disbanded, he boarded an old ship and landed in Anatolia on May 19.
He resigned from the Ottoman military, putting his entire career behind him, and began organizing a national struggle.
At 39, he opened the Grand National Assembly in Ankara.
At 40, he led the nation through the Battle of Sakarya against Greek invasion.
At 41, he led the Great Offensive, bringing the War of Independence to victory.
At 42, on October 29, 1923, he proclaimed the Republic of TΓΌrkiye.
He had spent his childhood overcoming loss, his youth studying, his adulthood fighting wars, and his early forties rebuilding a nation.
57 years. An entire lifetime of struggles, sacrifices and achievements.
He could have lived an ordinary life. Instead, he dedicated his entire existence to a nation and a future generation he would never fully get to see.
Today, we are among those generations.
And we are still living in the country he fought so hard to build.
The greatest way to honor him is to understand what it took to get us here.
We remember you with endless gratitude, respect and longing.
10 November 1938 πΉπ·
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