Gamomashki s voice on full volume was resonating through the entire household in a sweet melodious cuckoo s like every day, he was reciting his kalam like everyday after Fajar by the village well tied up around the wheel was the rope with a water container at it's end ready to go into the water he was to draw up, he was calmly and steadily reciting his kalam while working thinking if the murshid can't help relieve one's pain he is no use
The wheel of the well was running downwards unrolling tge rope around it , gamo began reciting hazrat sultan bahu verses faster with the increasing speed of the rope going down by the weight of the water container, he was on a different level altogether, he didn't know Quran nor hadis, he had grown up listening to his father reciting bahu s verses that he too had memorized , he was given some lessons of Quran in his early childhood but before he could complete his first chapter his father died and gamo found himself holding the leather mashq , he belonged to tge family of mashqis whose work was to carry water in leather containers
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