Srinagar, Kashmir: Folded among the usual notes asking for good harvest, health, or blessings, a new kind of prayer has begun to appear at the Shrine of Makhdoom Saab, also known as Mehboob-ul-Alam, in Srinagar, Kashmir. 

Job application printouts, exam roll numbers, and photocopies of ration cards now lie beside the threads once tied for good harvests and healthy cattle.(Photo - Parsa Tariq, 101Reporters)

These slips of paper — called arzi, or requests — carry the everyday anxieties of a generation raised on digital forms and online submissions. In this shrine, they are handwritten again, offered with the same reverence as the old prayers for rain or livestock.

By the time the Maghrib prayer or the sunset prayer in Islam approaches on a Thursday evening, the narrow path leading to the shrine is already crowded.

Men and women wrapped in shawls sit along the steps leading to the grave — heads bowed in contemplation, clutching small pieces of paper.

The fading light catches the threads tied by generations seeking relief. Beside them flutter the newer papers, carefully folded and slid into boxes kept by shrine workers or through a small window near the grave when no box is available.

The rituals, tying threads, murmuring prayers near the grave, have remained unchanged for generations. For decades, people have come here with their most urgent worries, trusting that the saint listens through every season of need.

Abdul Rahim (70), a farmer said: “Hamare gaon mein ek dafa teen mahine tak sukha pada tha. Tab poore gaon ke log yahan aaye the sirf barsaat ke liye.” (Once, after a three-month drought hit our village, the entire village came here to pray for rain)

“Now, the children come here for jobs or education. For us, farming was everything and for the young kids jobs are everything,” Rahim added. 

To place one’s arzi here is to hand over one’s worries to Makhdoom Saab himself, trusting that the saint’s blessing, spiritually “signed”, will help guide their prayer towards fulfillment. 

Constant amid the change

“I fill job applications everyday, but placing an arzi here comforts me,” said Uzair (22), who recently completed his BSc. “It feels like I am not struggling alone.”

Inside the shrine, a plastic box with its lid open waits quietly for such prayers. Some visitors travel miles on foot to reach it, limited by public transport or money, but they still come — men and women of all ages, carrying folded papers that hold their most private appeals.

When the box fills up, devotees slide their arzi through a small window beside the grave. The stone beneath it is smooth from countless hands pressed against it over the years.

“When we come here we just know that someone is listening,” Sakeena Bano, in her 50s, a regular visitor told 101Reporters.

Arif (18) agreed with Bano. “I wrote a note asking Makhdoom Saab to make my Wi-FI stop crashing during online classes,” he said, laughing. “I know it is funny, but I take it seriously here.” 

Fareeha (25), said, “I submitted three job applications online today. Then I came here and slipped the same details on paper into the box — both carrying my hopes.”

Another devotee, Sana (22) told 101Reporters said, “I wrote a paper asking Makhdoom Saab to help me convince my parents to let me study abroad.”

“I get my results on my phone,” Danish (19) a student added. “Still, I write the number here. It’s like transferring my anxiety to something bigger than my screen.”

For the older generation, the worries were different but the instinct the same, said Hajra (age). “Only the troubles have changed,” she added.

But the way the prayers are made has not, Aisha, in her twenties, said while sliding her paper through the window.

“I learned this from my grandmother,” she said. “When I was little, she used to take me to shrines and tie knots for a good husband. Now I come here bringing a copy of my resume for a good career.”

Behind these individual prayers, there is the caretaker of the shrine who makes sure that the walls are clean and the area is orderly so that the devotees can find peace here. 

“People come every week,” he said. “Some bring papers, some just sit quietly. This grave listens to everyone.”

The maulvi who serves at the shrine explained how the community handles the arzi. 

“After Maghrib on Thursdays, we offer the khutmah prayer — a collective recitation of the Quran,” he said. “Everyone sits around the grave, recites verses, and then all the papers are collected and burnt.”

For him, this weekly ritual is less about sorting through documents and more about carrying the community’s shared worries collectively into prayer, allowing generations old and new to entrust their hopes in the same sacred space.

This article was originally published in 101 Reporter under    Creative Common license. Read the original article.

(NS)

Suggested Reading: