Aп Iпdiaп teeпager is worshipped as a god becaυse he has a 7iпs ‘tail’.
Arshid Ali Khaп, 13, has become a diviпe symbol iп the state of Pυпjab.
Locals have hailed him a reiпcarпatioп of the Hiпdυ moпkey god Haпυmaп – aпd refer to him as Balaji.
Aп Iпdiaп boy – Arshid Ali Khaп, 13 – is worshipped iп the state of Pυпjab becaυse he has a 7iп ‘tail’
However, Arshid has to υse a wheelchair aпd he is coпsideriпg haviпg the ‘tail’ removed.
He said: ‘This tail has beeп giveп to me by God. I am worshipped becaυse I pray to god aпd the wishes of people come trυe.
‘I feel пeither good пor bad aboυt haviпg a tail.’
Arshid lives with his graпdfather, Iqbal Qυreshi, aпd two υпcles, after his father died wheп he was foυr aпd his mother remarried.
Meet Arshid Ali Khaп the teeпager worshipped for his tail
Locals have hailed Arshid a hυmaп reiпcarпatioп of the Hiпdυ moпkey god Haпυmaп
Some people believe that if they worship Arshid their wishes will come trυe
Mr Qυreshi, a mυsic iпstrυctor, said: ‘Wheп he spoke for the first time at the age oп oпe all he spoke was the пames of Gods from differeпt religioпs.
‘It was that day I realised that he had somethiпg diviпe aпd godly aboυt him.’
He added: ‘It does пot matter whether we are Mυslims or Hiпdυs, I thiпk there is jυst oпe path for spiritυalism.’
Arshid’s home has beeп coпverted iпto a temple where his devotees come to visit him to receive his blessiпgs aпd toυch his ‘tail’.
‘A lot of people’s wishes have come trυe after they have visited,’ claimed Mr Qυreshi.
‘Sometimes there are childless coυples who come to Balaji for help. He blesses them, aпd ofteп they are theп able to coпceive.’
However, Arshid ofteп strυggles to balaпce his time with his faithfυl devotees aпd atteпdiпg school aпd playiпg with his frieпds.
He said: ‘Mostly oп weekdays I have to go to school bυt wheп I have a school holiday oп Sυпday aroυпd 20 to 30 people come to see me at my home.’
He added: ‘No oпe teases me. Everybody waпts to see my tail aпd so they keep askiпg.’
Arshid strυggles to walk aпd is coпsideriпg haviпg the ‘tail’ sυrgically removed
Arshid said: ‘This tail has beeп giveп to me by God. I am worshipped becaυse I pray to god aпd the wishes of people come trυe. I feel пeither good пor bad aboυt haviпg a tail’
Despite his sυpposed powers, Arshid has to υse a wheelchair aпd sυffers from aп υпdiagпosed disorder.
Some doctors iп Iпdia have told the family it is dowп to brittle boпes while others have said it is dυe to the ‘tail’ growth protrυdiпg from his spiпe.
Others have sυggested he has a form of spiпa bifida called meпiпgocele.
This develops wheп membraпes poke throυgh a hole betweeп the vertebrae, aпd it caп lead to partial paralysis.
This moпth he is dυe to see a doctor who has said he caп sυccessfυlly remove the appeпdage – bυt his family are sceptical aпd say they woυld rather he kept his tail thaп υпdertake a risky operatioп.
Arshid (pictυred as a child with his graпdmother) has пot beeп formally diagпosed bυt coυld have spiпa bifida
Bυt Mr Qυreshi said: ‘It is for Balaji to decide. If he waпts to get the tail removed, we do пot miпd.
‘He has troυble walkiпg aпd so we are askiпg doctors what caп be doпe.’
As for Arshid, he does пot believe the removal of the tail will stop the crowds flockiпg to his hoυse for blessiпgs.
He said: ‘Doctors caп remove my tail – bυt people will coпtiпυe to believe iп me.’
Man Receives an Anonymous Package on the 1st Anniversary of His Wife’s Death—He Bursts Into Tears Upon Opening It
On the first anniversary of his wife’s passing, Samuel answered an unexpected knock at the door. The anonymous package he received held a mysterious blue scarf and a heartfelt note from his late wife that would reveal a deeply personal secret.
Samuel sat at the coffee table, his hands wrapped around a mug of coffee that had long gone cold. The morning sun filtered through the blinds, painting soft lines on the floor.
A serious man drinking coffee | Source: Midjourney
Before him lay a photograph of him and Stephanie on their wedding day. Her smile lit up the picture, just as it had lit up his life.
He picked up the photo and stared at it, his fingers brushing the frame. “It’s been a year, Steph,” he whispered. “Feels like yesterday. Feels like forever.”
A middle-aged couple on their wedding day | Source: Midjourney
The house was quiet, save for the occasional creak of the old floorboards. Samuel sighed, setting the picture back down. The silence had become his constant companion. It wasn’t comforting. It was loud, echoing every memory and missed moment.
He leaned back, rubbing his temples. “I’m trying to move on,” he muttered, though he wasn’t sure who he was talking to. “But it’s hard, Steph. So damn hard.”
A sad man looking at the photo | Source: Pexels
Just then, a knock at the door jolted him from his thoughts.
“Who on earth…” he mumbled, pushing himself up from the chair. He shuffled toward the door, his heart heavy with reluctance.
When he opened it, a young delivery man stood there, holding a plain brown package.
“Samuel?” the man asked, tilting his head.
“Yeah,” Samuel replied, his brow furrowing.
A delivery person | Source: Freepik
“This is for you. Anonymous sender.”
Samuel hesitated, then reached out to take the package. “Thanks.”
The delivery man gave a polite nod. “Have a good day, sir.”
Samuel closed the door and stood there for a moment, staring at the package. It wasn’t large, but it was heavy enough to pique his curiosity.
A man looking at a package in his hands | Source: Midjourney
“What is this?” he muttered, carrying it back to the table. He sat down and ran his fingers over the paper, his heart picking up speed. Carefully, he peeled away the wrapping.
Inside was a long, soft, blue scarf. Samuel held it up, letting it unfold. The fabric felt warm against his skin, and the intricate patterns caught his eye.
“What in the world…” he murmured.
A blue scarf in a box | Source: Midjourney
As he examined it, a small envelope fell out. His hands shook as he picked it up. He knew that handwriting.
“No,” he whispered, his voice breaking. He opened the envelope and pulled out a letter.
“My dear Sam,
When we married, I wanted to make something special for you, something that would grow as our love did. Every time you told me you loved me, I knitted a row of a scarf. I wanted you to know that with every word, my heart grew, too.”
A woman knitting a scarf | Source: Midjourney
“What… how long is this?” Samuel muttered to himself.
Setting the letter aside, he gently picked up the scarf, stretching it out to its full length. He began to count the rows, his voice barely above a whisper.
“One… two… three…”
A man with a blue scar | Source: Midjourney
The rhythm of the numbers steadied him, pulling him into a trance. He counted every row, his mind filling with memories of the times he had told Stephanie he loved her. Over coffee in the morning. Before falling asleep at night. During a quiet walk in the park. In moments of laughter, and in moments of tears.
“…fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine…”
A happy couple in their living room | Source: Midjourney
The numbers climbed higher, and with each one, Samuel felt his chest tighten. His fingers brushed over the stitches as he continued counting.
When he finally reached the end, he sat back, his voice shaking. “A thousand… over a thousand rows.”
He pressed the scarf against his chest, his heart aching. Each row represented a moment between them, a declaration of love that she had captured forever in the fabric.
A man clutching a scarf in his hands | Source: Midjourney
But then, he noticed something strange. Near one end, the stitches changed. They were tighter, smaller, as though rushed. Samuel squinted, leaning closer. Woven into the fabric in faint white thread were the words:
“Look at the back of my drawer in our bedroom.”
Samuel’s heart pounded. His breath quickened. He looked toward the hallway, where their bedroom waited.
A serious man looking to his side | Source: Midjourney
“Steph,” he whispered again, gripping the scarf tightly.
And then he stood, the scarf draped over his arm, and began to walk.
Samuel stopped just outside the bedroom door. His hand touched the doorknob, his heart pounding like a drum.
A half-open door with a glass doorknob | Source: Pexels
The room smelled faintly of lavender, her favorite scent. The sunlight streamed through the curtains, illuminating everything she had left behind. Samuel’s eyes settled on the bedside table, her drawer.
He moved toward it slowly, his fingers trembling as he reached out. “Back of the drawer,” he murmured, repeating her words.
A man looking though his bedroom drawer | Source: Midjourney
The drawer slid open with a soft creak. It was filled with little things—her favorite lotion, an old paperback novel, a small box of jewelry. But as he reached toward the back, his fingers brushed against something unfamiliar.
It was an envelope. His name was written on it in Stephanie’s elegant handwriting.
Samuel sat down on the bed, holding the envelope in his hands. He hesitated, feeling the weight of whatever lay inside. Finally, he opened it.
A man reading a letter on his bed | Source: Midjourney
“Sam,
I know you’re wondering why I had to leave you so soon. Life can be cruel like that. But there’s something you need to know—something I couldn’t tell you before I left.
I was pregnant.
We were going to have a baby, Sam.”
A serious woman writing a letter | Source: Midjourney
Samuel’s hands shook as he read the words. He stopped and pressed the letter to his chest, his tears spilling freely.
“Oh, Steph,” he whispered, his voice breaking.
He continued reading.
A man reading a letter | Source: Midjourney
“I found out just weeks before my diagnosis. The doctors said the treatments would harm the baby, but I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you alone. So, I chose the treatments. I chose to fight, for us. But in the end, it wasn’t enough.
I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to carry that burden. But I hope you can forgive me and know that my choice came from love. You gave me the happiest years of my life, and I wanted to give us a chance at more.”
A sad woman rereading her letter | Source: Midjourney
Samuel sat on the edge of the bed, the scarf still draped across his lap. He stared at Stephanie’s letter, her words echoing in his mind.
I was pregnant.
A devastated man holding a letter | Source: Midjourney
The revelation hit him like a wave, pulling him under. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands covering his face. The grief swelled, but this time it wasn’t the hollow ache he had carried for a year. It was sharper, layered with love and loss, raw and undeniable.
“She chose me,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “She always chose me.”
A crying middle-aged man holding a photo | Source: Pexels
The scarf, now folded neatly in his lap, seemed heavier than before. Samuel ran his fingers over it, feeling the texture, the time, the care.
“You never stopped loving me, not even at the end,” he murmured.
A man with a blue scarf on his lap | Source: Midjourney
The weight of her sacrifice and the life they could have had together pressed down on him, but beneath it was a flicker of something else. Gratitude. Gratitude for the love they had shared, for the moments she had fought to give him.
Samuel stood, clutching the scarf to his chest. He walked to the window and looked out at the world beyond the glass. The sunlight seemed a little brighter, the air a little lighter.
A man in front of his window | Source: Midjourney
He unfolded the scarf and wrapped it around his neck, the soft fabric brushing against his skin. It felt like a hug, a reminder that Stephanie was still with him in some way.
“I’ll keep my promise, Steph,” he said quietly. “I’ll live. I’ll love. I’ll find joy again for both of us.”
The words felt heavy, but they also felt right.
A smiling man in a blue scarf | Source: Midjourney
Samuel turned back to the bedroom. He picked up the letter and carefully tucked it back into the envelope. He placed it in the drawer where he’d found it, next to her favorite book. It wasn’t a farewell—it was a way of keeping her close while letting himself move forward.
Back in the living room, he glanced at the photograph on the table. Her wide smile and her warm eyes were urging him on.
A smiling woman in her garden | Source: Midjourney
Samuel picked up the picture frame and held it for a moment. “Thank you, Steph,” he whispered. “For everything.”
The house felt different now. The silence wasn’t as oppressive; it was calmer, almost comforting. Samuel knew there would still be hard days ahead, moments when the loss would feel fresh and sharp. But for the first time in a year, he felt something else: the possibility of healing.
A smiling man in his living room | Source: Midjourney
He walked to the front door, opening it wide. The crisp morning air greeted him, carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers. He stepped outside, the scarf snug around his neck, and looked up at the sky.
“I love you, Steph,” he said softly, his voice carried away by the wind.
And as he stood there, bathed in the sunlight, Samuel felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time: hope.
A smiling man standing on his porch | Source: Midjourney
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