Ali Akbar the Hashmite Prince [Electronic resources] نسخه متنی

The whole town of
Medina was humming with activity. People from all parts of the town were
looking into the street of the Hashimites where a caravan was getting
ready for a journey. The elders of the town were talking to each I other
in hushed tones, recalling the words of the Prophet, that a day will dawn
when his beloved grandson Husain (as) would leave Medina with his sons,
brothers, nephews and kinsmen never to return. There was sadness on the
faces of all, young and old. The elderly people were aghast at the thought
of Husain going away for ever. They were accustomed to turning to him in
all their needs. The youths of Medina were saddened by the thought of
Abbas and Ali Akbar and Qasim going away for good. Their anxious inquiries
could only elicit this much information, that Husain with his kinsmen and
children, was going for Hajj and from there to an unknown destination.

Thoughts of parting were tormenting not only the male population of
Medina but also the womenfolk of the town. They too were accustomed to the
munificence of the ladies of the Prophet's house. Who was there amongst
them who had not received help and counsel from the daughters of Fatima?
Who would be left now to whom they could turn in their hour of need, when
Zainab and Kulsum, Umme Rubab and Umme Laila had left Medina? Had not
times out of number their children received gifts and favours from Sakina
and Rukayya?

As was their wont, the people of Medina, men and women, young and old,
had gone to the tomb of the Prophet to pray and seek solace to pray to God
with the invocations of His Prophet that they might be spared the ordeal
of separation from Husain and his family. There at the tomb of the Prophet
they witnessed a heart-rending scene. They saw Husain and Zain prostrate
with grief and sorrow, bidding farewell to the Prophet. They saw both of
them visiting the grave of Fatima and lamenting over the separation, as if
they were parting for ever.

It was rumoured that Husain was leaving Medina to arrange the marriage
of his son Ali Akbar with some Princess, some lady of a noble stocks I it
in some distant land. Could this rumour be correct? They all knew that
there was not a young lad of marriage able age in Arabia who could be said
to be fit to hold a candle before him. His handsome looks were matched by
his handsome deeds. His nobility of character, his sense of duty, his
generosity, his chivalry, his geniality, his love of justice and fairplay
had endeared him to every soul. It was a well-known fact amongst the Arabs
throughout Hejaz that Ali Akbar was bearing a remarkable resemblance to
the Holy Prophet. In looks, in voice, in mannerism, in gait and in every
way, he resembled the Prophet. The resemblance was so marked that people
from far and wide were coming to see him, to be reminded of the Prophet
whom they were missing so much. Those who had not had the good fortune to
see the Prophet were told by their elders that Ali Akbar was the very
image of Muhammad, may Peace of Allah be on Him. There could, therefore,
be no room for doubt that the noblest families of Arabia would consider it
a signal honour if this scion of the Prophet's family were to ask for
their daughter in marriage. But then, if Husain and his family were
leaving Medina for Ali Akbar's marriage, they would not be secretive about
it. The Prophet's grandson would in that case have given out the good
tidings to the public. There was not a living being in that town whose
heart would not have been filled with joy to hear about the betrothal of
Ali Akbar. And if marriage of Ali Akbar was the purpose, surely Husain
would not choose this season when outside the oasis of Medina, the
scorching heat of summer was baking the desert sands!

After long discussions, by a consensus of opinion, it was decided to
approach Husain in a delegation and to dissuade him from undertaking the
journey. Some of the venerable companions of the Prophet undertook to
apprise Husain of their forebodings and their recollection of his
grandfather's prophecy that, if Husain migrated from Medina with his
family, he would not return.

The caravan was almost ready to depart. The horses were neighing with
impatience and champing their bits in the oppressive heat of the day.
Husain was standing near his horse intently watching the arrangements
being made by Abbas and Ali Akbar. He was reflectively following their
movements as they were helping each lady and each child to mount the
camels, as they were lending a helping hand to the ladies with tender care
and affection; as the ladies were graciously and profusely thanking them
for the excellent arrangements they had made for their comfort and for
protecting them from the unbearable heat by holding their own gowns over
their heads as a canopy. This sight had some inexplicable effect on
Husain, for his eyes were glittering with tears. The solicitude displayed
by his brother and son for the ladies and children should have filled him
with happiness; but instead, the effect on him was just the opposite. Was
he beholding the shadows of some coming events?

At this moment came the representatives of the people of Medina. With
one voice they entreated Husain to abandon the idea of undertaking this
journey. Their leader, with supplication in his faltering voice, besought
Husain to tell them why he had decided to leave them and the Prophet's
tomb for which he had so much attachment.

O Son of the Prophet, if we have displeased you in any
way, please forgive us.

At this display of love and affection Husain was moved to tears.

Suppressing his sobs he replied:

My dear brethren, believe me that my heart is bleeding
at this parting, parting from you and from the graves of
my beloved grandfather, my dearest mother and my brother,
whom I held dearer than my life. Had it not been for the
call of duty, I assure you I would have abandoned the idea
of leaving Medina. It grieves me most that I cannot for
once grant you your wishes when you all love me so dearly.
But Almighty Allah has so willed it and in His divine
dispensation ordained that I should undertake this journey.
I know what hardships await me; but the Prophet has groomed
me from my childhood to face them.

Seeing that the hand of destiny was snatching away Husain from them,
they conferred amongst themselves and suggested that, if his decision to
go from Medina was final, he should take with him all the able-bodied
persons of the town so that they could protect him and his people. They
reminded him of the treachery that was pervading the atmosphere in the
adjoining regions. Husain, obviously moved by their sincere consideration
for his safety, thanked them profusely. But he told them that, in
accordance with the wishes of the Prophet, he had to fulfill the mission
of his fife only with those who were destined to be associated with him in
the task confronting him.

When they received this reply to their entreaties, from Husain, the
representative of the Medinites requested Husain to grant them one wish to
leave Ali Akbar behind him in Medina.

O Husain," they said, "we cannot bear the thought of
parting with your son Ali Akbar, He is the very image
of the Prophet. Whenever we feel overcome by the remembrance
of Muhammad, we go to Ali Akbar to have a look at him
and take comfort. We shall look after him better than
we look after our own sons. We promise that we shall treat
his every wish as a command. In fair weather and foul we
shall stand by him. Even if we die, we shall command our
children as our dying wish to attend to all his comforts and
needs. His exemplary life has been an object lesson for our
sons who are devoted to him as if he were their brother.

These pleading, which had a ring of sincerity and earnestness, rendered
Husain quite speechless for a time. How could he tell them what was in
store for Ali Akbar who they loved and adored so much? When his sad
reflections had subsided, he replied to them in a tone tinged with pathos,

Alas, I only wish I could entrust my Ali Akbar to your
care! In my mission he has to play a role, the importance
of which time alone will tell. I cannot accede to your
request for reasons which I cannot reveal to you; but rest
assured that I shall always remember your kindness to me.
I shall carry with me vivid memories of this parting and
remember you in my prayers.

When the heavens were glowing with the last rays of day, the caravan
left on its long-drawn journey to the unknown destination. Soon darkness
descended upon Medina as if symbolic of the darkness and gloom which the
departure of Husain had cast on the town, associated with a myriad
memories of his childhood.

Meandering through the desert, the caravan had reached its destination,
a destination which Allah had willed for it. The march of Husain and his
kinsmen in this world had ended; but it was just the beginning of their
march toward their real goal. With the dawn of the 10th day of the month
of Muharram the events, for which the Prophet and Ali and Fatima had
prepared Husain, started unfolding themselves. What a day it was and what
fateful events it encompassed!

One by one the faithful followers went out to fight for the cause of
Islam which forces of evil were attempting to stifle, and in the process
faced death. In their glorious deaths they demonstrated what steadfastness
and unflin- ching faith, what courage of conviction can achieve and attain
against all odds. With his devoted supporters now sleeping the sweet
slumber of death from which nothing could awaken them, the turn of
Husain's sons and brothers and nephews came. In spite of Husain's best
efforts to send his son Ali Akbar to the battlefield before all his
devoted friends and faithful followers, they would not even let him
mention it. The thought of Ali Akbar, Husain's beloved son, laying down
his iffy in battle, when they were still alive, was too much for them. It
would be blasphemous for them even to entertain such an idea!

Ali Akbar went over to his father to ask his permission to go out into
that gory arena from which no person from his camp had returned. Husain
looked at his face; it would be more correct to say that for a couple of
minutes his stare was fixed on that face which he loved so much; which
reminded him every time of his grandfather whom he resembled every inch.
He tried to say something but his voice failed him. With considerable
effort he whispered with downcast eyes:

Akbar, I wish you had become a father; then you would have
known what I am experiencing at this moment. My son, how can
a father ask his son to go, when he knows that the parting
would be for ever! But Akbar, the call of duty makes me
helpless in this matter. Go to your mother, and to your aunt
Zainab who has brought you up from childhood and loved you and
cared for you more than for her own sons, and seek their
permission.

Ali Akbar entered the tent of his aunt Zainab. He found her and his
mother Umme Laila gazing vacantly towards the battlefield and listening
intently to the battle-cries of the enemy hordes. Their instinct made them
aware that, now that all the devoted followers of Husain had laid down
their dear lives defending him and them, the turn of his sons, and
brothers and nephews had come. It was now only a question of time. It was
only a question who would go first from amongst them.

The light footsteps of Ali Akbar roused both of them from their
reverie. Both of them fixed their gaze on him without uttering a word.

Zainab broke the silence with an exclamation:

Oh God, can it be true that Akbar has come to bid me and
his mother the last farewell Akbar do not say that you are
ready for the last journey. So long as my sons Aun and Muhammad
are there, it is impossible for me to let you go.

Akbar knew what love and affection his aunt Zainab had for him. He was
conscious of the pangs of sorrow she was experiencing at that moment. Her
affection for him transcended everything except her love for Husain. He
looked at her face, and at his mother's who was rendered speechless by her
surging feelings of anguish. He knew not how to tell them that he had
prepared himself for the journey to Heaven that lay ahead. He summoned to
his aid his most coaxing manners that had always made his mother and
Zainab accede to his requests and said:

My aunt, for all my father's kinsmen the inevitable hour
has come. I implore you, by the love you bear for your brother,
to let me go so that it may not be said that he spared me
till all his brothers and nephews were killed. Abbas, my uncle,
is Commander of our army. The others are all younger than me.
When death is a certainty, let me die first so that I can quench
my thirst at the heavenly spring of Kausar at the hands of my
grandfather.
The earnestness of Akbar's tone convinced Zainab and his mother that
he was determined to go. It seemed to be his last wish to lay down his
life before all his kinsmen. Since on no other occasion they had denied
him his wishes, it seemed so difficult to say no to his last desire. With
a gasp Zainab could only say,

Akbar, my child, if the call of death has come to you, go.

His mother could only say:

May God be with you, my son. With you I am losing all I had
and cared for in this world. Your father has told me what
destiny has in store for me. After you, for me pleasure and
pain will have no difference.
With these words she fell unconscious in Ali Akbar's arms.

The battle-cry from the enemy's ranks was becoming louder and louder.
Ali Akbar knew that he had to go out quickly lest the enemy, seeing that
their challenges for combat were remaining unanswered, got emboldened to
make a concerted attack on his father's camp. Even such a thought was
unbearable for him. So long as he was alive, how could he permit the
onslaught of Yazid's forces on his camp where helpless women and
defenseless children were lying huddled together? He gently put his mother
in his aunt Zainab's arms saying:

Zainab, my aunt, I am leaving my mother to your care. I
know, from your childhood, your mother Bibi Fatima has
prepared you for the soul-stirring events of today and
what is to come hereafter. My mother will not be able to
bear the blows and calamities that are to befall her,
unless you lend her your courage. I implore you by the
infinite love you bear for me to show the fortitude that
you are capable of, so that your patience may sustain my
mother when she sees my dead body brought into the camp's
morgue. I entrust her to your care because there will be
none to solace her and look after her in the years of dismay
and despondency that lie ahead of her.
Ali Akbar embraced his loving aunt Zainab with tender love and
affection for the last time. she exclaimed:

Akbar, go. My child, I entrust you to God, To ease your last
moments I promise you that, so long as I live, I shall after
Umme Laila with the affection of a mother.
With a heavy heart Ali Akbar returned to his father. There was no
need for him to say that he had bid farewell to his mother and aunt
Zainab, for the sorrow depicted on his face spoke volumes to Husain.
Silently he rose and put the Prophet's turban on Akbar's head, tied the
scabbard on his waist and imprinted a kiss on his forehead. In a failing,
faltering voice he muttered:

Go Akbar, God is there to help you.
Treading heavily Akbar came out of the tent with Husain following
closely behind him. He was about to mount his horse when he felt somebody
tugging at his robe. He could hardly see, because his eyes were almost
blinded with tears. He heard the voice of his young aster Sakina
supplicating him not to leave her.

O my brother," she was saying, "do no go to the battleground
from which nobody has returned alive since this mornings."

Softly Akbar lifted her, gently and affectionately kissed her on her
face and put her down. His grief was too deep for words. Husain understood
the depth of Akbar's feelings and picked up Sakina to console her.

The scene of Ali Akbar's march towards the battlefield was such as
would defy description. The cries of ladies and children of Husain's camp
were rising above the din of battle-cries and beating of enemy drums. It
was appearing as if a dead body of an only son, dead in the prime of
youth, was being taken out of a house for the last rites.

Ali Akbar was now facing the enemy hordes. He was addressing the forces
of Amr Ibne Saad with an eloquence which he had inherited from his
Grandfather and the Prophet. He was telling them that Husain, his father,
had done them no harm and had devoted his life to the cause of Islam. He
was explaining to them that by shedding the blood of Husain and his
kinsmen. They would be incurring the wrath of God and displeasure of the
Prophet who had loved Husain more than any other person. He was exhorting
them not to smear their hands with the blood of a person so holy, so
God-fearing and so righteous. His words cast a spell on the army of the
opponents. The older ones from amongst them were blinking their eyes in
amazement and wondering whether the Prophet had descended from the Heavens
to warn them against the shedding of Husain's blood. What a resemblance
there was with the Prophet, in face, features and even mannerism! Even the
voice was of Muhammad! But on second thoughts, they realized that this was
Ali Akbar, the 18 year old son of Husain, about whose close resemblance
with the Prophet people were talking so much.

Seeing the effect which Ali Akbar's address had produced on his
soldiers, Amr Saad exhorted them to challenge him to single combat. A few
of them, coveting the honour and rewards they would get if they
overpowered and killed this brave son of Husain, emaciated by three days
of hunger and thirst, came forward to challenge him. One by one he met
them in battle, gave them a taste of his skill and prowess in fighting and
flung them from their horseback to meet the doom they so much deserved.
Now it was his turn to challenge the warriors of Yazid to come forward.
Seeing that in spite of his handicaps, he was capable of displaying valour
and battle craft for which his grandfather Ali had acquired name and fame
and which had struck terror into the hearts of enemies of Islam none dared
to come forward.

Ali Akbar had received several gaping wounds in the course of his
victorious single combats. He was fast losing blood and the effect of his
thirst was getting accentuated with every second that was passing. He
realized that the treacherous enemies would attack him en masse. He had
left his mother in a dazed condition. An irresistible urge to see his dear
ones for the last time seized him and he turned his horse towards his
camp.

He found his father standing at the doorstep of the tent and his mother
and aunt standing inside the tent. Husain had been watching the battles of
this thirsty youth and the two ladies were watching his face: they knew
that if any calamity befell Ali Akbar, Husain's expression would indicate
it. Whilst watching Husain's face, they were both praying offering silent
prayers:

O Allah, Who brought back Ismail to Hajra; O Allah, Who granted
the prayers of the mother Musa and restored her son to her; O
Allah, Who reunited Yakoob with his son Yusuf in response to the
aged father's supplications, grant us our one wish to see Ali Akbar
for once.

Was it the effect of these prayers that brought back Ali Akbar to the
camp?

Ali Akbar was now facing his aged father and his loving mother and
Zainab. With an exclamation of joy and relief they clung to him. Husain
lovingly embraced his son saying:

Bravo, my son. The gallantry you how displayed today
reminded me of the battles of my revered father, Ali.
The only difference was that, during his fights, my
father Ali had not to battle against hunger and thirst
as you had to.

Ali Akbar with his head bent replied:

Father, thirst is killing me because my wounds have added
to its effect. It is usual to ask for rewards from parents
for celebrating victories in single combats and I would
have asked for a cup of refreshing water from you. But alas!
I know that you have not even a drop of water with which
you can quench the thirst of the young children. Father,
knowing this, I shall not embarrass you by asking for water.
I have come only to see you and my dear ones for the
last time.
Ali Akbar met each and every one of his family. The second parting
was sad as the first one, perhaps sadder. Without being told, every one
realised that this was the last time they were beholding Akbar. Fizza, the
faithful maid of Fatima and Zainab, was as disconsolate with grief as
Zainab and Umme Laila. Husain followed Ali Akbar out of the tent. As he
rode away, Husain walked behind him with a brisk pace for some distance,
as a man follows his sacrificial lamb in Mina. When Akbar disappeared from
his sight, he turned heavenwards and, with his hands raised, he prayed:

O Allah, Thou art my Witness that on this day I have sent
away for sacrifice one whom I loved and cherished most, to
defend the cause of righteousness and truth.

He sat on the ground as if trying to listen expectantly to some call
from the battlefield.

It was not very long before he received a wailing call, a call from Ali
Akbar, a call of anguish and pain:

Father, Akbar has fallen with a mortal wound in his chest.
Father, come to me for I have not long to live. If you
cannot reach me, I convey my last salutations to you and
my dear ones.
Though Husain was anticipating such a call, what a ghastly effect it
had on him! He rose from the ground and fell; he rose again and fell
again. With one hand on his heart he struggled to his feet. Torrential
tears were flooding his eyes. He rushed in the direction from which the
cry had come. It seemed as Husain's strength had ebbed away on hearing
that fateful cry of his dearest son, for he was falling at every few
steps. He was sobbing:

Akbar, give me another shout so that I can follow its
direction. Akbar, my sight is gone with the shock I have
received and there is nobody to guide me to where you lie.

Abbas came rushing to the aid of his master. Holding his hand he led
him on to the place from where Akbar's dying cry had come.

Now Husain was stumbling his way onwards resting his hands on Abbas'
shoulders. The distance seemed interminable but at last Husain and Abbas
reached the place where Akbar was lying in a pool of his own blood. Ah,
that tragic sight! May no father have occasion to see his young on in such
a conditions. With one hand on his chest covering a deep wound from which
blood was gushing out, with his face writhing with pain, Akbar was lying
on the ground prostrate and unconscious. With the agony he was enduring on
account of the wound and the thirst that he was Offering, he was digging
his feet into the sand. With a cry of anguish Husain fell on the body of
Akbar.

My son, tell me where you are hurt; tell me who has wounded
you in the chest. Why don't you say something? My Akbar, I
have come in response to your call. Say one word to me, Akbar.

Seeing that Akbar was lying there without any response to his
entreaties, Husain turned to Abbas and said:

Abbas, why don't you tell Akbar to say something to me. My
dutiful son, who used to get up on seeing me, is lying on
the ground pressed by the hand of death.

Husain once again flung himself on the body of Akbar. His breathing was
now heavier, a gurgling sound was coming from his throat. It seemed that
his young life was engaged in an uneven struggle with death. Husain put
his head on Akbar's chest. He lifted it and put his own cheeks against
Akbar's and wailed

Akbar, for once open your eyes and smile, as you were always
smiling to gladden my heart.

Though Akbar did not open his eyes, a faint smile appeared on his lips
as if he had listened to his father's request. With the sweet smile still
playing on his lips, he heaved a gasp and with that his soul departed. The
cheeks of the father were still touching the cheeks of the son, in death
as so many time in life.

On seeing his son, his beloved son, breathe his last in his own hands,
Husain's condition became such as no words can describe. For quite some
time he remained there weeping as only an aged father who has lost a son,
in his prime of youth, in such tragic circumstances, can weep. Abbas sat
there by his side shedding tears. What words of consolation could he offer
when the tragedy was of such a magnitude? All words of solace and comfort
would sound hollow and be in vain when a father, an aged father, gives
vent to his pent up emotions. After a time, Abbas reverentially touched
Husain on his shoulders and reminded him that, since he had rushed out of
the camp, Zainab and the other ladies of his house were waiting for him,
tormented by anxiety, demented by the thoughts of the tragedy that had
befallen them. Only mention of this was enough for Husain. He knew that,
as the head of the family, it was his duty to rally by the side of the
grief-stricken mother, his grief-stricken sister Zainab, and the children
for whom this bereavement was the greatest calamity.

Husain slowly rose from the ground and tried to pick up the dead body
of Akbar but he himself fell on the ground. Abbas, seeing this, bent over
him and said:

My master, Abbas is still alive by your side. How can I leave
you carry the body of Akbar and remain a silent spectator. Let
me carry his body to the camp. "
No Abbas, replied Husain, let me do this as a last token of
my love. To hold him by my heart, even in his death, gives
me some comfort, the only comfort that is now left to me.

Saying this, he made all the efforts that he was capable of and,
assisted by Abbas, he lifted the body of Akbar. Clasping it close to his
bosom, he started the long walk to his camp. How he reached is difficult
to say. It would not be too much to imagine that his grandfather Muhammad,
his father Ali, his brother Hasan and perhaps his mother Fatima had
descended from heaven to help him in this task.

Husain reached the camp and laid down Akbar's body on the ground. He
called Umme Laila and Zainab and Kulsum, Sakina and Rokayya, Fizza and the
other ladies of the house to see the face of Akbar for the last time. The
loving mother came, the loving aunts came, the children came, and
surrounded the body of Ali Akbar. They looked at Akbar's face and then at
Husain's. They knew that their weeping would add to Husain's grief which
was already brimful. Ali Akbar's mother went up to her husband, and with
stifled sobs and bent head, she said to him:

My master, I am proud of Akbar for dying such a noble death.
He has laid down his life in the noblest cause and this thought
will sustain me through the rest of my life. I implore you to
pray for me, to pray for ail of us, that Almighty Allah may
grant us patience and solace.

Saying this she turned to the dead body of her son lying on the ground
and put her face on his. Zainab and Kulsum, Sakina and Rokayya had all
flung themselves on Akbar's body. The tears that were flowing from their
eyes were sufficient to wash away the clotted blood from the wounds of
Akbar.

Husain sat for a few minutes near the dead body of his son; the son
whom he had lost in such tragic circumstances; the son who had died
craving for a drop of water to quench his thirst. He felt dazed with
grief. He was awakened from his stupor by Qasim, the son of his brother,
who had come to seek his permission to go to the battlefield. He rose from
the ground, wiped the tears from his aged eyes and muttered

Verily from God we come, and unto Him is our return.
Ref:
Tears and Tributes by Zakir
Shaheed Associates, Hyderabad, India
5th Revised Edition - 1980
Converted to HTML Format from original document written by Ali Abbas