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(12) THE DEVIL'S DEN
Through the desert of Mesopotamiathey marched on
Falling every few feet, due to sheer
exhaustion
Ali Zainal Abedeen was mercilessly
whipped
Even if he stumbled, even if he
tripped.
Sakina fell down from the camel's
bare-back
Zaynab raised an alarm; she was taken
aback
The soldiers were intoxicated, they
paid no heed
Without any succour, she would perish
indeed!
In desperation, Zaynab turned towards
the spear
"Husayn, fallen down is your daughter
dear;
I am helpless, my feet and hands
are bound."
The spear, with Husayn's head, got
planted down!
Khooli jumped down, to uproot the
spear
The stooges rushed forth, from far
and near
The spear remained stuck as if
cemented
The impact would be great, if soldiers
got scent.
Shimr approached Ali; his anger was
boiling
The Imam looked at the head; tears
were trickling
He turned his gaze, Zaynab caught
his weeping eye
"Sakina has toppled over, the child
may die!"
Shimr picked up the unconscious exhausted
child
Dumping her in Zaynab's arms, rushed
the hostile
Khooli could now lift the spear from
the ground
The caravan proceeded quietly, onwards
bound.
The Syrian desert was strewn with
prickly thorns
Marching bare foot, like on painful
corns
The torture was borne, with patience
and calm
God was the healer, soothing was
his balm!
For few hours they halted, each tiresome
night
Feasting, the vulturous soldiers
were a sight
Food and water, for prisoners was
rationed
Barely enough to sustain them, was
the caution.
They reached a mountain top, quite
secluded
A hermitage of a holy and pious
recluse
The heads of the martyrs, Shimr
gave
For safe custody, in his solitary
cave.
The prophets descended to guard the
head
Startled and baffled, he awoke from
his bed
Rushing out of the monastery, Shimr
he awoke
"Whose heads are these?" boldly he
spoke.
"The grandson of Prophet Muhammad
had defied
The authority of Yazid ibn Moawiyah"
Shimr cried
"For refusing to accept his spiritual
suzerainty
He had been butchered at Karbala,
ruthlessly."
The hermit was shocked, beyond any
words
"You cursed people, fie upon you
cowards
Beheading your own Prophet's beloved
grandson,
His helpless family you now hold
at ransom!"
Shimr lost his temper, he was
enraged;
With one sweep of the sword, he chopped
his head.
For Islam's injunctions, he had scant
regard
To grant protection to those dedicated
to God.
The city of Damascus was soon in
sight
Through hurried marches, by day and
night
Near the gate of the fortress, the
caravan halted
In blazing sun, the prisoners
sweated.
The scenes in Kufa, had reached Yazid's
ears
To disclose their identity, he now
feared
He announced, that a rebel had been
defeated
A day of rejoicing, it should be
treated.
The city was assuming a gay and festive
look
Festoons and buntings hung from every
nook
The victims were scorching under
the burning sun
To the onlookers, it was all laughter
and fun.
Sacrificial dates, they threw at
them
To ward off evil from their dear
ones
The hungry children tried to eat
them
Zainab was perplexed and at her wit's
end.
"Prophet has forbidden his own
family
To eat sacrificial offerings, O'
you ladies,
Do not throw such offerings at our
children;
Pray, do not increase our pain and
burden!"
Can it be, they are the family of
Muhammad?
Their faces and bodies were smeared
with mud
From some princely family of noble
stock
Their bearings revealed, without
any doubt.
After one full hour, the imperial
orders came
Bring in the prisoners, the followers
of Husayn
An elevated throne, lavishly decorated
with gold
Seven hundred gilded chairs surrounded
it, all told.
In tattered rags, with dirt and
mess
Blood oozing from lash-wounds in
the flesh
Tightly tied in ropes and heavy
chains
Were the daughters and sisters of
Husayn.
On a gold salver, the head of
Husayn,
At the feet of Yazid, was vindictively
laid
He could not for a moment believe
his eyes
These people claimed with Muhammad,
blood ties.
Yazid was fully drunk; he quivered
with rage
"Omar Saad, how dare you cheat me,
your sage!
These are not the ladies of
Husayn."
His eyes displayed a thirst for
slaying
Flinging himself abjectively at Yazid's
feet
"Mercy, O' Commander of Faithful",
he pleaded,
"I have carried out your august
command,
Nay, your every wish, your every
demand."
"The prisoners are Zaynab and
Kulthum,
for any doubt, pray have no
room,
The ailing man is Ali Zainal
Abedeen,
Other members, may also please be
seen."
Raising his eye brows, he watched
Yazid's face
"Ah, there, who is trying to hide
from my gaze?"
falteringly, he replied, afraid of
being snubbed
"The old lady is Fizza; behind her
is Zaynab."
"None, shall protect the prisoners
from me;
Throw aside Fizza, so that Zaynab
I can see."
Fizza turned to the slaves, behind
the throne
With naked swords, as bodyguards
they roamed.
"O brothers, from Abysinia, my own
native land
with folded hands why do you passively
stand?
Your aged princess demands from you
protection
This tyrant's blood thirst is his
obsession!"
The slaves stepped forward and addressed
Yazid
"Your Majesty, please desist from
the foul deed;
if Shimr proceeds to do anything
to her,
blood will flow right now, like
water!"
Yazid, was flabbergasted at this
affront
He fully realized, they said, what
they meant
In the light of chandeliers, their
swords glistened
The coward in him panicked, as he
shiveringly listened.
"Shimr, withhold your lash; stay
where you are
I will chop off your head, if you
harm her;
My good fellows, your devotion to
me, is such
Your sense of honor, I will not
touch.
The courtiers and others, saw his
humiliation
To display his triumph, was his
fascination
Beating Husayn's head, with a cane
of gold knob
He rejoiced with glee, as the prisoners
sobbed.
Using the cane, on the lips of
Husayn
He chuckled, wickedly, without any
shame
"Were not these lips, receiving kisses
from Muhammad
The same lips, which are now lying
in mud."
"How delighted my fore-fathers must
be
How happy, their souls, must be today,
to see
I have avenged them, for all their
defeats
By butchering Husayn; a daring
feat."
"Whose head is this, may I ask, O'
King?
What crime, had committed, this human
being
To deserve, this treatment, even
after death
Woeful is the punishment, his family
has met."
An ambassador, of a foreign country,
Abdul Wahab
Inquired of Yazid, on seeing the
holocaust
"The head is of Prophet's grandson
Husayn;
He, with his supporters, were all
slain."
"These are the ladies of the house
of Prophet
Watching them in distress is, to
me, a treat
Husayn, and his friends, were put
to sword
Opposition to my Caliphate, I can
ill-afford."
"I shall subject them, to such
punishment
To the world, it would be a valuable
lesson
None, shall question my sovereignty,
hereafter
Their punishment, will be, no fun
and laughter."
"You have committed the greatest
sin, O' King!
I have not heard of such tortures
and killings;
My people treat me with highest
respect,
For being a descendent of their
Prophet."
He then turned toward Zainal
Abedeen
"Ali, from what I have heard and
seen
Your father, indeed, was the noblest
soul
To fight this tyrant, was a courageous
role."
"I declare, my faith, in your esteemed
religion
fully aware of the consequences of
the decision,
I denounce the usurper, the incarnation
of 'devil';
He is the fittest epitome of the
highest evil."
Yazid was mad with rage, smarting
under insult
Most unexpected was the rebuke,
staggering the result
"Drag away the Ambassador," Yazid
angrily demanded
"Chop off his head," like a mad cap,
he next commanded.
Pin drop silence prevailed; everyone
was reserved
Gulping down cups of wine, to soothe
his nerves
"You there," he shouted at Imam Zainal
Abedeen
"Your punishment shall be such, the
world has not seen."
"You shall pay dearly for his
sins
for the insults and rebukes, flung
by him
I shall chop off your head, here
and now
To wreak vengeance, I have the
know-how."
On second thought, he added, trying
to be tough
"No, no; killing you will not be
enough
Your life, will be a living death,
everyday
You will pine for death, even while
you pray."
In a feeble, but clear ringing
voice,
Said Zainal Abedeen, "O' tyrant do
not rejoice
Worst torture, is to make our ladies
stand,
Without any veils, in this Islamic
land."
"I am not frightened by your
threats
The descendents of Prophet, have
no fear of death
Those who love God, are severely
tried by him,
To display their true faith and heaven
win."
The retort evoked spontaneous whispers
of admiration
Despite his cunning nature, Yazid
was visibly shaken
He feigned loud laughter to cover
his embarrassment
He still tried to justify the
unparalleled harassment.
"God inflicted this punishment on
you all
for your father's obduracy and defiance
of my call
to accept my lawful authority, you
are reluctant still
you got what you deserved, according
to his will."
"O' tyrant, do not distort the words
of God
to act with justice or to ride rough
shod,
he gives opportunities to all women
and men;
punishment ultimately over takes
those with evil in them."
Yazid was speechless; he could not
reply
His mouth was sealed, much as he
did try
A subservient courtier, anxious to
curry favor
Bowed before him, thinking himself
too clever.
"Your Majesty, your indulgence I
crave
B estow that girl, Sakina, on me as
a slave."
Zaynab standing nearby, with her
head bowed
Was furious, and infuriated as never
before.
"You, wretched soul; no shame you
have
Prophets grandchild, you wish to
enslave
Is there none amongst you, even to
protest
Against the shocking and shameless
request."
A gold embroidered curtain only ruffled
in shame
Hind, Yazid's favorite wife, entered
the harem
Once, she had been a lady-in-waiting,
to Zaynab
A devout lady, a believer in Almighty
Rab.
She still remembered Zaynab, with
devotion
Yazid knowing this had concealed
his intention,
To kill Husayn and his family's
enslavement;
She was unaware, of the tragic
development.
Hearing Zaynab's voice, and talk
of enslavement,
She rushed out, without veil, in
a frenzied moment
"What is all this about, do let me
know
Who can enslave them, except the
lowest of the low."
The action of his wife, was a daring
feat
Coming without a veil, was against
custom, indeed
Yazid, hurriedly shouted orders,
dismissing the court
"Carry the captives to the darkest
dungeon in the Fort."
The good lady kept on questioning
her husband
Who the prisoners were, she enquired
and so on,
He gave her evasive replies, to allay
her fears
The prisoners are not the Prophet's
near and dear.
