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(9) THE SUPREME SACRIFICE
The sad day dawned, the heavens wereaghast
Truth was at stake; the die had been
cast
Never had they witnessed, so supreme
a test
Between falsehood at its worst and
truth at its best!
For three torturous days and three
miserable nights
Husayn's small band, were in a waterless
plight;
The babes, they licked, their mother's
tongues,
Parched and thorny, they weepingly
let it hung.
His faith in God was sublime, beyond
any dream
His patience, spoke of complete surrender
to Him
Even in his worst hour, from the
material eye,
He was calm and unperturbed, not
afraid to die!
Husayn was fully alive to things
at stake
He well knew what would be his family's
fate
He was aware that 'twas his martyr's
cup
He showed absolutely no grief when
his time was up.
He endeavored to make a last
attempt
But the foes were all determined
and bent
To spill his blood, they thought
it an honor
Such is the fate of all the world's
warners.
"Speak, O, you Kufi's, is this
how
You invite your guests and treat
them now?
You summoned our aid, you one and
all
You, as our Imam, must heed our
call."
"Truth is being trampled, we look
to you,
To uphold the flame, come to our
rescue
Treachery is, indeed, a satanic
vile
But in this you are ahead by
miles."
"I beg you ponder what you do
Verily, those that can see, are
few
Three honorable offers, I have to
make
For no blood should spill for my
sake."
"If my life is what Yazid
desires
Why should Muslims' blood, be the
hire
To Yazid, I request, you do me
lead
No share, you have, in this foul
deed."
"Or let me, to Jihad, go and die
For this life, no fear have I
I will fight in the cause of God
Till death, descends from my
Lord."
"If not, let me to Hejaz return
You will Muhammad's pleasure
earn
For was he not my Grand Sire?
Verily, a shield against hell's
fire!''
"Know for sure, that I am he
Whom God has granted Heaven's
key
We live for the Lord and His
pleasure
We seek not the world, nor it's
treasure."
"The flame of truth, is what we
hold
Let none of you, I pray, make
bold
To subdue the flame not those that
hold
Though your heart may yearn for
gold."
The foes were silent, their mouths
were shut
Only thirty of them felt genuine
hurt
They demanded to know why Husayn's
fair offer,
Could not be accepted and considered
as proper.
In disgust, they left the enemy's
rank
And joined the Imam's small faithful
band
Too glad were they to fight for
him,
Though chances of success, they knew
were dim.
The rest were unmoved; their hearts
were sealed
They danced and mocked, till their
heads reeled
Husayn still felt it his duty, to
make it plain,
To save his life, was not his object
nor aim.
Omar Ibn Saad, discharged the first
villain's arrow
Proud, that he had had started this
battle of sorrow
And soon to his dismay, he found
Ali's sons
To fight them, he learnt, was no
laughter and fun.
They fought courageously like lions,
one by one
Though outnumbered, they made them
run
Till the archers took their inevitable
toll
Claiming fifty, from Husayn's small
fold.
Bent with grief, he surveyed the
tragic scene
Tears welled up, his sorrowful eyes
did glean
He made a plea, to the enemy's rank
and file
Whether none sympathized with the
Prophet's child.
Hur Ibn Yazid Riyahi felt this as
a jolt
The words to him were, as from heaven,
a bolt
He, with his slave and son, joined
the Imam's band
And begged for forgiveness at his
merciful hands.
Forgiven were they, unreservedly,
one and all,
By the generous Husayn and his noble
'Aal'
They fought for him, till they were
slain
Their lives they lost, but heaven
gained.
Corpses flowed in regular stream
of these brave soldiers
Husayn, and his friends, carried
them on their shoulders
In the distant lands, they had no
families to mourn them
The ladies of Husayn wept, as for
a bother or son.
Wahab Ibn Abdulla Kalabi, was the
last to go
The newly married warrior, his spirit
was low
Time and again, he had sought for
permission
"Not yet!" was Husayn's firm
decision.
"First seek permission of your mother
and wife
Their claim is far greater on your
invaluable life
Exclaimed, the mother of Wahab, standing
nearby
"I will deem it an honor, for my
son to die!"
With tears in her eyes, his wife
pleaded
"Do defend Husayn in his hour of
need
Only one request I have, reluctantly,
to make
The security of Husayn's family,
may we partake."
Little did she know, what fate had
in store
For ladies of Husayn, when he was
no more
She never could imagine, that it
was likely
The enemies would dare behave so
dastardly.
History of mankind, numerous instances
can cite,
Where brave persons have scaled great
heights,
And endured hardships, out of love
and affection,
Or died out of duty and self consuming
devotion.
But never before, the world had ever
witnessed,
Such deeds of selfless devotion and
self abnegation
In this transitory world, though
nothing endures,
The deeds of Husayn shine, with
ever-increasing luster!
And now were left, those tied by
blood
Who cared a nought, for this mould
of mud
Eager were they to offer their worldly
lives
In cause of God, so truth may, forever,
thrive.
Abbas Ibn Ali, was the TRUTH'S standard
bearer
Husayn to him, was a jewel, nay,
even more dearer
He called him "Lord", though his
foster brother
Such was the regard, they had, one
for the other.
Ali Akbar, was his most beloved second
son
More brave, more handsome, there
was none.
Eighteen summers old, flower of
youth,
An image of Prophet, from head to
foot.
Qasim, was his brother Hassan's
child
He was, like his father, by nature
mild
His father had willed before he had
died
A tawiz he prepared and, to his hand,
he tied.
It only be read, was his wish
dear
By Husayn, when his end was near
He remembered this will of his
brother
Now that he would soon be
murdered.
It was willed that Qasim should
wed
Fatema Qubra, ere his blood was
shed
Husayn's darling daughter was
she
To wed her to Qasim, too glad was
he.
A wedding with dowry as
widowhood!
A feast without water and food!
A bridegroom with few hour to
live!
A bride with only tears to give!
Such was the wedding in Karbala's
field
Which Husayn, with his blood, would
till
So that the plant of Islam may live
anew
For sake of lovers of God, though
very few.
Husayn wished that Ali Akbar, his
dearest son,
Should be the first to go to the
battleground
His devoted friends and followers
were aghast
They refused to entertain such idea
- first or last.
Now were left with Husayn, only the
next of kin
Ali Akbar, bowed reverentially and
stood before him
Husayn, looked at his face; was he
daydreaming?
He has come to seek permission; the
words were ringing!
He tried to say something, amidst
the enemies' war-like cries
With considerable effort, he whispered,
with downcast eyes
"Akbar, my beloved child, you wish
me to see you slain
What I am experiencing, at this moment,
I can hardly explain!"
"How can I grant you permission,
Akbar, my son?
Knowing that none have returned,
not even one!
The call of duty, however, makes
me helpless
Ask you mother and aunt, who are
restless."
His aunt, Zaynab and Umm Layla, his
mother dear
Knew that it was now the turn of
all those near
Who went first to the battlefield,
and who went last,
Was a matter of time, which was running
very fast.
Akbar, knew the affection his aunt,
Zaynab had for him
Of the pangs of sorrow, she was,
since morn experiencing
He looked at her face and that of
his mother
They were speechless at the thought
of his murder.
"Let it not be said of my respected
father Husayn,
He spared me till his brothers and
nephews were slain,
I implore you, by the love you bear
for your brother,
Let me die first and quench my thirst,
at Houz-e-Kawther."
"May God be with you, my son", Umm
Layla said,
"With you, I shall loose all I have,
my lad
What destiny has in store for me,
I am fully aware
After you, for pleasure and pain,
I shall not care."
Death was now beckoning Ali Akbar,
"come, my son, come!"
Amidst war-like shouts of enemy,
amidst battle drums
The cries of the ladies and children,
were most woeful
To die in the prime of youth, even
death was mournful!
Ali Akbar was now facing the enemy's
forces
He was addressing them with such
eloquence
The older ones were blinking their
eyes in amazement
Has Prophet descended from heaven,
his son to lament?
Omar Saad saw the magic spell, the
words had cast
All would soon be lost, if he allowed
this to last
He exhorted his men; he whipped their
gold lust
"Emaciated is he by three days of
hunger and thirst."
He met the hounds in battle, one
by one
Was this Ali himself? Each battle
he won.
The winds were whispering "La Fatha
Illa Ali
La Saif Illa Zulfiqar" most
solemnly.
Such was the skill and prowess in
fighting
Heads rolled on with speed of
lightening
None dared come forward from the
enemy's rank
Cowards were they; their hearts had
shrank.
Through wounds, though victorious,
in single fights
The blood was gushing; thirsty was
his plight
He had left his mother, in a dazed
condition
Irresistible was the urge, to see
his dear ones.
His father was anxiously watching
his son's heroic deeds
His mother and aunt were behind,
to attend to his needs
They watched his face; it reflected
the progress of fight
If any calamity befell Ali Akbar,
dim would grow the light.
"O, Allah, who brought back Ismail
to Hajra!
O, Allah, who listened to the mother
of Moosa!
O, Allah, who reunited Yakub with
Yusuf, his son!
Grant us our wish, to see Ali Akbar,
for once."
Was it the effect of these prayers,
of his mother and aunt
That brought Ali Akbar back to his
father's tent?
With an exclamation of joy and relief
they clung to him
"Bravo, my son! Such a fight the
world has not seen!"
"Father, the thirst is killing me;
Ah, these wounds!
For victories in combat, it is usual
to ask a boon
A refreshing cup of water, is all
that I ask and need
But alas! I know not even a drop,
you can feed."
Ali Akbar, met his family including
mother and father
The second parting was equally sad,
perhaps even sadder
Fizza, the faithful maid, was
disconsolate with grief
And so were Zaynab and Umm Layla,
to be very brief.
As he rode away, Husayn walked for
some distance behind him
Was it his sacrificial lamb? O, what
a heart rending scene!
When Akbar disappeared from his sight,
he turned heaven-wards
"O, Allah, be thou witness, your
plans, I have not disturbed."
"O, Allah, Thou art, my witness,
on this mournful day
One, whom I loved, and cherished
most, I have sent away
To defend the cause of righteousness
and truth
And to fight the forces of the devil
and his brutes."
He sat on the ground; he looked all
round in vain
He received a wailing call, a call
of anguish and pain
Though Husayn, and his people, were
expecting such a call
A ghastly effect, it had on all of
them, one and all.
"Father, Akbar, is with a mortal
wound, in his chest
Father do come to me, please hurry,
and try your best
If you are unable to reach me, your
dear son,
I convey my salutations, to you and
my dear ones."
He rose from the ground and fell;
he rose again and fell again
He struggled to his feet; his heart
was in terrifying pain
Torrential tears were flooding his
eyes; it was awesome!
He rushed hither and thither; from
where had the cry come?
He was sobbing; uncontrollable and
tragic was his condition
"Akbar, give me a shout, so that
I can follow its direction
Akbar, my sight is gone; Akbar I
van hardly hear your cry
Is there nobody in this world to
guide me, to where you lie?"
To the side of his master, Abbas
soon came rushing
Holding his hand, he led him to where
Akbar was lying
Ah, the tragic sight! Akbar, lying
in a pool of his own blood
Blood, blood, blood all around; the
blood itself was in flood!
Writhing in unbearable pain and digging
his feet in sand
His breathing was now heavier; on
his heart was his hand
A gurgling sound was coming, from
his parched throat
An uneven struggle with death, a
fast sinking boat!
And so passed away the brave one,
the angelic soul
With a smile on his face, he reached
his heavenly goal
Leaving Husayn back-broken and utterly
inconsolable
God was a witness; the sacrifice
was without parallel!
The days of our youth, are the days
of our treasure
To some, life is doled out in a different
measure
Surging, in young hearts, are the
hopes and feelings
With every nerve and sinews, quivering
with joy of living.
Some budding flowers are swept away,
by the winds of doom
Before they have an opportunity to
blossom and bloom
Such was the destiny of Husayn's
three beloved nephews
Such rare Gems, they were limited,
and sparingly a few.
Three innocent lads, barely in their
teens
Husayn's nephews - Aun, Muhammad
and Qasim
Were closeted together to discuss
their role
For that fateful day, clear was their
goal!
To seek Husayn's permission, was
their main task
What should they say? How should
they ask?
Seriously they discussed for quite
some time
To die as martyrs, was in their family
line.
How commendable was the behavior
of these three young ones
There was no sign of childishness
or immaturity; no, none!
They were neither nervous nor, in
any way scared
The chances of survival was nil,
they were fully aware.
Qasim, abruptly left; he entered
the tent
Umm Farwa, his mother, her head was
bent
Engrossed in her thoughts - Hassan's
widow
Was thinking of her son and the
morrow.
"Do you know, why I called you, Qasim,
my son?
To remind you of your duty to your
uncle Husayn
Hassan and Husayn, were so much devoted
to each other,
More than what children are to their
father and mother.
He wanted you to deputize for him,
on this day
It was your father's wish that, come
what may,
You should stand by Husayn, through
unflinching devotion
To defend Husayn, should be your
life's sacred mission."
A load was of his head; how thoughtful
of his father
To have provided for this situation,
and one still harder
A letter for Husayn, containing his
dying desire
"Qasim, shall deputize for me, since
I have from the world retired."
"My children! Do you know what tomorrow
has in store?
Zaynab's near and dear ones will
be no more.
All the vendetta nurtured, all these
years,
Will rise like snakes; strike them
down without fear!"
"I want both of you, my dear beloved
sons
To defend uncle Husayn and his priceless
children"
How relieved they felt, and what
a pleasant surprise
The hurdle was over; they had hardly
surmised.
After a pause she added, "when I
was leaving Mecca,
It was the wish of your father,
Abdulla
You my son, Aun, should deputize
for him
] And you my child, Muhammad, be
my offering."
With folded hands, Zaynab addressed
her brother
"In my whole life, have I asked for
a favor?
For the first time, grant me, my
one wish,
Let my sons follow Ali Akbar, to
the abode of bliss."
"Go forward my children and fulfill
your desire
Die like heroes and from physical
world retire
I shall soon join you on your journey
to eternity
Convey my salutations to the Heaven's
fraternity."
My humble tributes to your dear ones,
O, Zaynab!
The two darling youngsters marched
like lion cubs
Brave was their bearing, brave the
stance,
Tiny little swords, soon clashed
with enemy's lance.
The dust lifted itself to give a
clearer view
Enemy soldiers were battling with
Husayn's nephews
"Bravo! My sons," was it the voice
of Ja'far-e-Tayyar?
Watching from the heavens, was the
famed winged warrior!
And why not? It was Muhammad his
grandchild
It was a heroic fight, with numerous
corpses piled
Some distance away, was his younger
brother, Aun
Fortunate were they, to whom such
sons were born.
Against heavy odds, as was obviously
expected
Both fell heroically fighting; so
it was fated
What a heart rending scene it was,
O Merciful God!
Only the brave heart of Zaynab could
endure the dart.
As was the practice, they started
beating the battle drums
The butchery of two innocent lads,
to them it was fun
The usual cry, challenging the young
defenders of faith
To come out in the battlefield, to
face their fate.
Qasim, rushed with letter to his
uncle dear
There was a crowd round him, how
could he go near?
The corpses of Aun and Muhammad,
had just been brought in
Such wailing and weeping, he had
neither heard, nor seen.
Clad in his father's clothes, he
looked his very image
Aided by his mother, he pushed forward,
taking courage
With letter in hand, he respectfully
presented himself
The weeping Husayn looked up; had
Hassan come to help?
He read the letter of his beloved
brother
He wept bitterly; he could read no
further
His last desire, how could he not
honor
When his love had permeated, every
nook and corner.
Qasim fought bravely, though a youth
of fourteen
He hurled the enemy one by one; what
a wonderful scene!
Swords, spears, daggers and arrows,
flew from all sides
Wounded from head to foot, he did
not run or hide.
Falling from the saddle, he gave
a gallant valiant cry
Crushed under horses' hoofs, scattered
the pieces lie
Husayn, the immortal Husayn, collected
the mortal remains
It was his dear Hassan's offerings,
in the cause of Islam.
One against thousands - can it be
called a fight?
Killing an innocent lad, it caused
them delight
They thought they were doing something
great
It was a spillage of their past game
of hate.
Smeared with blood, on the shifting
sand dunes of Karbala
Lay a figure of youth, on the banks
of Alkoma
The crimson life tide was ebbing
fast, very fast
He was anxiously awaiting somebody,
ere he breathed his last.
Through his parched throat, he was
feebly calling somebody
His master had heeded the call, since
morn, of everybody
To rush to the side of his dying
friends, was his image
Despite thousand shocks, and famished
body, he had not budged.
Who is this man, with indomitable
courage, one may ask?
He is the standard bearer of forces,
that are no more, alas!
A pillar of strength, the full moon
of the Hashemites,
A beautiful specimen of manliness;
a glorious sight!
Before a man's death, all past events
fly in a flashback
Abbas, was seeing them, lying on
the burning sand tracts
How, as a child, he followed his
Master, Husayn
To attend to his every need; to see
that none caused him pain.
He was in reverie, for quite
sometime,
Scene after scene, passed the memory's
mind
He suddenly remembered, Sakina, with
forty-two other kids
Had urged him for water, to meet
their barest needs.
How like an enraged lion, he had
charged at the enemies' ranks
Like a knife piercing butter, he
had reached the riverbank
He had filled the bag of water, without
tasting a single drop
His horse also refrained, though
it was not at all stopped.
One thought was in his mind; how
to reach water,
For his dear little Sakina, Husayn's
youngest daughter
Both his hands were cut, while on
his way back
Pierced with arrows, empty was the
leather bag.
He tossed on the burning sand; unbearable
was the pain
Life was ebbing fast out; his wish
to see his master remained
"O, my master! I beseech you, do
come before I die"
One eye was pierced with an arrow;
blood was in the other eye.
At last, he heard Husayn's voice,
a half sob, a muffled cry
"Abbas, my brother, what have they
done to you!" he cried
Uncontrollable was his grief, "You
have come, at last, my Master!"
He was sobbing; his breath was now
much faster.
Husayn lifted his head; Abbas put
it back on the sand
"My Master! When your life will be
wrung by cruel hands
Nobody will be there, in this world,
to comfort thee
Let my head remain, in the same position,
as yours would be!"
"My Master, I have some last wishes
to express"
Completely drenched in blood was
his dress
"When I was born, I had a first look
at your face
When I die, on your face, I want
to fix my gaze."
"Please clear the blood from my one
eye
Let me fulfill my last wish, before
I die
Do not carry my body to the
KHAIMAGA
I had promised to bring water for
SAKINA."
"Since I have failed, I cannot face
her, even in death
Nor bring Sakina here, to see her
uncle's miserable fate"
The flow of Furrat became turbulent
and dark as winter
A murmur arose, at the cruel and
unwarranted slaughter.
"Abbas, I too have a wish to be
fulfilled
You know well, I too have not much
time to live
Since childhood, you have always
called me Master
For once, with your dying breath,
call me Brother."
The blood was cleared; the pierced
arrow removed
One brother looked long at another,
along lingering look
Abbas was heard to whisper, "My brother,
my brother!"
With these words, he surrendered,
his soul to his CREATOR.
Though ten months old, he looked
barely six
Famished and thirsty, his stare was
fixed
Taking out his parched tongue, he
turned it on his lips
Small were it's wants; a little water
to sip!
Ali Asghar uttered a heart rending
moan; a tragic sight!
It tore asunder, the hapless mother's
sinking plight
"Sire, dying of thirst, is my small
innocent child
Do something to save him, Umm Rabab
frantically cried."
To Yazid's force, he carried Ali
Asghar in his arms
Wrapped under his robes, they thought
it was holy Quran
A little water for the child, he
appealed, again and again
They threw arrows instead, to their
everlasting shame.
What cruel men were these heartless
brutes?
An innocent child, what harm could
it do?
An arrow pierced its parched and
thirsty throat
Providing water is a must, even while
killing a goat!
Anxious was the mother, for the return
of the child
Husayn's face was dripping with blood;
a gruesome sight!
Her heart sank; shattered were her
hopes, forever
The picture was clear; Ali Asghar
was no more!
Alone, all alone, with none to befriend
him
It was all clear; it needed no special
vision
The time was up for the long awaited
supreme test
Husayn was not found wanting; he
was at his best.
How can a man, in midst of such
calamities and disastrous times
Retain his faith in God, and maintain
the balance of his mind,
It's difficult to imagine nor can
be explained
Subject to such supreme test himself
was Husayn.
The challenges of the enemy were
growing in tempo
The sun was now declining, there
was no time to go
Few words of advice, he gave most
lovingly to each
A touching farewell, a most cherished
deed!
The farewell between Husayn and
Zaynab
Was as sorrowful as between a mother
and cub
Parting with Sakina, was no less
difficult
It was a heart-rending episode,
poignantly built!
Standing near Husayn, looking at
his face
His darling child was speechless
and dazed
All his courage could not steel his
heart
To tell Sakina, he was leaving her,
alas!
Leaving her to the world, unkind
to her
To fate, with only sufferings in
store
He kissed her cheeks, wet with
tears
To be slapped for mourning her father
dear.
Putting Sakina down, he hurried to
the tent
Ali Zainal Abedeen was lying full
bent
He was unconscious, his twenty-five
years old son
Chosen to live with death, he was
the one.
"My appointed hour is near; wake
up, Zainal Abedeen!"
Aroused from stupor, he was shocked,
beyond dream
Husayn's transformation was beyond
any description
Gaping wounds, snow-white hair, bent
back; ah these fiends!
"O, God! What have the enemies done
to my father?
Where is uncle Abbas, my brother,
Ali Akbar
And my cousins, Qasim, Aun and
Muhammad?"
He inquired; unaware, that they were
all dead.
Husayn explained to him all things
he knew
It was now his turn, he had come
to bid adieu
"Father, so long, I live, you cannot
go and die
Let me go instead; let me hold the
banner high."
Husayn gently put him down; he could
not even sit
Burning with fever, he was famished
and seriously sick
"You shall remain in bed, my beloved
ailing son
As you father, and spiritual head,
I command."
"This is the beginning, not the end,
of your terrible woes
Undescribeable trials and tribulations,
you shall undergo
Destiny has singled you out, my son,
to demonstrate
Faith, in the trial hour, is the
real crusade!"
"Accompany your mother and other
ladies in captivity
Bound in chain, suffer insults and
indignities
Through Kufa and Damascus, you will
be soon paraded
In the court of the tyrant, you will
be humiliated."
"Your sufferings will be far worse
than death
Death is a reliever of things, destined
by fate."
He clasped his son, in a loving lingering
last embrace
Unbearable grief, Zainal Abedeen
was unable to face.
He fell unconscious; the agony he
was spared
Of seeing the departure of his father
aged
How merciful is God; no, none can
dispute it
Through trials and tribulations,
virtues he highlights!
Husayn spurred his horse, Zuljanah,
to move on
Glued to the spot, it did not budge
nor respond
Famished, hungry, wounded, it was
no doubt
It's behavior was inexplicable; it
could not shout.
It bent its head towards the burning
ground
Sakina was clinging to its hoofs,
Husayn soon found
"Do not take my Dad to the
battlefield!"
She was imploring the aged faithful
steed.
Exhausted, her moaning was hardly
audible
Her condition was extremely sad and
pitiable
Husayn jumped down; both clung to
each other
Choked with sobs, they cried their
hearts together
To sleep on his chest, was her last
desire
Before he departed to face the enemies'
fire
His chest, was her nest since
birth
What was now left, save this little
comfort?
She clung to him, as she had never
done before
"No, father, to the battle field,
I will not let you go!"
With supreme effort, Husayn controlled
his feelings
Shocked, she was beyond imagination,
by gruesome killings.
He consoled his child, as best as
he could
What was at stake, she soon
understood
He promised her, he would pray to
God,
To join her soon in the heavenly
ward.
So eloquent was his speech; they
remembered Ali
Greed was overpowering; their minds
were sullied
Their task was nearing completion;
they were elated
Extravagant rewards, for annihilation,
they were bated.
He earnestly implored them, again
and again
To save themselves from ever-lasting
shame
And not be partners in Yazid's foul
game
As posterity would condemn their
names,
Now that his job was more than
done
He called to witness, all and
one
Lest on Judgement day, they should
plead
Their blindness to the foul
deed.
Omar Saad was perturbed; he tried
to act tough
"Husayn, in your condition, my weakest
soldier is enough.
Accept the one and only condition,
we have imposed;
Accept Yazid's competence, religious
matters to dispose."
The taunting words aroused Husayn's
wrath
The Hashemite blood was raging and
boiling hot
He was the son of Ali, the Lion of
the Almighty God
Fierce was his ire; the devils were
aghast.
"Omar Saad, I accept your challenge,"
you knave
"In single combat, I will fight your
bravest of brave."
Shaken by Husayn's words, none dared
come forward
Courage they had none; they were
all cowards.
He faced the foes, they were all
scared
To meet him in single combat, not
one dared
They attacked enmasse, the cowardly
ones
Little they realized, it was Ali's
son.
The archers fired a volley of deadly
arrows
Swords, scimitars and daggers, flew
like sparrows
Sword in hand, he cut through each
flank
Utter confusion prevailed in enemies'
ranks.
Swift was his movement; well trained
his charger
With incredible speed, he did them
scatter
The hounds retreated; they licked
their wounds
Their boastful shouts, whimpered
without a sound!
The road to the rivulet was now
clear
There lay the corpse of his dear
brother
"Abbas, did you see your brother's
last fight?
Why don't you say bravo, to me, heavenly
light!"
Husayn looked at the sky, the sun
was declining
It was time for prayers, the world
was reclining
Availing of the respite, he sheathed
his sword
Though he knew full well, he could
ill afford.
Their fiendish minds could hardly
understand
To think of prayers, how could any
man,
In such circumstances, even think,
or dream
The like of Husayn, they had not
seen!
After hurried consultations, from
a safe distance
The archers fired arrows, from all
sides, all at once
Accompanied by stones, missiles and
burning coal
To kill him somehow, clear was the
goal.
Wounded all over, the missiles kept
on showering
With blood oozing fast, dizziness
was overpowering
His mission was complete; the fight
was over!
To hide from Zaynab, he looked around
for cover.
"Zuljanah, take me far away to a
low lying ground
My family should not see my head
being cut", by hounds
Such was the understanding of his
master's wishes
It immediately bolted to a place
free of crisis.
Realizing his master was unable to
dismount
It knelt and slid him gently to the
ground
From a small hillock, Zaynab watched
her brother
Seeing him unconscious, she darted
like a mother.
In his sub-conscious mind, he saw
the Prophets of Yore
Wailing and whining for him were
those, who were no more
The Prophet was in tears, Fatima
was disconsolate
Ali and Hassan, were helplessly watching
his fate.
On his burning forehead, he felt
something cool
Was it the hand of his mother or
the blood pool?
His senses revived; he opened his
blood-red eyes
Zuljanah was shielding him, the sun
was high.
He remembered, why he has stopped
his fight
To offer prayers, despite his vulnerable
plight
With prostrated head, he addressed
his CREATOR
The world had not witnessed such
a WORSHIPPER.
"Thou art my witness, O, my most
beloved God,
I have fulfilled my mission, without
hesitation, my Lord;
Without squirming, faltering,
complaining, O' God,
To Thy decree, and Thy dispensation,
I submit, O' Lord!"While Husayn was still in prayer,
Omar Saad pondered
"Cut off his head," he thought to
himself and soon ordered
Willing to wound, but mortally afraid
to strike
None could master the courage, so
great was the fright.
He himself went forth, by his side
was Shimr
Husayn was lying prostrate, his head
in prayer
His lips were moving; can it be he
was cursing?
They bent over to hear what he was
saying.
"I beseech Thee, with all humility,
O' Allah!
Forgive, the erring ones, of their
trespasses
Thou art, the most BENIFICIENT, the
most FORGIVING!"
Can there be a being, more compassionate,
more loving?
The prayers were almost concluded,
they were afraid
He was Ali's son, none could dare
under-estimate
Shimr jumped on his back, with sword
in one hand
Too weak with loss of blood. Only
his head he turned.
"O, Shimr, give me water, I am
thirsty
Then accomplish your task." However
dirty
Zaynab rushed out, she was on the
scene
"Save my brother!' she imploringly
screamed.
She appealed to Omar Saad, again
and again
To give little water, to save the
life of Husayn
He contemptuously turned his face,
in utter disdain
O' you fiend! O' you slur on Islam's
name!
Her humiliation was watched by
Husayn
He was in greatest of agony and
pain
"For the sake of love, you bear for
me
Please return to the camp
immediately."
She rushed back to her nephew, Ali
Zainal Abedeen
Shaking him from stupor, she narrated
the scene
In the dusty panorama, they soon
saw a spear
Husayn's head was on it, without
malice, without fear!
