A Collection of Poems

Sorrows and Sufferings
A Collection of Poems on
the martyrdom of the grandson of Holy Prophet Muhammad (S.A.W.)
Imam Husayn (A.S.)
By: Noorali S. Merchant

(1) THE SCENE PRIOR TO ISLAM
It was a desolate land: sandy, barren, and unfriendly The home of the Arabs; wild ferocious and manly They worshipped the idols; they loved to fight Life to them was wine, women and might
The number of wives, the cattle they owned, The number of slaves, one's house adorned, Was a sign of rank in wealth and might; It was a society, where Might was Right.
Two qualities they had, which were good The guests they honored, with best of food Poetry to them, was an art supremely sublime They were literary geniuses of their time.
They killed female babes, they buried them alive They married the widows, their father's wives Vengeance was a passion, cruel the strife These sons of desert, such was their life.
Morals they had none; wild was their lust Women were cattle, treated like dust Enjoyment of life was their sole goal Woman, they believed, had no soul.
They had no belief in the life Hereafter Life to them was all fun and laughter Prophets had come and prophets had gone Still, this land was of truth shorn.
Judaism was dead; Christianity was in name Sickly and forlorn, the world remained Vengeance, to them, was an article of faith Blindly, they relished their creed of hate.
The priests were interpreters of heavenly laws They commanded respect and were held in awe Things that were unlawful, to them were allowed A privileged class; they were haughty and proud.
In span of four thousand and odd years Innumerable religions had been reared With passage of time, they were polluted Beyond recognition, each got diluted.
The true religions were only in name It was virtually a devils reign Truth was at a discount; honesty had fled Virtue was scoffed at; goodness was dead.
This land was thus chosen for God's last message It was the crossroad of international passage The last of message was thus destined, To stay forever and cover all mankind

2) BIRTH OF ISLAM
God chose the Hashemites, a tribe of Quraish They were among men, the noblest of race He raised among them, a self-literate boy To deliver His message; to bring them joy.
Muhammad was his name, whom God had chose Al-Amin (the truthful) called him his foes The keeper of KAABA, was his grand sire A rank than which, there was none higher.
Adam, Nooh, Ibrahim, Ismail, Moosa, Daa-ood, Eesa and other Prophets of Allah Testified that, from time immemorial, Muhammad Mustafa, Had been proclaimed the seal of Prophets of Allah
He lost his sire, ere he was born Five years later, his mother was gone Abd-al-Motalib was his grand sire, Two years later, he too expired.
The orphan boy was now his uncle's charge Abu Talib was glad, this responsibility, to discharge He looked after the boy as his own son So long he lived, dared touch him none.
He was of a reserved bent of mind With burning desire, solace he tried to find In the marvels of nature and forms diverse He tried to fathom the mysteries of universe.
At twenty-five, he married a noble widow; Khadija had watched him by a cloud over-shadow Though forty, she remained in her lifetime, his only wife Twenty-five years long was their married life.
One daughter they had, named Lady Fatima Through her were born guardians of KALIMA She was married to Ali, Abu Talib's son He was renowned in courage like a lion.
In the House of God was Ali born It's walls the idols then adorned They were a hapless witness to his birth A man who would soon smash them to earth.
These gods of Arabs could find no way Powerless were they, while Ali in cradle lay This mortal foe of theirs, was something divine His luster made their eyes turn blind.
On Muhammad, he first cast his eyes He was destined with him all his ties He sucked his tongue, in solemn gait In one mould they were cast by fate.
Ali grew in the Prophet's care His joys and sorrows, he shared He imbibed qualities that are rare With him, he made a heavenly pair.
Thus Imamat was born as adjunct to Nubuwat Beyond scope of political intrigues and Satan Twelve successors were named, by Divine Grace To guide, for all times, the human race.

3) PREACHINGS AND INITIAL STRUGGLE
He preached Islam, as ordained by God Pure and simple is the MESSAGE of Lord "There is no God but God, Muhammad is the Messenger of Lord!"
A most practical religion of selfless love is Islam To develop body and soul, without causing anyone harm Most rational and logical in concept Viewed from every angle, even in depth.
Five fundamental principles he, steadfastly proclaimed Ten holy commandments he, unambiguously, named Monotheism, Divine Justice, Prophethood, Imamat And the day of Resurrection, were the five pillars of Islam's Hut Five times Namaz, one must pray A month's fasting, during the day Zakat, Khums, Pilgrimage, for them, he ordained, Who fulfilled the conditions, he proclaimed.
Defend the honor of Islam and self, he commanded Disassociate yourself from its enemies, he demanded Pursuit of missionary activities, out of love and not hate Love and loyalty, he sought, for his "Ahle-bait".
He taught them the 'Unity of God' And the diverse attributes of the Lord He was the giver of daily bread On the Judgement Day, He would raise all dead.
God is the focal point of all life Through Him flows peace, driving out strife If man joyfully submits himself to Him, This life, and hereafter, he would win.
God created human beings, out of His Grace Best of creation was the human race He endowed it with such guiding light, To discern the wrong from the right.
A heavenly reward for the doer of good And for those, who for truth stood A blazing hell for the doer of evil Who shall dwell with the king of the devils.
He cultivated the values of life Equal partners were man and wife A man was brother, one to another Respect they should, their father and mother.
Those who look after the needy orphans, The anger of God would be softened Those who care for the uncared widows, Can aspire for heaven's meadows.
And those who treat their slaves well, Shall not normally taste the fire of hell Those who free them from bondage, Shall generally be immune from hell's rage.
Truth was the base of all his teachings Unity of God, a constant theme of his preaching Charity, love and faith were to him most sublime Brotherhood, was his solution for the ills of mankind His offer was not of sensual heaven, As alleged by biased heathens But a bliss of highest spiritual essence Of enjoying the radiance of Divine presence.
Live in this world and yet be out of it Self discipline; not celibacy is the holy writ Physical body is, indeed, perishable but not the soul Service before self should be life's goal.
He first invited his near if kin And declared to them his mission He asked whether he had ever told a lie "No never"! In one voice, was their reply.
He invited them to the path of 'truth' A path which in heaven had its roots Blessed would they be, in this world and the next Most fortunate possessors of the Divine text.
"Who, among you, will be my brother and heir And with me God's mission share."
They exchanged glances; they ridiculed and scorned Only Ali stood by him, alone and forlorn.
Thrice did he repeat his request Each time only Ali rose to his behest Holding him by his hand, he declared, "Behold, he is my brother and heir!"
In public he now started to preach But soon a stage was reached When like a fugitive he was stoned And place to place, forced to roam.
For years was thus his plight Only Ali aided him in his fight Far and few were the conversions So fierce was the persecution.
In burning sand, with stones on his chest, A new convert stood his gallant test; "Ahadun! Ahadun!" (One God) Bilal cried, But refused his faith to be decried.
Such were the tortures they had to face, For believing in God and the new faith Handful were they, old men, mostly slaves With courage, all difficulties they braved.
A day soon came, when it was declared That those who could, to Abysinia, should migrate Few persons made up the small group Ja'far, Ali's brother, commanded this troop.
The Quraish were furious; they sent their envoys They requested the king to return the exiles The king was just; he rejected their plea He sheltered the poor Muslim refugees.
The wrath of Quraish reached the boiling point To murder Muhammad, they planned conjoint They chose a person, one from each tribe So that no vengeance could take the Hashemites.
The plans to Muhammad, God soon revealed And desired, that he should ward the evil And leave for Medina, the same very night Letting Ali sleep in his bed and aid his flight.
Soon was the house surrounded by those, Armed cap-a-pie were each of the foes With handful of dust, Muhammad blew his fist And calmly walked through their midst.
They raided his house, ere it was morn Surprised to see Ali, the bed adorn; "Where is Muhammad?" they demanded, "where is he?"
"Did you entrust him to me, that you ask of me?"
Foiled in their attempt, they started a search "Dead or alive, capture him", they urged Thus started a hunt, for three days long They searched all over, including caves.
The Prophet's companion became scared As enemies' shouts increasingly filled the air "We are lost, we two", helplessly, he cried "No! We are three, for God is with us". Muhammad replied.
Tired and forlorn, he slept under a tree When rushed a foe: " who will now save thee?"
"God", was the reply; it thunder struck the foe, Trembling, he dropped his sword and bowed.
"Who will now save thee?" Muhammad cried "Alas, none!" the foe imploringly replied "Learn from me to be merciful" he said As was his want, he pardoned him instead.
He reached Medina, a poor fugitive Except a new way of life, he had nothing to give Yet, he was welcomed with open arms This was a turning point for Islam He paired them, one with the other And showed the brotherhood, how to further Himself with Ali, he lovingly paired Because the same heavenly light, they shared.

(4) THE ORIGINS OF KARBALA'S TRAGEDY
Life is an eternal conflict of truth and evil God having granted power to the devil To rule the hearts of those who love this world And care not the banner of truth to unfurl.
The forces of darkness were perturbed For soon their kingdom would be disturbed At first, they ridiculed and scoffed To their dismay, they found themselves dwarfed.
They fumed and fret; threatened and cajoled They offered Muhammad a chief's role They asked him to stop preaching Islam Or else they would cause him bodily harm.
Abu Sufyan was their chief - a mortal foe The grandson of Ommaya, the lowest of low The progeny of Abd Shams, the brother of Hashim They were steeped in enmity, which was ever lasting.
Envious were they, of the position of Hashim Whom God had honored with things everlasting Muhammad was thus their bitter foe Whom they longed to see cast low.
Karun, Firaun, Namarood and Suddad The four aces of arch-devil Iblis' cards Were the brains behind the notorious Abu Sufyan To destroy Islam and cause Muhammad harm.
Harut and Marut, the two fallen angels, were glad The four Aces had mastered everything evil and bad Abu Sufyan became their living agent To them his services he joyfully lent.
They issued the call, they summoned aid Each helper, they said, would be well paid Thus started persecution of the new faith, With all means that symbolized envy and hate.
They thought to themselves, the easiest way, We are Muslims why not say?
Hit from within the Hashemites That would throttle Islam, without a fight.
The decree of God none can stop It flows like a river, with a drop to start None can withhold its onward march Be they friends or foes at large.
And so was the case with Islam's flow Many became Muslims, just for show Pagans at heart, they hid their line To wreck vengeance, in course of time.
They behaved as friends; they cloaked their pretense For Muslims in name, were they from hence
They spread their tentacles, in many homes They tightened their grip over Islam's dome.
Ali, they knew, was the seedling's strength To guard it, he would go to any length He would with pleasure sacrifice his rights Rather than see Islam hurt in a fight.
They knew, that Ali was just a lad When his mission, the Prophet declared He was among the first to profess Islam And stand by the Prophet through storm and calm.
When others ridiculed and threatened He stood, by him alone, and unfrightened He declared him his brother and heir Destined to serve and his mission share.
They had heard Muhammad at Khybar declare "This Alam is for one whose qualities are rare He is the beloved of Muhammad and his God Ever victorious is he, in the cause of Lord."
They had had also heard the sermon at Ghadir-e-khum It left, for doubt, hardly any room Ali was Muhammad's heir, by God's decree Assigned to keep Islam pure and free.
They had watched him even before How Ali in stature grew more and more He slept in Prophet's bed in the midst of strife While hundreds lay in ambush, each with a knife.
The Prophet's end was drawing near The dissension started, as he had feared He ordered the dissenter's to go to war But they guessed what the order was for.
Death of the Prophet was a grievous blow Old enmities erupted like a volcano Busy with the funeral were the Hashemites, Unheedful of the maneuverings and internal strife.
Abu Bakr was declared Caliph in the interim He soon nominated Omar, to succeed him The Caliphate became, thereafter, Othman's turn Before the mantle, despite opposition, on Ali dawned.
Ali, with his characteristic zeal, lost no time He acted sternly, to save Islam from further decline Firmly entrenched in power by now, the Ommayad's frowned And dared the simple and straightforward Ali for a showdown.
The hero of Islam knew neither malice nor fear Renowned warriors had fled before him from the rear He defeated the crafty Moawiyah, time and again But alas! Treachery and trickery ultimately gained.
The internal rot had spread too deep, alas! Corruption and nepotism was practiced en-masse Ali, had soon to pay with his dear and precious life Engrossed in prayers, he was struck with a knife.
And so was the case with his eldest son, Most generous of all men was Hassan He was fond of recluse and quietude He was the symbol of patience and fortitude.
The roots of seedling were still shallow A little shake up would render the ground fallow Muhammad's labor would thus be wasted Before the world its fruit had tasted.
And thus the treaty with Moawiyah Hassan chose Rather than fight him like an open foe The time was not ripe for the showdown A lot remained for preparing the ground.
This he knew would fall to Husayn's lot To put his foot down and stop the rot It would cost his life there was no doubt But it had to be timed the tyranny to oust.

(5) YAZID'S DEMAND FOR ALLEGIANCE
In the treaty which Hassan and Moawiyah signed Moawiyah had himself agreed; it was underlined
The question of successor, would not be imposed But be left to Muslims as they pleased to dispose.
No sooner was the said treaty signed A campaign was re-started, Ali's name to malign And to build up Yazid, against people's voice As heir to the Caliphate, the best of choice.
With rise of Moawiyah, virtue was shamelessly replaced The democratic rule of Islam, was likewise displaced The oligarichal rule of heathen was triumphant The attendant vice and immorality were rampant.
The wealth from his subjects, he pitilessly extracted He lavished on the mercenaries, who were fully protected They, in turn, helped to repress ruthlessly all murmuring With fraud and treachery, were smashed all rumblings.
Before he died, Moawiyah summoned his aides The oath of fealty to Yazid, he made them take This was Yazid's solitary title to the Caliphate It was assumed, as if it was his father's heritage.
Cruel and treacherous was he, as notorious as his father He lacked pretence, to cloak the game of murder His depraved nature knew absolutely no pity or justice He was addicted to the vilest and grossest of vices.
His friends were outcasts of both sexes He killed and tortured for pleasure and taxes Such was the Caliph, Commander of the Faithful A being, whose entire bearings, was most hateful.
Husayn was in Medina; a message was received By the local governor, in an envelope sealed Obtain his allegiance, was the strict command Kill him on the spot, if he refuses the demand.
The governor was unnerved, he was perplexed To kill Husayn in Medina was no easy t ask He consulted Marwan; he summoned Husayn Who well knew Yazid's dirty and nefarious game.
Husayn point blank refused to acknowledge The title of tyrant; of falsehood and subterfuge His character, he regarded with contempt and abhorrence His vices he despised, no less than his arrogance.
He returned to his grandfather's earthly abode He dreamt of the Prophet, in tearful voice he spoke " O, son of mine, O thou art a part of me, The enemies are bent to torment and slay thee."
Accompanied by Zainab he visited the tomb of his mother What a heart rending scene it was; it caused a shudder!
It was Husayn's last farewell before the fateful journey Guided by the unseen hand of - shall we say, Destiny The fateful hour had arrived for the long awaited fight Between forces of darkness and Angels of Light Husayn knew that from childhood he had been reared To perform this sacred mission, he knew absolutely no fear.
"For Mecca I leave, and then for a place beyond" For a farewell pilgrimage, the plans were drawn
Hurried preparations were made for the journey An unknown destination was on the itinerary.

(6) THE JOURNEY TO MECCA
It was 26th of Rajab sixty-first of Hijri The heat was unbearable, boiling point the degree The caravan was ready with young and old This was the day, the Prophet had foretold "A day will soon came when my dearest Husayn Will leave Medina, in indescribable grief and pain To meet his fateful destiny, in a far off land With his family and few friends, a tiny band"
With grief in the air, the atmosphere was surcharged With heavy hearts the Medinites silently watched Can it be true that their most beloved Husayn, With his family and friends, would all be slain?"
They pleaded with him to drop the risky journey He was priceless in all terms, including money Or take with him their strong young men with arms Who would ensure him against any possible harm They also pleaded that Ali Akbar be left behind So that, when memory of Prophet came to their mind They could look to him, for he was his very image, From head to foot, in looks, mannerism and gait.
Husayn was silent, how could he explain?
Islam was sinking! There were many to be blamed!
It was his martyr's cup, how could he reveal The plan of God to erase the cancerous evil.
He apologized; to grant their wish he was not able Such love, such feelings were indeed laudable!
He would, however, remember them in his prayer His daughter, Sugar, he was leaving to their care.
Seriously ill, she cried her heart out They were leaving her, she had no doubt Destiny's hand was beckoning the Imam Proceed he must, was God's command!
Towards holy Mecca the caravan slowly proceeded A farewell journey: no explanation was needed
The guardian of truth was himself out to uproot The weeds of untruth, with his devil destroying boots.
From Kufa they sent an urgent pathetic appeal In the name of God, from the helpless people "Truth is being trampled, we look to you To oust this tyranny, come to our rescue."
"You, as our Imam, must heed our solemn call And save Islam, from its impending downfall There is no time to lose, we anxiously await Please come at once and do not be late."
He knew that treachery is a satanic vile And the Kufians in this were ahead by miles Time and again, Ali they had shamelessly betrayed Fickleness and shifting loyalty, was their trait.
They had addressed him as their Imam He was, therefore, in painful duty bound To heed their call, despite past experience It was a supreme test for Imam's holy license.
Ordinary spiritual beings can easily foretell The coming events, as well as, misfortune dispel The fountainhead of spiritualism knew much more The things, that were destined for him, in store.
He was so attuned to the will of Almighty God His every act bore the stamp of the Merciful Lord
Destiny's plan had to be implicitly carried out By none other than Husayn there was no doubt.
As his emissary, he sent his cousin, Muslim Ibn Aqil To see things for himself; their pulse to feel; He received a hearty welcome he wrote to Husayn Little did he realize their vile, treacherous game.

7) THE BETRAYAL
Pin drop horrifying silence prevailed all round The mosque of Kufa stood on hallowed ground Treachery it had witnessed time and again It was the mosque where Ali had been slain.
The town crier was reading the Governor's decree "To associate with Muslim will not go free He is an emissary of Prophet's grandson, Husayn Who has refused allegiance to Yazid, with disdain."
When the prayer was over, Muslim looked back The mosque was empty, earlier it was packed He glanced at his host, Hani Ibn Urwah No words were needed, only a breath choking, Ah!
The packed mosque had just witnessed jubilant scenes So great was the rush to swear allegiance to Muslim They had madly jostled and vied with each other In honoring Muslim, as Husayn's cousin brother.
They exchanged glances, the picture was clear For their own lives they had absolutely no fear To inform Master Husayn was the sole prime need Whom could they trust? No, none, indeed!
Hani rushed out, choked to the brim He had in his house, two sons of Muslim He whisked them out by the back door For safety's sake, there was no other go.
Muhammad and Ibrahim, two innocent lads Were anxiously awaiting return of their dad They were now on the road; alone, all alone! The cruel treacherous world was now their home.
Soon was Hani's house completely surrounded The hopes he had nourished were soon grounded He fought the armed troops of upstart Obeidullah The odds were too heavy; he prayed to Allah!
He was soon overpowered and chained There was now no hope which remained His only thought was to inform post haste To Husayn, of the events and breach of faith After Hani's departure, he reflected a while A train of thoughts flowed, mile after mile Hani was sincere, there was no iota of doubt But if in danger, whom could he for help shout.
He thought of his sons, the two young kids In the house of Hani, he hoped they were hid He prayed to God to spare him for a little while So that, to Husayn, he could send the secret file.
It was night, he had no place to go Tired and forlorn, his walk was slow Curfew was imposed, no soul stirred out The search was on in all possible hideouts.
He sat for a while and leaned against the door The door of a house with an old muddy floor An old lady came out to see who it was "My son! Why do you not return to your house?"
"Do you not have a wife nor children?
Go and rest, in peace, in your own garden!"
A lump came to his throat: yet, he sadly smiled "I come from the house of the Prophet," he replied.
The venerable old lady was in shocking pain "My God! You are Muslim, the Emissary of Husayn, How did I fail to recognize you, O, My Lord!
What reply will I give to my Most Merciful God?"
She hid him on the old wooden attic floor Extinguished the lights and shut the door; Her son soon returned from his usual rounds He was in the army of the Yazidi hounds.
"Hani has been beheaded," he declared, "The search is now on for Muslim and his lads."
The simple old lady was moved to tears And confided to her son, her own gnawing fears.
The son was elated at the fortunate news He pretended sorrow, as a deceitful ruse, "I will soon be back with the two young lads" And rushed to his Master, Obeidullah Ibn Ziad.
The sound of horses hoofs were approaching near Muslim was in his prayers; he knew no fear He immediately realized, he had been betrayed His time was up; he would soon be dead!
The noble lady was aghast! How could she explain?
It was her son who had brought her everlasting shame Muslim assured Taha that he was absolutely sure, She was a lover of Husayn and his grandsire!
The lane was narrow, it had no width Two horses abreast could hardly breath It was an ideal ground for single combat Like lion, Muslim ferociously fought.
To the enemy, it soon became abundantly plain It was a futile and sure loosing game From housetops, they hurled missiles and stones Seriously wounded, M7uslim left his vantage position.
He desperately moved forward; they all fell back So fierce was the charge, they all fled in a pack To stop him, they thought of a clever ruse They dug a trench and had it covered, as subterfuge.
He rushed on wielding his sword dexterously He fell in the trench, as planned treacherously; The retreating hounds soon swooped down In no time, he was heavily chained and bound.
In the streets of Kufa, he was soon paraded Those who had sworn him allegiance, were delighted
They were watching him with perfect equanimity As if he was an utter stranger; what rascality!
"As per Arab custom, I shall fulfill it Your last wish if you shall reveal it."
A glint of hope came to Muslim's eyes Why not accept and make this final try?
Obeidullah, if you are true to your word, Fulfill my last wish and inform my lord To return to Medina, before it is late As coming to Kufa, would be a sheer waste.
The crafty Obeidullah was absolutely flabbergasted Spare the lives of my two sons, he could have suggested He could not even imagine, how could a person Think of his master, when doomed were his sons.
Muslim's last wish did not go in vain Merciful God kindled the heart of one of them He left Kufa post-haste to fulfill his mission And informed Husayn of Muslim's martyrdom.
Husayn wept bitterly, as never before Muslim's daughter realized her father was no more One pair of earrings, he lovingly gave to her And another to Sakina, his child most dear.
"Are you returning back?" the messenger inquired "No! I am not," Husayn, very sadly replied "As ordained, I am going to meet my destiny, And so are my faithful friends, who are with me."

(8) THE GEMS
On Ashoor night, he called his friends So pure and noble, each was a rare GEM To induce them to leave, with their dear ones For his sake, he declared, should suffer none.
With rolling tears and heads bent down Their love for Husayn knew no bound Their burning desire, their goal of life Was to defend Husayn, in this strife.
"It is my life that Yazid desires I permit you, one and all, to retire The sufferings, you have so far faced, Speaks volumes for your loyalty and faith!"
To avoid embarrassment, he put out the lights For dark was the night, to aid their flight When the lights were lit, after quite sometime None had moved, even an inch, from the line.
"You are to us everything; how can we explain?
Without you, life is nothing!" they exclaimed "Not merely we love, venerate, and adore, he put out the lights For dark was the night, to aid their flight When the lights were lit, after quite sometime None had moved, even an inch, from the line.
"You are to us everything; how can we explain?
Without you, life is nothing!" they exclaimed "Not merely we love, venerate, and adore you, Each single act of yours kindles truth and love anew!"
Habib, Muslim, Buraire and Zuhair Ibn Kain Expressed these sentiments, all in one strain Such devotion, such ecstasy, the world had not seen Even among companions of 'Hayder' nor of 'Al Amin'.
What brave souls were these followers of Husayn?
What unique attachments of theirs, he had gained?
From different walks of life they came Their object was, absolutely, one and the same.
With what simplicity, the noble Jaun exclaimed "O, my lord, I am a Negro slave" he maintained "Let my blood mingle with the martyrs blood, To prove that we too are of the same mud."
In the face of trials and tribulations, He had only one solace and consolation; A band of faithful and fearless human beings The like of whom, the world had not seen.
Habib Ibn Mazahir, was a childhood devoted friend He literally followed Husayn, wherever he went
He veneratingly kissed the ground, Husayn tread He was loved by the Prophet and lovingly caressed.
He was in Kufa, when he heard of Husayn's plight "For Karbala, I shall leave the very same night."
With encouragement from his wife, a noble lady His faithful slave, kept for him all things ready.
Kufa, was agog with numerous rumors afloat Treachery was afoot, for sacrificial goats Such was the risk, with spies all round Yet he ventured; such was the magnetic bond.
He reached Karbala on 9th of Muharram night Husayn was distributing arms for the fight He had kept aside, for him, one set of arms "Habib, my dearest friend, is sure to come."
Wahab, was the son of a noble and virtuous lady From Damascus, she was externed, when he was a baby For praising Ali, she had incurred Moawiyah's wrath Such was the fate, at that time, of all lovers of God.
Returning home, with his mother and wife, He saw an army poised like a murderer's knife A small group, mostly women, babes and old folks Were the victims of these cruel merciless foes.
He soon learnt, Prophet's grandson, Husayn Ibn Ali Surrounded by Yazid's hordes, were he and his family He rushed to the side of Imam's small group And begged of him, to let him join his troop.
When Husayn learnt Wahab had married only day before He insisted on his leaving with his wife and mother With unflinching resolve, imploringly he pleaded, Till Husayn gave in and to his joining agreed.
Muslim Ibn Ausaja, had witnessed rights being trampled Bent with age, his love for truth was undampened Venerable companion of the Prophet, a most saintly soul To fight for truth, was his life's sole object and goal.
Physically withered by age, being four score ten, His anxiety to help was a heroic gesture to men For he had witnessed on countless occasions The undying love, which the Prophet bore for Husayn.
Buraire Hamadeni, was a warrior of repute His name caused shivers in adversaries boots He was itching to display his terrific might, To Yazid's mercenaries, in single battle and fights.
Husayn calmed him down and explained To fight them is not at all our aim But to defend and die like a martyr Was the supreme test of each fighter.
On the eve, prior to the day of fateful battle, Buraire urged his friends to show their mettle And guard the Imam against the enemy's surprise raids For crafty was the enemy, unscrupulous, and debased.
Unbearable it was, the cry of thirsty children for water Even savages watered their victims, before slaughter Buraire, with his friends, fought their way to the river Filled a bag and returned with the precious life giver.
With what dejection and dismay, he witnessed the sight The thirsty children threw themselves in mad delight The bag opened, under the weight of the terrible crush And out poured the water, in a mighty and mad gush.
Moved to tears, the brave warrior's eyes welled up No water was left, O, merciful heaven, not even a cup!
The thirst of the children remained unquenched Though the earth, in water, was fully drenched.
Hur Ibn Yazid Riyahi, a strict disciplinarian In the army of Yazid, he commanded a battalion With thousand soldiers, he blocked Husayn's path Not realizing, that it would lead to a blood bath.
Hoping that a peaceful solution would be found He forced Husayn towards Karbala, as in duty bound Little did he realize that his very men Would dare spill the blood of Prophet's GEM.

(9) THE SUPREME SACRIFICE
The sad day dawned, the heavens were aghast 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!

(10) THE LOOT
Eerie silence hung over the battleground Broken occasionally by drum beating sounds The carnage, the massacre, of saintly souls Caused a shudder, in Islam's true believers' fold.
The massacre being over, they raided their tents To loot and destroy, they were all fiendishly bent
Helpless ladies and children, they mercilessly bashed Young innocent babes, to the ground they dashed.
Daughters of the Prophet, simple lives had led Coarse and patched clothes, were all they had Woven by Fatima, they were immensely treasured In terms of money, none could be measured.
They were shamelessly looted of even their veils The Yazidi hordes outclassed, themselves, the devils Earrings were snatched of the child of Husayn She was slapped mercilessly, for crying in pain.
In stupor, lay the only surviving adult male Ali Zainal Abedeen was flogged as in horror tales After the looting, the tents were set on fire enmasse Hell was let loose, with a vengeance, quick and fast.
Zaynab was perplexed, she was lost Perish in flames or face still worst This hour of trial, whom to consult Her nephew was unconscious, lying in dust.
"Ali Zainal Abedeen, I appeal to you As our Imam, tell us what are we to do?"
He opened his eyes, burning with fever With utmost effort, advise he delivered.
"To save our lives is a religious duty Go in the open and seek security."
Ladies and children, they left the tent Salvaging what they could, as they went.
The loot, the pandemonium, was soon over Burning embers of fire only hovered A partially burnt tent was all that remained A solitary witness of torture and blood stain.
The Ahl Bait cuddled together therein Shattered in mind and body, beyond dream The time had come almost to a standstill The night was in sorrow; one could feel.
The mourning widows of Husayn's friends Their anguished hearts, who could mend?
Zaynab and Kulthum consulted each other The orphaned children, they had to mother.
Zaynab counted the children; one was missing To her dismay, it was Sakina, her darling "Tell me Sakina, where are you my child?"
In wilderness, the echo was the only reply.
Frustrated, she ran towards the battlefield "Sakina is lost, your darling child Husayn, where shall I look for her?"
She imploringly sobbed, in utter despair.
The silvery moon, behind the clouds was hid The clouds dispersed, the ground was lit Lying with her head on Husayn's chest Little Sakina was sleeping in her usual nest.
"Sakina, my child, I have come here After searching the desert, my dear Your father's beheaded body, how could you find In this dark night, with your frightened mind?"
"An irresistible urge seized me, though dampened To tell my father all that had happened How they snatched my earrings, after his death The slaps I received, the treatment we met."
"Running aimlessly in the desert I cried Tell me dearest father, where do you lie Sakina, my darling Sakina, come here, come here! I heard him calling and found my father dear."
"I narrated to him, all I had endured It lightened my heart: I was re-assured An urge to sleep on his chest, for the last time I placed my head in the nest of mine."
With Sakina, Zaynab hurried to the camp Again it was dark; there was no lamp All were anxiously waiting in the ghostly night Praying silently to God, the Eternal Light.
She placed Sakina in her mother's arms She had several other duties to perform No, not to protect any worldly treasure The children had suffered, beyond measure.
Advancing towards them, she saw a group "There is nothing left, which you can loot Pray, do not disturb the children in sorrow If you want something, come in the morrow!"
"We do not want anything from you We know, what you have said is true We have brought some water and food We know, you are in a sorrowful mood."
Zaynab was surprised; so polite was the speaker It was the widow of Hur, the truth seeker "Soldiers of Omar Saad have deputed me To carry food and water for thee."
"Lest you perish, due to hunger and thirst, Before Yazid, they want to take you first That is why they have sent water and food Not because they have suddenly turned good."
"O, sister, we are indebted to your husband For his precious life, in defending Husayn He was our guest, but at a time, alas!
We had not even water; no, not a glass!"
"My lady, I am grieved, you lost not one But eighteen members to death, were done."
They offered condolences to each other Zaynab was large hearted like her mother.
"At last there is water for you Wake up, Sakina, see it is true Wet your throat, sobbing will stop."
For days, she had not even a drop.
"Let Ali Asghar drink first, he is the youngest My dear brother died of sheer maddening thirst Now that water is available, give him first Before I can taste it and quench my thirst."
Guarding her folks, with a half burnt pole Alone, all alone, with no waking soul Due to exhaustion, Zaynab fell in a swoon O' Merciful God, it was, indeed, a boon!
One person came galloping in her dream "O' Shaikh, please go back" she screamed "I am daughter of Hazrat Ali and Fatima We are guardians of the holy 'Kalima '!
The person lifted the veil from his face It was her father Ali himself, by Divine Grace She poured out her mutilated and bleeding heart to him The outpourings caused convulsions, ending the dream.
Lying on the desert sand, clothes wet with tears The dawn was breaking, time of prayer was near
Events of previous day, she recalled with pain Ali Akbar had given Azan; prayers led by Husayn.
Finishing her prayer, she laid her head Prostrate before God of the living and dead To give her courage, to carry on the mission Which, to the world, would be an everlasting lesson.

(11) THE JOURNEY TO KUFA
The sun rose, crimson-red was its color Downcast with shame, the world looked duller Ladies and children, huddled with shambled remains The victors rejoiced, without compunction or shame.
Vying with one another, to torture and torment They took delight, in causing them lament Marching them, by the bodies of their dear ones Before being taken to Kufa, in a caravan.
Without any saddles, on camels' bare-backs The ladies were put in a sheep like pack Bound hand and foot, with ropes and chains Children's necks were tied with their hands.
Burning with fever and heavily chained Zainal Abedeen was marched, though in pain The heads of the martyrs, carried on spears Headed the procession of Muhammad's dears.
Kufa was reached in a few hectic hours Shimr and Khooli gloated, over and over To the governor was sent a courier The caravan stopped at a barrier.
Zaynab and Kulthum had resided for four years In Kufa as daughters of Islam's ruler Now, they were captives of those Muslims, Who were steeped in vices and sins.
The grand daughters of the Prophet of Islam Were too noble, to cause anyone least harm Helpless victims of those followers of Muhammad; The lofty principles of Islam were thrown in mud.
O' Kufa, recall the days of glory of Zaynab!
The honored daughter of the noblest of Arabs For four years, Kufians vied with each other Every wish of theirs to fulfill like a mother.
The same Kufa now wore a festive look People gathered in every corner and nook To watch the grand daughters of Muhammad People of Kufa were now thirsty for their blood.
Heading the caravan, the town crier was crying aloud The prisoners are Zaynab and Kulthum, beyond doubt Husayn and his followers have all been slain, By Yazid's might and power, on Karbala's plain.
All who question Yazid, such is their fate Beware, lest you be subjected to such hate If you obey Yazid, without any question Rewards will be plenty and pleasingly handsome.
When the identity was revealed, some were sad Ladies and children of the house of Muhammad;
Could they be captives and his grand-son murdered?
None, however, dared protest; they merely shuddered.
It was noon, the sun increasingly blazing Continuous pleading for water, Zaynab was facing It was futile, to ask the brutes for water Zaynab was explaining to Husayn's daughter.
A lady in balcony, saw the plight of Sakina Rushing down with water, she was in a dilemma She went to Sakina, breaking the police cordon A tumbler of cool water; O' merciful heaven!
Was it Umm Ayman? Zaynab was not sure Two decades had passed, since the days of yore "I am thankful for your noble gesture, May God, on you, His blessings shower."
She was astonished and completely dazed Zaynab brushed aside the hair, from her face The same Zaynab, whom she adored and venerated, Was now a picture of woe, a victim of fate.
Kissing Zaynab's feet, out of reverence Umm Ayman, weepingly, asked for forgiveness; Lest, such display rouse public sympathy The guards pounced and whipped, Ayman, mercilessly.
Thrown aside, she weepingly complained to Allah The caravan proceeded to the court of Obeidullah Seated on a throne, holding his royal court The prisoners were marched in the villain's fort.
Seeing Zaynab and Kulthum, he ordered his men To place at his feet, the head of Husayn; He mockingly inquired, the son of a bitch' "Are these slave girls or children of Prophet?"
as per the parting promise given to Husayn Zaynab, who was controlling herself, lost restrain "We are grand-daughters of your acknowledged Prophet, Sisters of Husayn, whom your henchmen murdered!"
In frenzy, she gave him a bit of her mind "You are the stooge of Yazid, O' you fiend!
He has flouted all the principles of Islam The house of Prophet, he has unjustifiably harmed!"
"He has trampled all ethical concepts reduced all beings to a condition abject your success, is ephimeral, be sure very soon, God's wrath, you will endure."
Ibn Ziad, was stunned by this bold rebuke His embarrassment was apparent, though he fumed The awe inspiring atmosphere of the court Held no terrors for Zaynab and Kulthum, both.
He looked around to see the devastating effect If she went on, the masses would defect He shouted at the top of his heartless voice Undaunted by threats, Zaynab dared him twice!
She projected the issues, the sacrifices of Husayn; Most poignantly, she recalled his piety and fame
A blind companion of the Prophet, Ziad bin Arkan Protested at the indignities on founders of Islam.
Ibn Ziad, shouting him down, ordered his removal By nature, he was crafty and vindictively cruel He hurriedly dismissed the corrupt court "Carry the prisoners to Damascus", he roared.

(12) THE DEVIL'S DEN
Through the desert of Mesopotamia they 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 Bestow 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.

13) A ROSE BUD FADES AWAY
In the dark desolate dungeon, the caravan halted The scorpions and snakes took fright and bolted
Zaynab and Zainal Abedeen, prostrated themselves in prayer Without a word of complaint, without any demur.
It was dark inside, despite the sun's bright rays The stone walls were damp, crumbling with decay
Looks of sorrow and despondency, was on each face Of joy and laughter, there was not even a trace.
The faces depicted sufferings, beyond human endurance Prayer was the solace, they enjoyed, without hindrance A few stale morsels of bread and a little water Was their daily ration, in these horrible quarters.
"Stone walls do not a prison make nor iron bars a cage," Was equally true in that merciless land and cruel age Though in shackles, every night their spirits soared high To heights sublime, beyond all plains, in the heavenly sky.
Sakina, woke with a shriek, in the dead of the night She had seen her father's heavenly soothing light "O' Sakina, you have suffered enough, come with me the days of your sufferings are over; O' where is he?"
It was just a dream, what a disappointment!
It was not a reality, to her bewilderment Her uncontrollable lamentations, gathered a crowd The ladies also lost control and wailed aloud.
Hearing the wails, Yazid sent slaves to inquire Pacing up and down, he had not yet retired On knowing the cause, his crooked mind strived A devilish scheme, he soon mischievously contrived.
Yazid's men entered with a covered tray, "I do not want food, please take it away I want my father; promises he did give Without taking me, why did he leave?"
They removed the cloth; Sakina beheld the face Even in death, it was full of heavenly grace With a cry, she flung herself on the wooden tray Hugging to her heart, she snatched the face away.
Inconsolably, she bent down over the head Putting, her cheeks, against that of her dad Within a few moments, her sobbing had stopped Her mortal remains, she had quietly dropped.
"How long will you lie on your father's head?" Zaynab touched her hand; she was shockingly dead
Sakina had gone with her father, never to return Husayn had kept his promise, as he had always done!

(14) THE TRIUMPH OF TRUTH
A day dawned, when there was a stir in the prison The jailors were puzzled; what could be the reason The Queen of Damascus, was visiting the prison To even imagine such a thing, was an act of treason!
Zainal Abedeen was in prayers, a guard entered the cell Fizza, the oldest amongst prisoners, he turned to tell About the visit of Her Highness, Queen Hind, and to ensure, That not a word of complaint was uttered, by way of censure.
With her ladies-in-waiting, Hind entered the cell Gloomy, was the dungeon, unventilated and dark, as hell With bowed heads, and faces covered with long tresses, The ladies were sitting, with torn and tattered dresses.
An emaciated figure, with heavy chains and manacles Was busy with prayer, though unable to stand in shackles A lady, with her head, lay prostrate on a small grave In a corner of prison, portraying the sad and pitiable tale.
Hind, was perplexed; she was dumb-founded Approaching the grave, the lady she sounded "My good lady, do let me know, who are you For what crimes, you are behind the bar?"
"Which family you belong to? Whose grave is this?
Untold sufferings, your sorrowful face reveals."
The lady burst into sobs; her lips were sealed Gently stroking her head, Hind herself kneeled.
Another lady sat in a corner, surrounded by others She must be the one, who was, perhaps, their elder This was the lady, who had roared like a lion To hurl defiance at the court of the tyrant.
"What are the reasons for your sufferings and plight" Hind inquired of Zaynab; her tone was so polite "My husband is evading, annoyingly, my repeated inquiries On grounds, that they relate to governmental diaries."
"Lady Fatima, I am seeing frequently in my dreams In a most disconsolate state, she is, so it seems; I am perplexed, I am unable to understand What all this means. Explain to me if you can"
"In the laps of luxury, Hind, you are comfortably living, Tortures, beyond human endurance, my children are facing; You are, no doubt, utterly in the dark of what has happened, To my near and dear ones, and my beloved son, Husayn."
"My Lady's coming and her constant lamentations has it any connection with your incarceration I really wonder, how can it at all be true Prophet's family, to do anything with you."
The eyes of the two ladies met, for a moment One depicting a soulful of agony and torment, The other reflecting bewilderment and inquiring Zaynab burst into sobs, trying to control her feelings.
She had not recognised her, so much the better It saved her the humiliation, to narrate the torture
She partially covered her face, with her long hair Hoping that Hind would soon go away and leave her.
Hind, suddenly remembered that, she had seen In better times, the venerable lady had been With a gasp, she cried, "Are my eyes deceiving me?
Is that Lady Zaynab, O' no! how can it be?"
"How can I, even entertain such a thought?
I feel, I am getting demented, O' my Lord!
For the sake of Lady Fatima, I, beseechingly, implore you Are you related to Lady Zaynab? Is it true?"
"Hind, Zaynab died long ago on Karbala's plain, with youths of her family, who were slain; the shadow of Zaynab, is now before you Those who can recognise her are, indeed, few."
Covering her face, her tears, she tried to hide Falling prostrate at her feet, Hind cried "Lady, forgive my utterly unpardonable neglect" begging forgiveness, she expressed profound regret.
Zainal Abedeen had just completed his prayers; Turning to him, "O' my Imam, your forgiveness I crave, It was sheer thoughtlessness, for not probing deep I do not know how I could eat, drink or even sleep."
"When my suspicion was aroused, on that first day when someone demanded, the young girl, Sakina as a slave; she must be the beloved daughter of my Lord Husayn.
Was she enslaved, by some brute, with a wicked brain?"
Zaynab stood up and going slowly towards Hind "In vain, you are looking for my beloved Sakina she is sleeping peacefully in that yonder grave relieved of sufferings, she had courageously braved."
"May I ask, what was the cause of her untimely death?"
this fragrant rose bud withered away, unsung, unwept she narrated the sufferings, she had bravely endured how her earlobes kept bleeding, how her body turned blue.
Recounting her sufferings, Zaynab and others were crying Only one lady, sitting near the grave, was quietly lying Seeing her loosing consciousness, Zaynab immediately rushed Putting her head on her lap, she was very carressingly brushed.
Hind, ordered cold water, from her nearby palace She sprinkled it on Umm Rabab's ash white face
Opening her eyes with a dazed look, she glanced She faintly uttered, as if she was in a trance.
Her grief stricken mind had created a protective shield To resist the cruel impact, of what fate had purposefully built To escape the grief laden atmosphere around the grave Of her darling daughter, who had, all sufferings braved.
Zaynab felt, she must be awakened from this stupor Or else she would loose her sorrowing mind, for ever; She gently explained, that Sakina had joined her father, At this, she returned, to the word of reality with a shudder!
Hind, excusing herself, to the palace she hurried Moawiyah, her son, was the only male issue of Yazid Only they had access to him, without announcement They found Yazid, pacing up and down, himself denouncing.
Yazid was surprised to see Hind's hair disheveled; Her eyes full of tears, charges she defiantly leveled Both mother and son, spared no words to make it plain, "Set free this very day, the family of Imam Husayn."
The cup of cruelty had got filled to the brim Yazid was aware, the situation was getting grim; Realization had dawned that time was running out Nemesis might overtake him, unless he had stopped the rot.
He was having nightmares, with Prophet upbraiding him Everyday, he was having most horrifying and frightening dreams "O' Yazid, what had my Husayn done to deserve your vengeance What made you bestow upon my family such inhuman penance."
"Is your hatred, for me and my family, not yet satisfied Such tortures, you are inflicting, as can not be narrated."
He was brooding about ways, to resolve the dilemma Which was his own creation, a self created drama!
Now his own son, his own flesh and blood With Queen Hind, was flinging at him mud The time was now ripe to act with grace A little delay, and he would loose the race.
"A strange way for pleading for mercy, you have Could you not find, a better way, to remonstrate
I accede, to your request, to set the prisoners free I shall summon my court and announce my decree."
"Now, both of you may rest, in peace, till they are free Let me have some respite, after the shock you have given me."
"Peace, did you say?" in surprise, Hind burst out and cried "Can we ever have peace, after knowing what has transpired."
"For these unforgivable atrocities and unpardonable sins Make best amends, to Lady Zaynab and Zainal Abedeen Restore them to the place of honor, which is their right."
It is through them, that God sheds His Merciful Light!
Decked, in a jeweled dress of silk and brocade Yazid sat on the throne; of solid gold it was made
With full display of regalia, of Ommayad's courts It was late in the evening, all had assembled in the Fort.
With all solemnity, the ushers announced in the Fort The grandson of Prophet Muhammad, was entering the court His garments tattered, but with dignity in his bearing Zainal Abedeen entered, with everyone admiring his daring.
There was a radiance on his countenance; a "halo" on his face It inspired awe in their hearts; they stood up out of grace Yazid got up from his throne, seei9ng the spontaneous gesture Impelled by an uncontrollable force of undiscriminating nature.
With a slow halting gait, Zainal Abedeen walked to the pulpit His aching lacerated legs, made walking an ordeal, a bit The rustling of the curtain, indicated the ladies had entered Seated behind the pulpit were the ladies, with Zaynab centered.
Yazid offered condolences; his words sounded hollow Cursing his lieutenants; he tried to paint a "halo" He pleaded innocence, as if he had in it no hand He expressed profound regret, for all that happened.
He told the Imam, that they were all know free He offered any amount, they wished as blood money Seeing the Imam's face turning red with rage He urged it in the name of religious usage.
Zaynab, who was listening from behind the curtain, cried out "On the day of judgement, you shall be answerable, no doubt You offer, what you possess, on that day, to Prophet Muhammad It is not for us, to accept any money, for the Martyr's blood!"
Yazid was abashed by the daughter of Ali's bold retort He had seen her courage, even as a prisoner in his court He changed the subject and addressing Zainal Abedeen He declared, "You are free to demand from me anything."
"At your disposal, is a house of status and position befitting Highest honor and respect will be extended to you beings."
"All we want is the severed heads of our near and dear ones Our looted property and clothes, though tattered and torn."
Yazid, expressed extreme surprise, at the simple request They had not even ornaments, at the time of their arrest He could not see anything of value, in the things looted; The immense sentimental value, which in them, was rooted.
He ordered restored of all their belongings, forthwith He endeavored their every desire, every wish, to meet Medina, via Karbala, they wished, to immediately return Canopied camels and best horses; the purchase was done.
The local citizens paid their respectful condolences To serve them, they vied with one another, for chances "Stay on in Damascus, for sometime", they all jointly pleaded.
For burial rites, their presence in Karbala, was needed.
The entire city turned out to bid them adieu Hind, had remained all along with Zaynab, now knew
Time of parting was near; was unimaginably sad, When you live and venerate someone, more than your dad.
She begged for forgiveness, for the past neglect, from each one She was about to leave, when came a call from someone Umm Rabab expressed, to Zaynab, her departing wish To visit the grave of Sakina, to bestow a farewell kiss!
The disconsolate mother fell on Sakina's tiny grave With a heart-rending shriek; vent to her feelings she gave Turning to Hind, and other ladies of the unhappy town, "Occasionally, offer Fateha," she cried, and fell in a swoon.

(15) THE SAVIOR OF ISLAM
Sweet melodies blew the heavenly horn A joyous tiding; Husayn was born The sun rejoiced; the moon was gay Each in its orbit, each did away.
The waters rippled; the wind was all play Never were they, so happy and gay It was Muhammad's light and Ali's ray The Savior of Islam, had come to stay.
A gift to Muhammad, from his Lord A son to Ali, the sun of God A fruit of love, to the Lady of Light
A brother to Hassan, to cause him delight.
Born was he, out of God's grace A beacon light, to the human race A soul of souls, whom God made pure With heavenly love, the world to cure.
The Prophet rejoiced; his eyes shed tears For here was one, to him most dear For here was one, for Islam's sake His life and all, would one day stake.
For truth and justice, he would fight In cause of God, without respite For he was one, decreed by God To lay his life, for the love of Lord.
The heavens were glad, for such a one The Lord should choose, Ali's son For best was he; the world had seen Whose vision one craves, even in dream.
"Fed with love, by the Lady of Light" he got the best, of what was right and from his father, the 'Godly Knight' he drew his strength and his might.
But Muhammad did give, beyond measure All that he had, as his treasure For he was his treasure, beyond doubt As he often publicly proclaimed aloud.
"Love them my Lord, I do implore, Who love Husayn and him adore He is of me and I of him" Such a bond, the world had not seen!
He sucked his tongue, in playful jest His breast he made, a place of rest The reins he made, his curls of hair His back he made, a stately mare.
Such was the love, the Prophet bore For he was his grandson, and more An anchor sheet, to all who care To live and be, 'just and fair.'
The life he lived; the path he led He earned by sweat; the poor he fed Not a pie had he, that he kept But the poor he gave, ere he slept.
A king of kings, in simple attire The crowns of world, he never aspired To the uncared widow, and the needy orphan He gave his all, and all so often.
Many a day, he tightened his loins To buy his own bread, he had no coins So noble of heart so pure a soul To please his Lord, was his goal.
He lived for Lord and His delight He toiled by day and prayed by night The simplest of life, he liked to live The best of things, he liked to give.
His life was such, a guiding light To know the wrong and know the right And such a soul, was asked to bow To one who was, the lowest of low.
Yazid, the godless son of a crafty father Was proclaimed a king or Caliph rather Money and wine, most lavishly flowed Till all the worldly heads had bowed.
But not the heads, who had bowed To God alone, who had showed The path of right, through Islam's ray Eighty and odd, among them, were they.
To save Islam from its sinking depth Too glad were they, to face death But to the ungodly one, they refused to bow Undaunted and unnerved, they faced the foe.
It was not a fight, for a kingdom Nor a family feud, as is not seldom It was a fight for principles and truth As imbibed by Islam, in its holy book.
If he had bowed to the ungodly one Riches and honor he would have won Islam would then have been in name Its seal., would have adorned, the devil's reign.
The time soon came for their test They were ready to lay their best With women and babes, handful were they Ready to face thousands, in battle array.
To cut off water, was the only way To weaken them, they thought, for the fray So frightened were they, of Ali's son To fight them they knew, was no fun.
Husayn was fully alive, to things at stake He knew well, his family's fate He was aware, that his was the Martyr's cup His end was near, his time was up!
The sad day dawned; the heavens were aghast Truth was at stake; the die had been cast Never had they witnessed, so supreme a test; Falsehood at its worst versus truth at its best.
The wind was aggrief, it tore each leaf Wild was its anger, wild with grief It shook the river by its throat The waves, it tossed all things afloat.
The sun glared down, wild with fire It burned with rage; fierce was it's ire If only it could make itself somehow free From the chains of bonds of heaven's decree.
The river was ashamed; hapless was it's plight Destiny's decree, how could it dare fight It's waters were controlled, by the rule of might Who cared a nought, for wrong or right.
They guarded the river; they threw a ring To deny water was worst of a vindictive thing The hounds, they drank, and so did the drunks Innocent babes; parched were their tongues.
For three torturous days and three night Muhammad's beloveds were in waterless plight Young babes of most holy and innocent fare Wailing and whining, the torture they share.
O' Lord of Lords! What a pathetic sight Yazid's hordes, displaying their might Thousands and thousands of blood-thirsty hounds Waiting to pounce on eighty odd crowns.
While handful of souls, engrossed in prayer Unheedful of them; a sight so divinely rare Young and old, they prayed to Merciful God With humble devotion, His help they sought.
To give them strength; no, not to fight But to be content, in whatever plight For well they knew, their role of life Was to save Islam, from being knifed!
The battle he lost, the fight he won Yazid's title of sanctity was shorn Islam's plant survived the onslaught Husayn's blood had watered the drought.
The revenge was complete, so it seemed Abu Sufyan's pledge to Satan was redeemed The worldly eyes could, however, hardly see Husayn's blood had kept Islam pure and free.

(16) TRIBUTES AND PRAYERS
My respectful condolence to the dearest sister of Husayn My tearful home, to the wife of Abdulla Tayyar, O' Zaynab Never was a woman, subjected to such sorrow and pain, As the daughter of Ali and Fatima, O' Zaynab!
Aun and Muhammad, two unblossomed flowers of youth Ali Akbar, was no less dear, than your own sons O' Zaynab You sacrificed them all, at the altar of truth, So that, Islam may be rid of the Satan's hold, O' Zaynab!
The tortures you bore; the insults you faced, Would have torn asunder any heart, O' Zaynab You did not flinch, even in grace, To the worst of ignominies and cruelties, O' Zaynab!
Your unique faith in God; your invaluable support, Enabled Husayn to sacrifice his all, O' Zaynab Between brother and sister, never was such a rapport Your indomitable will, sustained his mission, O' Zaynab!
Your heroic efforts, saved his sacrifices from going in vain Your courage, saved his lineage from extinction, O' Zaynab You presented the issues involved, in the sacrifices of Husayn Most eloquently, and in proper perspective, O' Zaynab!
Your virtues are endless, as eternity, and so, till then, You will be mourned and gratefully remembered, O' Zaynab Pray to God, to grant my wish to serve Husayn And you, my lady, in this world, and the next, O' Zaynab!
AMEN