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!