To sacrifice
About 1,326 years ago on the afternoon of Sunday, October 10th, 680 CE, the Imam Husayn was killed.
The Imam had buried his youngest son of six months, 'Ali Asghar and was going to bid farewell to the women in the camp, as well as to his only surviving son, 'Ali Zayn al-Abideen ['Ali, the gem of the worshipers] who fighting an illness that had racked his body for several days now.
A horseman came riding towards the Imam. "I'm looking for the Imam Husayn, the son of 'Ali."
"I am he. Who are you?"
"Peace be with you. I have a letter for you, from the daughter who you left behind back home in Madinah."
Reminded of his eight-year-old daughter, Fatemah Sughra, he read the letter earnestly. Sughra had written hoping everything was fine. She asked if they had yet found a princess for her princely brother 'Ali Akbar. She had asked if her little brother 'Ali Asghar had started to crawl yet. She had asked how her sister Sakeenah was faring.
The Imam looked around him and wept. His young prince, Akbar was no more. He had just buried his dear Asghar. His brave brother 'Abbas had given his life up. And his darling Sakeenah was suffering her thirst silently. He didn't know what message he should pass on to Sughra; his household was half-destroyed!
He had said his final goodbyes to his wives and daughters and was now facing his sister Zaynab. There was an unbreakable bond of love between the two of them. With tears in his eyes, the Imam started to kiss Zaynab's shoulders.
"What is it, brother, why are you kissing my arms?"
"Ah, Zaynab! Today I kiss them, tomorrow there will be ropes around them and you will be bound and taken as prisoners!"
Zaynab understood and she reciprocated his love by kissing his neck.
"Why are you kissing my neck, Zaynab?"
"Brother, I know, I know that your killer will run his dagger over this very neck."
Somehow, the Imam left the embrace of Zaynab and mounted his horse. He lightly tapped the horse's reins, commanding him to move. The horse wouldn't budge. The Imam ordered the horse to move, several times, but the horse wouldn't obey. When he looked behind, he saw his little daughter, Sakeenah, clutching the horse's thighs and sobbing. He heard her saying, "Don't take my father there. Whoever has gone there today has not returned. I beg you, please don't take him there!"
The Imam slowly moved the little girl away from the horse and she began to sob, "Baba, how will I sleep at night, not having your chest to rest my head on? Please, can I sleep on it one last time, before you go?"
The Imam lied down and Sakeenah hugged her father and closed her eyes. For the last time in her life, Sakeenah slept peacefully, because from then until her death a month later, she would only have nightmares and broken sleep.
After fighting for some time, the Imam stopped and put his sword back in its scabbard. Immediately, the enemy soldiers started raining arrows, stones, spears and what not in his direction. When the Imam fell, the arrows went in even deeper. With whatever energy he had left, he began to pray the 'Asr [afternoon] prayer. He hadn't lifted his head from prostration when his killer came along and began to run his blunt dagger along the Imam's throat. Then, in a matter of seconds, it was done.
At the imambargah, they had a blood donation program going before the masa'eb today. I wanted to give some blood but
a. I'm not 18 yet and I'm not sure of my blood group [though I think it's A].
b. I was afraid that after I'd given blood, I'd feel really dizzy and faint or something. I can be such a scaredy-cat sometimes.
The Imam had buried his youngest son of six months, 'Ali Asghar and was going to bid farewell to the women in the camp, as well as to his only surviving son, 'Ali Zayn al-Abideen ['Ali, the gem of the worshipers] who fighting an illness that had racked his body for several days now.
A horseman came riding towards the Imam. "I'm looking for the Imam Husayn, the son of 'Ali."
"I am he. Who are you?"
"Peace be with you. I have a letter for you, from the daughter who you left behind back home in Madinah."
Reminded of his eight-year-old daughter, Fatemah Sughra, he read the letter earnestly. Sughra had written hoping everything was fine. She asked if they had yet found a princess for her princely brother 'Ali Akbar. She had asked if her little brother 'Ali Asghar had started to crawl yet. She had asked how her sister Sakeenah was faring.
The Imam looked around him and wept. His young prince, Akbar was no more. He had just buried his dear Asghar. His brave brother 'Abbas had given his life up. And his darling Sakeenah was suffering her thirst silently. He didn't know what message he should pass on to Sughra; his household was half-destroyed!
He had said his final goodbyes to his wives and daughters and was now facing his sister Zaynab. There was an unbreakable bond of love between the two of them. With tears in his eyes, the Imam started to kiss Zaynab's shoulders.
"What is it, brother, why are you kissing my arms?"
"Ah, Zaynab! Today I kiss them, tomorrow there will be ropes around them and you will be bound and taken as prisoners!"
Zaynab understood and she reciprocated his love by kissing his neck.
"Why are you kissing my neck, Zaynab?"
"Brother, I know, I know that your killer will run his dagger over this very neck."
Somehow, the Imam left the embrace of Zaynab and mounted his horse. He lightly tapped the horse's reins, commanding him to move. The horse wouldn't budge. The Imam ordered the horse to move, several times, but the horse wouldn't obey. When he looked behind, he saw his little daughter, Sakeenah, clutching the horse's thighs and sobbing. He heard her saying, "Don't take my father there. Whoever has gone there today has not returned. I beg you, please don't take him there!"
The Imam slowly moved the little girl away from the horse and she began to sob, "Baba, how will I sleep at night, not having your chest to rest my head on? Please, can I sleep on it one last time, before you go?"
The Imam lied down and Sakeenah hugged her father and closed her eyes. For the last time in her life, Sakeenah slept peacefully, because from then until her death a month later, she would only have nightmares and broken sleep.
After fighting for some time, the Imam stopped and put his sword back in its scabbard. Immediately, the enemy soldiers started raining arrows, stones, spears and what not in his direction. When the Imam fell, the arrows went in even deeper. With whatever energy he had left, he began to pray the 'Asr [afternoon] prayer. He hadn't lifted his head from prostration when his killer came along and began to run his blunt dagger along the Imam's throat. Then, in a matter of seconds, it was done.
At the imambargah, they had a blood donation program going before the masa'eb today. I wanted to give some blood but
a. I'm not 18 yet and I'm not sure of my blood group [though I think it's A].
b. I was afraid that after I'd given blood, I'd feel really dizzy and faint or something. I can be such a scaredy-cat sometimes.