Muharram the beginning but never the end
It’s the first day of the month, when a mother dresses her children in black, pakeezah (pure) attire, putting away all party outfits and bringing out modest, simple clothing.
It’s that day of the month, when young babies and kids are curious to know why so many people have gathered, almost all wearing the same colour.
It’s that day of the month, when fresh pages of an old book are written with poems that make you imagine the scenes of Ahlulbayt (a.s.), and what must have been in the heart of our Rasulallah (pbuh), and in the heart of Imam Mahdi (a.s.).
It’s that time of the month, when colourful flags appear before you, decorating community centres and people's homes, where everyone gathers to do nothing but remember what happened over 1,400 years ago on the plains of Karbala.
It’s that time of the year, when your heart wants to forgive, restart, and let go because it feels nothing but love for Imam Hussain (a.s.) and his 72 companions.
It’s that time of the year, when you truly understand the meaning of thirst, heat, and patience as you remember Baby Asghar (a.s.) on the battlefield of Karbala.
It’s that time of the year, when you realise the courage of 72 easily outweighed that of thousands.
It’s that time of the year, when you try to understand how one act of kindness with a pure intention can outweigh all worldly pleasures as you reflect upon Janabe Hur (a.s.).
It’s that time of the year, when your eyes are filled with constant tears because your heart tries to feel what Bibi Umme Laila went through when she saw the wounded body of her teenage son, Janabe Ali Akbar (a.s.).
It’s that time of the year, when you sometimes hear a Bibi crying in the background, and you remember what a mother like Fatima al-Zahra (a.s.) went through as she witnessed her son and his family being martyred one after another.
It’s that time of the year, when you cannot imagine what it is like to let go of a brother like Abbas (a.s.).
It’s that time of the year, when your breath becomes heavy because your heart aches deeply for Bibi Sakina (a.s.), whose young eyes witnessed everything from Karbala to Shaam.
It’s that time of the year, when you imagine yourself sitting inside a khaima, with no water under the scorching heat, while children cry out, "Al-Atash! Al-Atash!"
It’s that time of the year, when you feel the need to align your goals with what is righteous through the love of Ahlulbayt (a.s.).
It’s that time of the year, when your heart becomes soft, but your mind reminds you to stand firm only for what is right on the path of Islam.
It’s that time of the year, when you introspect and feel that you could do so much more for the Imam of our time, and you become mindful of every little step you take, even if it is simply helping someone.
It’s that time of the year, when you willingly submit yourself to nothing but truth and justice with all your heart.
It’s that time of the year, when you feel there is no love greater than the love we have for Imam Hussain (a.s.), and no loyalty greater than what Muslim ibn Aqeel (a.s.) showed.
It’s that time of the year, when you feel you have found a guide towards your ultimate salvation.
It’s that time of the year, when you realise that the message for which Imam Sajjad (a.s.) cried for nearly forty years will never fade.
It’s that time of the year, when you remind yourself of the strength of Sayyida Zainab bint Ali (a.s.), who carried forward the movement of truth and justice, piercing the hearts of all who witnessed her speech in Darbar-e-Yazid.
It’s that time of the year, when your eyes open wider to witness how Rasulallah (pbuh) treated his grandchildren, versus how the world treated them.
It’s that time of the year, when our hearts listen to the Maqtal of Imam Hussain (a.s.), yet struggle to bear the moment when he made his final call:
"Hal min nāṣirin yanṣurunā?"
"Is there anyone to help us?"
Comments (0)
No comments yet.
Sign in to comment.