when the dawn had traversed through the dark night
"jab khata ki masafat e shab aaftaab ne"
(Original urdu Marsiya by Mir Anees; translation by Syeda Raza)
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When the dawn had traversed through the dark night
And emerged to display its countenance bright
The noble Lord and Master at the heavens glanced
And cried out to his companions, “Come hither, arise”
Praise the almighty God, the dawn is near
Pay tribute to His glory, bow down in His fear
Oh warriors, it’s a day of turmoil and din
Here will flow the blood of Mohammed’s kith and kin
The Son of Zahra looks on, face flushed with hope
The hour of keeping a promise has arrived, he wins
The heavens will forever weep for Zahra’s Son
He has waited for years for this day to come
When the day is gone and the sun has set
The warriors will have journeyed to a place of rest
At the fountain of Kauthar they are to gather and meet
Counted among worshippers, praised and blessed
Listed with the illustrious, unparallel their grade
In the cause of goodness, martyred and slayed
Hearing the summons, the noble warriors arose
And donned their armor, ready, composed
Eager for battle, no sign of fear or regret
Their amamas tied, before the Imam they appeared
Their robes flowing around them, their faces at peace
Steeped in heavenly fragrance their beings indeed
Their parched lips uttering verses and hymns
Their faces aglow, free of fear their heart and limbs
Generous, righteous, aware of right and wrong
Compassionate, valiant, distant from sins
Their voices mellow and calm, pleasant to the ears
Their speech soothing and tranquil, dispelling fear
Dignified, resolute, like lions, brave
Composed in temperament, unparallel in grade
Unquestionable in fairness, righteous, kind
Satiated with life, though haven’t eaten for days
The world in their eyes, meaningless, vain
Magnanimous in charity, no want for worldly gain
Supreme in discourse, eloquent in speech
Selective in utterance, magnificent in creed
Brilliant with word, unmatched in debate
Their tongues though parched, their discourse sweet
The tenor of their voices, of poetic grace
Their lips parched with thirst, yet God they praised
Their compassionate smiles, despite the hardship and hurt
They exuded a fragrance, like Yousef’s shirt
Pious, devout, committed, faithful, honored
Angels hovered around them, yearning to serve
No shells bear such pearls, no such rubies in mines
These are not mere humans, the angels cried
No water for ablutions, but pray they must
So they smeared their faces with the desert’s dust
And their beings glowed from the light within
Shias of Ali, humble, blessed, august
Their faces, like the moon, radiated with faith
Anointed with dust, they chanted and prayed
Ready for worship, then stepped out of the tents
Sons of Ali and Fatimah, of noble descent
The magnificent Qasim, the handsome Ali Akber
And children of Aqeel, Muslim and Jaafer’s sons
Their majestic aura reached the heavens above
Eighteen moons, of faith, of beauty, of love
That glorious morning, the fading stars, the dawn
Not for Moses to behold this splendid phenomenon
The humming of verses, the prayerful chants
The chirping of birds, the worshipping song
Lavish gardens humbled by this heavenly affair
Fragrance of flowers filled the desert air
The wandering breeze filled with verdant scents
Envious were the heavens of these accouterments
Palm trees swaying in the gentle morning wind
The flowers of the desert in soulful laments
No jewels could rival the splendor of the sight
As though leaves strung with gems during the night
Glory to the Creator who painted such a scene
Bedecked in splendor, a masterpiece indeed
No parallel to be found, no analogy exists
Mere mortals couldn’t create a vision so keen
The world enraptured by the glory of The One
A valley of paradise, the desert had become
Yet the Prophet’s progeny was engulfed by thorns
Intent on smothering their fragrant forms
Cherished by Fatimah, to be treasured by the world
A garden tended by the Prophet, they wanted gone
In the month of Muharram, ravaged and torn
In a forsaken desert, far from home
On the day of martyrdom, this garden bloomed
Eager to be slayed, no fear of death or doom
Embracing their departure from this lowly world
Up all night in expectation of what’s to come soon
Their fragrance in the air, they rushed towards death
With smiles they departed, no doubts, no regrets
Their green tents anchored to the desert floor
An island of goodness, of mercy galore
Under the blue skies and the blazing hot sun
A distinguished family, surrounded, alone
Among them those cherished by the Prophet divine
A blessed clan, a chosen group, beings enshrined
And as the Imam stepped on to his prayer mat
The desert was bathed in a light unmatched
And his noble companions stood behind him in rows
And Akber’s Adhan echoed in the desert, alas
At the sound of his voice, the listeners in awe
As though before them, the Prophet they saw
Birds hovered in the air, as though in a trance
And palm trees stood frozen, glued onto the sands
The wind barely moved, and the world stood still
Drawn by the sound, fishes hugged the river banks
Such was the miracle of Akber’s voice
That grains of sand in heartbreak cried
And in the enclosed tents, the women cried
Akber’s mother stood quietly listening to her child
Zaynab filled with pride and love extolled
Oh my beautiful boy, for you I will die
Oh how your voice echoes through this desolate place
Worshipping your Creator, praising Allah’s grace
How exquisite is the sound of your call to God
You descend from orators that captured and awed
Blessed with the gift of eloquence unbound
May your voice forever live in minds and thought
In the Prophet’s orchard, as though a chirping bird
Until the day of judgment, your call will be heard
The prayer began, and the worshippers arose
Standing in rows behind the Imam, composed
The inhabitants of heavens in wonder watched
As the devout men knelt in worship and bowed
In prayer, Husayn, a glorious sight
Like an open Quran, emitting a dazzling light
In prostration the worshippers whispered to God
Thankful for the blessings they had been endowed
Salutations to the Prophet they chanted with love
And with hands raised, Husayn beseeched the Lord
My God have mercy on my thirsty clan’s state
Encircled by enemies, deprived of water for days
On this side were prayers, and worship, and hymns
While on the other was cruelty and armies and sins
The son of Saad bellowing on the river banks
His army blocking the way to the luscious stream
“Husayn has had no water for days” he yelled with mirth
“Let him languish in this heat, let him die of thirst”
On his prayer rug, Husayn heard this cruel call
As arrows landed around him, instigating the war
His companions turned towards him, seeking his wish
And Abbas arose, in his hand his unsheathed sword
They hovered around their Imam, filled with love
Yearning to protect him, a desire all above
Toward Akber the Imam turned and spoke
Tell the women in the tents to hold the children close
Lest arrows are hurled at our camps and tents
The evil army is staffed with malicious rogues
A toddler will not survive an arrow hurled at such speed
Asgher could be slaughtered in his cradle indeed
As he spoke, Fizza called from within the tents
“Where must we take shelter?” she cried in lament
“By Asgher’s cradle have arrows begun to land
Ali’s daughters I must protect in every event”
The baby up all night in the stifling desert heat
He had just dozed off in the early morning breeze
Baquer and Sukayna huddled, a poignant pair
The unrelenting thirst, the burning desert air
Toddlers with faces stained with tears
And mothers heartbroken, full of despair
At the sight of the arrows, their hearts fill with dread
Are they to witness a carnage, sands with blood red?
And Husayn spoke to his companions dear
They had circled around him, in devotion sheer
The noble Lord turned to them and counseled thus
“Let’s get ready for battle, the hour is near”
“Its time to leave this lowly world behind
And enter the gardens of paradise refined”
To the tents then he headed to say his goodbyes
And his warriors readied for battle, with fearless eyes
With his armor donned, Abbas restlessly strode
As though a caged tiger, ready for his prize
From the reflection of his face, his armor aglow
The shield on his back, in one hand a sword
His helmet more imposing than Soloman’s crown
The plume of feathers, majesty abound
Vambrace on arms, the promise of triumph
Awe-struck, people lowered their gaze to the ground
When such is your brother, your strength, your shield
Why wouldn’t your chest swell with pride indeed?
And alas in the tents entered Fatimah’s son
And saw the women distraught at what’s to come
And heard Zaynab’s whispered prayer to God
“May my brother be spared Oh glorious One
May the family of Bano flourish and bloom
Long live her husband, secure from this doom
Encircled by enemies, of water deprived
Thousands in the armies call out for his life
Alone, with few friends, where must he go?
With a newborn and toddlers and women by his side
Exhausted by hunger and thirst in this heat
This is the state of the Prophet’s clan indeed
No Ali, no Mohammed, now under constant threat
The family under attack since the Prophet’s death
The assault on Fatimah, the arrows hurled at Hasan
Now I must weep for Husayn, for what is to come yet
Pray, help me find a way out of this forsaken place
We are nothing without Husayn, spare him through your grace"
Husayn hugged her close and consoled her thus
The Lord hears your prayers, be patient you must
Filled with power and pride is the enemy clan
I will try to counsel them to be fair and just
The time for mourning has not arrived yet
Please fetch the Prophet’s souvenirs, pray do not fret
The Prophet’s garment worn on Mehraj was brought
And Husayn donned the robe, Zaynab distraught
The Prophet’s headdress on his head, a poignant sight
Wrapped in the Prophet’s mantle, deep in thought
Fatimah’s tattered shawl draped his arm
Thus adorned he proceeded, resolute and calm
The air filled with fragrance of the Prophet’s robe
Suffused with the scent, an aroma arose
The scent of Ali, Fatimah, Hasan, and Husayn
The ambience of Panjetan, memories evoked
As though perfume had been poured, bouquets of myrrh
The garden of paradise in full bloom on earth
And Husayn donned his armor, belted his sword
Zaynab wept at the sight, hugged him close
She whispered her prays with a broken heart
Distraught, alone, surrounded by foes
The light within Husayn, through the armor gleamed
And flickered through, like stars it beamed
As the son of Fatimah for battle prepared
The heavens shuddered and wails ripped through the air
Gauntlets strapped to his arms, Hamza’s spear in hand
What a sight for his sister who looked in despair
His dignity, his stature, his rank, his clan
Unrivalled, exceptional, a truly noble man
As he readied to face the enemy vile
His father’s banner unfurled by his side
And the women in grief undid their hair
And wept at his loneliness, a forlorn sight
With their swords belted, their turbans tied
Zaynab’s sons by the banner, valiant, ready to die
Their sleeves rolled up, their robes wrapped close
With the awe of Jaafer and Ali, their faces aglow
Though mere children, daunting indeed their sight
Firm in purpose, resolute with foes
They kissed the banner in reverence and respect
They looked up at its height, its nobility perfect
They glanced at their mother, hope in their eyes
They called out to Husayn, “For you we will die”
They whispered to Zaynab, "Mother, what do you think?
Who would be chosen to carry the banner high?
Who will have this honor, who will carry it best?
The banner of Ali, on whose shoulder must it rest?
If your advice is sought, do remember our names
We hope to be granted this privilege, this fame
In respect of the elders, we have held our tongues
So we upset you not or cause you any pain
We are but servants of Husayn, his slaves
We seek to make a mark, to strive, and be praised
In the Prophet’s army at Khyber we have heard
Ali marched into battle with the banner unfurled
Envious eyes looked on at this splendid sight
At the honor bestowed to no one else in this world
We are his grandsons, we seek such honor grand
Not weakened by hunger or thirst we stand"
Zaynab replied, "Speak not of such things my boys
The Imam will decide, we defer to his choice
Say not a word, disrespect it shall be
Do not mention the banner, be humble, be wise
Fold your arms, bow your heads, in deference stand
Stay by Akber’s side, wait for his commands
Do not eye the banner, lower your chins
Do not trouble my brother with such frivolous things
Do not distract my focus from Husayn on this day
What you seek is not possible, it’s the hope of kings
If I say much more, your tender hearts will be hurt
You are but mere children, such things you blurt
This mighty banner, can your little hands hold?
Such tender ages, yet such ambitious goals
That you die for Husayn, that you give up your lives
That is the honor you must seek, that is your role
I will seek Husayn’s permission, you will say your goodbyes
Today has been chosen as the day you must die
Mighty achievements indeed your elders have borne
Honors are bestowed when achievements are shown
Skills in battle are proven, status is displayed
Your lineage from Jaafer and Ali is well known
Show your prowess in battle, hold now your tongues
Let the enemy cry out, these are Ali’s grandsons
After the army had suffered losses for days
The Prophet, to Ali gave the banner in praise
Having slayed Marhab, Ali turned to watch
As the enemy took flight, shaken and afraid
Ali ripped the fortress door from its hinges indeed
As though plucking a leave from a lowly tree
For three days now Husayn has been besieged
Armies surround my brother, no respite no yield
You ask not why in despair my hair is undone
You speak of status, of honor, of chivalry indeed
Oh how you behave on a day such as this?
You dwell on matters such as glory, the banner you kiss"
Arms folded in remorse, the boys, humbled, replied
"Oh mother forgive us, of our purpose we lost sight
We seek no glory, no honor, no praise
We will make you proud, we will display such might
When we step into battle, the army will flee
We will serve our Imam till the end, you will see"
And Husayn came to Zaynab and kissed her head
Why speak in this way, my sister, he said
Your sons, like lions, will fight you will see
Do not doubt their valor, do not be upset
Though young, great values, great goals they hold
Like their elders they are valiant, fearless, and bold
At such tender age, look at the grit they display
No doubt that proud they will make you today
They will leave the battlefield victorious indeed
For, as though my sister, you have raised them for this day
No doubt they inherit Ali’s courage, his skills
They are young yet they speak of mighty things
I will, of course, give the banner to whomever you select
That is your right, my brother, she replied, you direct
And Husayn said the day since my mother passed away
I have seen you as my mother, your will I accept
I will honor your choice, dear sister, pray speak
Who shall have this honor? Who do you seek?
She replied, oh my brother, what is your wish?
Who do you have in mind to bestow this gift?
If my opinion you seek, I will share my thoughts
But after the words of the Quran, your words I seek
In dignity, in status, in valor, in might
There is none like Abbas for this grant in my sight
He adores you my brother, he has served you well
Like a son he is to you, in our hearts he dwells
A ferocious fighter, a brave soul, our pride
He brings us peace, our concerns he quells
A courageous, noble soul, a brother, a friend
Singular in status, fearless, heroic, gallant
The Imam nodded in agreement, tears in his eyes
This was also Ali’s wish, to Zaynab he replied
Pray call my dear brother, let us honor him thus
And Akber ran to his uncle, filled with pride
Come my dear uncle, he implored Abbas
My aunt wishes to see you, for you she has asked
And Abbas came, his arms folded in respect
Your sister awaits with the banner, to him Husayn said
And Zaynab looked at Abbas, tears in her eyes
As Husayn handed the banner to Abbas and said
It is your sister’s wish that this emblem you hold
As the bearer of my standard, as has been foretold
Abbas held the banner, before Zaynab he knelt
She hugged him close and tearfully wept
She said to her brother, remember my dear
Fatimah’s son today, is of friends bereft
Protect him and shield him and guard him you must
Take him away to safety, to you I entrust
And Abbas replied, until I breathe my last breath
No army will harm him, not until my death
I dare anyone to cast an eye on Husayn while I live
Arrows must first hit my body, my chest
I am the son of Ali, Husayn will come to no harm
I will tear him pieces, who attacks my Imam
Then turning toward Najaf, he addressed Ali thus
I have been honored my father, so bless me you must
Pray for me father that I make you proud
Protecting my master I die, toward death I rush
That before anyone else, it is I who is slain
That my Imam is unharmed, that martyrdom I gain
Hearing this Abbas’ wife came to Zaynab and cried
To the Imam’s cause may we be surrender our lives
May we die protecting our Imam till the end
Long live Husayn even if we all must die
You have honored by husband, you have blessed our ranks
We are humbled, you have our heartfelt thanks
Zaynab hugged her close and softly whispered
May your family flourish, may my prayer be heard
But my lady, she said, to save Fatimah’s son
If a thousand of us are killed, there is nothing to mourn
May Husayn’s children live long, may you see the day
When Akber is wedded in a grand display
May the Imam return safely back to his home
May the day of his return to Medina come
May the mother of Abbas hug him once more
May we celebrate Akber’s wedding at the Prophet’s tomb
May we mark his palms with henna in glee
May we welcome his bride into our family
As they spoke, Sukayna came running up to them
Where is my uncle? She cried, What is the event?
I hear of the honor bestowed upon him
I wish to applaud him, has he returned to his tent?
May God grant him honors in abundance and more
Let me see what he looks like as the banner he holds
Abbas called out Come here my sweet girl
Tell me how you are, with the agony of thirst
Pray go to the river, my uncle, she cried
My lips are parched and my throat still hurts
In celebration of your honor, no gift I need
But a sip of water would be heavenly indeed
At her words, in the tents many a tear spilled
And Qasim reported that army draws nearer still
Their numbers have swelled, well fed and quenched
They are restless and wild, hungry for the kill
As Abbas headed for the stream, banner held high
Husayn said his goodbyes, the hour draws nigh
And Abbas rode out, his goal the river bed
Hearts of women and children filled with hope and dread
The Imam waved to his family, leaving them behind
It is time for departure, his farewell now said
Glance once more at the departing men, he cried
For you will see them no more, they leave now to die
Zaynab threw herself at the Imam’s feet
And Bano hugged her son close, never again to meet
Kulsoom in a corner, as though in a trance
Baquer huddled with Sukayna, the future so bleak
The garden of Fatimah, perished and torn
Along with the banner, had left their very souls
Abbas leading the way, the banner held high
The small group of warriors, ready and willing to die
For their lord and master, the cause they held dear
And the wailing of women reached the skies
Husayn walking alongside, alone, no allies
Like the dew at dawn, tears in his eyes
He mounted his horse, with Mohammed’s strength
To face the foretold day his heart intent
And angels and djinn in wonderment cried out
Indeed buraaq has landed once more on earth
Such an elegant horse, such dignity such poise
As though in adornment walks a beautiful bride
The mount rode out into the oppressive heat
Inhaling the hot air, panted the steed
The riders followed, the banner held high
The rhythm of the hooves, a heavenly beat
As though a fragrant wreath, the desert air revived
The small group of warriors in the battlefield arrived
The righteous soldiers, a glorious sight
Inspiring awe even in the evil army’s minds
Marching under the shadow of the auspicious flag
The men of Banu Hashim, fearless, upright
In the garden of Ali each one had bloomed
Revered in the heavens, to be withered soon
Youth among them barely seven or eight
Loose strands of their locks grazing the face
Evoking the strength of Hyder, the valor well known
Skillful in battle, bold, fearless, unfazed
Their chests facing boldly the arrows’ path
On the frontiers of destiny they had arrived at last
Angels in admiration gazed at the sight
Look at the scene unfolding before us, they cried
Saw the image of the Prophet in the Imam’s face
Chanting salutations, the noble clan they eyed
Look at the one that holds the banner so grand
As though with Mohammed, Ali still stands
On the day the holy Prophet departed the earth
From the earth all beauty we thought had dispersed
Yet today our eyes bow to the beauty of this lad
So much like the Prophet, of such noble birth
Refined in perfection, impeccable, unmatched
As though the Prophet’s shadow on the earth has been cast
And soon were arrows hurled at the Imam’s sight
He tried to reason, to show them what is right
Refusing to listen, the vile army took no heed
And the Imam’s companions gave up their lives
Valiantly they fought, with their sword and spear
Like Malik al-Ashtar each one battled far and near
They faced the army vile, unflinching their faith
Proclaiming loudly their message at the enemy’s gate
In fear the cunning army scattered and fled
They pierced through the ranks, in a fearless state
Like thunder they rolled, from the east to the west
Amidst the evil the army, unrelenting their quest
The grandsons of Ali, magnificent in fight
Their swords, like the zulfiqaar, delivered fright
They sliced through the army with valor unmatched
Hundreds they injured, countless did die
In heaps the treacherous army fell around their steeds
Such was their valor, their bravery indeed
In their tender hands, the swords fiercely held
Swift in their movement, undeterred they quelled
Nervous, the evil soldiers looked for cover, ran
Ali and Fatimah’s names in hopes of mercy they yelled
The two boys fought so bravely, so skillfully indeed
Displaying the nobility of their blood and breed
And the battle of Qasim, history did record
Amidst the swarming army, the lad valiantly fought
Unfazed by hunger or the relentless thirst
He battled with the enemy, stoppable he was not
Like Ali his skills, his finesse, his sight
Slaying the evil Arzaq, he laid down his life
And as Abbas unsheathed his sword, they caved
And Jibraeel called out, may the earth be saved
The son of Saad took cover behind rows of shields
There was no place to hide, they cowered, afraid
Towards the river he headed, seeking water for his clan
There he fell and was slayed, seizing the river banks
He had killed many men, of fright or of sword
The army was in panic, helter skelter they rode
A hundred bodies he had thrown into the raging stream
As he sliced through the ranks blocking his road
Having filled his water bag, yet not quenching his thirst
He had valiantly fought the army cursed
And Akber’s battle in the raging heat is renowned
Charging fiercely at the army, the enemy astound
Well-known warriors lay lifeless on the sands
Their bodies piled high on the desert ground
He slashed through the ranks, he sliced through the foes
More fiercely than Abbas, the enemies he drove
From dawn till the afternoon, the battles raged
The desert ground shook, the heavens quaked
In scare and awe, angels gathered their wings close
And then the cries had died and the lives had been laid
The time for swords and spears had passed
By the afternoon the Imam’s army was emptied alas
Each injured body the Imam had carried on his back
That no body is beheaded, he made sure of that
His friends had departed, now truly all alone
In his sighs could be heard the pain of his heart
Each parting a calamity, he had borne with such grace
Exhausted, bruised, and thirsty, in his heart an ache
He glanced at the bodies of his loved ones around
With their blood his robe streaked, he sat on the ground
In agony, in distress, in turmoil, in pain
The sound of drums filled the air all around
The depraved army called out names of the fallen men
With a hand on his heart, the Imam cried out in pain
Who better knows the pain of having lost so much?
A lifetime of memories, all turned to dust
Not a moment of peace will such a heart find
So many loved ones gone, so weep he must
Their bodies on the ground under the glaring sun
Bruised, battered, and cut, their lives undone
The Imam walked to the tents at a desolate pace
Words hard to form, his throat parched for days
Putting his hand on the door of the tent he cried out
Pray bring Asgher to me, what is his state?
Let me look once more at this beautiful face
Akber’s little brother who lies in a daze
And the women and children ran out towards him
His mother held Asgher, thirsty, weak, and thin
And the Imam took the baby in his arms and wept
Bringing him close to his face, kissed his lips and chin
The grief-stricken women and children around him sat
And Husayn sat on the ground, the baby in his lap
As he held the baby, the son of Kahil prepared
An arrow in his bow, the evil man paired
And he shot the arrow, the baby his aim
Slicing the baby’s throat, without a thought or care
As the baby lurched in his father’s arms
Husayn moaned at the sight, and Asgher was gone
He took his last breath, Husayn held him close
Then he dug a small grave, buried and rose
He cried out in agony, Oh blessed earth
Hold my child safe, away from the foes
This is a child of Ali, do not eschew
From the garden of Fatimah, he has come to you
Having laid to rest his bruised infant child
To the battlefield the weary Imam arrived
Enrobed in the Prophet’s attire he stood
A noble figure, of all his rights denied
The spear of Hamza, Ali’s sword in hand
The Prophet’s armor donned, the leader of his clan
How must this day of battle be described?
Words are inadequate, I am no scribe
The desert air scorching with the raging heat
The sands a red hue, pale the blazing sky
For a drop of water, every being yearned
The wind rained fire, the very air burned
The hot air chafed, the scorched heavens burned
The day seemed to darken, as though seared by the sun
The river of Al-Qama panted in the heat
The water seemed to boil as it bubbled and churned
The hot winds swept up the dust in the air
The waves rolled and gasped in the blazing sun’s glare
Animals seeking solace, lay by the river banks
Escaping the heat, to the bottom the fishes sank
Creatures darted in burrows, dark and crusty their skins
The rocks appeared to melt in this barren land
Blooms had no color, the grass was not green
Wells had dried up, shying away from the heat
Trees and bushes were withered for miles and miles
Each appeared to be roasting under the burning skies
No aroma in flowers, no fragrance in the grass
Stems were buried in thorny piles
Such was the heat, life had withered and shrunk
Leaves shriveled and arid, hung on tree trunks
Lions in the desert, stayed in their dens
Beasts sheltered in bushes in the roasting glen
The face of the sun marred by clouds of dust
From the heat from the earth, the heavens burned
The entire creation was restless in the sweltering heat
A grain dropped to the sands would be roast indeed
In such blazing heat, stood the Imam all alone
Distant the Prophet’s tomb, far away from home
His sight wounded by all that he had seen this day
Lips blue, throat parched, heartbroken and torn
He had not had a sip for three long days
His tongue stuck to his palate, words were delayed
While the army took its horses to the stream to drink
And camels gulped greedily at the river’s brink
Creatures big and small could the water partake
And the vile soldiers splashed around in the stream
To quench someone’s thirst was deemed a noble act
Yet the son of Fatimah stood thirsty alas!
To shelter the son of Saad, slaves held a parasol
And servants stood around at his beck and call
Attendants sprinkled water around him to cool the air
And under the blazing sun, Husain stood facing all
In the scorching heat, the blistering desert winds
His face tanned by the sun, withered his skin
“You can still be saved” hollered the son of Saad cursed
If allegiance you will pledge, we will quench your thirst
I will not, the Imam replied, you must know that by now
Gladly will I bear these burdens first
You are a lowly man, a sinner, a wretched soul
For what I hold dear, I will bear sufferings untold
Ibrahim I can summon, if my wish were so
Heavenly streams I can beckon, by my feet will flow
You offer me a sip of this earthly drink
Oh how lowly is your being, how little you know
So depraved is your existence, so lowly your grade
In your presence all aroma from blooms does fade
Jamsheed at my summons will promptly arrive
The fountain of Kauthar will hurry to my side
Jibraeel will descend at my words of command
Bringing an army of angels to aid in my fight
I can bring a revolution to this earth in a blink
Cities of Kufa and Shaam will perish in a wink
Saying this the Imam unsheathed his sword
The son of Saad retreated, words couldn’t afford
Signaled to the army to rain arrows on Husain
And a million arrows at Husain were hurled
Riders with stones, and spears and daggers swarmed
Unfurling their dark banners, rushed towards the Imam
They beat their drums wildly, played bugles in an uproar
The clamor was deafening, a tumult arose
The ground shook with turbulence at the thunderous noise
Hurlers of spears marched, clad in black robes
Armed to the hilt, thousands marched towards Husain
As though a dark storm raging on the sands
Unfazed, undaunted, the Imam faced the army vile
And in fear of the earth’s destruction, Jibraeel arrived
Like a fearless lion, Husain charged through the ranks
Just like Ali he battled, daring, courageous, and wise
The Zulfiqaar had been for many years at rest
Now drawn to defend a lonely desert’s guest
The blade swung out in a dazzling strike
As though filled with passion to slay the enemy vile
Like a ray of sunlight leaving the sun
Or a man’s last breath when departing from this life
As lightening departs from thunderous clouds
Laila let out a cry at the deafening sound
Like an eagle, Husain swooped over the army ranks
Fearless as a lion, the enemy hearts sank
Like a streak of lightening he dove into the hordes
Plunging into the battalions, not for moment did he blanch
His sword struck at their beings with passion and might
As though a bolt of lightening atop a mountain high
Sparks flew as the blade clashed with swords and spears
Slain horse riders fell, eyes filled with fear
At his brandishing sword, panic filled the hordes
Nervously Jibraeel wrapped his wings near
The air filled with Husain’s righteous wrath
Under Ali’s banner, his sword cleared his path
With every strike his sword slayed an evil soul
It sliced through vile bodies that encircled close
Death followed his strikes, laying waste the hordes
With forbearance the blade fell and arose
Saddles slipped off horses, riders plunged to the ground
Pieces of armor lay everywhere, scattered all around
His sword gleamed over the swarming throngs
Slaying hundreds of men, clearing ranks a thousand strong
Displacing riders from their horses, fearless, bold
Their foul blood flowed onto the burning ground
Their evil souls departed to the shores of death
In pools of blood, they took their last breaths
Such valor, such vigor, such fervor grand
Fire rained on the river, blood rained on the sands
Silently it struck, his sword’s message was clear
The still waters roared, shaking the desert land
At the sight of his sword, the river cowered, withdrew
The waves flinched at the brandishing sword in view
Each wing of the army, in panic disarrayed
Far from the Prophet’s message these people had strayed
The ground quaked, the army in shambles with fright
Bodies scattered in shambles at death’s doorway
Banners torn and strewn, men in chaos and dread
Towns lay in upheaval, villagers fled
How swift were the strikes of the blessed sword
Slicing through bodies without saying a word
Thirsty for those who had wronged the Imam
It reigned over the field, it chased the herds
Piling bodies on the sands, sprayed the heavens with blood
Swiftly rising and falling, bringing death in a flood
It was a bearer of death, life fled at its sight
Having lost many loved ones, it roared with might
A righteous slayer, the heathen army it chased
Its head held high, its countenance bright
It is said that by truth, falsehood is often chased
Steeped in truth its being, in fury it slayed
It struck upon chests, spilling blood to the sands
Lungs punctured and crushed by death’s own hand
Pleas for mercy could be heard from the falling men
Its unleashed fury, no one could withstand
Unstoppable its horror, dozens tried and fled
Their ghastly faces eclipsed by dread
It swept through the rows without a care
Its blade glinting in the sun, here, there, everywhere
Ensnared by its horror, grown men cried out
Astonished by its swiftness, their fearful eyes glared
They knew not which way to run or to hide
Bodies fell to the sands, hundreds died
Those on the river banks looked for a way out
Limbs flew in the air, bodies strewn about
They ran helter-skelter, panic gripping their souls
Death was all around, of that there was no doubt
No hands to hide faces full of shame
All they could do was run from the scene
Such was the effect of Husain’s sword
In awe the stream frozen, waters still at the shore
In sheer panic the evil soldiers sought a place to hide
Gripped by utter fear, shaken to the core
Like lightening it strikes, they cried out in dread
The wrath of God unleashed upon us, they said
Though protected by scales, fishes cowered in fright
Urgently they swam in the waters wild
Like a whirlpool the stream spun and splashed
And alligators dove to the bottom riled
​
Waters churned in awe at the might of the sword
Waves hot in the heat, stillness couldn’t afford
The wrath of God followed the waving blade
Pleas for mercy by the wounded hundreds were made
It sliced through bodies, severed limbs and more
It surged and dropped, to the ground it swayed
Each time the sword struck the burning desert floor
The earth called out for help at Abu Turab’s door
Those aiming their arrows, in a stampede were crushed
Bodies were trampled in the chaotic rush
Strings of bows snapped, arrows broke apart
Souls fled from bodies, into oblivion thrust
Terror gripped their hearts, they fled the battle site
Weapons fell to the sands, as they ran in fright
Warriors of renown took to their heels
Their only refuge today, the raging battlefield
Refined in warfare, skilled soldiers of lore
Yet blinded with fright, no valor no zeal
Their evil hears in sheer panic’s grip
They grappled frantically, as their arrows slipped
Hordes of soldiers onto the sands reeled
Horses toppled over men, men over horses keeled
Fleeing in terror, stampedes galore
Spies tumbling over couriers, couriers on soldiers’ heels
Breaking ranks men ran, eyes wide with dread
What a sight to behold, as hundreds fled
The Imam’s righteous anger had been unleashed
Over the evil army unfurled, it would not cease
In piles lay the vile men, dead on the sands
In battled today, Ali’s sword had been released
Hordes of bodies, limbs everywhere
Heads rolled on the sands, not a spot was bare
His sword swept the field, blocking every path
No place to escape its righteous wrath
Arrows or bows of no use today
The army now amidst a massive blood bath
They all saw the miraculous, gleaming sword
It stunned their beings, astonished their souls
Engulfed in the clamor of the clashing blades
Arrows whizzed in the air, falling in cascades
Piebald horses, mottled in many hues
The turbulence of battle, the scorching sun’s blaze
The desert floor burned, no living soul could sustain
Yet none suffered as much on that day as Husain
The water bearers in the army cried out to their own
“In the sizzling midday sun, the searing heat has grown
Come douse your thirst, we have water from the stream”
And the evil soldiers rushed towards them in hordes
Oh what a wretched day had befallen the earth
Everyone got a drink, as Husain reeled with thirst
His flesh dry to the bone, unthinkable his pain
Moans escaped his lips, oh the agony he contained
Eyes squinching at the heat, the sweltering sun
As he charged at the enemies on the friendless terrain
His brow gleamed, his being exuded fragrance of lore
Like pearls the droplets falling on to the desert floor
Satiated, yet in frenzy as his blade plunged and rose
In panic they sought shelter from the thirsty Imam’s sword
It flashed in their faces, it sliced through their girth
Unstoppable its might, unbearable its blows
So magnificent was the sword Husain held that day
Unparalleled in finesse, unmatched in its sway
Benumbed at its sight, they looked on in a daze
Grappling at their weapons, in panic, afraid
Hordes in a stampede, arrows found no aim
Bows couldn’t be strung in the mayhem of the day
No time to grab an arrow in the crushing chaos
Heads rolled, bodies on the desert floor tossed
The neighing of the horses, His flashing sword
Bodies decimated in a hundred rows
Not a single soldier having the will to fight back
Chased by death, they fled in hordes
Having come to know well Zulfiqaar’s wrath
Spears scurried away from its hunting path
From the pounding of hooves, the air filled with dust
In turbulence, the sand swarming above
It piled on to the men, the horses, the air
Darkening the battlefield, swirling amuck
Hiding from view, the fiercely scorching sun
Though just past noon, it appeared the day was done
The Imam’s splendor drenched the battlegrounds
His face sunburned, yet radiance abound
His withered, parched lips as though petals of rose
Regal on horseback as Abu Turab crowned
He cried out to the fleeing, panicked men
As though a roaring lion, charging out of his den
Pleas of mercy arose from the scrambling hordes
God’s wrath had descended with Husain’s sword
On the sands, by the river, he seemed everywhere
A master of the earth, nominated by God
“Pray have mercy” they called, they implored, begged
“In the name of Ali Akber” they beseeched, they pled
It broke his heart to hear Akber’s name
He reined in his horse, his being filled with pain
Turning to Akber’s body, he called out to his dead son
“Wake up, your father battles on these wretched planes”
“In your name they call out for mercy, for grace
How can I deny them? My sword I encase
The son of Saad hollered, slapping his thighs
“Having overcome our ranks, He gives up the fight
And too noble of a man to go back on his word”
Hearing this a strapping soldier thundered with might
“Here I come” he bellowed, “to attack the Imam”
Oh son of Saad write my name as the victorious one”
Towering in stature, obnoxious, proud
Massive, as though built of iron, stout
Delivering death and destruction by arrows and spears
An impregnable shield, undefeated clout
Diabolic at the core, with a vicious temperament
Atop his horse, a massive mound, for battle intent
Accompanied by an ally just as burly and wild
Forehead twisted in a frown, dark skinned, blue eyed
Vile in character, deceptive at his core
Adept at slaughter, with armies would collide
Thirsting for blood, spears ready to aim
Filled with conceit and contempt, carnage their fame
Nervous soldiers agitated, uneasy, took flight
Unruly, restless was the evil army with fright
All wondering if Husain will unleash His sword
Marhab once again, it seems, faces Ali’s might
Who will win today’s encounter? Who will score high?
Who will prevail today? Which one will die?
Husain heard the Divine call to engage, to strike
“In the name of Allah Oh Husain, display your might”
His sword rose for battle, gleaming in the air
And he shifted on the saddle, ready for the fight
As the bulky behemoth lurched at the Imam
In defense, the Zulfiqar swept at his foul form
The soldiers were intent on gaining ground
But the noxious titan glared at Husain’s mount
Like thunder was the clamor of the colliding spears
The pounding of the hooves was a deafening sound
The stamping of the horses a formidable sight
The earth in an upheaval at the force and might
The conceited beast towards the Imam aimed
And Husain, undaunted, towards him came
As the evil soldier’s spears misfired and fell
He reached for his arrows facing the Zulfiqar’s flame
Built to pierce mountains, the potent arrows keeled
No match for Husain’s prowess on the battlefield
Frustrated the vile man grabbed a massive mace
Abu Turab’s son turned, anger on his face
And raised His sword at the depraved man
And like thunder it swooped at a lightening pace
Defeat grabbed the soldier, Husain prevailed
The man’s arm flew away, leaving a bloody trail
He had entered the battlefield, fearless, assured
Yet how can a prey evade death’s grip, its lure?
He grappled at his sword with his remaining arm
And the Zulfiqar fell upon him, its glory galore
It dazzled in Husain’s hands, swept and flowed
Slicing the beastly soldier and his horse in one blow
Turning then to the other vile man, Husain called
“The wrath of my sword, you have witnessed appalled”
Drunk with conceit, the monstrous man stayed his ground
Nowhere to run, his path death had blocked
Summoned to the battle by death, he had come
To face the glorious Imam, to the hellfire succumb
And Husain headed towards his noxious form
As though a mighty lion, raging through a storm
The man readied to strike, brutal to the core
The Zulfiqaar struck with a fury he had never known
Crushing him on his saddle, effacing the vulgar man
Sinking his flailing horse into the desert sand
Astonished, fairies fled their heavenly abode
Lions bolted out of dens, wolves in frenzy froze
Falcons and partridges hunkered down
Fishes jumped out of oceans in fearsome throes
Mountains quaked and recoiled, receded in height
The phoenix shed its plumage in quivering fright
“Such supreme battle skills” the heavens hailed
“A hand well-suited to hold the Zulfiqaar’s weight
Behold such prestige, such honor, such fame
Valor infused in his being since a suckling babe”
“Created to command, to rule above all
Embodying the ultimate finesse of Jehad”
“Pray pause oh Husain, seek to battle no more
Take a breath in the wind, halt your stormy sword
Your steed pants with exertion in the raging heat
The hour of Asr approaches, the end is close”
“Never a man ravaged with thirst has thus fought
Yet the guardianship of Islam is your calling, your lot”
Husain encased his brandished sword and turned
And the fleeing battalions, emboldened, returned
They strung their arrows, grabbed their bows
Raced towards Husain, their banners unfurled
The depraved legions turned on the lonesome Imam
Thousands engulfed his being on the desert sands
Hundreds of arrows hurtled towards his chest
Gouging his body, piercing his vest
Arrows sliced, embedded, spears cleaved through
An onslaught, a barrage, without a break or rest
So many arrows had nested on his noble form
As needles on a porcupine, around him they swarmed
Throngs of spears came hurtling at Husain
Mobs of heinous men charged with malice insane
Hundreds of swords brandished, craving his blood
The Prophet’s grandson was in an ocean of pain
No helper in sight, no consoler, no friend
No defender, no support, no one to attend
Surrounded by thousands, wounded, all alone
Such was the treatment of Fatimah’s son
Lances gashing his thighs, his back, his ribs
Blades laced with poison slashing his form
Deranged with rage, they thirsted for his blood
They jostled and swarmed at him in a flood
Earlier they had fled the wrath of Husain’s sword
Hearts hardened with sin, some now hurled stones
His face now pale from the distress and wounds
A spear sliced at his throat and he let out a moan
As he reached to dislodge the shaft by his neck
An arrow landed nearby, wreaking havoc
A three headed spear it was alas
It gouged his throat, his head jolted back
He reached to pull out the embedded blade
To extricate spears, in the midst of the attack
Blood gushed from his wounds, poured into his hands
He lurched on his saddle, swayed on the desert sands
Among the mob around him, Salmi was one such man
He gashed Husain’s head with a spear in his hand
And with an arrow the Son of Anas stabbed Husain
Into Husain’s waist another spear was slammed
From the force of the ambush, Husain convulsed on horseback
In utter distress, the Prophet’s tomb in Madina cracked
His feet left the stirrups, on the saddle he reeled
Towards the burning sands his body keeled
His body ridden with spears, bloodied and gashed
The amama falling to the ground as he bent over his knees
Alas, the Quran itself on to the ground plunged
The Holy Kaaba shuddered, the heavens lunged
And cries of Fatimah ripped through the winds
“Dear father, the Ummah has betrayed your kin
Who do they call? To whom should they turn?
Such ruthless ferocity, pray what was his sin?”
“Nineteen hundred wounds, his body gashed and torn
Zainab rush to his side, there is no other to mourn”
And Ali’s daughter parted the door of the tent
Distraught with grief, heart broken, back bent
Her eyes searching the field, crying out for Husain
“Oh Karbala, where does my brother lie in torment?”
“Oh mother my body is heavy with grief
Take my hand and lead me to my brother please”
“Cloaked by agony, I am blinded by grief
Pray show me the way to where Husain sleeps
Where is the wounded Syed? Oh mother lead me
Where is he to be slaughtered? Where must I weep?”
“My heart burns with anguish, in torment I plead
I hear Husain’s voice whispering my name indeed”
“He calls out to me ‘Zainab, pray do not lament
I depart this world, you must return to your tent’
The Prophet’s kin are besieged, no friend in sight
Oh Ali, I call upon you in this hour of torment”
“Pray rush to save Husain, do not leave him alone
Oh Fatimah you must hide him in the folds of your cloak”
Thus Zainab wailed for the brother she adored
And Husain was beheaded on the desert floor
The vile hordes taunted and shrieked in glee
And yet she ran through their numbers searching for him more
At last she found him, lifeless under the sun’s blaze
On the tip of a spear his bloodied head raised
Throwing herself at him, in anguish she wailed
“Oh my Syed, how I cherish your beautiful face
Oh son of Ali, your sister weeps at your loss
How can I see your throat slashed with a blade?”
“Keeping your wow to Allah, you took your last breath
Your lips whispering His name even in death”
“I pay homage to you, in reverence I bow
Amidst sobs and wails, your name I call
Say my name once more, I yearn to hear
Tell me how I go on living without you now?”
“Only death will now relieve me from this searing pain
For as long as I live, I will call out your name”
“Where do I find you Husain? Where do I go?
How do I console my heart? What do I do?
Where do I find solace? Who do I call?
In this strange land, surrounded by foes”
“My world is shattered, desolation abounds
Where is my refuge? The home I knew is gone”
“Alas, I should have died and you should have lived
You endured the beheading. How did that feel?
And she heard Husain say “Do not ask of this”
“Despite the pain, my gratitude to Allah I give”
“My bruised and battered body no longer in pain
Yet the pain of our parting, my soul contains”
“They will now set on fire our belongings and tents
Yet utter thanks to Allah, do not complain
When the tents are on fire, smoke everywhere
Pray protect my Sakina from the misery and pain”
“She is bewildered at what her eyes have seen today
They will bind her arms, protect her, I pray”
Stop now oh Anees, say not a word more
The world will remember these lines you wrote
The pen shudders at the words written here today
Words cherished by hearts, people will quote
These gatherings to mourn for Husain will stay
All creation will grieve him until doomsday