Tag

hussain

Reflections

Who is Hussain?

You ask me about this personality, and I respond with nothing. Utter silence….an overwhelming wave of disbelief, quickly overcome with understanding and realisation. Slowly I speak “It isn’t that I don’t know, I just do not know what to say, where to begin, how to make you understand, the impact of this single soul on humanity at large.”

Again, realisation.

Thursday 15th of November, 2012: I have been hearing fireworks for the third night in a row. Yesterday was the beginning of a new year for the Hindu’s, and today, is ours. Side by side stands a Mandir and a Mosque. Entering one are people filled with life, happiness, and dressed in their best yet. Entering the other, are flocks of Muslims, dressed in their simplest, their darkest colours, and their hearts heavy with grief. For both, it is the new year, for both it is a new start, a night of resolutions.

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15 April 2012
Poems

The Beat of my Heart…

The beat of my heart echoes, and the crimson tears flow
A heaviness clenches within, releasing my sorrow
 
I stand here, a witness, to the waking of a new dawn
envisioning how a child may have stood, her heart torn
 
Skies reflecting my grief, a deep shade of red
Unable to comprehend how they once must have bled
 
Time passing slower than my feet are willing to hold me,
An ache within urges me to set my mind free:
How does a father bear the loss of a child so dear?
How does a mother watch her child fight without fear?
How does an innocent infant see her uncle’s arms severed?
How do cold and brutal hearts not hesitate against the revered?!
Tell me Oh you who have been misguided;
How is a man of great compassion, who grieves also for the wrong,
Dismissed mercilessly by your ego, that you hold on to so strong?
Have you lost your sense of direction? Or your ability to perceive?
Your conscious has withered and left you, and yet you still believe:
This battle was won by you, and victory was delivered in your hand,
Is that not why you celebrated and magnified so grand?
While the truth known to those whose eyes of the heart weren’t closed
A strength was being nurtured and you’d soon be exposed
I call that strength ‘Aalimah, others call it Zainab, daughter of Ali,
By both names referred, a strength that sets Muslims free.
But you, oh misguided, have in reality lost and been defeated
The likes of Hussain, from you, they knowingly retreated.
Hussain is alive, as is the message, and those who follow
Through means of actions, and also our tears of sorrow.
Come see us in these days, when the cries resonate worldwide
Then oh misguided, tell me, the winnings were handed to which side?
*It is these tears that keep the message of Hussain alive!*
4 December 2011
Reflections

Our Sacrifice

During the days of Muharram, when I go the local center at night, I wish, time and time again, that I was in Kerbala. When the nawhas are being recited, I close my eyes, and imagine what it would’ve been like on the day of Ashura. In the land, that, today, is filled with visitors from all over the world, to pay tribute to the Imam who sacrificed everything he had to give us the gift of Islam that we have today.

I imagine a brave warrior holding a flag, and riding to fetch water for his niece, knowing he may not make it back.

I imagine a glowing aura standing in the middle of a desert, stating his last will and going forth to fight bravely, knowing that not too long after, his blood will be mingled with the sands of the holy land.

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4 November 2009
Reflections

“…for you Hussain, He Created a Nation!”

As the last days of 1430 pass us by, we, along with thousands of other Muslims worldwide, prepare for the coming of the New Islamic Year. But this preparation is not one of joy and celebration, rather one of grief and sorrow. It is a reminder for us, that as the new moon is sighted and the 1st of Muharram sets in, we are no longer alone in the Imambargah and in the remembrance of the Tragedy of Aba Abdillah, Hussain Ibne Ali (a.s.). Rather, we are going to be in the company of that sad mother of Imam Hussain (a.s.), whose name is Fatema Zahra (a.s.).

It was this Fatema Zahra (a.s.) who was concerned about the commemoration of the tragedy of Kerbala, ever since Imam Hussain (a.s.) was born. When she asked her father, when she was told about the Martyrdom of her son, as to whether there will be anyone to mourn him, to cry over him, to shed tears over her son’s death, the Prophet wept and said to her, “Fatema, I shall not be alive, Ali will not be there, Fatema, even you will not be there, Hassan will not be there.”

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26 December 2007
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