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Reflections

Reflections

A Reminder

From a bird’s eye view, the scenario was very much established, keeping in mind that it wasn’t the first time, and definitely wouldn’t be the last; it was nothing out of the ordinary.  Despite what you and I might have been feeling at that precise moment, the realm above us was accustomed to this procedure, and the decorum of its surroundings.

They looked down to where the lifeless being was. ‘Lifeless’, I chuckle at the irony of such a word. Was he not just full of life a few days ago? Walking as if he’ll live for years, engrossed in business affairs, the success of his family, accounting carefully for his wealth, and children, and so much more. Ah, but snatched from him in a split second, reminding him that what he lived off of, the soul that kept him going, was not his to keep anyway. What would have been of more concern is if it was being returned to its Maker the way it had been given as a loan in the first place, sixty odd years ago, or at least in a better condition.

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15 November 2010
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

A Foreigner…

“Have you ever wondered, what treasures it is, that you hold in your hand, young child?” I felt an urge to ask the child who played so joyfully on the swings and slides in the park. How must it be, years of growing in the comfort of your own home, having your family right beside you.

“Let me answer that for you. I wake not knowing if I shall live to see tomorrow, or even the sun setting today…” says the voice of a weakened heart. My own voice.

Iraq is my home, it has always been my home. I remember those days, when I would wake in the early hours of the day, stand besides my father and offer my prayers, thanking God for such good friends and a loving family. I could see the sun rising from my window as I quickly dressed. My heart was racing, because it was time for school and Hassan was waiting for me by Hashim’s market. Oh how beautiful the sun looked!

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26 March 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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