ভূমিকা

Shiavault - a Vault of Shia Islamic Books Maqtal al-Husayn ‘Ashura “I see death as nothing but happiness, while living with the oppressors is nothing but annoyance.” - Abu ‘Abdullah, al-Husayn (‘a) Had ‘Ashura Day only known What calamity in it went on. Its aura would not have dawned, Its light would not have shown, Its sun would not have been bright, Its grief stole from the days their light. And so every month, and so every day. O Allah! What a momentous day!

It removed my patience, out did it my sleep wear, Everyone from the family of Ayat al-Tathir Was either slain or in the dust rubbed; That Day the life of every hafiz was robbed, And the creed in grief almost passed way. That very Day... The foes' eyes slept As the faithful's eyes wept. Woe upon me and many a woe How under the hooves the ribs were low, And atop every spear A severed head did appear.

And on the plains the corpses did scatter: Grieving women coming out of the chamber Wailing, crying, frightened by the danger, And a suckling woman lolling at her babe, crying: On the sands lying, moaning, panting, dying, And women taken captive on she-camels bare Their veils taken away, agonized, wearing a stare; Their protectors from them did depart, Killed by every fiend having no heart.

The concern of the people whom Allah did hail Was only to mourn, to weep, and to wail, On a day deep grief is to be upheld at least, Whereas the Turks eat, drink, laugh and feast...[^1] That day was spent by the family of Muhammad, peace of Allah be upon him and his progeny, by continuous weeping and wailing. Its pain penetrated the hearts, incinerating them. The eyes were filled with bloody tears.

You could hear nothing except the cries of those who suffered the loss of a dear one and hear the sighs of those deeply depressed. You could see only those whose hair stood up and who demonstrated their exhaustion because of the tragedy. There were those who kept covering their heads with the dust as a sign of grief, those who beat their chests in agony, those who beat their forehead and were struggling to stay alive while putting one hand on the chest and another to beat it.

People looked as though they were intoxicated, but they were not; the horror of the painful tragedy made them look like that. Had you been able to hear how those in the Higher Plane were wailing, you would have realized the cry of the cosmos and the wailing of the huris in the chambers of Paradise as they moaned and groaned, cried, sighed and lamented.