ভূমিকা

Shiavault - a Vault of Shia Islamic Books Al-Wahid al-Behbahani, Man of Intellect Chapter 2 Everything in existence is a trace for your steps This sun too is a part of your prevalent shade All friends have separated so I came seeking your shelter.” Hope As the caravan was approaching the City of Najaf, and after the appearance of the dome and minarets at sight, the blessings (upon Muhammad and his Household) were raised loudly by the travellers.

Karbala’i Nasr Allah al-Qatarchi emerged, being covered with dust from top of head to the foot sole, and merrily cried: “Send blessings on Muhammad... send blessings loudly.

Then blessings were raised loudly spreading everywhere, as if a new life has emanated inside the hearts of the travellers while rushing toward the shrine of the everlasting champion of Islam - ‘Ali ibn Abi Talib.” Thereat Karbala’i Nasr Allah - who took the leadership of tens of caravans before - started, as usual, chanting a ballad in praise of ‘Ali: “Send blessings upon the charm of the assembly intercessor, the Kawthar water-bearer the intrepid lion.” After few steps cut by the caravan, the city ruins and traces of towers could be clearly sighted.

A murmur and mumbling prevailed among the travellers while being engaged in supplication and thankfulness. Muhammad Baqir felt as if his soul was hovering round about space of light, while looking at the everlasting dome... and unwillingly teardrops flowed out from his eyes like rainy clouds. He was in fact approaching the wilayah (guardianship) tree. He started chanting a green du’a’ (invocation), whispering with himself: I wish I came here earlier...

I wish I came with my father, mother and aunt to live in this shady paradise. No one was aware of what was the young knowledge-seeker thinking of. His rushness to caressing the walls and gates of the holy shrine, revealed his profound love... pure love whose roots grew and fountains spurted under ‘Ali’s patronage. So the young man has paid homage to ‘Ali (A), going here and there looking for a relative or friend, settling down at last in a simple school.

Don’t Cry, Mother Muhammad Baqir spent the first night arranging his simple luggage at a corner of a small dark room; with swinging phantoms of dear faces appearing before his eyes... faces of his mother, father and aunt were striking his imagination. His aunt seemed to him with her white veil, smiling and saying: You have become a man, a man forgetting everything even his old aunt.