He gently put his mother in his aunt Zainab's arms saying...

He gently put his mother in his aunt Zainab's arms saying: Zainab, my aunt, I am leaving my mother to your care. I know, from your childhood, your mother Bibi Fatima has prepared you for the soul-stirring events of today and what is to come hereafter. My mother will not be able to bear the blows and calamities that are to befall her, unless you lend her your courage.

I implore you by the infinite love you bear for me to show the fortitude that you are capable of, so that your patience may sustain my mother when she sees my dead body brought into the camp's morgue. I entrust her to your care because there will be none to solace her and look after her in the years of dismay and despondency that lie ahead of her. Ali Akbar embraced his loving aunt Zainab with tender love and affection for the last time. she exclaimed: Akbar, go.

My child, I entrust you to God, To ease your last moments I promise you that, so long as I live, I shall after Umme Laila with the affection of a mother. With a heavy heart Ali Akbar returned to his father. There was no need for him to say that he had bid farewell to his mother and aunt Zainab, for the sorrow depicted on his face spoke volumes to Hussain. Silently he rose and put the Prophet's turban on Akbar's head, tied the scabbard on his waist and imprinted a kiss on his forehead.

In a failing, faltering voice he muttered: Go Akbar, God is there to help you. Treading heavily Akbar came out of the tent with Hussain following closely behind him. He was about to mount his horse when he felt somebody tugging at his robe. He could hardly see, because his eyes were almost blinded with tears. He heard the voice of his young aster Sakina supplicating him not to leave her.

O my brother," she was saying, "do no go to the battleground from which nobody has returned alive since this mornings." Softly Akbar lifted her, gently and affectionately kissed her on her face and put her down. His grief was too deep for words. Hussain understood the depth of Akbar's feelings and picked up Sakina to console her. The scene of Ali Akbar's march towards the battlefield was such as would defy description.

The cries of ladies and children of Hussain's camp were rising above the din of battle-cries and beating of enemy drums. It was appearing as if a dead body of an only son, dead in the prime of youth, was being taken out of a house for the last rites. Previous…