~*~SPOILER~*~
It is on this day that the blood defeated the sword; when the ideologically oppressed stood up to defend their right to believe, to practice truth, and to live free of suppression and propaganda. It is on this day that an entire family was sacrificed for standing up to tyranny; when a group of 72 was killed after three days of thirst and hunger; when a six month old child was hit with a three pronged arrow, merely for being the son of a Deg fender of Justice, when the bodies of men were trampled and left on the plains of Karbala; when falsehood never reeked so obviously and truth never seemed more beautiful. It is on this day that the blood defeated the sword and truth came alive with death.
~~Sumiya Baqri~~
~*~SPOILER END~*~
~~Hussain’s POV~~
I walked back to his house and looked for the letter. It was lying open on my desk, just where I left it.
Master,
I have arrived in Kufa safely by the grace of God and was welcomed very graciously. The excitement of the people upon hearing of your arrival is unspeakable. I met many of the men who had written in hopes of your coming. They cannot wait to lay their eyes upon your horse coming through the gate of the city of your father. More than 22 000 men have given allegiance to you on my hand. We are all anxiously awaiting you. Make haste towards Kufa.
Your Servent and brother,
Muslim s/o Aqeel
The good news brought by the letter was almost ironic. How was Muslim so happy by the faith of the Kufans when he was aware of how frail their allegiance was? I laughed bitterly when I read the letter again. The city of my father indeed…
It was the city where my father was murdered in his prayer. It was the city, where my beloved brother, Hassan, was abandoned by its dwellers. It was the city of men who changed their hearts and their minds with petty fears and grand rewards. I feared for Muslim’s safety at that moment.
I sighed and stood up. Focus! There was too much work to be done to worry.
“Abbas!”
Abbas was there, as if he had never left at all. Which was probably true. I looked with pride at my younger brother. My brother. Even though he was more than two decades younger than me, I could never remember a time when he hadn’t stood by my side. He was always there, in all the battles with my father, the time father had died, the time Hassan’s funeral procession had been ambushed, the time --- came to try to get my allegiance.
**Flashback**
“Hussain s/o Ali, will you or will you not give allegiance to Yazid s/o Muwaviya?”
“I am Hussain s/o Ali, I am the descendant of the founder of Islam, the last prophet, I am the son of Fatima, the lady of Light, I am the son of the Ali, the true caliph, the brother of the prophet, the lion of God, the Commander of the Faithful, the talking Quran. I am the true owner of the robe of Caliphate. I am the one the prophet used to carry on his shoulders. It is me and my brother of whom the Prophet said, ‘Hassan and Hussain are the leaders of the youth of Paradise.’ I am the Defender of truth and Justice. I am the Imam of the time. One like me can never give allegiance to one like him”
“If you will not give your allegiance willingly, we will take it by force!”
“Abbas!”
Abbas came running from the room next door with his sword drawn, his brothers on his sides. He pointed his sword at ---- and simply said,
“Leave.”
They were off.
**End**
No one dared approach him when Abbas was in vicinity. He was the exact copy of our father Ali, the lion of God, and no one forgot Ali’s valiancy while he was in battle. I could not bear when think that my time with Abbas was—
Focus! It’s not the time yet to worry about the future. Deal with the present.
“Abbas. Tell the people of Madina that we will be leaving soon. We are to go to Kufa. Get the caravan ready. I shall meet you at the Masjid in a few hours.”
Abba nodded and went. This journey seems to be going along beautifully- unfortunately. I almost wished something would go wrong and I would have to go—the thought of Zainab constantly on my mind—but I had to go, even if I was to crawl there.
I walked out into the sun. I was to leave the city of my grandfather again. This was the city he once rebuilt, not with stones and sand, but with truth, peace, and love. This was the city where every brick creamed ‘GOD IS GREAT’. I have to leave to save the city. I have to leave so that the sound reverberating from the bricks would not fade into time.
~~Zainab POV~~
“Abdullah!”
My husband weakly lifted his head from the pillow. His fever was still high. It was inexplicable; why did it suddenly come?
“Abdullah!” I called again, desperately. I needed to talk to him, no matter how sick he was. I needed his permission. I had to go. I could not leave my brother alone in this journey. I knew the story, I heard my grandfather telling him when he was small. I had to accompany him this time.
“Abdullah. By my mother, Fatima, please get up!” He shot up as f he had been shocked. With one look at me, his face paled. I wondered how I looked. Probably horrible. Ever since I found that Hussain was leaving without me I’ve been getting the worst kind of thoughts. I remember the last time I hadn’t seen Hussain in a while. It was soon after my wedding.
**Flashback**
“”Zainab! What happened?” Abdullah asked. I looked at myself in the mirror. I had black circles under my eyes which were swollen from crying. My whole face was pale white and looked drawn. I looked like I lost weight overnight.
“Zainab?”
“I haven’t seen Hussain for three days. This is the first time since I was born that I have been away from him for so long. Why hasn’t he come? Has he forgotten me?”
“Zainab, don’t be silly. He may simply have been busy. I’m sure he will come soon.”
“Please, can you call him here?”
----10 Minutes---
“Zainab!” Hussain’s voice filled the walls and my heart. I could feel my face glowing. I ran to him, tears running down my face once again.
“Zainab, you are married, I cannot see you all the time now. You belong with your husband.”
“Just because I am married doesn’t mean I have to stop seeing you!”
He laughed. “Okay, okay. I’ll come around every single day. Happy?”
I nodded, relieved. I was afraid he would say no.
**End**
~~Abdullah’s POV~~
I looked at Zainab and my mouth dropped open. I blinked a few times. She looked like she was at death’s door. I should have known something was wrong. She would never have called me by her mother’s name for a small matter.
“Zainab, what is it?” I already knew the answer before she opened her lips. Only one thing could cause her so much anxiety.
“Hussain is leaving Madina. He says I can only go with him if you give your consent. May I go with him? I beg of you, please.”
She began crying again. I was in shock. I made the granddaughter of the prophet cry!
“Zainab, please stop! What will I tell your grandfather when I die if I make you plead with me like tht. Of course you may go. Did you honestly think I would refuse you your brother? Go. God be with you. If only I can go with you, but this sickness hardly allows me to sit up, let alone travel”
I looked up at her again, remembering the previous days events. Yazid taking up the caliphate, --- coming to take Imam Hussain's permission. Understanding dawned on my face. I looked up at Zainab.
"Zainab...is it time?"
Silently, she nodded. Indentical tears began to run down our faces. I was crying, half with the grief that what we all had dreaded was coming ,and half with apprehension that I could not come.
"Zainab, don't go alone. Take one sacrifice from you and one from me for my Imam. Let me be represented by his side."
She silently nodded. What could she say? Finally, she wiped her tears and she opened her mouth.
“Thank you Abdullah. Thank you. Aun! Muhammad!”
Two little boys, seven and eight years old came running in.
“Yes mother?” they said in perfect synchrony.
I smiled slightly at my two angels. I bent down and hugged them. How would I bear it when—focus! “Go tell uncle Hussain that your father has given permission. The three of us will come with him on this journey”
They ran away together to the Masjid, laughing and playing on the way. Just as they left, a handsome young man came upon the door. Have you ever seen the prophet? Was he after your time? Then you’re lucky to be in Madina. Look at Ali Akber. His walk, his talk, his look, everything was like the prophet. He was the image of Mohammed like Abbas was the image of Ali. It was rather funny when they went riding out together, all the girls ran up to their roofs, trying to get an eyeful.
“Auntie? Did you get permission?”
I smiled at him and nodded. His face lit up. “Dad said that we will be leaving in a few hours for Mecca. We’ll stay there for a few months, do Hajj, and then we’ll keep going to Kufa.”
My smile faltered. That was the plan, but both me and Hussain knew that wouldn’t happen. Ali Akbar noticed the change in my mood.
“That isn’t going to happen is it? First dad, then you; you both seem so depressed. The way you are so upset about us leaving is like you know we will never come back.”
I started at his words.
“Are we never going to come back Auntie?”
“That is not for me to say, Ali Akbar.” I tried to change the topic. “Have you heard the rumours?”
He looked knowingly at me, sensing the topic change, but he didn’t press it. Then, when he registered my words, he looked confused.
“What rumours?”
“Oh, I don’t know. But a lot of people think that we’re leaving because your father wants to get you married…” I giggled silently at his blush as I continued, “to a foreign princess.”
His face kept getting redder and redder until I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing. My daughters came into the room when they saw that. They exchange a confused look and walked back out. Ali Akbar glared at me playfully, face still red.
“Are you done yet?”
“One second.” I said, still trying to get my laughter under control. He smiled at my efforts. “Okay, I’m good now. You go along; I have to pack my things.”