the fire that was spread
by Aqeela Naqvi
“there was no stopping their enmity of Haydar-e-Karrar – it was the fire ignited in Badr that reached the plains of Karbala…”
the nights commemorating the martyrdom of the Commander of the Faithful, Ali ibn Abi Talib.
the courageous warrior from whom enemies would flee, and the tender guardian towards whom orphans would run.
in these nights, while Ali stood for prayer, in the silence of the air of Masjid-e-Kufa, an assassin rose to strike with a poisoned sword a wound whose gash would continue to bleed for centuries to come. for three days, the poison seeped until finally, the skies wailed and mountains roared, as left this world the Lion of God…
those who love Ali spend these nights remembering his legacy; mourning, the steady rhythm of hands meeting chests, the rise and fall of melodies of sorrow-filled poetry, lamentation ceremonies held in the depths of night across the world.
why? what was it about Ali that led so many to hold such a deep-seated resentment towards him?
what was it – that although, by every historical account and narration, he was the closest living person to the Prophet of God; that although the Prophet trusted him more than anyone else as his brother, protector, and friend; that although he made it repeatedly clear that Ali was the flesh of his flesh, the blood of his blood, the necessary gate for the entrance of his city;
that despite all this, those who claimed to love the Prophet abandoned his very reflection after his death?
how important it is for us to investigate, to find out: what were those events recorded in the annals of history that relate to us the cowardice, the jealousy, the unrelenting hatred brewed in the hearts of those who could not compete with him, that led to his oppression, the stripping of his rights, his eventual murder – and, over the subequent centuries, the murder of the 10 noble descendants who would follow after him?
roohi wa jismi lakal fidaa – ya Ali Mawla…