Patience

For a very, very long time, I honestly didn't understand what people meant when they said to 'be patient' in difficult times. How can you be patient? It seemed to me like a passive state, more than anything else. If someone's mother is suffering from terminal cancer, what can they do? They don't have a choice but to deal with it. If someone dies, if I fail my exams, if what I want doesn't happen, if my plans are demolished to crumbs, what can I really do except accept it and move on?

I even brought this up with friends- what did it mean to be patient? And as much as some of them might have tried to explain it to me, I never really understood until I was thrown into the deep end- the end of experience. I finally grasped that to be patient wasn't actually a passive state, a state of helpless idleness. It's an active challenge.

We live in a society where we like to be in control- just look at people's new year's resolutions- we want to control our diet, we want to control our smoking, we want to control our bodies by working out and going to the gym, we want to control the use of our time. We want to control everything and anything, and the greater level of control we are able to exercise over these aspects of our lives, the more successful we feel. But more difficult than any of these- more difficult than controlling our food, our bodies or our time- is controlling our minds. And that's exactly what we're doing when we exercise patience, and I suppose that's why there's so much emphasis on patience in the Qur'an and from the Ahlulbayt (a.s).

Often when we are in tough situations, when things aren't going to plan, we try and resist the will of God without realising it. We might complain, we might drown in our tears of self pity, we might even try ridiculous things and go to laughable lengths to try and fix or change situations, which any outside spectator would easily tell us are out of our control. Why do we do this? It's non-sensical- nobody has or ever will win against the will of God, so why do we even bother? I guess it's because deep down, we believe that we know what's best for us. What we want in those instances is what we truly believe we need. We basically let our minds run riot, go with the flow of an emotional tantrum which often ends in resentment and bitterness. Essentially, we lose control of our thoughts.

I'm not sure if the translation of the word 'Sabr' into English as 'patience' is 100% accurate- perhaps this is partly why I used to have trouble grasping the concept. When I thought of Sabr, I thought about waiting. But waiting for what? Now (post eureka revelation), I think we're waiting to see what God has planned for us. I apologise for the seemingly trivial analogy, but I think it fits- imagine there is a dress (or a suit or a pair of shoes) that I really want to buy. I'm crazy about it, I feel like if I don't purchase it, I'll be missing out big-time. Unfortunately, my university fees increase (thanks to the oh so faithful coalition government) and suddenly the item that I wanted so badly, is no longer in my reach. Eventually, the dress sells out. Instead of waiting it out until later when my financial situation is better, I fight with the university for the unpleasant surprise, I try and dig out old savings unsuccessfully, I hit eBay and look up every 'fake' version of the dress available, I look for cheaper versions which sadly are noticeably tackier, I even go off to other stores to see if I can just buy several less pricy ones just to make myself feel like I'm still in control, that in fact, I didn't miss out earlier.

Cheesy analogy, I know, but the point I am trying to make is, sometimes we fail to wait it out- we despair, we try and resist, we try and compensate, and often we simply end up selling ourselves short in the process. While patience is difficult (understatement, I'm sure you'll agree), impatience is far more exhausting. Wouldn't it just be easier if we accepted that our so-called knowledge of what's good for us, is a fraction of a fraction of the knowledge that our Creator has?

There's a mind-blowing statement of Imam Ali (a.s) that is engrained in my mind- someone once asked him, 'How did you get to know your Lord?' Imam Ali (a.s) responded, 'I got to know Him through the fact that I would make a decision, and then all my plans would fall apart.'

May Allah grant us all forbearance, patience, and utmost faith in His plan in our tribulations.

Accept Me

My heart may be filled with every vice that exists,

My soul may be blackened with sins that persist,

I lower my head in humility and shame,

That my lips still dare to utter your name,

But how can I not, when you are so high?

When even your enemies, you did not deny,

My heart can be filled with nothing but hope,

My hand can only reach out for your rope,

For you rescue those who are shipwrecked and lost,

Those who are shattered by turmoil and tossed,

How would you leave me in thirst of your grace,

When Hurr received your forgiving embrace?

Whatever evil resides in my soul,

And though I may sway away from my goal,

However many times I may close the eye of my heart,

Whatever distance from you I'm apart,

There is only one truth to which I would swear,

And if I lie, the penalty I'd bear,

And that is your love which resides in my heart,

Even though we're lightyears apart,

I feel like I know you and you know me too,
Without even knowing, my soul to you flew,

However tarnished I am or however low,

I don't forget the one to whom my life I owe,

And though I am not worthy, my life is for you,

Your hand holds my heart whatever you do,

Sooth it or with your sorrow you break it,

I am content so long as you take it,
For hearts like my own will find no better abode,
No greater blessing could ever be bestowed,
Than to put life aside and take hold of your hand,
Begin eternity early with a master so grand...

No- I am not Hurr, but you are Hussain,
Your mercy renders your lovers insane,
And no- I am not worthy, but you are so high,
A last chance for atonement you wouldn't deny,
You are the lantern of guidance so show me the way,
Assist me, the demons of my spirit to slay,
For without your approval my hopes are all lies,
Your wish is the wish of The Almighty, The Wise.
Accept me, acknowledge me and make me your own,
With every cell of my being I truly atone,
There is no other beauty after seeing your light,
No eye can turn blind after you give it sight,
Even the dead who once loved you remain truly alive,
Your mere name is the elixir that lets them survive...
And I want to survive through your name as well,
In your fortress of certainty I too wish to dwell,
Do not let me die before my own death,
For my soul to be dead before my last breath,
My last breath I wish to save for your name,
Calling for you in the hope that you came,
For this day forward I leave old habits behind,
Every step I take with your love is entwined,
Your unmatchable mercy I'll try to repay,
With your name and your love I'll embellish each day,
These words I will write and the same I will speak,
And in you alone salvation I'll seek,
May my voice become hoarse from singing your praises,
I pray my weak body with you my Lord raises,
My hand is outstretched and I am waiting for yours,
Waiting to wash up onto your shores,
With you by my side, there is no sorrow nor pain,
There is no defeat when my master's Hussain.

The Hand That Holds My Heart

My hand writes for the hand that holds my heart,
My hand writes when his praises my lips can't start,
For him who knows my sorrow before I know my own,
And him who assists me while to me he's unbeknown,
The soul that I neglect, and yet I am his concern,
And while I search for comfort, it is him for whom I yearn,
I write for the mercy that descends whilst I wander in the dark,
The flood that drenches sincere souls and lets them board his ark.

He whose generosity to the stingy knows no bounds,
And his benevolence, the wretched it surrounds,
The way a noble master still cares for his lowly slave,
And rather than avenging him, he tries his best to save.
And why not? When from a household of divine mercy he comes,
And a household of nobility to which all royalty succumbs,
Fathers who humble humility and make bravery feel small,
And the mother of all mothers, of women- the best of all.

My hand writes for the hand that holds my heart,
For him from whom it hurts to be apart,
He whose mention fills my heart with joy,
And even the worst of sorrows, his names alone destroy,
The rays of hope that shine through clouds of despair,
The guardian to whom I entrust every affair.
What worry exists when I have such a master?
What is failure, and what is disaster?
I am not worthy but he is so high,
A servant who calls him, how can he deny?

My hand writes for the hand that holds my heart,
For the one who helps his lover and then will suddenly depart,
For him whose love overpowers any other,
A sister will leave her brother, a son will part from his mother,
Just to be with the master they've never seen,
And yet somehow, his lovers they have always been.
Minds are left boggled and thinkers, insane,
Only those who believe in divinity remain,
If ever someone claims to know what love is,
Show him Habib and Abbas and Aabis,
Such love is not mortal nor is it mundane,
It is this love in which immortal legends are slain,
How it is I wonder, that some deny his being,
When loving him is greater proof than even hearing him or seeing.

My hands rise for the hand that holds my heart,
For the veils between us to one day fall apart,
For the clouds to move and the sun to wake us all,
The triumph of truth and of falsehood, its downfall.

But with more anguish I raise my hands again,
Not for anyone- but for me and my own gain,
I raise my hands to one day be with him,
For the flame of my heart never to be found dim,
I raise my hands to not be the cause of his sorrow,
To bury yesterday deep and succeed instead tomorrow,
To have a heart of iron, unswayable from truth,
I raise my hands to be accepted in my youth,
To be the cause, just once, of his glowing, treasured smile,
Defeat the demons on the other side of every given trial.
I raise my hands to answer his call on the awaited day,
When crowds of sobbing servants for their king shall make way,
When his beauty will leave poets without words with which to speak,
And speakers will be speechless, their trained tongues numb and weak,
Wealth would lose all value, the only currency- his love,
The ornament of the heavens has descended from above.
I raise my hands to see his light even if it blinds my eyes,
For the one that healed prays behind him, for whom a nation is baptised,
I raise my hands for his hand to pass my lowly head,
To touch the holy sand on which his blessed feet tread,
To drown in his love and to die in that state,
To be lead by his hand towards heaven's gate,
And to somehow have some words left in my heart,
So with the angels singing his praises, I can also take part.

Thinking, Introverts, and Solitude

I have a feeling that some of my Twitter followers (or WhatsApp contacts, or former Instagram followers or Facebook friends...or just...my friends) may have begun to think that I am an unstable loner who complains a lot about being the 'misunderstood introvert' and constantly prefers to be left alone, and probably suffers from minor social deficits. I'll admit it- I do (complain, that is- not the social deficits!), and of late I have complained a lot about the three issues in the title of this blog. Hence...I am blogging about them.

When I was in primary (and middle, and high) school, every parents' evening was exactly the same. Every year. Identical feedback. Great student, does her work, completes it to a high standard, BUT she needs to contribute more in discussions, she needs to put her hand up to answer questions, she's very quiet. And even now at university, I can't say that things are much different. I'm pretty sure I am that girl who people see around, sometimes have to work with or speak to, but don't know the name of. Admittedly, I sometimes walk into a lecture theater, see someone who's apparently been on my course for the last 3 years and wonder why I don't recognize them, let alone know their name. I am, by all standards, an introvert.

Until very recently, I felt guilty for having these qualities. During school, it was frustrating that I was getting negative feedback for something which seemed was my very nature. I even remember one teacher hinting that I don't get into enough (any) trouble- imagine how badly I wanted to pull my hair out and scream, 'what do you want from me?!' And again, at university, I am that downer who will bail on every other outing or would prefer to read a novel or watch Ted Talks or weird-ish documentaries on YouTube at home rather than try out an overpriced restaurant or go to a conference...about teeth. Like I said, until very recently, I felt guilty. And what would I do to 'make up' for this oh so vile quality in me? Force myself, of course. Force myself to 'act' friendlier, or go to things I really didn't want to attend, or speak just for the sake of not being the quiet one. Lucky for me, I am a rubbish actress. All my short-lived efforts resulted in was a really messed up case of over-commitment, more frustration, and a 'what have I become?!' melodramatic crisis.

And then, the realisation dawned on me- maybe these expectations from the people around me are actually wrong. Just because so many people say something, it's not necessarily correct. Maybe my teachers were wrong for seeing introversion as a negative quality, maybe it's actually okay to want to stay at home instead of being out all the time, maybe, as the desperate-times-desperate-measures article in Psychology Today said, introversion might be a good thing! And then, I thought some more, and I realised, that maybe everyone has just jumped on the bandwagon of ignorance and totally misunderstood introversion by equating it with loneliness and socially inept people and all the rest of these incorrect and inaccurate connotations. And MAYBE this is why society and the world is out to eradicate introversion and make us all suffer in a world of loud, speak-before-you-think party animal extroverts! I'm kidding. No really...I'm kidding.

On a serious note however, our society really does lean in bias towards extroversion, and an unhealthy version at that. The education system is just one example that I'm sure most of us can relate to. Team work is great, but how many times are students given the opportunity to show their individual, original thought process? In fact, when is anyone ever given a chance to think?! I feel like the entire process of thinking has just been disregarded and forgotten. Logically, or at least in my head, this is how life (or a question asked at school) works:

You are presented with a problem.

You THINK about the problem.

From your thoughts,  you derive a seemingly plausible solution.

This, is what I believed happened at school:

We were presented with a problem.

We had to come up with a solution, no matter how ridiculous or nonsensical it was, or whichever search engine we got it from, otherwise we would be condemned as 'not participating enough'.

A lot of teachers said 'there are no silly answers'. Well...there kind of are. I completely support the idea of not reproaching a student for having an incorrect answer, but surely even those incorrect answers must come from somewhere, some thought process? Surely they too must be justified by the students who put them forward? I do not support the idea of speaking, for the sake of speaking. As Plato so eloquently put it, 'A wise man has something to say, whereas a fool has to say something.'

Another example is what I mentioned before- the pressure and expectation and disapproval from those around us. Just last week, I decided to enjoy some alone time by the river. Yes, enjoy. I bumped into some friends on the way so I had to let them know where I was off to. I kid you not- the look of concern and worry on their faces was both hilariously priceless, and again, slightly frustrating. 'Zahira...please don't go by yourself...are you okay? Why do you want to go to the river?' Parenthetically, I can't express how beneficial some regular alone time has proven to be! It's no wonder we have so many narrations from Ahlulbayt (peace be upon them) encouraging us to give some time to ourselves from time to time. It really is the time when our best solutions and ideas are born. I'm not going to bore you with history and figures but if you're really interested...here you go.

More examples of this social bias include studies which have shown that patients are more likely to trust loud, confidence-effusing, well spoken doctors who actually don't know their stuff very well, over quieter, more thoughtful doctors who in fact know their stuff extremely well. In fact, it's also been shown that the quieter ones who might seem a little hesitant are more likely to get things right because they give things a lot more thought.

I rest my case.

So, now that we have established that  the world is out to get society is extremely slightly biased in this respect, what's the solution? Well, I have stopped feeling guilty! I am no longer apologetic for things I don't want to do. Don't get me wrong- I do leave the house, I do go out, I see people, I socialise, but everything in moderation. In fact, I have once again begun fully enjoying my introversion by, well, reading, nurturing orchids, the weird documentaries, the blogging (Hallelujah), other random things. Alhamdulillah. I feel content. I don't mind being the quiet one in the room- that's just who I am. Silence is not a sign of stupidity or timidity or any other belittling quality, and solitude is not synonymous with loneliness.

At this point I guess it's appropriate to clarify to any readers that I have no problem with extroverts. Most of my friends, I would say, are extrovert. I have no issue with extroversion, but I do think that a reminder is needed that society needs its share of introverts too- there's nothing wrong with introversion! It's not a deficit, it's just a difference. If every person on this planet had similar qualities, humanity probably wouldn't progress very far. Introverts and extroverts complement each other, that's how the world has functioned since creation. You need us. Just kidding...heh.

Stagnation Is Regression

I begin in the name of Allah, the Most Beneficent, the Most Merciful.

As usual, I've been wanting to blog for a VERY long time, but I just didn't have anything worthy in mind (not that this is worthy...but hey, I've missed writing).

I have learnt a massive lesson in this last year; stagnation IS regression.

Sometimes, we become content with our position in some important aspect of our life, knowingly or unknowingly. I might perform Ziyara or Hajj, come back sin-free and I'm content with that. Or I might have performed the A'mal of Layalil Qadr or taken advantage of any of the other countless opportunities that Allah so generously provides us with, and wiped my slate clean, and it feels great. It feels great that now, all I have to do to get by is avoid sinning anymore. And why not? What's wrong with being content with being in such a state?

There's nothing wrong with contentment- I'm not encouraging ungratefulness or undervaluing, but there's definitely something wrong with aiming to 'get by'.

Success and perfection are measured according to the purpose something or someone serves. Nobody judges a footballer according to how well he cooks, or a doctor according to his or her artistic skills. So, what's our purpose as human beings? Countless times Allah exalts out status- we (human beings) are the best of creation, our purpose is to worship Him, the angels were ordered to prostrate to Adam (a.s), etc, etc. In other words, we have been created for much, much more than to merely get by. We've been given potential that no other creation has been honoured with. Imam as-Sadiq (a.s) sums it beautifully- when asked if human beings are greater than angels, he responded,

"Allah endowed angels with intellect without desire, animals with desire without intellect and man with both of them. So he whose intellect manages to conquer his desire, is greater than the angels, and he whose desires overcome his intellect, he is lower than the animals."

To get by means to put in minimum effort- as I said, in the example that I gave, it would mean avoiding sin. While a lot of the time this isn't easy, it's still mostly a list of 'must not's. It's like keeping a clean sheet but not actually scoring any goals, or having a Lamborghini and not crashing or wrecking it, but driving it at 30mph everyday. It's the difference between surviving, and actually living.

To stagnate is to stop, to cease to move in any direction, but to regress is to actually move backward. We know the definition of these two words and clearly they're not the same thing. But for us, for creatures designed  and created to PROgress, move forward, achieve, reach great heights and accomplish great feats, stagnation IS regression, because we are not fulfilling our purpose. We are not meeting the highest standards, we are not making use of the potential gifted to us. For us, anything other than progression, is regression.

Parenthetically, it's interesting to ponder on why we short-change ourselves. While I was writing this, I began to think that all this talk of avoiding sins being something minimal might be taken the wrong way or sound very demotivating- we already struggle to do the bare minimum...what hope do we have to do anything more? But I realised that it's this very clever, yet self-destructive habit of playing safe that holds us back. Sometimes (not always), we don't think beyond the minimal goals, not because we fear missing our potential and disappointing God, but simply disappointing ourselves. It's not a good feeling to have an un-ticked box on the to-do list.

Recently, Forbes published an article explaining why only 8% of people achieve their new years' resolutions. One of the main reasons given was that the resolutions weren't simple or achievable or realistic enough. But I don't think that's the problem. Anything is achievable. Our problem isn't our high goals, it's US! Why do those few people somehow manage to set themselves seemingly ridiculous targets and still reach them, while the rest of us give up before we even start? It's easy(er) to set goals, but the real challenge is to devise a plan of action, and to follow through consistently and check up on our own progress regularly. When a lot of these articles tell us to set 'realistic' goals, I don't think they're entirely accurate (not to mention that it's slightly insulting that a magazine is (not so) subtly hinting that I will fail my current targets!). Instead, I think we should set goals as ambitious as we like, but to BE realistic about how we will achieve them- know what we're getting ourselves into, be ready for a long, hard struggle, and all the rest of it.

I heard a narration of the Ahlulbayt (a.s) a while back which I still haven't found the exact wording for but will post as soon as I do, where the Imam tells us to aim high, because even if we don't end up reaching our huge goal, we will still have achieved something pretty big in a league of greatness not too far off from what we originally set out for.

May Allah grant us all the tawfeeq to fulfil our highest potentials! As always, these entries are merely reminders for myself- it's useful to articulate thoughts once in a while :)

The Virtue of Abbas

A king in the heavens and a master on earth,

No wish leaves his lips since the day of his birth,

For wealth is mere dust and the world, divorced thrice,

And princes who lead the dwellers of paradise,

A brother who forever is the best of all men,

Inseparable now and inseparable then,

With one world at his feet and the next in the palm of his hand,

This king has a wish and in prayer he stands,

The angels bewildered at what such a man could need,

They patiently wait to see what the king's Lord has decreed...

And soon comes a response to the Amir's constant prayers,

And earth becomes impatient to see what great gift heaven bears,

For such commotion is only for revelations divine,

When destinies are tied and huge missions assigned,

And so the earth wonders at what wonders might come,

Whether all its legends can by this child be outdone,

For what child begins his mission from the confines of a womb?

Forcing his mother up when his master is sensed in the room,

Moses and Jesus and Job come to mind,

But no, this child somehow leaves them behind,

And Joseph and Jacob and Adam come too,

Yet still this boy beyond their heights flew.

And why not? When his father was only through prophets described,

And today through Haidar's merits, Abbas we describe.

Feared to be Ali even by the men of Siffeen,

But it was Abbas in Karbala that we should have seen,

When bravery itself became the guard of Hussain,

His arms and eyes gone and his body was slain,

Yet every one of his visitors will swear he's alive,

For through his virtues his soul has survived.

And what virtues...where does a lover begin?

Is it his purity, never tainted by sin?

Or the bottomless well of knowledge divine,

Or the fact that amongst suns, the moon somehow still shines,

Maybe his courage unflinching, standing tall and brave,

Or that nothing but servitude to Hussain did he crave,

Or his humility humbling even Karbala's dust,

Or the unspoken oath he lived with all's trust,

Perhaps his brotherhood that put even motherhood in awe,

Or beating patience itself, as the Euphrates saw,

Or loyalty that will never be witnessed again,

Maybe generosity that renders his beggars insane,

Or the fact that to every fulfilment he is the key,

The gateway to swaying the Merciful's decree,

Or mercy, or endurance or absence of fear,

Perhaps his vision of morality so clear,

Or compassion or sacrifice or undying love,

Maybe his wisdom untaught from above...

Where to begin, a lover would have no clue,

But this was something the Almighty already knew,

He knew that an eternity would pass and another would come,

And the earth's ink could diminish and all tongues could go numb,

So through His wisdom a title He gave,

Not 'the kind', 'the wise' or even 'the brave'...

When in all the commotion earth and heaven were torn,

A new virtue with the name of 'Abbas' was born.

Emotion, Intellect and the Message of Imam Hussain (a.s)

In the last couple of weeks, the terms, 'intellectual', 'universal', 'logical' and the like have been thrown about more than I can remember in previous years- mostly with regard to mourning Aba Abdillah (a.s) and also spreading his message. There seems to be a growing hype around 'not letting emotion cloud our intellect' and other such mottoes.

And on the face of it, I don't have a problem with being intellectual or logical- Islam, or specifically Shi'a Islam has always shown an underlying encouragement to think independently, to have to think and make informed decisions- the Marja'iyya system is only one great example. As for universal- Imam Hussain (a.s) and his message is universal no matter which religion, ethnic group, which sect, which city, country or town decide to claim him as their own. He has been admired by non-Shi'as, non-Muslims, even secularists and his light has reached out to countless people, many of whom probably didn't know anything about Islam other than what erroneous fractions of information and connotations the media so generously provides.

What's intrigued me this year however, is the increasingly rife opinion that there is a battle between the emotion and intellect within us- Intellect vs. Emotion, that one must be toned down somewhat in order to make room for the other. There are a few possibilities as to why such a notion exists- perhaps it's another Hollywood-esque notion that we've come across in one too many dramatic movies or the soaps we watch or other aspects of society- someone has to 'be strong' and crush and trample on their emotions in order to be a man and do the 'right, logical thing'. Or maybe we just haven't stopped to think this whole thing though; perhaps we've all just seen two bandwagons and decided that we need to jump on one and crush the other in order to 'establish' ourselves- while we stand between two extremes, we feel that we are nobodies.

There could be another million reasons, but my point is that suddenly I'm coming across a lot of bold statements criticising, belittling and possibly side-lining emotional acts in this grievous month. There's been a lot of talk about not letting the focus of the first ten days of Muharram be mere crying and mourning, but to actually embody the virtues of the personalities we commemorate. But again what gets me is, why not both?! Are the two so antithetical that we have to rank one above the other? It reminds me a little of the whole debate about religious rituals and (vs.) spirituality- does it matter if my physical Hijab is a little compromised as long as my social Hijab is good? Is it really that important how many units of prayer I think I performed as long as my heart is pure? And the conclusion that most logical beings will come to is that the two sides of the coin are equally important, if not complimentary to each other. Too much of 'it's what's on the inside that matters' and we turn into what most of Christianity has become today, and too much military-mindedness on rituals and we can call ourselves Wahabis.

I say that emotion and intellect are complimentary to each other because our emotions are manifestations of our intellect. There are people who will tear up upon the mentioning of Aba Abdillah's name- why? It's not because they're emotionally charged people. When we cry for Imam Hussain (a.s), it's because to some extent, however limited it may be, we have an understanding of him, who he was, what he embodied, his status, and in light of all this we realise how unjust the happenings of Ashura were. Is this not intellect? If we didn't have an understanding of the Imam, if we just knew his name and nothing else, would we be able to cry for him? I don't think so. And it works the other way as well- emotion can awaken the intellect. By far, the best and biggest example of this would be Sayeda Zainab (a.s), Imam Sajjad (a.s) and Ummul Banin's (a.s) actions after Ashura. They used grief- probably without even trying- to elicit free thinking in people's minds once again, to remove the blinding screen from in front of their eyes and make them smell the coffee. I don't need to get into the countless narrations we have from and about Ahlulbayt (a.s) grieving for Imam Hussain (a.s) and the reward and status of tears that are shed for him.

So after all this, it still surprises me that people can underestimate the importance of emotion. One of the justifications that often crops up is our geography- how can we spread the message of Imam Hussain (a.s) if all we do is weep and cry? Well, the way I see it is this- someone who doesn't believe in any creator, doesn't subscribe to any religion or belief system can encourage charity, volunteering and every other good act under the sun (in fact, they do very often), but we have something so unique and unparalleled. The passion, the immensity and the incompatible emotion surrounding Imam Hussain (a.s) is something that nobody else has, and instead of using it, we are often downplaying it to make his message 'blend in' with the society in which we live, thinking that it will be more accepted when in fact, it's doing exactly what we say it will- blend in. It just becomes another 'one of those' and no longer stands out.

Of course, there are obvious lines that common sense draws so I am not suggesting that we cross those. What I am saying however, is that we need to realise just how powerful emotion is and make use of it! Haven't we all watched one fictional movie or read one fictional book at the end of which we are somehow touched or inspired by it, that we want to change something, or go and emulate some character and do something huge? Well, Ashura was the most blatant reality; it happened, its heroes existed! Don't our hearts melt when we hear about Abbas's (a.s) surreal saga? And don't they break when we hear about the six month old's unspeakable martyrdom? So to underestimate its influence and power is a huge injustice to what happened. As Edward Gibbon has famously said,

'In a distant age and climate the tragic scene of the death of Hussain will awaken the sympathy of the coldest reader.'