I do not know whether their heart still beats or how it beats.Or how they bear their heart still beating when their son's has stopped. I know this much that every parent would without hesitation take their child's place .
I have felt loss. I have felt absence. I have felt pain. I have learnt grace in grief from the families of the martyrs of Quetta who no doubt learnt their lesson from the best; Al Hussain's family after karballa.
Surely Sakina (a.s) must have sat with the little orphans on streets wet with cold unable to bury their fathers and raised her little hands in prayer for their mangled hearts and all the visions they would never forget.She must have prayed for their sleep.Surely the wives turned widows and sisters who mourned brothers were beneath the Veil of Zainab , who taught them what it was like to see a sibling dead with gaping wounds covered in shrapnel and wait for a burial.
"Think not of those who are slain in Allah's Cause as dead. Nay, they are living though ye perceive (it) not".
Hussain (a.s) and his companions gave eternal life to Islam with their death.The 86 slain of Quetta strengthened the flickering life of a nation to a flame.Their scattered remains shook our souls severely wakening us from our slumber of indifference.
Will you now label us all Infidels?
Oh how your plans were as feeble as the web of a spider before Allah's plans.How the entire Muslim ummah world over united and shattered your spine. A thousand bullets in your already crumbling ideology and religion built on rumors and Saudi funded money. You wasted your energy in preaching Shias do not pray and look how beautifully Sunnis and shias read namaz as one.
It took you decades of dedication to build fortresses of rumors,lies and hate within which you confined people.Look it took a few seconds of nothing but silence to make it fall. How seeped in poison each voice raised against your oppression must have sounded to your ears, whether in protests or on the internet.How each person who facilitated the protesters whether through tea or wifi passwords corroded your fabrications to the core.
Insignificant was the collected cowards allegiance that stayed silent upon your criminality. Our voices reverberated across the nation. Those voices became words carved on paper and the words etched themselves into iconic images, until it seemed every parted lip called out for justice and remembered the injustice of Karballa. Until even inanimate objects were exhausted but they forged on fighting oppression in whatever form they could.
A thousand angel wings kissed every raised fist-a million souls responded to Hussain's cry for help.How I was in Karballa seeped in humility before the King of Martyrs without even leaving my place.How you took my body and my soul to the desolate sands where my heart never came back from.
How I understood Hussain's (a.s) sweet words over a thousand years later to still be true,that "far removed are we from disgrace".Honor and martyrdom is our inheritance while humiliation is your inevitable fate.