THE VIRGIN OF THE CITY
Scenes from the Life of Fatima al-Ma'ssooma
(1)
As Musa bin Imran (Prophet Moses) had stood against the Pharaoh, Haman and Qaroon (Croesus), Musa bin Ja’far stood against Haroon
… Haroon, whose grandfather
had said before:
“I am the authority of Allah on the earth… the shadow of the heaven on the earth… the will and determination of Allah…”
Because of this Musa had risen by the will of Allah to say to Haroon “No!”… had come to ask for Fadak… Fadak, which once had been a small piece of land and then the Heaven had granted to Fatima
to be her gift…to be her inheritance and to be, later on, as a symbol of the extorted inheritance and the defeated truth…a symbol of all the Islamic lands.
Because of this Fatima bint
Muhammad (s) had risen to ask for her right of Fadak. How small Fadak was on the earth and in geography but how wide it was on the map of history!
Medina was shaken from its beginning to its end because Musa had come to ask for the inheritance of his grandmother az-Zahra’…had come to get Fadak back with its wonderful limits; from Aden to Samarqand to Africa to the shore of the sea beyond the islands and Armenia…!
Haroon was filled with spite…Musa had come to threat his throne, wealth, palaces, rule and state…
Fatima,
with her six years of old, stood up waiting for the coming back of her father, who had gone out in the dawn and had not come back yet. It was not only Fatima, who was waiting for the coming back of the brown man, who had images of prophethood in his face, but Medina all in all was expecting what Haroon wanted from Musa.
She was looking at her brother Ali, whose face seemed like a sky with sad clouds. Fatima thought that her father would be far away or he might never come back again. She might not see him or hear his warm voice again. She felt cold. Fear filled her inwards. Her eyes were filled with tears of sorrow.
The waves of sorrow have deeper influence than the shakes of joy. They dig their places deeper in memory. Nothing is more eternal in the world of innocent childhood than the scenes of orphancy.
Fatima had lost her mother while she was unable yet to understand what there was around her in this world. Then she faced the storm. It was the storm of the fate when the severe hands snatched her kind father away
from his family and children to burden him with ties and chains.
Fatima looked at her brother…She thought that she saw a sky with heavy clouds. Allah was the only One, who knew the bottom of the love, whose pure springs flowed inside the heart of Fatima…Fatima, who saw with her own eyes the storm of the bitter time!
The time of separation had begun…the time of vagrancy…the time, in which the accusation of disbelief was much easier than to be said that this one was from Ali’s progeny…from Muhammad’s grandsons…
Haroon feared Musa…feared his words. They were the echo of Muhammad’s words…the echo of Ali’s speeches.
Fatima stopped to farewell from far a caravan taking its way towards Basra and her heart beat rapidly longing after a howdah surrounded by swords and spears. Her heart would not fail her.
The caravan disappeared far away while the sky was still raining little by little.
Fatima came back with her brother Ali. She came back trailing her self and feet to the house that seemed as a tent torn by the wind in that cloudy morning. The father departed. The pole of the tent collapsed. Peace left far and it might not come back again. Fatima looked at the cloudy sky and the rain. Childish tears fell from her eyes. Tears like sad rain began to fall silently.
How bitter orphancy is in the orphans’ hearts. How bitter cold is…the cold of fear…the fear of the unknown.
When the father departs, life becomes cold and frosty…with no sun, no light and no warmth.
(2)
There is nothing bitterer than to see the moments of collapse…collapse of things and shaking of the firm principles of life.
Everything shook. The voice of the man died down and tens of obscure voices appeared…voices that took their powers from instincts hidden in the human inner in the moment when mind failed before the shine of greed.
Life is like a top whirling with its people in the middle of a fiery storm.
In that bad time where everything shook under the hoofs of mad horses, that fifty years-old-man stopped…his eyes traveled through an infinite sky and his hands extended whereto hearts would turn towards in the moment when the waves were about to destroy a straying ship…calm words entreating Allah suppliantly:
“O, You, Who have guided me to Yourself and made my heart submit to believe in You… I beseech You to grant me safety and belief in this life and the afterlife.”
Fatima came in and sat beside her brother to feel security in a world full of terror…to absorb goodness in
a world swarming with evils. Bitter sorrow shone in her eyes…a sorrow that belonged to quarter a century; all her life that was full of sadness.
She still remembered twenty years ago the moments when her good father had been taken to Baghdad. She had never seen him since then. She could not forget yet the moment when her mother left to the better world. It was a very cold winter night. She could not find warmth except near her brother Ali.
And then was Ali in the middle of the storm…exactly in the calm spot…in the central point where there was no any stormy movement.
And there was Fatima, who had never found her equal since long ago, eager to find the man, with whom she would feel she was near the Kingdom…the Kingdom of the far Heavens. Near him Fatima would feel she had passed the limits of the self so that her soul would swim in a pool of that light, which shone in the hearts. As if thousands of lamps lighting inside her. Such Fatima lived near her alone brother.
The shakes of the volcano that had broken out in Mecca reached Medina, the capital of the Prophet (s). Muhammad bin Ja’far
revolted but his revolt was
defeated while it was yet a bud and then the forces of al-Ma’moon went towards Medina to revenge on the Alawites. Al-Juloodi, the harsh man, led led his soldiers to plunder the houses of the Talibites
in frightened Medina.
The invading forces entered Medina to plunder the houses of the Talibites and to confiscate all what they had. In the mind of rude al-Juloodi there were personal orders from the seventh Abbasid caliph to rob the women their garments and jewels and not to leave for each of them save one dress to wear.
Terror spread. Everything shook. The invaders paid attention to no sacreds and al-Juloody kept on achieving his task.
Ali rose to stand against the coming terror. He gathered the women in one room and got ready to face the plunderers.
The heart of Fatima, which was the only heart that held all the pains waving in that room, began to beat rapidly. Her memory was full of all eternal valors…all that history over burdened with sorrow…all the bitter moments that the woman suffered; the pains of
He was sent under escort to Marw, the capital of al-Ma’moon at that time. He died in the way when coming back to Baghdad in mysterious circumstances. Al-Ma’moon attended the funerals. Refer to Murooj ath-Thahab, vol.3 p.439.
Khadeeja, the emigration of Fatima and the sorrows of Zaynab.
The storm was still whistling with rage wanting to pluck up a good tree, whose root is firm and whose branches are in the Heaven.
Fatima, while pondering on the totters of the past, heard a dialogue near the door. A voice with harshness of executioners said:
“I just carry out the order of the caliph.”
A calm voice replied: “If your aim is to rob the women, I will do that for you.”
The harsh voice said: “How can I be certain that you will do that? The orders of the caliph state that the women must be robbed of their garments and jewels except one dress.”
The angelic voice said: “I swear that I will do that.”
Al-Juloodi looked at the Alawite man and saw in his eyes determination and firmness as if he was a mountain. He thought that if he broke into the house, he would pay the price so expensively and the public situation might break out. He had never met during his life a man standing so calmly before drawn swords. He saw many men bowing before him and their eyes shone with fright and fear. But now he found himself before a man of another kind…a man, whose eyes led to a bottom flooded with peace!
Al-Juloodi made a sign to his soldiers to retreat and turned towards the man, who was about fifty years old, saying:
“I am waiting.”
Ali went into the yard of the house and then to a room in one of its corners. He looked at the women and young girls.
The little hearts beat rapidly listening to the neighing of mad horses.
Fatima knew what was there inside her brother’s heart. The most difficult thing to a man was to rob a woman her jewels…to snatch her earrings, necklace and bracelets from her wrists.
Therefore Fatima advanced to destroy those bitter moments. She pulled out her own earrings and necklace, drew her hands out of her silver bracelets and offered them to her brother. Soon the rest of the women did the same one after the other. The garments and jewels heaped in Ali’s hands. He went with them to the wolves awaiting at the threshold.
Such the yellow storm passed thinking that it had pulled out everything standing in its way. It did not care about the violet flowers that spread here and there sending fragrance into the wide space without being paid attention by anyone.
In that winter night, while al-Juloodi was going away from the house, Fatima sat to talk to the women, who had gathered around her expecting her warm sacred words. She said:
“Fatima bint Ja’far bin Muhammad as-Sadiq told me from Fatima bint Ali bin al-Husayn from Fatima bint
al-Husayn bin Ali from Umm Kulthoom that her mother Fatima, the Prophet’s daughter (s), had said:
“Have you forgotten the saying of the messenger of Allah on the day of Ghadeer Khum “Whomsoever I am his guardian, Ali is to be his guardian” and his saying (to Ali) “You are to me as was Aaron to Moses…”
Fatima turned to a young girl and said: “O My niece, write it down lest the heritage of the prophets is lost.”
Fatima became silent. She new that this storm coming from Marw wanted to get rid of Ali, who was still standing against the storms of time and whose love was still beating in the hearts of the free and the oppressed. Therefore Fatima said:
“Fatima bint Ja’far as-Sadiq told me from Fatima bint Muhammad al-Baqir from Fatima bint Ali bin al-Husayn from Fatima bint al-Husayn from Zaynab bint Fatima that Fatima, the Prophet’s daughter (s) had said: “I heard the messenger of Allah saying:
“When I had been carried to the Heavens in night, I entered into Paradise. I saw a palace of white hollow pearl. It had a gate crowned with pearls and corundum. There was a curtain on the gate. I raised my head to see that it had been written above the gate: “There is no god but Allah. Muhammad is the messenger of Allah. Ali is the guardian of people.” On the curtain it was written: “How great! Who is like the followers of Ali?!”
I came in and I saw a palace of hollow carnelian with a silver gate crowned with olivine. There was a curtain on the gate. I raised my head to see that it had been written on the gate: “Muhammad is the messenger of
Allah. Ali is the guardian of al-Mustafa
”. On the curtain it was written: “Tell the followers of Ali of their good birth”. I came in and saw a palace of hollow aquamarine that I had never seen more beautiful than. It had a gate of ruby crowned with pearls. There was a curtain on the gate. I raised my head to see that it had been written on the curtain: “The followers of Ali are the winners”. I said: “O my beloved Gabriel, for whom is this?”
He said: “O Muhammad! It is for your cousin and guardian Ali bin Abu Talib…All peoples will be resurrected barefooted on the Day of Resurrection except the Shia of Ali. People will be called with the names of their mothers except the Shia of Ali, who will be called with the names of their fathers.”
I said: “O my beloved Gabriel, what for?”
He said: “They love Ali; therefore their end will be good.”
A fountain of divine love flowed to fill the hearts with joy and the souls with pellucidity.
Life becomes unbearable hell if the real hope of a better tomorrow that is full of light and spring beauty disappears.
(3)
The scene of sunset was generous with its transparent colors; orange, golden and red like a winter hearth full of firebrands. The sky seemed calm but there was some scattered clouds moving slowly as sleepy boats in a calm lake.
The wind of autumn roved through the houses and told of the coming of a long cold winter.
Fatima was pondering on her brother’s face. She had never seen him so depressed as in this evening. As if he was burdened with mountains of sorrows. She did not know why the old scenes…the very old scenes when her father was taken and she believed that she would not see him again had come to her mind! She might know that through her brother’s face, which seemed at that moment as a sky burdened with sad rain.
The letter that Imam ar-Redha (s) had received was like honey mixed with poison. It was like a smooth adder brimful of deadly poisons.
Al-Fadhl bin Sahl
knew how to dodge between the lines. It was an ambiguous letter from the highest official in the state asking him to leave Yathrib
(Medina) as soon as possible to assume his responsibility in the caliphate.
Fatima asked herself about the secret of her brother’s sadness. She was conscious of the worries of her brother, who was pondering on the far extents where all the pains and dreams of the prophets were shaped.
There was no doubt that al-Ma’moon had known the source of the real challenge. He found that a personality like Imam ar-Redha (s) would uncover to the public opinion the extent of the moral corruption of the rulers besides that the farness between Medina and Marw would give Imam ar-Redha (s) some freedom to act and this would be dangerous to the rule, which was still shaking under the effects of the disturbances and revolts.
Sending for Imam ar-Redha (s) to go to Marw meant that al-Ma’moon hit tens of birds with one stone.
Imam ar-Redha (s) murmured with a sad voice: “Al-Ma’moon wants to tell people that Ali bin Musa (Imam ar-Redha) (s) has not abstained from this worldly life but the life has abstained from him. Have you seen how he hastened to Marw when life was offered to him? But how far! I do not accept any of his offers.”
Fatima knew that her brother had confronted the fox of the Abbasids, who was full of deceit and cunning. She knew that from the sadness of Imam ar-Redha (s) and the news she heard.
The love that her brother had among the people of Khurasan and its outskirts no one else had. If al-Ma’moon put him in the rule, it would give him allegiance of many districts and by this al-Ma’moon would prove to the nation that he had achieved the best hopes of people.
A servant knocked at the door saying: “A man says that he is Raja’ bin ad-Dhahhak. He wants to meet you now.”
Imam ar-Redha (s) turned to his sister and said: “This is a man sent by al-Ma'moon with what I dislike. We belong to Allah and to Him we shall return!”
Imam ar-Redha (s) got up to receive the man and Fatima left the room.
As Raja’ sat down, he offered a sealed letter from al-Ma'moon. Imam ar-Redha (s) opened the letter and took a look at it. A sign of sorrow appeared on his forehead. The light of the lamp was enough for Raja’ to discover the depth of the ordeal on Ali’s face. He assumed to be glad and said:
“O my master, congratulations!”
Imam ar-Redha (s) replied while looking to the far horizon:
“Do not be glad. It is a thing that will not be completed.”
Raja’ became silent for this Alawite man was different from many of the revolters, whom he had met. He was before a man reading ambiguous pages of the future. In fact he understood what was waving inside Ali’s self because Raja’ knew well the intents of al-Ma'moon and
many secrets of his plan! Therefore he got up rapidly assuming to be happy by carrying out his task.
He said while bowing respectfully: “Everything will be ready after tomorrow.”
Imam ar-Redha (s) said: “If it must be, then first we go to Mecca and then to Marw.”
Raja’ said: “As you like, my master!”
The brown face was covered with divine sorrow. Something was burning inside him. Something informed of tearing roots of a flower planted in a good soil.
Nothing is bitterer than to pull out a tree with its roots…Thus was the sorrow of the man, who had been touched by the Heaven. His roots had been extended into the good soil tens of years until that moment when the Messenger of the Heaven had put his feet in Yathrib.
The traces of Gabriel were still in those quarters, whose date-palms, mosque and beloved mountain were blessed.
Ali turned his mind upon his calamity and the lamp was ejecting its last faint lights.
The Medinian
man (Imam ar-Redha) woke up from a deep pondering when a boy of seven years entered the
room.
He was carrying a vessel having some oil because the lamp was about to go out. Muhammad began to pour the oil into the lamp. The lamp breathed and the circle of light became more and more.
The sad father noticed his son, who came in walking on his toes regarding his father’s pondering, in the room. The father got up welcoming Abu Ja’far
and tens of stars shone in the sky of his eyes.
The son bowed to kiss his father’s hand. The father did not give his son time and embraced him as the leaves when embracing a new bud in its first spring.
The lamp recovered its youth and began to send its light and warmth in the little room.
The father said when a part of night had passed: “O my son, get ready to travel.”
The son asked: “O father, whereto?”
The father said: “To the Old House (the Kaaba).”
The boy wanted to remove from his father’s heart a grief depressing him. He said:
“Is it hajj or minor hajj?”
The father said: “I have been ordered to travel.”
The son said: “O my father! Do what you are commanded. If Allah wills, you will find me of the patient ones.”
Muhammad got up as he came in on his toes leaving his father, who returned to another pondering.
He, who watched his shining eyes and followed in their bottoms the reflections of light, would know the secret of that divine sorrow. As if his sharp mind swam in the far horizons to Tooss where Jabir bin Hayyan al-Kufi
had inhaled his last breaths and where Abul Saraya had been crucified on the bridge in Baghdad…and to the banks of the Tigris where Ma’roof al-Karkhi
used to sit pondering on the flowing waves and to farewell the life.
He might watch (the Battle of the River) at the shores of (Aroon) or he might come down to the bottoms of the valleys with his brother Ibraheem, who had fled to Yemen and his news were unknown.
No one knew the distresses of the Medinian man…distresses as heavy as the mountains of Tehama, al-Hijaz and Najd.
There in Marw the spider wove its house, which was the weakest of houses.
(4)
In that cloudy morning Medina seemed as a place of ghosts. The houses lost their joy. The lanes were covered with grief especially that lane where the camels had knelt down to carry those, who determined to travel unwillingly.
The man of the fifty years entered the mosque of the Prophet (s) with his son, who followed him as his shadow. The sky was burdened with clouds. Some tears gathered in this Medinian man’s eyes. He stopped before the tomb, which contained the last of the prophets. The man with the white cloths seemed as a sad cloud.
Those, who attended the meeting, were astonished at the tears of Muhammad’s grandson. The sorrow was as a rivulet flowing in autumn. Ali inhaled the fragrance of prophethood. He controlled himself to get up. He stepped one step backward and then fell down to the pure place again as if his roots were planted in that soil where Muhammad (s) had closed his eyes peacefully.
A man from Sajistan
approached and said: “O my master, congratulations on what you are going to be!”
Imam ar-Redha (s) said: “Let me alone! I am going away from the neighborhood of my grandfather to die there in desolation.”
The man became astonished and made his mind to accompany the Imam to see by himself how his predicts would become real.
Muhammad put his small warm hand on his father’s shoulder and the father got up as if new blood flowed in his interiors and a new hope refreshed in his entity.
Fatima watched what happened. There was something tying her to her brother. It was not the tie of brotherhood. She lived the ordeal of her orphancy twenty years ago when her father had been taken and had never come back again and the death of her mother while she was a child yet.
Fatima stopped and the ordeals of the bad time came to her mind. She saw how the bad time snatched her darlings as if the years and days were mad wolves snatching the livestock of her dreams while grazing peacefully in the green valley.
A sacred anger exploded inside her heart…in that beating part, which summarized the entire world.
Imam ar-Redha (s) got up touching the pure tomb with his hand and embracing his son, whom Allah had granted wisdom while yet a child. He said to his son:
“I have ordered all my guardians and followers to listen to you and to obey you. I have told my close companions about you.”
The camels got up. The caravan arranged and moved southward to the Kaaba.
When the caravan passed (Thaniyyatul Wada’) the Medinian man said to his son while dialoguing with him:
“The friend of everyone is his mind and the enemy of him is his ignorance.”
“The best of intelligence is knowing oneself.”
“From among the signs of understanding there are; discernment, knowing and silence. Silence is a gate of wisdom…silence brings love…it is a guide to every goodness.”
Yassir, who was the servant of Imam ar-Redha (s), came near and heard the Imam saying:
“Man becomes most desolate in three positions; the day when he is born and he comes out to see the world, the day when he dies and sees the afterlife and its people and the day when is resurrected to see judgments that he has never seen in the worldly life. Allah has saluted Yahya (Prophet John) in these three positions and calmed his fear by saying:
And peace on him on the day he was born, and on the day he dies, and on the day he is raised to life.
”
Some whiffs blew from the north carrying with them a humming of a shepherd complaining the time.
The caravan went on crossing the desert until it reached (Ghadeer Khum). The travelers stopped near a spring, whose water went out from under a rock and flowed into a wide valley. Some date-palms had grown because travelers often stopped here to rest and to have their food, among which dates were.
The full moon shone from above the far hills. The man of fifty years pointed with a brown finger and said:
“That is the place when the messenger of Allah has stopped to say: “Whomever I am his guardian, here is Ali to be his guardian. O Allah, assist whoever assists him and be the enemy of whoever opposes him!”
The old memories revived and the travelers were filled with reverence as if they were listening to the Prophet (s) making his speech in this place. The holy words were still roving in the space. The fragrance of Gabriel was still emitting while reciting the word of Allah:
This day have I perfected for you your religion and completed My favor on you and chosen for you Islam as a religion
.
Ali turned to his sister, who was looking at the moon on the far hills, and said:
“I have heard my father narrating from my grandfather as-Sadiq his saying: “Allah has a sanctum. It is Mecca. The Prophet has a sanctum. It is Medina. Ameerul mo’mineen has a sanctum. It is Kufa. And we also have a sanctum. It is the village of Qom, in which a woman from my progeny called Fatima will be buried. Whoever visits her will be in Paradise.”
The young boy (Muhammad) looked at his aunt, who was still looking at the moon in a state as if she was offering the prayer. She was standstill in her place while the whiffs were playing with the hems of her garment, which touched the brownness of the desert.
In that blessed spot of the world of Allah a fountain of prayers broke out. The words of praising and thanking Allah, the Creator of the earth and the heavens, shone through the dreamy darkness of the sunset. Little by little the stars appeared in the sky.
Some of them went to collect firewood. The sound of breaking the dry branches of the trees broke with it the silence of night.
After a short time two hearths lit through the darkness; one for cooking and the other for light and warmth. Some boys went toward a dune made by the wind to take it as a stage for their innocent playing.
(5)
The news of joy flew to the capitals and cities like butterflies announcing the coming of spring.
In Yathrib, the city of the Prophet (s), Abdul Jabbar al-Masaheeqi ascended the minbar in the holy mosque to announce loudly:
“O people, this is the thing you have wished, the justice you have expected and the goodness you have hoped. This is Ali bin Musa bin Ja’far bin Muhammad bin Ali bin al-Husayn bin Ali bin Abu Talib…six, whose fathers are the best of people.”
But in Baghdad the volcano of the Abbasid spite awakened and the dragon
rose. The Abbasids rose with him and announced to depose al-Ma'moon and his heir apparent.
Baghdad fell in disturbance after the caliphate was despised to be as a toy in the hands of the singer ibn Shukla, who had not known save playing lute.
In a short time anarchy and corruption spread in all of Baghdad. The streets became under the control of thieves and robbers. Stealing and adultery spread widely.
Public groups were formed to enjoin the right and to forbid the wrong in order to resist the corruption.
In Kufa fighting broke out between the followers of the Abbasids and the followers of al-Ma'moon whereas Mecca received the news from Marw joyfully.
Soon the resistance stopped because of the popularity of Imam ar-Redha (s). Baghdad became separated from the other provinces except Kufa, which was under the control of Baghdad.
The month of Thul Qa’da was about to elapse. The clouds of spring appeared in the sky and then they were swept away by a northern wind. The rain did not bring good news about a fertile season because it didn’t rain along the winter and spring did not bring except a few drizzles, which did not nourish nor released from hunger.
Al-Ma'moon did not think about going to offer the hajj. Some people remembered the words that had been said by Imam ar-Redha (s) in Mecca many years ago when ar-Rasheed was circumambulating the Kaaba:
“Haroon (ar-Rasheed) is the last one of this family (the Abbasids), who offers the hajj.”
Thul Qa’da gathered up its last days and the crescent of Thul Hijja appeared in the sky. The crescent appeared like a smile in the middle of the sky, in which some sad
clouds scattered here and there. In the second night it became as a straying boat crossing the sky rapidly.
While the Muslims were circumambulating the Kaaba, the cities near Basra received silently the news of the revolution of the Negroes and other news about killing and plundering.
Medina lived those days looking to the future hopefully.
An honorable house was there, whose windows lit with transparent light…a house, in which the family of Ali lived. An honorable letter came from Marw. It was from Abul Hasan (Imam ar-Redha) and it was in the name of Allah, the Beneficent, the Merciful:
“May I sacrifice myself for you! I have been informed that when you ride your sumpter, the mawali
make you go out from the small gate of the garden. It is because of stinginess in them lest no one (of people) may get some goodness from you!
I ask you with my right upon you…do not come in or go out except from the big gate.
When you ride your sumpter inshallah, let some gold and silver be with you. No one asks you for something unless you give him. If one of your uncles asks you to be pious to him, do not give him less than fifty dinars and you may give him more if you want. If one of your aunts asks you, do not give her less than fifty dinars and you may give her more if you want. If someone of Quraysh
asks you, do not give him less than twenty-five dinars and you may give him more if you want.
I just want Allah to make you succeed, so fear Allah and give and do not fear stinginess from Allah.”
In that night Fatima was crying for her brother because she was the only one, who understood his ordeal. The position of the (heir apparent), of which the Alawites became delightful, was just a house woven by a spider. Her brothers Ahmad, Muhammad and Husayn and some of her cousins thought of going to Marw. A new era had come. The emigrants returned to their countries and families. The hidden and pursued people appeared.
Fatima listened to the document of the (position of) heir apparent when it had been written in the mosque of the Prophet especially the part that her brother Imam ar-Redha (s) had written. She found that it aroused hopes that her brother was trying his best to revive this straying nation to the right path.
It was the meaning of his saying: “…and I have made Allah upon my self that he has entrusted me with the affairs of the Muslims and invested me with His caliphate to achieve their affairs in obeying Him and obeying His messenger…and to choose the best as possible as I can.”
Fatima would not leave her brother alone. She would travel to him. She would ask her nephew for some money to be able to travel to Marw.
People became delighted when Imam ar-Redha (s) had been appointed as the heir apparent. The Alawites felt safe and there was no fear any longer.
Fatima got up to offer the prayer in her mihrab. Thus she did whenever obsessions came to her mind.
Allah, glory be to Him, was the only One, Who knew what griefs was there inside that gentle and pure heart. She would not tolerate more than that. There was something pulling her to Marw or to a point that she did not know where!
(6)
Fatima would not be able to tolerate more than this. Her heart was in Marw…in that city of the Far East. The news coming from Baghdad showed that the situation had been very bad and her brother faced the world alone and no one was with him.
The letter she received recently swept away all the obstacles that prevented her traveling. It aroused in her a determination that could not be resisted!
The letter was not sent to Fatima alone even it appeared as a personal letter. Imam ar-Redha (s) suffered his ordeal alone. The Abbasids would not be quiet as long as Imam ar-Redha (s) was the heir apparent and al-Ma'moon would not be able to resist long. Moreover she could not trust in this caliph, who had killed his brother a short time ago and committed massacres against the innocent. The bloods of the revolters in Kufa and Mecca had not dried yet.
She knew her brother well. He farewelled Medina with tears. So the letter looked like a call for help uttered by an oppressed man…a man trying to correct the path of history.
The phenomenon of emigration in the human life will remain as one of the most important human phenomena in history. Even it appears as just quiet
protest against oppression and injustice, yet it is considered as a great event and as a beginning of a new age in the life of man.
In a dawn of one of the last days of Safar while the moon was in wane, a caravan with some of the Alawites, in front of whom were the brothers of Imam ar-Redha (s); Ahmad, Muhammad and Husayn, set out. The number of the travelers in the caravan became three thousands when it left Medina. The camels set towards Basra then to Shiraz
and then to Kirman “if the wind flew as the ships liked”.
No one knew why this desert way had been chosen! Had the brothers of Imam ar-Redha (s) liked to gather a great number of men as much as they could throughout the way?!
The caravan grew bigger and bigger. The men of some cities and villages joined the caravan moving towards Marw in a thorny way full of dunes and dangers.
When the caravan arrived at Shiraz, the number of its travelers became five times more.
As for the caravan of Fatima, it moved toward Kufa through a way passing through some mountains then the desert of Najd to Rafha
and then to Kufa to cross the Euphrates toward the East through the mountains of Hamadan after some curves between very high ranges of mountains.
And thus the caravan set about carrying twenty-two Alawites headed by a girl called Fatima and her brothers Haroon, Fadhl, Ja’far and Qassim.
In every village or city on the way, the caravan stopped and Fatima talked about the glory of Ali…Ali, whose name had become as a banner of revolution, a signpost of justice and epitome of honor and freedom.
Those, who looked forward to the green tomorrow, had to join the caravan of Ali, which had set out in the dawn from the mihrab of Kufa.
Fatima said: “Our (grand) mother Fatima (s) said:
“I have heard the Prophet (s) saying: “It is written on the curtain: How great! Who is like the Shia of Ali!”
Our mother Fatima (s) said too: “The Prophet (s) said: “Whoever dies on loving the Prophet’s family, will die as a martyr.”
Also she said: “Have you forgotten the saying of the Prophet (s) on the day of Ghadeer Khum: “Whoever I am his guardian, here is Ali to be his guardian” and his saying (to Ali): “You are to me as was Aaron to Moses.”
Ah! O you, the Day of al-Ghadeer! You are a day of the days of Allah! How have you been omitted from memory to be lost and then all the beautiful things have been lost with you?! You are an Eid that has been martyred since it has been born! Is that because you have become a symbol for the day of the Imam and an Eid for the Imamate?!
Fatima was drowned into a tragedy that she did not know its secrets. How was the truth defeated and why?! Why did people walk in the way of evils looking for happiness in dark valleys full of snakes and adders?
Why did Baghdad become so mad when it heard the news that Imam ar-Redha (s) had become the heir apparent? Did Baghdad decline to this extent until it became like “Sodom”?
Fatima’s soul was moved by words said by her brother in moments full of prophets’ anger. When the umma had forgotten the words of the Heaven revealed in Ghadeer Khum, the words of her brother when arguing with his friend were still like fireflies scattering darkness:
“O Abdul Aziz, the people have ignored and have been deceived by their opinions. Allah has not made His messenger (s) die until He has perfected the religion and revealed the Qur'an to detail everything; permissible and impermissible things, judgements and penalties and every thing that people might need in their lives. Allah has said:
"We have not neglected anything in the Book."
And He has revealed to His messenger in the last (farewell) hajj this verse:
"This day have I perfected for you your religion and completed My favor on you and chosen for you Islam as a religion."
Definitely the matter of the imamate is from the religion and that religion is not perfected without it.
The Prophet (s), before leaving to the better world, has declared to his umma the principles of their religion and has showed them the straight path and the clear truth. He has appointed to them Ali as the imam. He has not left anything that the umma need unless he has declared it to them.
Then whoever claims that Allah has not perfected His religion denies the Book of Allah and so he becomes unbeliever.
Do they know the importance of the imamate and its position to the umma so that they determine as they like?
The imamate is much more important, greater in position, higher in rank, more impervious and profounder than to be perceived by their own minds or to be refuted by their own opinions or that they themselves appoint the imam according to their fancies.
The imamate is a divine position that Allah has favored Abraham (s) with after prophethood then He has honored him with companionship thirdly.
Allah has said:
"Surely I will make you an Imam of men."
Abraham said delightfully:
"And of my offspring?"
Then Allah has said:
"My covenant does not include the unjust."
So this verse has annulled every imamate of every unjust one until the Day of Resurrection…
The imamate has been still in Abraham’s progeny inherited by one after the other and age after age until it has been inherited by Prophet Muhammad (s). Allah has said:
"Most surely the nearest of people to Ibrahim are those who followed him and this Prophet and those who believe and Allah is the guardian of the believers."
Then the Prophet (s) has entrusted Ali (s) with it (the imamate) according to the order of Allah and then it has been inherited by Ali’s pure progeny, whom Allah has granted faith, knowledge and wisdom as He has said:
"And those who are given knowledge and faith will say: Certainly you tarried according to the ordinance of Allah till the Day of Resurrection."
The imamate has been limited to the progeny of Ali (s) until the Day of Resurrection because there is no prophet after Muhammad (s). Then how can these ignorants choose the imam?
The imam is like raining clouds, like the shining sun, like the shady sky, like plain ground, like a flowing fountain, like a brook and a garden.
The imam is the trustee of Allah among His people, is like a close companion, a kind father, a good brother…”
Tears gathered in Fatima’s eyes. She cried for the umma that was still going too far in straying to drown into a sea of darkness.
The caravan was still making its way to reach the outskirts of Sawa through a wavy land, in which the caravans had drawn curled lines.
(7)
The caravan that had set out towards Shiraz reached Khan Zeinan. It was a big caravan of fifteen thousand persons willing to go to Marw but the fate was lying in wait for them.
The caravan, which had stopped to rest, was surprised by a big army of forty thousand soldiers! Qatlagh Khan, the ruler of Shiraz, appeared wearing a skin of a tiger.
In a place of twenty-two miles away from Shiraz the ruler shouted harshly:
“Where do you want to go?”
Ahmad replied: “We want to go to Marw.”
His brother Muhammad said: “We want to meet our brother ar-Redha. No one has blocked our way. Here is the permission of travel!”
The ruler said: “It may be as you say but we have orders from the caliph to prevent you from traveling to Marw.”
Then he shouted loudly to be heard by the all: “Go back to where you have come from!”
The brothers kept calm to discuss the matter between themselves to take a decision. The ruler of Shiraz was taken by vanity. He ordered his knights to do an ostentatious move around the caravan to frighten the travelers.
The ground around the caravan shook and dust rose. The hoofs of the horses leveled the ground.
Ahmad said to his brothers: “What do you think?”
Muhammad al-Aabid said: “We have passed hundreds of miles. Our brother (Imam ar-Redha) has invited us to come and surely he does not do that without the permission of al-Ma'moon.”
Husayn said: “How do we go back and leave our brother alone?”
Ahmad said: “We keep on our way. If they block our way, then the final word will be of the sword.”
In the next day the caravan moved toward the east.
The leader of the army shouted threateningly: “Go back to where you have come from!”
The travelers said: “If we do not do?!”
He said: “It will be your end.”
They said: “You are worse than the highwaymen.”
The harsh-hearted leader gave his order to attack the caravan. The camels knelt down and brave men got down.
Violent clashes happened. The swords shone through the dust like thunderbolts celebrating on a mad land. The brave men fought courageously. The neighing of the horses reminded of a fierce battle that had happened near the bank of the Euphrates.
The harsh-hearted leader used the weapon of deceit when he shouted: “If your aim is to visit your brother, (your brother) ar-Redha has died.”
The rumor acted upon them and despair slipped into the hearts that had dreamt of the meeting.
The brothers began their deliberation. It was not easy to risk the lives of those people. They declared their agreement to cease fighting. While the caravan was getting ready to go back, the three brothers fled toward Shiraz and hid there. The ruler of Shiraz gave his order to arrest them.
And there at hundreds of miles were another caravan moving toward ar-Riyy. It had reached Sawa on the mountainous way, which led to Khurasan.
The autumn wind of October had divested the gardens of pomegranate of their bright greenness and given them a color of reddish orange.
The orders coming from Marw were clear and firm. They had decided to block the way before the Alawites, who were going to Khurasan.
What was expected took place. Some forces of the police clashed with the Alawites. The men, “whom neither merchandise nor selling diverts from the remembrance of Allah and the keeping up of prayer” showed extreme courage.
Fatima looked with regret and sorrow at the killed beloved Haroon, al-Qassim, Ja’far, al-Fadhl and some of her nephews. It was a scene like the scenes of Kerbala’.
Fatima fell down to the ground, which was dyed with the bloods of the innocent. When she opened her eyes,
she found herself in the middle of crying women. It was the noon. Far azan streamed sadly and movingly:
“I witness that Muhammad is the messenger of Allah”
Fatima said sorrowfully: “Where are you O, my grandfather, to see what has happened to your progeny?!”
When she wanted to get up to offer the prayer, her faint body could not carry her soul, which was getting ready to leave for a world faraway from the misfortunes of this earth and the evils of man.
There was the girl of twenty-eight years standing alone in the middle of the way between Medina and Marw. Neither she could return nor could she keep on her way.
She began to melt like a candle at the end of a long winter night.
In the memory of Fatima some traditions that she had heard in her childhood and youth shone. She still remembered her father when saying:
“Qom is the home of Muhammad’s progeny and the shelter of their Shia.”
She had heard her brother saying:
“If seditions spread in the countries, you are to resort to Qom and its surroundings because afflictions do not include it.”
Once again she had heard him narrating from her grandfather Imam as-Sadiq (s):
“The soil of Qom is sacred. Its people are from us and we are from them. No arrogant tries to do wrong to them, unless his punishment is hastened on him as long as they do not betray their brothers. If they do that, Allah will empower bad arrogants to rule them.”
A divine light lit in her heart and the words of her grandfather as-Sadiq shone when saying:
“We have a sanctum. It is the village of Qom. A woman from my progeny called Fatima will be buried in it.”
Because of this Fatima asked:
“How far is it to Qom?”
“Forty miles.” It was said.
She said while a hope of meeting shone in her heart:
“Take me to it!”
When the caravan took its way toward Qom, Fatima felt she was going to a good land and forgiving Lord.
Her weak body was melting under the burden of fever but her soul was shining like a shining star. In every station in the way she asked about some of her brothers, who had disappeared after the fighting. She wished they kept on their way to Marw in order to meet their brother.
But the news she had heard were not pleasant. The news of ar-Redha were unknown and there were other news talking about his griefs and loneliness and about
the sufferings of his Shia whenever they wanted to meet him!
Qom was the store of the brave men and the home of Muhammad’s progeny so she might, when arriving there, be able to do something for her alone brother!
And her brothers might come to visit her in Qom…or they might live in this good village…perhaps!
(8)
As the little caravan was about to reach the Mountain of Salt, the news of the coming of Muhammad’s granddaughter spread in Qom…Like a butterfly informing of the coming of spring the happy news roved through the houses of the small village.
The caravan passed across the Mountain of Salt about twenty miles from Qom and stopped at (Khan al-Qawafil) caravansary.
Fatima suffered her illness but her unsubdued will made her so determined to reach that good land.
Fatima asked with a faint voice: “How much distance remained (to Qom)?”
A young girl replied: “Some miles, O my lady. This khan is the last station on the way.”
The past events and days lit in her memory…old and new scenes, which the last one of was that bloody scene at the boundaries of Sawa. She had seen the killing of those sincere men…burning of butterflies in the middle of firestorm…she saw the killing of her brother Haroon. She saw how the human wolves attacked him while he was eating a bite of bread to support him to be ready for the last round.
But she did not see her brothers al-Fadhl and Ja’far!
A hope flourished in her heart like a rivulet, whose water flowed on its banks, or like a pure stream, which granted its nectar to the butterflies and flowers on its way.
The people of Qom went out to receive the daughter of the divine missions. Women and men were waiting for the daughter of Imam al-Kadhim (s) and the sister of Imam ar-Redha (s) and looking at the way of the caravans…the sun would shine from the north!
An Ash’arite man
leaned against a wall of an old castle, whose history belonged to Anushirvan. He was an Arab sheikh. He had heard during his youth traditions from Imam as-Sadiq (s)…traditions looking like prophecies. He was looking at the way, which appeared to him as full of crystals. The tears in his eyes changed the seen objects into scattered crystals and pearls!...Tears that he did not know their meaning…tears of joy or sorrow…joy of receiving the daughter of the mission or sorrow for the children of the prophets, who spread in the earth here and there like a rough sea scattering pearls and shells or like a sky dispersing its young stars on the earth!
An eagle-eyed man shouted: “There is a caravan coming!”
A vision appeared in the far horizon and little by little the image of the camels, which were like calm boats streaming towards the banks, cleared.
A young girl shouted joyfully: “Fatima has come!”
The hearts submitted to the shining name of the head of the ladies; Fatima az-Zahra’ (s). It was her daughter, who had her name, a light from her soul, features of her shining image and a memory of her as if the pure Zahra’ had offered her to the young girls of Qom as an excellent example in purity and straightness.
The Ash’arite man approached to take the reigns of the she-camel of Fatima. Fatima entered the small city and the city entered into a new gate of history. The city turned to be as a shell containing a pearl of the human existence.
The she-camel passed through farms of vegetables and then crossed the Salty River where there were humble houses of clay expressing the suffering of their inhabitants because of the severity of nature, drought and the oppression of the rulers in collecting taxes.
When Fatima entered the house of the generous man, the young girls of Qom flocked toward the house to be blessed by serving her. Young girls sent by their mothers or fathers to ladle from the purity, abstinence and knowledge of Ahlul Bayt (s), whom Allah had granted wisdom and purified a thorough purification.
Life flourished in the house and springs flowed with the Qur’an, prayers and principles of the prophets.
The sura of Maryam (Marry) shone…Marry the pure virgin…blessed was Fatima the daughter of Musa (al-Kadhim)…pure was the sister of ar-Redha.
A corner in one of the rooms became as mihrab and place of prayers. In spite of the rough winds of autumn in the last days of September, the words of Fatima brought good news about spring coming from the far horizon. She had heard her father saying:
“There will be a man from Qom inviting people to the truth. Great masses of People will gather with him. They will not be shaken by the violent storms…”
While the wind of autumn was blowing violently, the world was waving with seditions and conspiracies, Marw was drowned into plots and Baghdad was in anarchy, Fatima sat in her mihrab quietly and tranquilly. Her soul shining with infinite faith glared from two large eyes like a houri coming from far heavens.
Fatima sat talking to the people of the earth before going back to the homeland.
Thus Fatima appeared with her luminous face surrounded by a rosy veil and a white garment like a dove of peace.
As Ulayya,
the aunt of the caliph of Marw and the sister of the caliph of Baghdad was singing and playful Baghdad was heedless…Baghdad, which had appointed ibn Shukla as the caliph in order to prevent Imam ar-Redha (s) from becoming the caliph, Fatima sat in the mihrab teaching traditions:
“I have heard Fatima bint Ja’far as-Sadiq (s) narrating from Fatima bint Muhammad al-Baqir (s) from Fatima bint Ali as-Sajjad (s) from Fatima bint al-Husayn (s)
from Zaynab bint Ali (s) that Fatima the daughter of the Prophet (s) had said:
“I have heard the messenger of Allah saying: “He, who dies on loving Muhammad’s family, dies as a martyr.”
Those holy words turned to seeds planted in that good land, which would be the shelter of the Fatimites.
In the nights of Rabee’ ath-Thani
and while autumn was gathering up its few days and moving by its wind longing in the hearts of the strangers, the hearths of winters glowed to get ready for the long nights of cold. Sincere prayers from hearts full of loving the Prophet (s) and his family ascended toward the Heaven so that Fatima not to leave…this angelic soul to stay among them…but when a soul glared too much, the human body would not be able to bear it and so it was to go back to the Heaven after removing the dresses of clay and soil.
Thus Fatima was getting ready to leave…to leave the earth that was full of calamities. Nothing of her springlike age remained save some days…like a candle at the end of a long night…as a lamp sending its last circles of transparent light…like a sun, a moon or a star just before the setting.
(9)
The clouds of December crowded in the sky. They drew gulfs, coasts, blue lakes and hills of cotton. The scene of the sky became wonderful.
Fatima went to the mihrab. The weak body was unable to carry the glaring soul, which was dazzled by the longing to leave for worlds full of light, love and peace.
She wanted to lighten up from the elements of the earth…the earth, which was burdened with bloods and soaked in tears. She wanted to leave for another world, which had no grief or suffering. There was some power pulling her upwards.
Her eyes dozed to open in another world, which would not be seen except after man would have closed his eyes forever.
She was in a white garment like the ice on the tops or like a dove of peace.
She flew high and high. She saw herself entering into a green world where everything was like the color of spring. The houris of Paradise were strutting between the eternal trees. She saw herself roving in a colored transparent world…a world full of wings of the angels…two, three and four.
She saw a young girl strutting in garments of brocade and sarcenet, around whom houris circled. She found herself hastening toward her and shouting: O, mother! Take me to you!
She began to cry in a lap full of the fragrance of Paradise. She awakened and some tears still hanged on her eyelashes. She murmured:
O mother, take me to you!
The sky began to rain softly and quietly like the tears of Fatima when crying silently.
The smell of the ground sprinkled with the pure water of the heaven diffused. Fatima was melting little by little as a candle in the darkness…the darkness of the earth in the last nights of autumn.
The women of the city understood that Fatima was about to leave. Her voice fainted while saying to a young girl of her old:
“O sister, I would like to take a bath.”
The young girl hurried joyfully with a hope that Fatima would recover.
Fatima bathed and became pure from the filths of the earth. She put on a new dress perfumed with the smell of camphor.
Her face shone with an angelic smile…a smile of the last moment before leaving…a moment of love to the girls of Qom, the good city, to remain as a dear memory.
Everyone in the house felt that this small room would witness the moment of leaving…the leaving of the pure soul…going out of the candles…departure of the
stars…setting of the sun that had been lighting the city of Qom for seventeen days.
Fatima went to her bed. This night contentment shone from her eyes, which seemed as two windows looking at a world full of love, tranquility and peace.
A young girl, who had accompanied Fatima in her travel from Medina, thought that Fatima had recovered her health and the poison,
which had been mixed for her in Sawa, had become vain.
After the dawn men, women and children came to visit the virgin of Qom. But Fatima had gone far. She had left to the high world…the world of peace.
They didn’t found save a bier and tears like the rain of autumn the last night.
The Ash’arite man cried. He cried for the leaving spring…the girl that farewelled this life alone…no father, no mother and no brother beside her.
It was the fate that blew away with the children of Fatima az-Zahra’. They had been scattered on the different regions of the earth and different parts of the oppressed Islamic nation.
In the morning of the twelfth of Rabee’ ath-Thani the sun did not rise. It remained behind the clouds, which shed their heavy tears as if the sky was crying.
The funerals were carried out in silence and sorrow. It was autumn. Autumn often moved the feelings of longing in the selves.
The departure of Fatima in that cloudy morning seemed as the departure of all the beautiful things and the emigration of the sun.
A great procession moved and the white coffin upon the shoulders appeared as a martyred pigeon.
The sky was still showering. The sun appeared from behind the clouds pale and matt. The gardens of pomegranate shook off the remained yellow leaves, which were burdened with the moisture of the rain. A flock of emigrating birds passed. A thread of smoke rose from the middle of a small garden of vegetables. The escorts smelt a smell of firewood.
The procession, which girls and mothers formed the greater part of, went toward Babulan at the bank of the river, which the girl (Fatima) had crossed toward the city (Qom).
The smell of the ground diffused where the coffin was put. A problem appeared that no one had thought of before. Who would bring the dead girl down in her tomb?
Some of them remembered the pious man Qadir. He was a good old man. People new him well.
The Ash’arite man shouted: “Send for him!”
While the sky was showering its pure rain and the smell of the perfumed soil was rising to fill the space, two veiled knights appeared from the direction of ar-Ramla. They got down from their horses and approached toward the coffin where the all were astonished. Were they some of her brothers; al-Fadhl, Ja’far or al-Qassim?
One of them approached to go down into the grave. The other one carried the coffin to put it on the hands of the first one. It was a light coffin. It was pure. The fragrance of the pure soul confirmed that.
Blessed was Fatima. Blessed was the virgin, who had hastened to help her brother but the time and the fate assassinated her. Pure was the virgin of Qom.
The smell of the soil that was showered with rain diffused. It was still showering on the place where the pure girl had slept until the Day of Resurrection.
A heap of good soil rose about two spans. Mothers and girls gathered around the tomb. The virgins touched the soil that was perfumed with the fragrance of Paradise. They touched the tomb with white handkerchiefs to be blessed and pure. The mothers shed tears silently like the rain of autumn.
The two veiled knights rode their horses, moved toward ar-Ramla and disappeared in the cloudy horizon as they appeared in the first time!!
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Author: Kamal as-Sayyid
