"Surely, al-Husayn (as) is the Lantern of Guidance, and the Ark of Salvation" - Rasoolullah (PBUH)
"All of us are arks of salvation, save that the ark of al-Husayn (as) is more spacious and faster." - Imam Ja'far as-Sadiq (as)
"If Allah (SWT) desires goodness in a person, He will cast the love of al-Husayn (a.s) and the love of visiting Him (as) in that persons heart” - Imam Ja'far as-Sadiq (as)
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My Lord, I beseech thee:
A humble request, I dare not demand,
Take me to that special, holy, land,
in sight of twin domes, golden and grand
Where holy blood was mixed with sand
I beseech thee again;
My heart yearns to visit that place,
A timeless tract, limited in space
to pay regard to the best of humanity
who lifted the veil of true reality
elderly and aged to child and youth
all laid their lives in service of truth
By this blood your Islam was revived
and today survives and thrives
My Lord:
please add me to that precious list
not to that of those who this miss
and if perchance, one time I go,
please allow me more and more.
(Norwich, 16/12/2010)
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INTRO
It's taken me 5 weeks to start writing this, and a lot more than that (17+ months!) to finish writing it. I almost gave up at 1,500 words, before a new approach enabled me to continue and finish writing. I separated out my work into the subheadings you see this split into, and just wrote what I remembered and what I felt like writing about at a particular time. When one topic was done, or if I needed a break from a certain topic, I would just switch and start writing about something else. As the structure was there in the subheadings, it worked, and I am finally, finally done, with all of this done in little accretions of 100+ words or so. I hope my Masters will accept this humble effort in describing my visitation there.
I've been told I have some skill with words. I personally don't think it's as good as other people think it is, but I will try and use all that I have to the best of my ability. My intention is to write as much as I can of what I experienced in Iraq, as a journal for my own benefit/memory. A secondary purpose is in describing Iraq for those who are yet to go, for whom I hope this will be of some use, and for those who have been, maybe some memories will be brought back.
Everyone's journey and experience is different, so I've had to make a decision on exactly how much of myself/ what I did personally I disclose. In the end, I've decided to go for disclosing everything, or pretty much nearly everything. This will make me look/sound better than I am - of that there is no doubt. If by reading this you come away with an overly good impression of me, then I can only apologise. If anything seems extraneous to you, then please ignore it. Any faults in recollection, especially so long after the fact, remain mine and mine alone.
PRELIMINARY
I started 2012 wishing and praying in earnest that I would be blessed with Ziyarat of Imam Husayn (as). I believe it was my first post on my blog that year. I was reading the accounts of the people who had been blessed with the opportunity of visitation (
I &
II), and, as happy as I was reading these accounts, some of which were incredibly eloquent, I had pangs of sadness at not being able to go myself. If you have not been yet, and you desire earnestly to go, then you know what I mean.
At the time, as much as I wanted to go, in my mind, there was no way my circumstances would open up enough to allow me to go. If you told me in January 2012 that exactly one year later, I would be in Karbala, and that I would be spending 'Arbaeen as the guest of Imam Husayn (as), I wouldn't have believed you. So maybe these pangs can be considered superficial pangs, if you will…wanting to go, but still doubting that you will be able to in the near future, when truly, all is in the hands of Allah.
As the time came closer, I began to feel that maybe, just maybe, I might be given a chance. I seriously started looking for a group to go with just before Muharram, and the rest of the pieces fell into place. I felt a small sense of elation when I finally paid the last instalment of my trip, but refused to get carried away. It just felt surreal, as if I was dreaming, and any moment I might be woken up.
I kept in my mind, at all times, the possibility that I might board the plane, or even make it to Baghdad, or the outskirts of Najaf, or the outskirts of Karbala, and yet still not make it to my goals. In essence I tried to remind myself that, should Allah not want me to go, there was no way that I would make it, no matter how hard I tried. The positive flip side, however would be that, when I did reach, I would know with 100% certainty that I was meant to have arrived, and that I had been invited.
WORDS OF ADVICE
The night before, I talked to my best friend about feeling unworthy of being called. I reasoned that I, who have sinned so much in the past, was maybe perhaps taking the place of someone who was better qualified, or maybe had a better right to be going?
"Nonsense. This is the devil trying to make you waver. "Labbayk" has come for you, so you must go. Go visit Imam Husayn (as), as a slave of the dunya, as Hur did, and ask him to set you free." [Paraphrased]
Alternative words of advice came from my local scholar, who I met on the Sunday morning after, when I asked him one specific advice as to how I could make the most of this trip.
"Some people get to Karbala and are distracted. Don't be like them. Sit, and reflect, over there, that Imam Husayn (as) gave all he had in the service of Islam, and try think of ways in which you may also serve Islam." [Also paraphrased]
GETTING THERE
Going was pretty uneventful. We had a stopover in Jordan, spending the night in Amman. I spent a large part of the flight there writing out the requests, wishes and duas that I had received from others that they wished me to pass on. It was only fair that I do that. I have, over the past few years, sent countless requests of visitation to the Imams (as) through people I knew were going, and it may well have been one of these that were answered. I cannot know. I felt it was my duty to do the same, and inshaAllah those who requested via me would also get the opportunity to visit soon, and have their other answered. inshaAllah.
We flew on to Baghdad the next day. Baghdad is where we could sense a palpable shift in the atmosphere. Security was everywhere. There was no escaping it. Acquiring last-minute visas for members of our group kept us in the airport for a long, long time. Then we boarded coaches from the airport to a checkpoint a few miles away from the airport, where we unloaded, were security checked again, and then boarded coaches for Najaf. It would be like this on the way back as well - you have to travel to and from the airport on specially designated coaches, which pick you up and drop you off from these checkpoints.
During the exit from the airport, and in a few other places in Iraq I saw signs and logos for "SHAMSA". I didn't know this at the time, but due to the massive number of Iranian pilgrims that visit Iraq annually, the Iranian government formed a company specifically to look after and cater for their needs, especially security-wise, which is what SHAMSA is. The mind boggles at such a fact.
On leaving the airport I got my first glimpse of something that reminded me of why I was here. I saw a coach with a flag on it's roof, upon which the words "Ya Husayn" were written in Arabic. I was here. On our way to Najaf, I saw plenty more of these, and other flags, on car windows, on car roofs, and also artistic depictions of Imam Husayn (as) and Hz. Abbas (as), plastered on the back windscreens of a few cars, but the first one that I saw remains as vivid as ever in my mind.
A more pleasant reminder that I was where I belonged was given to me at Maghrib time. Our coach just pulled off the road a few miles from Baghdad, at a makeshift tent that had been specially set up to allow travellers to pray. This would be one of many that I would see by the roadside. Seriously, think about this for a minute. We pulled off the road, did our wudhu, prayed in a tent, and left. Where else can this happen? The ladies were led to a different tent to do wudhoo and pray by an elderly woman, who I think must have been one of the people looking after the tent. More touching was when we were leaving. This same elderly, wizened woman, was taking all the shoes that were left at the entrance of the tent, and she was pairing them, and placing them the right way round for us at the entrance of the tent, IN ORDER TO MAKE IT EASY FOR US TO SLIP INTO OUR SHOES AS WE LEFT. My mind boggles just recalling it.
As I slipped into my shoes and left, I spoke one of the few words I knew in Arabic.
"Shukran"
"Afwan"
In my whole adult life, and for most of my childhood, nobody has ever done that for me, or anything similar. Yet for this one old lady, this was one way in which she could serve the zuwwar of Imam Husayn (as), so she did. God bless her. But, this was no isolated incident. Examples of such hospitality were not the exception, they were the norm during my stay in Iraq, especially during the walk. [More on the walk later…]
We got back into the coach and made our way to Najaf. It took us roughly three hours to do get there, and I spent most of the coach there finishing writing out the requests I intended to hand-deliver to my Imam (as). Not only did I write the requests that were asked of me, but I also asked for stuff for people who I remembered at random times during the coach trip. People's names would come to me as quickly as my pen would write them down…people who had made their way into my heart for one reason or another, people who's kindnesses I randomly recalled, who had made me feel welcome in my new hometown, and more importantly to me, people who I had hurt, disappointed, and let down…a list, which at the age of 24, I am ashamed to admit was already a lot longer than it should be - not that such a list "should" be allowed to exist anyway. Finally, I went through all the contacts on my phone and every time I came across a name that I should have put down, I added it to the list. Eventually, this list hit 6 sides of A4. I stopped writing about half an hour before we got into Najaf, and just took looked outside the window, trying to drink in as much of Iraq as I could.
NAJAF
We arrived at our hotel pretty late at night. I was lucky to be staying in a hotel that was located right next to the Haram of Imam Ali. As I was walking to the hotel for the first time, I saw the golden dome in the distance. And I wept, bearing in mind my earlier thoughts. That I was here was proof to me that I was meant to be here, and nowhere else. It was beautiful - I literally couldn't stop looking at the dome. We got to the hotel, and got ready to visit Imam Ali for the first time. We were located less than 2 minutes away from the haram - all we had to do was pass through one security checkpoint and round one corner, and we would be at the Haram. Then you have to hand over your shoes, go through one final search by the guardians of the Haram, and then you stand before one of the big doors that will let you inside the courtyard.
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Upon catching sight of that glorious dome
Which in every light seems to glisten
My heart immediately made a new home
And to it, I couldn't help but listen
Here is buried the master of free men
Paragon of virtue upon virtue in life
That earth hosts no loftier denizen
Equal composure in blessing and strife
Buried in secret, in the dead of the night
Now Najaf radiates a spiritual light
Drawing all those who salute his right
And keep alive remembrance of his life.
Feet finding the path of millions before
And I run before the opportunity goes
Finding my way without needing to see
The Father of Dust is calling to me
(Peterborough, 05/07/2012)
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Before entering the Haram itself, it is a courtesy to seek permission of the personality inside. This is known as reciting the idhn al-dukhul. I wept again as I recited it, and stepped into the courtyard of my master. It's hard to explain how I felt just inside the courtyard. A weird sort of elation, of happiness was tinged with indescribable sadness. Honestly, I just wanted to sit in a corner and weep. And as I strode the short walk from the entrance of the courtyard to the door of the inner sanctum, I felt like breaking down. But there was no time for me to give in and weep - After having waited for so long, and KNOWING that I was meant to be here, I had to go and give my salutations to the Father of Dust. Again at the door of the inner sanctum I recited the idhn al-dukhul, and wept again. Then I stepped into the inner sanctum, where I finally saw the Zarih (Gold and silver cage erected above the grave) of my master, and began to recite the his ziyarat. Again I was overcome with emotion, and finished it with tears streaming down my face.
I did not expect that I would be able to get close to the Zarih, or be able to touch and kiss it, but I think I was lucky in that I was visiting for the first time at a suitably late time in the night. I was able to get very close and eventually touch it without much struggle. I was able to follow it all the way round to the other side, whispering incoherently, where I then recited the Ziyarats of the two Holy Prophets buried next to Imam Ali (as) - Hazrat Adam (as) and Hazrat Nuh (as).
As an aside, it's hard to explain just how beautiful the inside of the Inner Sanctum is. If you like these sorts of things, then be prepared to have your breath taken away - the inside is adorned with some of the most beautiful, breathtaking artwork I have ever seen. Intricate geometric mirrorwork with repeating motifs of the arabesque style both clash and form a harmonious whole upon the walls with exquisite tilework, upon which exquisite Arabic calligraphy is etched. More mirrorwork adorns the inside of the dome, and just looking at it for long enough draws you into it's patterns. The doors themselves are beautiful, and again feature exquisite patterns in the arabesque style, and gorgeous Arabic calligraphy. I don't do any items justice with that description, and nor would any photos or videos, had I taken them. Just take my word for it. But I only mention this by the by - as beautiful as this is, and this is most certainly beautiful - if all of this were taken away, and the walls were bare and made of mud, I still would feel the same sense of awe and wonder and sadness all mixed up in one in the presence of Imam Ali (as).
We were not in Najaf for long, but we made the most of our visits to the Shrine, especially late at night, interspersing our stay in Najaf with other Ziyarats and visitations to places of note. Najaf itself is something amazing. Everything is with Imam Ali (as) the centre, and all the shops, hotels, bazaars, etc available as you walk further and further away from the Haram. There were some extensive building works going on outside one side of the Haram, which meant you could only roam freely on the other sides. Whatever the final result is, I have no doubt it is going to be very ambitious.
The pilgrims who have no accommodation sleep on blankets provided outside the haram, sadly, beggars abound everywhere here. We were advised early on to always have something small to give to beggars, and that's what I did, breaking my monies down into $1 bills, or even smaller variants of the Iraqi currency so that I could make sure I left no beggar empty handed when they came to me. Other than following the examples of my masters, I reasoned, how on earth could I expect to beg at their doors, if I myself leave beggars empty-handed when they come to me? I have no idea if the beggars were genuine or not, but to be honest, it doesn't matter. Of that I can be sure.
Najaf not only has the holy shrine of Imam Ali (as), but also has about a hundred other mosques in close vicinity, and places of burial of other great scholars who have served the seminaries over the years. It's quite possible, and I've done it, to just walk for a few minutes randomly in Najaf and find yourself at a small mosque. Of course, these are not in as good a state as the shrine of Imam Ali (as), but, well, what can you do? Overall, Najaf is steeped in history, and whilst the inevitable march of progress and modernisation goes on, and I do see the need for some of that in Najaf, I hope some parts of Najaf remain exactly as they are.
ANECDOTE
I remember waiting in the inner sanctum of the haram for fajr...waiting, waiting, as the time of fajr approached, for the Imam of the shrine to come and lead the salah. As the haram got more and more packed, eventually I fell asleep for a fraction of a second, and broke my abolution, so made my way outside to remake it. As I made my way outside, the Imam appeared and led the prayer, which I then couldn't take part in. It does seem pretty ignoble to admit that I missed out on congregational prayer in the Haram of Imam Ali (as) because I fell asleep at an inopportune moment, but there you go. I guess some things were not meant to be, and there is wisdom in that that I may not know of...inshaAllah next time.
I will also not forget the amazing throng of people collecting their shoes after salah was done. I'd say that it was almost harder to get your shoes back than to touch the zarih of Imam Ali (as). And there was plenty of pushing and shoving, and I seriously marvelled at how many people had managed to come for the morning prayer. If I ever go back, next time, I'll just stay in the Haram for as long as I can after, and let the manic rush wear itself out.
MASJID KUFA
We visited a few of the other ziyarat in Najaf and Kufa on the next day, before heading off to the preserved house in which Imam Ali used to live, and for the Grand Mosque of Kufa. We visited Masjid Hannana, where the tress bowed as the funeral bier of Imam Ali(as) was passing through, and where the Head of Imam Husayn(as) was rested for one night. We visited the final resting place of Kumayl ibn Ziyad, to whom the Dua of Khizr (as) was transmitted by Imam Ali, which we now recite on Thursday nights as Dua Kumayl.
Eventually, we made our way to the Grand Mosque of Kufa, which I had read so much about before coming to Iraq. This Masjid will be where the Awaited Imam (aj) sets up his government, but it has historical significance stretching back throughout history. It was here that the great flood in the time of Prophet Nuh (as) originated from, and here where it subsided. Furthermore, it's status has been confirmed in that many prophets have prayed in this masjid as well, and the rewards for praying in this masjid, especially in congregation, are too numerous to mention here. Furthermore, this is also the resting and visitation places of Mokhtar at-Thaqafi, Hani ibn Urwa, and Muslim ibn 'Aqil (may Allah reward them). Finally, If memory serves me correctly, The mosque of Kufa is only one of three mosques where the visitors do not have to pray shortened prayers if they are travellers (the other two being the Masjid of the Kaaba in Mecca, and the Masjid of the Prophet in Medina); in other words, this mosque is one of three where believers are always "home" (a fourth place is under the dome of the tomb of Imam al-Husayn (as), but this applies only to the area under dome, right next to the grave, not the rest of the masjid).
As we walked to the masjid, we saw the final remnant of the Omayyad palace where Muslim ibn 'Aqil was beheaded. All that is left of it is just a wall. The scholar accompanying us remarked on how Allah treats his friends and enemies; The Umayyad palace, which must have been grand in it's day, is now rubble, but the Martyrs of Kufa have been raised in station, both in this world, and the next.
We approached the house of Imam Ali (as) next to the mosque of Kufa just as the adhan for midday prayers was ringing out, and conscious of the reward of prayers offered in this holy place, I decide to forgo the house in order to pray in congregation at the Masjid. By the time I finally got in, congregational prayers were over. Grasp all, lose all. I regret my choice then, and given another chance, I will make sure I visit the house of Imam Ali (as). Those who did visit told me it was a most moving experience to see the humble nature of the man who was at the time the ruler of the Muslim Empire.
The Masjid of Kufa is grand, beautiful, and a whole host of other words. Four walls adorn an open courtyard, where in certain places there are Maqam (stations) where honourable personalities have prayed, among them Prophets and Imams, and I believe one spot has a place where the Archangel Gabriel has also prayed.
There is a mehrab (prayer niche) still preserved, where the head of Imam Ali (as) was struck. A line of people form to queue and touch the place, and I joined them. When it was my turn, I touched it, kissed it and wept. What more needs to be said?
We also had a short majlis in the mosque itself, right next to the fourth pillar of the mosque, where it is recorded that Imam Ali (as) used to preach and dispense justice and rulings. After that was done, we dispersed to pay our salutations to the Holy personalities who are entombed in the mosque as well, all of whom were righteous servants of the Ahlulbayt (as), whose station we (I) can only hope to reach. I must mention Mokhtar at-Thaqafi, because I cannot forget one fact about him. It is recorded that his father, who was a martyr in the early battles of Islam, had prayed to Allah for a son who would be remembered as a great servant of Islam, if my memory serves me correct. I can only marvel at how the prayer of the father has been answered. Subhanallah.
MASJID SAHLAH
Masjid-e-Sahlah was the most unexpected part of my trip, in that I did not expect to enjoy it as much as I did. Enjoy it is perhaps the wrong word, and I will expound on this later on. The mosque itself seems to be just four walls and an open courtyard, from my memory, and in the courtyard, and along the different walls, different Maqam (stations) are marked where various personalities have prayed.
This masjid is very highly linked with the 12th Imam (aj), as whilst his office will be in Kufa, his residence will be here. Furthermore, it is very strongly narrated that whosoever desires to visit his Imam should visit here for 40 consecutive Tuesday nights.
Like the Masjid of Kufa, this place has also been visited by various holy personalities, among them some of our Imams, including the 12th, and also some of our prophets, including the great Prophet Khidr (as), who has partaken of the fountain of youth, and consequently is still alive today.
It's hard to explain how different the feeling is inside this mosque. The khudaam wear different outfits to the khudaam in other mosques and shrines, though it's not just that. Clearly not. The mosque is far away from the shrines of Najaf, and the mosque and city of Kufa, so getting there requires transport by coach. It's off the beaten track, therefore, but again, it's not just that.
Inside, one of the khudaam became our guide, and showed us though all the different maqam (stations) where others have prayed, and at each stop guided us as to what prayers should be invoked.
I still can't explain why I like this mosque so much. I think it's because during our trip to Iraq, all the mosques and shrines were linked to tragedy - The grand mosques in Najaf, Karbala, and Kadhemayn all house treasured personalities of the Household of the Prophet (PBUH), and the mosque in Kufa is where the great tragedy of the assassination of Imam Ali (as) happened.
This mosque, however, was just a mosque, albeit one which was grand, and which had been blessed by having great personalities pray there. It was calm, and peaceful, and here I felt some sense of connection to the great and revered leaders of our faith, before and after the revelation of Islam, simply by praying where they prayed. It also reinforced to me the foundational element of Islam, namely prayer, and nowhere did I feel this most than station marked as where the great prophet Khidr (as) was marked to have prayed.
As we were leaving, another group was arriving, and I saw some friends in the second group. I went over and said hello, before rejoining our group as we left. I remember having some alone time with one of the scholars of our groups, as we waited for our coaches, and asked him for advice on how to fully implement Islam in our lives, or rather how to mould our lives around Islamic precepts, principles, and teachings.
The answer was very simple, but also one of the hardest to implement without taking the answer seriously. The answer is to slowly, gradually, gently, lock certain habits and ways of thinking into our lives, but also to be gentle on ourselves, and not force ourselves to overdo it. Furthermore, even we need to make sure we do not regress, or stagnate, but every day, slowly, and maybe even imperceptibly, keep moving forward to meeting that Islamic ideal.
With that, our coaches arrived, and we left Masjid e Sahlah. I feel a strange connection to this place, and God willing, I shall visit it again. The unexpected peace & tranquility I experienced in that mosque has made me yearn to visit it again. One day, inshaAllah.
MEETING AYATOLLAH ALI AL-SISTANI (HA)
We secured, or rather, were granted an audience with Ayatollah Ali al-Sistani. I did not realise exactly how close he lived to the shrine of Imam Ali (as) until we actually got there. Less than 200 metres from one of the entrances to the shrine, we were directed to enter down one side street and we were there. Unbelievable.
What is even more astonishing is that despite his own proximity to the Shrine, he hasn't been able to visit it for years due to concerns over his own personal safety.
One passer by who was literally just passing by saw us gathering and asked us if we were going to visit a great personality who was buried there, and upon finding out that it was the Grand Ayatollah, he beseeched the guards to let him through, until they relented and let him join our group.
I've yet to find a place with more stringent security than that guarding the Ayatollah. We were led across three different searching stations and made to remove everything in our pockets except money. Everything else, literally everything else, we were made to hand over for safekeeping. In one slightly embarrassing moment, one of the guards examined me throughly and decided that my fingernails were too long, and that I would need to clip them before I could enter. I wasn't sure if he was joking or not, until he fished out a pair of nail clippers from God knows where. Another guard remonstrated with him, and I was thankfully allowed to join my companions in a waiting room as we waited to be seen. As trivial as this particular anecdote may be, I am glad that those entrusted with guarding his life take their responsibility so seriously. Alhamdulillah.
The idea was that we would arrive at his house almost exactly at Maghreb time, and so we would have the honour of praying with him as the leader of prayer, but the security checks themselves led to us being a little late. As he always prayed exactly on time, he began without us, and we prayed behind one of the scholars who had accompanied our group. After the prayers, we were served some delicious Iraqi style chai, and then were ushered into a room to meet him.
One of the scholars that accompanied us spoke Farsi, and he conversed with the Ayatollah in that language before translating for us. The Ayatollah started by saying that he always prayed for the Shias round the world in the qunoot of his morning prayers, and offered us various bits of advise, which, forgive me, I currently cannot recall.
Although he was not meant to answer any questions, he still asked us if we wanted to ask him any questions, and listened to and responded to more than a few, indulging us, even as his aides looked on with concern, worrying that he might overexert himself; we had been told that his health was not all that well.
One person (the very same person who just happened to randomly join our group) began by saying that he was an airline pilot, and he mentioned that even when he was piloting an aircraft so many thousands of feet above the air, the sense of exhilaration and joy he experienced in the presence of the Ayatollah was something he had not experienced before.
Ayatollah Ali al-Sistani smiled and responded that what the person was feeling was something the hearts naturally feel for servants of Allah and Ahlulbayt (as), and he added that, as much as the person felt it, he himself felt the same towards all of us.
A more political question regarding intra-sect conflict in Pakistan was asked, which forgive me, I cannot recall in perfect detail, and whilst I do remember certain elements of it, I would rather leave it unwritten than get anything wrong. The answer, though, was delivered with extreme precision and nuanced political awareness that left me in no doubt whatsoever that even though he currently resided under what is in essence house arrest, he is very aware of the issues that affect Shias, and Muslims, as a whole in other countries outside Iraq. For the first time in my life I was very aware, and very thankful of the scholars who have protected the religion and provided guidance to us layfolk over the centuries.
I listened with rapt attention, and paid tried as much as possible to soak up the presence of this great man. He spoke quietly, and with a humble demeanour. I noticed that he was extremely old and frail, which I attributed to the illness he had been suffering recently. When it was time to say goodbye, we all lined up to shake his hand, and even though I very much wanted to kiss it, we had been told before that that would not be allowed, so I settled for just shaking it (that and the fact that I did not really want to make and sudden movements near him with his security entourage watching us like hawks).
Finally, as we left, we were given commemorative coins, which had the name of Imam Ali (as) etched on one side, and the name of Imam al Mahdi (aj) etched on the other, which we were told was a departure from the usual practice of giving those who visit stones of dur-e-Najaf. We collected our possessions and were ushered out, to see yet another group/delegation waiting for their chance to meet him.
FAREWELL TO IMAM ALI (as)
We would leave Najaf after dhuhr prayers, and packed our bags in the morning in anticipation of that. During our final meal at the hotel, nearly 45 mins before we were due to start the walk, I was gripped by the desire to say grip the Zarih and goodbye to my Master properly one last time.
My companions told me that I would not be able to do it, to get so close so after Zuhr Salah, as there would be too many people around the Zarih, and advised me to drop the idea. I wouldn't listen. I hurried my meal, made sure all my stuff was packed for the walk, and made my way to the Haram.
I ran. Literally. Ran to the checkpoint, ran to the place where you drop your shoes off, and ran some more inside the Haram until I made it to the inner sanctum. There I slowed down, recited the idhn al-dukhul and slowly walked in. I was elated to find that there was not many people around the haram, and joined the throng. I was able to touch the Zarih firmly, and I wept.
I was acutely aware that this may well be the last time I would ever be in this position. I begged and pleaded with Imam Ali (as) to be allowed to visit again, and promised that I would make him proud of me. I had been pretty emotional on previous visits but this was something else. I don't know how long I held on to the zarih for, or how long I wept for, but I felt a point on which I should let go, so I did, and wept softly on my way back to the hotel.
We packed our bags and got ready to go, those of us who were walking boarding into a separate minivan. We were told to be ready for 2pm, and were on time, but ended up waiting in the van for another 2 hours for the rest of the group to finish checking out. Had I know this, I would obviously have spent more time at the Haram. Eventually, all was done and we were wished well by companions who would be travelling in the coach there direct, and our group finally split into two.
THE WALK
The walk can only be referred to as such; "The Walk". In my life, there is no other such journey that will **ever** have the definitive article placed before it. I cannot, for the life of me, ever imagine walking 70-odd kilometres for anyone else, living or dead.
There are 1400-ish numbered poles that mark the road from Najaf to Karbala, and they are spaced roughly 50 metres apart. 1400 x 50 = 70,000m = 70km minimum. Exact numbers are hard to get hold of. But the poles do not start out directly from the Haram of Imam Ali (as), and we were taken in a minivan to the very first pole, on the outskirts of Najaf/Kufa. My second regret then is that I didn't walk all the way from the father to the son. God willing, if I am given the chance again, I will do that.
I was unprepared for the sight that greeted me when I did start the walk though. It is truly stupefying. As far as the eye can see, swathes of people are headed in only one direction. Over the course of my walk there was not one moment where the road was empty. Imagine then, that the whole of the road from Najaf to Karbala, all of it, is not empty at any time - there are always people walking. Always. And I saw all sections of society. The aged, the infirm, the young, families, even children and women travelling alone by themselves, even babies being pushed in prams, and people in wheelchairs. Most didn't take anything with them. All are safe, and all know why each other are here. Karbala itself exerts a magnetic pull on the hearts of the lovers, and the bodies follow.
Flags rise high, adorning both sides of the road, themselves adorned with beauty; Arabic calligraphy of the names of Allah (swt) and the Ahlulbayt (as), or with artistic renditions of the faces of Imam al-Husayn (as) or Hz. Abbas (as). Occasionally you'll see an artistic rendition of a scene from Karbala, where a wall is big enough. The atmosphere is bustling, and busy, and eventually all noises merge into one. If someone had a loudspeaker at their stall, the sound of latmeyat would be playing (more often than not from Bassem al-Karbalaei), until about 10 mins before prayer time. At that time, a recitation of the Quran is played on the loudspeaker, and then as prayer time unfolds, the adhaan is called.
The servants of the pilgrims though, my word. As far as the eye can see, Mawkibs (stalls) dot the road on either side. You do not travel more than 10-15 metres without someone offering you something. Anything for the visitors of al-Husayn (as). And the pilgrims do not want for anything. Anything at all. If you need to eat, there is food. Believe me, there is food. And it is delicious. If you need to drink, there is packaged water in disposable cartons, juice, or soft drinks. If you need to rest for a while, there are chairs and footstools about. If you need to sleep, there are tents and buildings for that purpose only. If you need to pray, there are prayer tents and Husayniyyahs ("houses of al-Husayn (as)) every so often. If you are flagging, and in need of a boost, one shot of Iraqi-style coffee will wake you up like nothing else. If you suffer from first world problems, you will find wifi spots and places to charge your phone as well, if you look hard enough. The road is always being swept to make sure the zuwwar don't trip and fall on anything. The dust itself is collected and used for shafa'a, as the belief is held by some that the visitors of Imam al-Husayn (as) themselves have healing powers. Huge platters filled with dates are left in the middle of the road, so you can pick one up without breaking stride. Most plentiful though, is the delicious Iraqi-style chai, which is both very strong, and very sweet.
It truly boggles me. Arranging for 10 million + (a conservative estimate, by all accounts) people to be fed, warmed, housed and generally looked after over the course of the Arbaeen period is a logistical challenge that would tax even the most rich and well resourced and organised of governments. But it's not governments who are doing this - ordinary people, some of them very poor, giving what they can to be in the service of those who visit Imam Husayn (as). And in his service, everything works out; we experienced no problems on the way going. As good as I may be with words, the generosity and goodheartedness of the Iraqi people is something I will always struggle to describe. I may have family, and close friends, but, united by a common cause and shared love, I felt an incredibly strong kinship with the Iraqi that to me transcended traditional barriers of race, language, culture, status, and other human-made divisions.
The walk began in mid-afternoon, and it was planned that this would be a "small" walk, where we would aim to get about a quarter of the way there; a tent was arranged for us at around the 300th pole. We took rest as often as was needed (with the obligatory cup of tea), but still pushed each other to achieve a decent pace of around 4-5 km (80-100 poles) an hour. As soon as the recitations of Quran started emanating from the loudspeakers, we made way for the nearest prayer tent, stopped, waited for the adhan, and prayed, before resuming the walk.
We arrived at our station and found our hosts waiting for us. They had laid down blankets in 2 concrete buildings, for separate genders, and brought food for us. They made sure we did not want for anything, and then left us to sleep.
We woke up for Fajr, and after praying, were again treated to a hearty Iraqi breakfast before cleaning up after ourselves, and setting out.
I made a decision early on in writing this, that I would only post one picture. This picture was taken just after we resumed walking on the second day, and the sun has only just risen. It captures a fraction of what I saw; swathes of people as far as the eye can see, all headed in one direction.
Here it is: (click to see full picture)
We kept each other to a good pace, and made some decent progress in the early hours of the day. Our target at the end was a station owned and run by the Zahra Trust, which if I remember correctly was in the 1,100s of the marked poles. 800-odd x 50 = 40-ish kilometres. As always, we kept each other going, and made sure we had breaks when we needed to. Even in the pauses were moments worth meditating upon, as waves upon waves of people just walked past us, with only Imam al-Husayn (as) in their hearts.
Everyone in my group was doing some form of prayer as they were walking, either listening to the Quran or Latmeyat/Nawha from portable devices, or reciting Ziyarat (the full Ziyarat Ashura together with 100 curses and 100 blessings goes remarkably quickly when you walk at the same time), or just reciting some dhikr and asking for forgiveness with the aid of a tasbih.
We stopped for salah, lunch, and an afternoon nap, all of which took place at the same Husayniyah and then resumed again. It was at this point that some of us were beginning to flag, but we never truly wavered. I have nothing but respect and admiration for a young couple in our group who pushed both their young children in prams throughout the whole walk.
I myself was beginning to wane around around sunset time on the second day, but was given one shot of the Iraqi-style coffee mentioned earlier, which woke me up like nothing else ever has. The group had fragmented somewhat by the end of the second day, so we all prayed at the nearest prayer tent/Husseiniyah we were nearest to at Maghrib time before waiting for each other and regrouping somewhat, before carrying on.
We passed a couple of security checkpoints on the way, though I forget when. The walkers were bottlenecked into a turnstile-esque checkpoint (separated by gender, with female staff searching the female walkers), where efficient guards searched us promptly, as well as our belongings. The only conversation we had was in brief snatches, and it was almost always the same thing...
"Min weyn?" (Where are you from?)
"Min hind" (from India), or alternatively
"Min britanniyeh" (from Britain, though this got way too much admiration, and I avoided it after the first couple)
[As an aside, it was pretty gratifying to be asked if I was Iranian or Bahraini, or some other nationality. I know, I know. OK; back to the walk.]
What was planned to be an 8 hour walk, with one extra hour for lunch, etc, turned out to be much much more than that, and it was late at night when we finally arrived at the second station. Our hosts for that night had been worried about us, and were extremely glad to see us filing in, in dribs and drabs. Those who had arrived early set about making it easier for those who would arrive later; laying out mattresses and blankets, and getting the food started. Eventually we were all there and happy to see each other, and even happier to see one of us who had got detached from the group, who thought he was behind when he was actually ahead, and consequently walked extra fast to catch up, only to arrive at the camp exhausted, but 3 hours earlier than the rest of us.
The third day only had us walking a maximum of 300-ish poles (another 15-ish km), so we had a more relaxed start. It was a friday as well, so after Fajr, and Dua Nudba, we had another breakfast, and in between cleaning up and setting back out, we had a brief glimpse of what it was to be like to be servants of the zuwwar. It was arranged that all of us would have some cartons of juice or water (30-odd packs I think) to give out to zuwwar as they walked past, and we did this with gusto. We stood at the side of the road, opened our packs, and started handing them out. The zuwwar flocked to us, took our offerings, and left to resume their walk. Within a few minutes - it most definitely was not very long - our stocks were exhausted. Again it home exactly how huge the whole thing was; what we had done was but a fraction, a tiny, tiny fraction of what other people do to serve the zuwwar, and this whole endeavour has to, has to have been blessed by Allah (SWT) for it to work so smoothly.
A more relaxed start was followed with a very relaxed pace, and instead of keeping with the pace of the earlier days, which would have seen us arrive in the early afternoon, we walked much more slowly. And just as well, for we were were beginning to feel the effects of walking the past few days, and walked slowly, making sure we didn't leave each other behind.
As we got closer, the density of people increased, as did the volume of noise, and quantity of dust in the air. It was inevitable. We left the poles at around the 1,400 mark and took another road that would take us to Karbala via a shorter route, and a few members of our group took sand and earth from the road and placed it on their foreheads.
I don't know when exactly it happened, because I wasn't exactly looking out for this, but soon we were an urban areas on the outskirts of Karbala. Whereas before all I would see was just a straight road ahead, in the distance I began to see a more of a concrete jungle. The singular road with mawkibs either side had gradually become more dense with mawkibs. Then, eventually it began to have lots of roads branching out from it, and soon we were in residential areas. After a few more checkpoints, and the like, I began to see buildings that were bigger, hotels and the such, and others that were in various stages of being built.
Again, I don't know when exactly it happened, but the road we were walking on, was no longer just one road. We were now in a city. Roads criss-crossed, cars, minivans and lorries were all around us, and we were walking over bridges and under underpasses, and crossing roads, and other stuff you'd expect a large group of people to be doing when walking in a city. Now we were walking among houses, shops, hotels, restaurants, and other constituent elements of a city, with hawkers and beggars on every street. I knew if I got lost I could always show people the lanyard round my neck and ask for directions, but I was grateful in any case that our group leader was more familiar than we were with Karbala, and was able to get us to our hotel with minimal help from others. About 1-2 hours of walking inside Karbala and we were in our hotel, where the other members of our group were waiting for us, and welcomed us.
About one hour to freshen up and those of us who did the walk then completed the final part of the walk, and indeed, what we came to Karbala for. With legs leaden, tired, and aching, we made our way to the shrine of Imam al-Husayn (as). I know that traditionally, we are supposed to go and visit Hz Abbas (as) first, but given our state, we made our first ziyarat that of Imam al-Husayn (as). We were given 20 more minutes before we headed back, and I don't know why, but I decided to attempt to touch the zarih, and was successful.
The throng of people, and the pushing and shoving was unlike anything I'd experienced before, though it would eventually become something I was familiar with by the end of the trip. I was more concerned with making sure that I did not harm anyone on my way to the zarih (otherwise, honestly, what is the point?), and so let myself be taken by the waves of crowd, which in a series of gentle ebbs and flows eventually carried me to the very front, and I was able to kiss and pray right next to it. Alhamdulillah. All of us were exhausted, and soon we regrouped, headed off to the hotel, and slept pretty much instantly.
KARBALA
Ahhh, Karbala. What words can describe this place? When I was back, I was asked how it felt to be back, and without thinking I replied "after tasting heaven, I don't like being back on earth." Poetic license perhaps? After more than a year, my feelings haven't changed.
Our group was pretty laid back in terms of arranging programmes. Which is not to say that they didn't, but the way it was structured was to enable us to have a reasonable amount of freedom to go off and do ziyarats and explore the city as well without feeling that we needed to be with the group all the time. We had morning ziyarats as a group in the Haram after fajr, and then were free to do what we wanted until the late evening, which was when the scholars accompanying us would give talks after leading maghrib salah at the hotel, one after the other. I gained a lot of valuable insight from these talks because of the way in which our scholars decided to deliver their talk and choose their topics; there was much that was gained through the topics being in some places complementary, and yet there was never any overlap. For this I am definitely grateful.
One time, we were given access to a "conference" style room on the second floor of the Haram of Hz. Abbas (as), a rare privilege afforded to few, were we held a Majlis. I will say it was pretty weird/unusual/uncomfortable to have a Majlis in this room, seated on comfortable chairs when normally we sit on the floor, etc, but I guess that was probably just me. A few mornings, one of the speakers in our group was given the opportunity to recite majlis in English on a mimbar erected inside the Haram of Hz. Abbas after Fajr prayers. I would say these were the ones I remember the most, especially as more than once, they referenced the story of Hur (ra), echoing in a weird synchronicity the words my friend had told me before I had even left for Karbala. There are times when you feel the topic of a Majlis has been specially selected for you, and this was one of them. I guess the doors of [sincere] repentance are never really closed, and who knows what station you might reach if just make that first step.
We intermixed with other groups that had their hotels placed near to ours, and so after our evening programs were done, we would walk a couple of minutes down the road to join their programme, which would just be starting, and like this, the days passed in a mixture of Majlises, Ziyarats, and exploring Karbala.
I was, however, unprepared for what I saw in Karbala.
Our hotel was a 10 minute walk from the Shrine of Hz. Abbas (as), and from there it was another 5-10 mins to the Shrine of Imam al-Husayn (as). There were three checkpoints that we had to pass in order to get to the Shrine of Hz Abbas (as), and there were none between the two shrines. Again it's hard to explain exactly how efficient these checkpoints were, especially considering the volume of people that passed through it.
After these, the last checkpoint itself was being searched on the very entrance of the Haram that you selected to enter, and this would be after you had surrendered your shoes for safekeeping at one of the sentry boxes. Alternatively, a huge pile of slippers were at the entrance of either of the Harams, and these were there, free to use for anyone who would like to use them to travel between the two Harams.
Whatever time of day it was, there was a constant stream of visiting pilgrims; to, from and between the two shrines, in a never ending path paved by love. We were told later that Ayatollah Ali al-Sistani (ha) had advised those who were in Iraq to come and to their ziyarat of Arbaeen earlier than the day and then leave, so that Karbala on Arbaeen would not be so crowded. Which explained how so many pilgrims were here.
Loudspeakers set up throughout the city were regularly broadcasting the Qur'an in tandem, until it was prayer time, where it switched to adhan, and most of the people joined in in massive congregational prayers from inside the Harams that stretched way outside the entrances. There was still place for pilgrims to walk to the inner sanctums, on pathways that marked the edges of the congregational prayers. This meant that there would be more than one congregational prayer that happened inside the Haram, as the pathways for the pilgrims were too big to allow the four quarters inside the haram to join as one congregation.
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Heaven lies…
Heaven lies at both ends of that path
At one end Husayn (Űč), the other Abbas (Űč)
The king of martyrs and his standard bearer
In death, as in life, always together
Waves of people make this their shore
And in their movement we see ebb and flow
Back and forth along that blessed path
The twin golden domes, just minutes apart…
People may leave, but their hearts remain
As they pray for the chance to return again
(Norwich, 12/12/2010)
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The shrines themselves are, just like the Shrine of Imam Ali (as) immensely beautiful. Intricate Arabic calligraphy etched on exquisite tilework mix harmoniously with mirrorwork overlaid in the arabesque style that covers the upper layers, and the underside of the domes. the doors are huge, and made of glass and gold, again with exquisite Arabesque and Arabic calligraphy. Each dome has a massive chandelier that, together with the mirrorwork, leaves no area without illumination. The light shows a massive zarih, and around each, at any time of day, are people too many to count. The crowd is such that you do not easily get to touch the zarih, but rather have to join the throng and slowly, patiently and doing your best not to push and shove other people out of the way, whilst being shoved and pushed and stepped on. Not that it's being done to you deliberately, of course, but still, not without pain. And yes, these minor pains are absolutely worth it for the reward of getting closer.
The shrine of Hz. Abbas (as) contains only one body, whereas the shrine of Imam al-Husayn (as) houses multiple bodies. There is one mass grave which has all the bodies of the martyrs, and another which houses the body of Habib ibn Mathahir (ra), the best friend of Imam al-Husayn (as). Finally there is one which houses the blessed body of Imam al-Husayn (as), and that of his infant child Ali al-Asghar. There used to be access to go one level below, to the "basement", as such, but access to that area was not available at the time. One of the group guides told us that both keys are now with Ayatollah Ali al-Sistani (ha).
The shrines share the same overall architectural structure; about half a dozen entrances in difference places on a roughly square outer wall, then a courtyard which is open under the sky, then an inner sanctum building, which houses the body, the Zarih, the most beautiful of the artwork, and two minarets and a dome each. In between is a path called "Baynol Haramayn" (the path between the two harams, if my memory serves me correctly). Recent works over the past few years has seen the courtyard around the Shrine of Imam al-Husayn (as) become converted from a completely open one under the sky to a fully roofed one, and similar works are currently taking place on the Shrine of Hz. Abbas (as), so pretty soon I think that will also be fully roofed, if it not already done so at the time of writing.
The area of Baynol Haramayn is also undergoing some renovation, so it looks different to how I remember, with marble flooring and other bits to be added, guessing by the photos I have seen since. What I do remember is a clear path between the two Harams, and along both sides, space for literally hundreds, if not thousands of pilgrims to sleep. Blankets are provided, just like outside the Haram of Imam Ali (as), and food is also readily available from the mawkibs that surround two the Harams. I was part of a group that had everything provided for them (and paid for the privilege), but on a level, I deeply admired those that had enough faith to just leave everything and walk to Karbala without care or worry, without taking anything with them, believing that the equation of love was more than reciprocal, and having no doubt that their needs would be looked after. And again, I was struck by how the absurd logistical improbability of sheltering and feeding so many people was more than adequately met; if we define a miracle as something that is outside the physical laws of cause and effect, then this phenomenon, whilst still happening within the realms of cause and effect, is, I think, so very improbable, that without Divine assistance in some form or another, it probably would not happen. Whilst it still would not fall under being a miracle as defined, it still is enough to warm the heart, and strengthen the faith.
I remember one moment pretty clearly; in the Haram of Hz. Abbas (as) I looked up and saw birds flying freely in and out of the Haram, and some resting on the chandeliers for a few seconds before flying some more. I saw one soar beautifully in midair, and reflected that even the animals find solace and welcome in the Harams.
Away from the Harams, building works are happening on a pretty epic scale, and more and more buildings are sprouting up (which I hope are supported by equally important investments in infrastructure. I also hope these buildings will be built safely). I have mixed feelings about this in particular; whilst I am glad to see economic activity and signs of growth in any area of Iraq - this country has seen more than it's fair share of troubles - eventually I can see a time in the not-too-distant future where Karbala becomes almost like a tourist destination, and trips to visit the Shrines of Karbala become more and more commercialised. I hope I am just being pessimistic, and this doesn't come to pass. At the very least, I can take heart that, unlike in Saudi, I am very grateful that important parts of Muslim heritage in these areas are still preserved and regarded as sacrosanct.
IMRAN THE MESSENGER
I honestly don't know whose prayers helped me get to Karbala. Feeling grateful, I made sure that I who was entrusted with carrying the prayers of others did my part in trying to get them answered. It was the least I could do. I had with me my sheets of A4 which I had written out on the way to Karbala, and an envelope given to me by a friend with his own desires.
During the nights, as I had some free time, I decided to deliver. I took the envelope with me to the Haram of Hz Abbas (as), and the sheets of A4 to the haram of Imam al-Husayn (as). In between, one of my companions gave me also some money to put in the Zarih as well, so I took that with me the second time. Both occasions were similarly identical, so I'll describe them both as one.
Even towards midnight, the numbers of people who throng round the shrines are very many, and getting close to the zarih is no mean feat. As before, I always made sure that I would not harm anyone on my way to getting to the zarih, or else, what's the point? I started off by addressing the holy personality entombed in the shrine that I wasn't visiting on this occasion to have any of my own desires answered. I was there purely as a messenger, and pleaded for the chance to fulfil my obligations to others. All I wanted for myself on these visits was to be able to kiss the zarih.
And my prayers were answered. The ebb and flow of the human tide slowly and gradually took me to the zarih, and I was able to put the envelope/letter/money into a small slot in the glass and over into the other side. I then kissed the zarih, and was thankful for being able to deliver my obligations. I also beseeched the holy person inside to please, please, ignore my sinful state when regarding the wishes of others, and grant the requests of those who had entrusted me to deliver them, and my own prayers for those I had written down.
In addition, one person had asked me to recite salaatul-Hajaat under the dome of Imam al-Husayn (as), so I waited for a spot to pray under the dome of the shrine, as it was busy, and one opened soon enough, allowing me to fulfil that particular obligation.
So ends the small story of Imran the Messenger. It's hardly a drop in the ocean compared to what others do, but that's my story.
SAMARRAH
She has tamed me with her love while I excavate my heart and wander through memories
I wish for my heart to see her, so that love and life would melt within us,
She is the dreams of life, she is the sea of pride,
and she is bounded with flowing musk and coral
thus my ribs awoke, to greet her voice
for it was for her that romance descended to the edge of fairytales
My head used to satiate itself in the folds of her bosom pulsing with the sweetest wishes,
I forgot all my worries and drowsily drowned in a paradise of yearning
All secrets of creation, are hiding by her side
and I stayed up with her on those moonlit evenings,
when I was her darkness, filled with her music,
for she is the sun and I, from her light, became the moon
She is the land of God, blooming with high glory
and the abundant amber stream in sweet perfumes
Her nights are seen in slates of nymphs and radiance,
She is "Samerra" for it's hosting "Imam Hadi"
From
here (The original Arabic is also available on that link. I do not understand Arabic, but I am sure the original is better.)
Samarrah did not happen, as much as we wanted it to. For a group our size, we would have needed to travel in at least three coaches, and the government, or some ministry, was involved in that they would need to give us permission to travel so far. Permission which was withheld for safety concerns.
A few of my friends from another group told me later on that they did go, arranging their own transport, and they spoke to me of deserted roads, extra precautions needed for travelling to Northern Iraq, and a brooding sense of hostility as they travelled out of the areas "safe" for Shias to be in. Finally, they spoke of a completely deserted shrine, where one could still see the graves and be extremely close to them. They had the freedom of the shrine, but they also talked of having to leave by 5, as that was when the khudaam of the shrine themselves left, because of their own safety issues. My third regret, then, is that I was denied so easily the opportunity to visit my Masters in Samarrah, and that I did not make any extra effort to overcome the obstacle that was placed in front of me. God willing, if I am given the chance, I will go again.
ARBAEEN
The days leading up to Arbaeen grew in an inexplicable but keenly felt intensity. The volume of visitors to the Shrine increased by the day, as did an emotion that would peak on the day of Arbaeen.
The day before, we had a majlis scheduled in one of the conference halls in the Shrine of Imam al-Husayn (as). For some reason, the shrine was packed after Fajr, and then the khudaam cleared a path in the Haram, which was through one of the main entrances, all the way to the inner sanctum, and then through the Haram to another entrance/exit. Everywhere except the path cleared was filled with people, waiting. I didn't know what was happening, but soon it was made clear.
The processions of Arbaeen had begun, and the first to start was a local tribe, I think. They all approached from one entrance, marched to the inner sanctum, swore their allegiance and loyalty to Imam al-Husayn (as), and then marched along the Haram to the exit. All of this was done to the sound of the beating of war drums, with battle chants/lamentation over a loudspeaker, with flags and banners waving high, and in a sort of military precision. One group, after another, all from the same tribe, wearing the same clothes did exactly the same thing, with the crowd inside the Haram joining in the chants at certain times.
Soon, this tribe was gone, and there was quiet for a few moments, before yet another tribe did the same. And on it went, throughout our Majlis, and throughout most of the day and night after.
We went back to the hotel after, and I saw that the processions start at one Haram, walk through Baynol Haramain, and end at the other Haram. I hope I remember correctly, but I think they start at the Haram of Hz. Abbas (as) and finish at the Haram of Imam al-Husayn (as), though it could just as easily be the other way around. And there are tons of different processions, each representing a different group of people, all waiting patiently for their own moment.
I left the hotel at the afternoon to take some photos, and whilst I asked in a mixture of gesturing to be able to take my photos from the roofs of the hotels right next to the Harams and Baynol Haramain, I was politely refused each time, so I had to take them from ground level, which was hardly the end of the world.
I wandered around and inbetween the two Shrines, and on the path between them, soaking in everything; the masses of people, the energy, and the processions. Occasionally I would take a picture. Every group wanted to make their allegiance, and again, what should be a logistical nightmare was comfortable handled, to the outside and untrained eye at least.
The mood at the hotel later that night was subdued, and our organisers told us that although they had booked a room in the Haram of Imam al-Husayn (as) for the day of Arbaeen, they probably would not use it as the number of people in Karbala, and especially close to the Haram of Imam al-Husayn (as) on the day of Arbaeen, would be too many for them to guarantee that people would not get lost in the crowd or swayed from one direction to the next.
The Majlis that night at the hotel was sombre, as we were told the painful story of the very first visitation to the body of Imam al-Husayn (as) by Jabir ibn Abdullah al-Ansari (ra), his first meeting with the returning caravan from Damascus, and about the historical restrictions and obstacles that visitors who wished to perform Ziyarat of Imam al-Husayn (as) had continuously suffered throughout the ages.
My companions split up to join the another group, which was just about to have their Majlis at their hotel. After that, the other group were going to also have a procession throughout the streets of Karbala, to the Harams, and to the Shrine of Imam al-Husayn, where they would also declare their loyalty to him as so many others had done on this day, and would do the next day. I don't know why I didn't accompany them; I was either fatigued, or wanted to be alone, so I did not join them, but those who went told me that partaking in the procession, and getting to proclaim their loyalty to the Imam, which for them happened well after midnight, was an unforgettable experience.
Arbaeen day felt different. Again we were told that despite the group's securing a Majlis in one of the "conference" style rooms in the Haram of Imam al-Husayn (as), we would not go, due to the amazing numbers of people in Karbala who would also be trying to get into the haram. We would have our Majlis in the hotel, and then the rest of the day was up to us to do as we wished.
The Majlis was a special one recited on Arbaeen called, if I remember correctly, "Arbainiyyah", which recounts the history of what happened the day after Ashura, the events of Kufa, Damascus and Madina that followed, Jabir ibn Abdullah al-Ansari (ra) leaving Madina to go to Karbala, Jabir receiving the returning caravan from Damascus, and the reuniting of the blessed heads of Imam al-Husayn and his companions and family members to their bodies.
It doesn't seem like much, me describing it like so, but that Majlis delivered on that day was something else. I felt an overwhelming sense of grief like nothing else I've ever felt before or since. I wept as Ziyarat Arbaeen was then recited, and the Majlis was over. The rest of the day is a blur and i honestly can't remember what I did after, but that sense of grief I can say I will definitely never forget.
THE LAST NIGHT IN KARBALA
Our last night in Karbala was the night following the day of Arbaeen, and after sunset, I went for a small walk with a few friends as we set out to see other sides of Karbala, as well as pay our last visitations.
What I did not expect to see was a significant number of people leaving Iraq pretty much straightaway. It was hard to ignore, to be honest; swathes of people, just like on the walk to Karbala, were now all walking away from Karbala, streams of people merging with other streams on other roads to make a mighty sea on the big roads. Not just pilgrims, who had done their duty by pledging their allegiance on the day of Arbaeen, but also the Mawkibs were packing up and leaving as well, and even though we were leaving soon as well, it didn't feel right. At this rate, Karbala would be deserted very, very soon.
Amidst this movement, we went to both Harams and paid our final respects to both Hz. Abbas (as) and Imam al-Husayn (as), before then going to see the rest of the city. We walked not too far off the beaten track, and by chance stumbled across a few other friends who had come with different groups, and joined them for a while.
I don't remember much of that night, just a few incidents. The first was visiting an exquisite art stall on the other side of the Harams from our hotel, where we saw exquisitely detailed artistic renderings of various scenes from the tragedy of Karbala, and one picture which I will never forget, of Imam Musa al-Kadhim (as) as a prisoner of the Abbasid Caliph of the time, sitting chained, with hands bound, in a prison cell which was so small he would not have had room enough to stand if he so wished. It impacted all of us, and we all bought a print each.
The second may not interest some, but as we wandered the side streets near the haram, we all set about doing some shopping for loved ones back home. Mine was done, having bought stuff in little bits and pieces on various trips back and forth between the Harams, including some tokens that were requested of me, so my time was spent advising others on what to get. I hope I did a good job; one year on, I have yet to receive any complaints, so Alhamdulillah for that.
A few other stops on the way back to the hotel, helping each other take photos and stuff and tasting some of the heavenly food being sold on the streets on the way. At the hotel, we put our stuff away, and the rest of the night was left to us, and we split up.
I thought I had already said my farewells, but I was given the chance again to say them again, and I did. I revisited the Shrine of Imam al-Husayn (as), was able to get close enough to the Zarih, and asked him for the honour of being recalled to visitation. I then left for the Shrine of Hz. Abbas (as) and likewise paid my farewell to him. I then spent the rest of the night inside the Shrine in prayer and dhikr, and reflecting on how lucky I was, and the changes I wanted to make to my life. When the time came, I was able to pray Fajr in congregation there as well.
KADHIMIYYAH
After that night, a quick breakfast at the hotel followed Fajr. Then we packed our bags and headed for the last stage on the trip; Kadhimiyyah. Kahdhimiyyah is a district in Baghdad where the Kathemayn (as) ("two Kadhims") are buried, namely Imam Musa al-Kadhim (as) and Imam Muhammad al-Jawad (as). The coach trip there was pretty uneventful. I spent half of it just sleeping, and the second half just trying to drink in of Iraq, and later, Baghdad as we got closer to our destination.
It's hard to form much of an opinion on Iraq, especially over the course of a two week stay, and as an outsider. There are other people more qualified than me to make both sweeping and nuanced judgements. My own observation of the other side of Iraq, outside of ziyarat and related activities, is that of genuinely nice, warm, hospitable people who have been let down by successive governments. I may be wrong, but this is my own observation, based on what I saw outside my coach window, and a few other bits and pieces.
We reached our hotel without incident, checked in, and set out to visit our Imams (as) The hotel was less than 5 mins walk to the Haram. Kadhemayn was relatively quiet, as most of the Shia pilgrims were in Karbala or Najaf, but there was still a fair amount of activity. After watching others in my group successfully manage to sneak in phones, I decided that I would try to sneak my phone in, only to be caught the one time I tried. It felt a bit silly to try and get my phone in through subterfuge; to tell a "small" lie in essence, whilst at the same time visiting personalities who had such a strong connection to the truth, and indeed were martyred for upholding the truth, that upon reflection I am glad my phone was discovered. There's a separate Amanah ("trust") box, next to where people leave their shoes, where people can leave their electrical gadgets, and that's where I left my phone and picked up a token.
Again, as with the other shrines, the architecture and structure is pretty much the same; an outer wall that's roughly square in shape, inside which is an open courtyard, at the centre of which is the inner sanctum in the shape of another building. As two of our Imams (as) are buried here, the building has 2 domes and 4 minarets. The inside of the shrine is beautiful, in the same way that the other shrines are likewise extremely beautiful. A different emotion is felt here...similar to what I felt at Masjid e Sahlah; tranquility, peace, serenity, calm.
We recited the idhn al-dukhul at the outer gates, obviously, and then inside as well, just outside the inner sanctum, and paid our salutations, to the two holy personalities inside. The Zarih inside is one massive one, with a silver that encompasses both graves. The sides are clearly marked, so on one side is Imam al-Kadhim (as), and the other is Imam al-Jawad (as). Whilst the throng of people around the Zarih was not as much as in Karbala or Najaf, there was still plenty of people, and I still had to be patient. Eventually, I was able to grab hold of the Zarih and kiss it, at both ends, whispering my munajaat to the inhabitants.
We then also paid our salutations to a number of Scholars who had also been buried, either inside the shrine, or, in one case, outside the shrine as well. I believe, that the one buried outside may have been Shaykh al-Mufeed (ra), who was born by the dua of the 12th Imam (aj), but I may be wrong on both counts; it was so long ago.
Then we were invited to eat in one of the halls of the Haram, and were given some absolutely delicious food, before heading back to the hotel. The water I was given in a bottle from the custodians of the shrine I kept and took with me home for my family members.
After the hotel a few of us rested and then went back to the Haram again for Ziyarat, and for congregational prayer. Whilst I was struck by the "few" number of visitors, at prayer time, the shrine easily filled out, and we prayed under the open sky. I'm trying to think of another time when we had done this, and my mind draws a blank; this was the first time we had done so in nearly two weeks in Iraq.
We returned to the hotel, and went one last time to the Haram for a morning Ziyarat, and Fajr prayers before heading off to the hotel, and finally to leave Iraq. I am still struck by how calm, serene, and peaceful it felt to be there, and I wish earnestly to go back. InshaAllah.
FAREWELL TO IRAQ
We packed our bags and made our way from the hotel to the airport. It was in Baghdad, so it shouldn't have taken that long, but it still did, due to numerous security checkpoints.
Again, as when we had arrived, our coaches only took us to a checkpoint near the airport, where we had to unload everything, pass through another checkpoint where our baggage was examined, before loading everything back onto a different set of coaches which would then take us to the airport.
There isn't much to say about this part, and to be honest, I really don't remember much, so forgive me. We waited for our flight, prayed salah at the airport when it was time, and waited some more. Our own flight was 1 hour late in boarding and leaving Iraq, but in the grand scheme of things, that's honestly minor, and I am not complaining. Boarding, etc was relatively seamless and before we knew it we were airborne. Within an hour or two, following the progress of the plane on the onboard screens, we were outside Iraq's airspace.
AMMAN
Amman was our stay on the way back home, and this time we would be given the relative luxury of pretty much a whole day in Amman, at the hotel the airline gave us to stay in at transit. The idea quickly took hold of a few of us that whilst in Jordan, we should go to the shrine of Ja'far ibn Abu Talib (as), the elder brother of Imam Ali (as), who is buried south of Amman, where the battle of Mut'ah took place. Like his near kinsman al-Abbas (as), he was a brave warrior, and a righteous servant. In a strange parallel that I marvel at, before he was martyred, he was also the flag-bearer of the army, and also lost both his arms before achieving the high station of martyrdom.
The idea took hold of us too late, as in order to do that, we would have needed to get a proper visa, not the transit visa that was given to us, and arrange our own transport there and back. Before leaving the airport I decided to upgrade my visa and was told that my visa was fine. The guy who told me so, told me wrong, as he read my Iraq visa and not my Jordan one. By the time this mistake was found and I attempted to rectify it, it was too late, and I was stuck, not allowed to leave the compound of the transit hotel. I spent the night in conversation with my companions, and it was enjoyable, so by all means it wasn't a bad night, and got ready to leave the next day. My fifth regret however remains that I never did visit the shrine of Ja'far (as), and God willing, if I find myself in Jordan, I will endeavour to rectify this.
HOME
Amman to London was next, and again it was relatively painless and nothing to write home about. We said our goodbyes as we picked up our luggages, and promised to keep in touch, and that was that.
I made my own way home via the trains, and pretty much collapsed that night. I had no idea how exhausted I was until the next day, which I spent mostly in bed. Getting on with my life seemed to be a mundane, thankless task now, and whilst I tried to get used to not being in Iraq, I was not doing very well. Now, I just see life as an opportunity to allow myself to go again, which I hope will be soon.
MY GROUP & COMPANIONS
My companions comprised of a few people I know, and a lot of people I didn't. Most were within 5 years older or younger, but I believe I was destined to go with them for a reason; though I don't know what that would be. I am glad to gave shared with them the bond of performing Ziyarat together, which is probably one of the highest bonds you can share with your fellow human being, and some of my companions are now my close friends, for which I am grateful. In Karbala I ran into all sorts of friends and family I didn't expect to see, but such is life, and such also is the pull of Karbala.
I couldn't have asked for a better group to travel with to Iraq. The group was mostly khoja, which helped a lot given their organisational skills, but even that aside, I can't fault the group and the people running it; we were looked after like family, and in the end we kinda became like one. I haven't written this for any other reason other than I genuinely recommend them; if you are looking for a group to go with, then go with
Hajtours. For those interested, accompanying the group that year as guides and scholars were Shaykh Muhammad Bahmanpour, Haj Usama al-Attar, and sister Amina Inloes.
REFLECTIONS
"Post Ziyarah Depression", as I have dubbed it, is a genuine thing. One of the things I saw posted on social media after Arbaeen was a semi-complaint from those who had not yet been blessed with visitation who were telling those who had to stop going on and on and on (and on) about how much they missed it. Which I can understand, having been on both sides. However, having been on both sides, I can say there is a tangible difference between yearning to go having not gone, and yearning to go having already been. Like I mentioned earlier; Once you've tasted heaven, you don't want to go back. I know that it may sound pretentious, but please, if you are listening to someone talk about how much they miss it, just let them. Your time will come soon, God willing.
Linked to the above in some physical form was that quite a few people got ill when they arrived back. It was too many to be called coincidence, and for most of the people took the from of a pretty intense cough. I guess that can be attributed to the extremely high dust levels in an around Karbala, as one of the doctors accompanying us on the trip told us it was the most intense he had seen anywhere in practice. I think I came down with a bout of costochondritis when I returned, but a few weeks after it was gone.
The one real reflection that I have to ask myself is; Am I a better person than before I went? I am not sure. I do not think I have done enough to "merit" being called back, both in terms of internal transformation/trying to be the best human being I can possibly be, and also in terms of how my internal state of being manifests itself in external actions. I was warned by my companions that my life would be harder once I came back, that I would be tested more frequently, and with more difficult stuff when I came back, and what I was told came to be true. In a way, it's like the Ziyarat was the opening statement where I renew and proclaim my loyalty to Islam as AhlulBayt (as) have taught us, and having done so, the tests I came back to face were me being tested on the strength of my statement.
My heart tells me that I have failed, or perhaps not "failed" as such, but that I can have done a lot better, been a better person, and made significant progress and improvement in my life. And I find it hard to disagree. Ziyarat should have led on to a massive, massive kick-on in other areas of my life, and I am disappointed to admit that I have not let it be so.
WHAT I WOULD DO DIFFERENTLY.
I have mentioned in passing regrets/ and what I would do differently if I had the chance. Take these with a pinch of salt; maybe you want to do these things too, maybe you don't. All I know is that I want to do these.
I would definitely want to visit the House of Imam Ali (as) again and make sure that I was able to do that and also not miss out on congregational prayer in the Masjid of Kufa.
I want to walk directly from the Shrine of Imam Ali (as) to the Shrine of Imam al-Husayn (as). It only adds a few more km to the walk, but I feel that this is what I should have done in the first place.
I definitely want to be able to visit Samarrah. I felt then, as I felt know, that my trip was incomplete without being able to visit all of the Imams buried in Iraq, and whilst I fully accept that it was not meant to be and that nobody was to blame, this is something I would want to do.
I regret not properly experiencing Arbaeen. I know this was the advice we were given, and given in good faith, but who knows when this opportunity will arise again. I also know that what I experienced on Arbaeen day was pretty powerful in itself, but now the heart wants more.
I regret not taking the opportunity to visit Jafar-e-Tayyar (as) in Jordan when the opportunity presented itself. All I had to do was act more decisively and with more conviction and I would have been granted what I wanted.
Finally, when it comes to stuff I wasn't even aware of, well, I was told by friends who stayed behind after, that when Arbaeen passed, the whole atmosphere changed. I noticed and mentioned it in passing above when, after the day of Arbaeen, during that very night, the mawkibs began closing, and people were streaming in waves to leave Karbala.
Taken forward by a few more days, and Karbala is empty. The khudaam of the shrines then engage in a massive cleanup operation that seen the shrines sparkle and glow after having had millions of visitors over the past month or so.
And where does everyone go? Well, quite a lot go home after Arbaeen, but a substantial number stay and walk the other way, from Karbala to Najaf, to be near Imam Ali (as) during the commemoration of the death of the Holy Prophet (pbuh).
These two are something that I did not know about, and in any case my time in Iraq was already determined before my arrival, but were I to visit again with more flexibility to time, then I would want to be around for both of these, and walk the same walk back in the opposite direction.
In everything I mentioned above, this is what I would want, but at the end of the day, Allah decrees all, and I am happy with His Decree. I guess that in some way I was meant to experience things as they panned out, and maybe there is wisdom in that which I won't be able to appreciate until later.
DUA & TAWASSUL
The only way I can end this is with both of the above. My Lord, please allow me the visitation of your closest friends, and make easy the path of others who also wish to go. Give us the strength and ability to serve Islam in the example of the way your chosen ones have done, and take us not from this world until you are pleased with us.
My Masters, please accept this humble, incomplete effort from someone who dare not call himself your servant. Please continue to invite me; I seek your own intercession to be able to visit you, over and over again. Please make it easy for others to visit you, especially those who wish earnestly to come.
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With duas for you and yours
I
