Ali Asghar - the infant martyr

Afternoon of October 10, A.D. 680, the battlefield of Karbala witnessed the scene of the gallant, courageous Abbas Alumdar (Flag-bearer) of the Bani Hashim forces, cut down with his water bag, besides the course al Qa'mah, the overflow canal of river Euphrates.
Divested of his hands, Abbas passed away in the laps of his brother Imam Hussain, while Hussain kept imploring upon Abbas, to once address him brother and not with the honorific, revere, A'ka or master.
Abbas was the last of the fallen martyrs, leaving Hussain all alone to confront the Yazidies.
Abbas did not desire that he be reposed with Hussain's sons, nephews, their brothers, companions, in the burial ground of Nainawa that the Imam had purchased from the Christian residents of Maria, when the caravan reached the sacred soil on October 3, A.D. 680.
Abbas willed that the distinction between Hussain, his A'ka, and Abbas, the Ghulam or slave, be retained even after they left this mortal world.
To that end he aspired that his remains, be buried at a distance from Hussain lest some of their beguiled followers in the future generations should contend: "Abbas was greater than Hussain."
The Imam returned to the camp, leaving his slain brother, Abbas beside the al Qa'mah, in fulfilment of his wishes that he be buried where he had fallen.
Imam reached the bedside of his ailing son, Ali, the eldest of Hussain's six children. Ali was born from his late first wife, Sherbanoo.
She was the daughter of the last Sassanian Emperor Yedzigerd Sheryar and his wife Empress Shireen.
Meanwhile Hussain's anguished third wife, Um-e-Rabarb, came to her husband, cradling their five months and twenty-seven days old son, Ali Asghar.
Like the other members of the household, the babe too had been deprived of water for three days in the wilderness.
Ali Asghar's thirst could not be assuaged with the milk of Um-e-Rabarb for the emotional strains and the pangs of thirst, had dried the mother's milk.
Deep in slumber, Ali Asghar breathed very heavily and the fearful Um-e-Rabarb entreated upon her husband Hussain that the child would be gone if his thirst was not timely slaked.
The mother then suggested to the 57-year-old father that he take their infant son to the battlefield and plead for water from the Yazidies. "I entrust him to Allah," said Um-e-Rabarb to Hussain, gently placing Ali Asghar between her husband's arms.
"Take good care of my son," the mother cautioned the father, "lest the blast of the hot winds injure his fragile body.
Protect my son with your cloak and clasp him to your bosom. I am so afraid, Ali Asghar will be gone, before he gets water.
Pray that Umer-ibn-Saad, has some mercy left, shows remorse and he spares a few drops of water from the flowing river for our son. I know Umer-ibn-Saad has children, so must the others have children and infants of their own.
What meaning does Ali Asghar know of allegiance. Show Umer-ibn-Saad, the face, parched throat and dry tongue of my son. Umer-ibn-Saad and his father, profess to be Muslims.
They accept the faith of Ali Asghar's great, grandfather, our holy Prophet Mohammed (PBUH).
ZAINAB'S ANGUISH: While Hussain was about to leave with little Ali Asghar, the Imam's sister, Zainab, pleaded that the babe be left in the camps.
Her sister-in-law did not have any concept that "the Yazidies have no compunction," added Zainab, "they will harm little Ali Asghar." But the mother Um-e-Rabarb persisted, she could not restrain her feelings. No longer was it possible for the mother to witness the sufferings of her infant son.
She prevailed upon her husband, Hussain, to plead with the Yazidies for Ali Asghar. The child could no longer live, sustain without water.
To console his wife, Hussain took their son towards the battlefield and Um-e-Rabarb awaited her husband across the confines of the trench that had been dug around the camp at the onset of the battle, by her now, demised brother-in-law, Abbas. Hussain carried Ali Asghar draped in his cloak, up-to the Yazidi army and found the Generals, Umer-ibn-Saad, Shimr and Hurmula in the frontline of their forces.
The braggart Shimr had left the protection of his bodyguards to appear before the army, now that his nemesis, the nephew, he dreaded, the fierce Abbas, had fallen beside the bank of the Nahre al Qa'mah.
"Oh people," addressed the Imam, displaying his six months' son, Ali Asghar, between his extended arms, "if in your opinion, I am guilty of any crime or omission, this innocent babe has not committed any injustice, against you. He does not speak nor has he uttered any word in defiance of your Amir in Damascus. Oh people, my son is dying of thirst. He has had no water or milk for three days. Please quench his thirst with a few drops of water. If you suspect, I want water for myself, then in the name of my son, I will leave him here and go away. You may cool his thirst and return him to his mother."
The touching plea of Hussain caused dissension in the Yazidi army. The soldiers abused the caliph Yazid, the Governor, ibn Zeyyad and their commanders, Umer-ibn-Saad, Shimr and Hurmula.
Seeing the furious, rebellious mood of his underlings, Umer-ibn-Saad balked: "This Hashimite child, will be nurtured by his mother and aunt to seek revenge for his tribe and father." Hurriedly, to pre-empt his soldiers, from forestalling his nefarious design, Umer-ibn-Saad, signalled to the General of the archers Hurmula to give Hussain an appropriate reply.
Taking the cue from his superior, Hurmula, stealthily fitted an arrow to his bow, just when the babe had sub-consciously, turned his face in Hurmula's direction. Hurmula a let loose the despicable arrow.
The dart pierced the neck of Ali Asghar and was halted on Hussain's left palm, which supported the little head.
Hussain came to Um-e-Rabarb. The mother realised that the worst had transpired. The forewarning of her sister-in-law had come true and she would come to grief. Omayyads would show no compassion for her Ali Asghar.
Her husband's beard, through grief for the departed martyrs and now their little son, Ali Asghar, had turned from black in the morning to grey, in the afternoon.
The grey, beard now bore blotches of fresh, red blood. She identified Ali Asghar in his father's arms, but this time reflected the mother, her moon's small head was also covered with her husband's cloak.
Hussain attempted to pacify his weeping wife and described how the Yazidies had done away with Ali Asghar.
Cursed arrow from Hurmula's bow, having rent the little throat of their beloved and cherished son.
Gently the Imam lifted the cloak to reveal Ali Asghar's pain swollen face to his mother, now clotted with darkened blood.
The blood that emitted had caked on the neck and dry lips, blotched by the arid heat. Ali Asghar's small frock had also stains of blood.
Placing the child, in the arms of Um-e-Rabarb, the father whispered to his wife: "Our Ali Asghar has quenched his thirst in the sacred pool of Paradise." The Imam did not carry Ali Asghar to the Khaimgah, tent of the martyrs. Instead, with his sword Zulfiqar, the Imam dug a small grave before the trench.
His sisters, Zainab, Um-e-Khulsum and Rukiyah had joined their sister-in-law, Um-e-Rabarb, outside the camps, for a farewell glimpse of Ali Asghar.
The Imam took the limp body of the child from his mother's arms to gently lower him into the gaping ground, which was cornered with the quadrangle walls of mud.
Along with the ladies, the father filled the earth over the little corpse of Ali Asghar. Hussain compacted with his hands, the soft sand to form a mould over the grave of his son. He rose from the ground to console Um-e-Rabarb.
Trembling and sobbing with distress, Um-e-Rabarb fell on her knees and placed her arms to encircle, fondle Ali Asghar's small grave.
"Oh Allah," lamented Hussain, at the sight of his wife, sobbing and wailing aloud, for their six-month-old son, "Oh Allah," wept Hussain, "inflict on the Kufans a malevolent drought devoid of rains, intimidate my enemies, with a lingering famine, compared to that witnessed by Prophet Yousuf." Testified Hussain: "Oh Allah, may the Kufans be overpowered by the clan of Saqeef (Amir Mukthar). Let the Kufans be made to taste the bitter cup of death. Oh Allah, spare none of the hypocrites who betrayed me. Oh Allah, thou art my Lord. I trust in thee and to thee is my return."