Mir Babar Ali Anees

Mir Babar Ali Anees Poems

Mir Babar Ali Anees Biography

Mir Babbar Ali Anees (Anis) (Urdu: میر ببر علی انیس) was a renowned Urdu poet. Early Life His father, Mir Khaliq who was a famous poet and littérateur, took personal interest in the education and upbringing of his son, and entrusted him to the care of reputed contemporary teachers, Mir Najaf Ali Faizabadi and Maulvi Hyder Ali Lucknavi. In addition, Anis's mother who was an educated and pious lady, played a significant role in shaping the personality of the boy poet.But above all, it was the boy's own instinctive urge for learning and literature that made him an accomplished poet, proficient in Arabic, Persian and Islamic scriptures, and well-versed in logic, literature and philosophy. Poetry came to him as ancestral heritage, for his forbears, going back to his great grandfather, were eminent poets and men of letters. Anis was the grandson of Mir Hasan who is remembered for his immortal Masnavi, Sehir-ul-Bayaan. His parents had migrated in their old age to Lucknow, where he spent the best part of his life. Literary Life Anis had started writing poetry quite early in his life right at Faizabad, though he perfected his art in Lucknow under the supervision of Imam Bakhsh Nasikh. In keeping with the popular trend, he first tried his hand at the ghazal, but failing to make much headway in this sphere, he changed over, under the advice of his father, to the writing of marsias, in which domain he soon established a high reputation, equaled (sometimes) by his poetic compare, Mirza Salamat Ali Dabeer Anees broadened the scope of this genre by including in its body, in addition to the customary lamentation and mourning, realistic scenes of the battlefield, graphic delineations of the hero's face and figure, lively portrayals of the emotional states of the combatants, accurate descriptions of the landscape, and occasional interludes of moral edification. Anis was a master of simple, natural utterance, with a superb command on the language, which was always adequate to express a large variety of moods, scenes, characters and situations. He is specially notable for presenting the same scene or situation, over and over again, in different words or phrases, without letting it appear monotonous. Besides being a master of the marsia, Anis was also a specialist of the rubai, the shortest complete poem in Urdu, containing only four lines. Work, Contribution and Legacy Mir Anis composed salāms, elegies, nauhas, quatrains. While the length of elegy initially had no more than forty or fifty stanzas, it now was beyond one hundred fifty or even longer than two hundred stanzas or bunds, as each unit of marsia in musaddas format is known. According to Muhammad Hussain Azad; "The late Mīr Sahib must certainly have composed at least ten thousand elegies, and salāms beyond count. He composed as easily and casually as he spoke.". Muharram and Mir Anis have become synonymous among Urdu lovers of the Indo-Pak subcontinent. Mir Anis has been a great teacher and inspiration for generations. Undoubtedly, Urdu derives much of its strength from the Marsias of Mir Anis. Mir Anis has drawn upon the vocabulary of Arabic, Persian, Urdu/Hindi/Awadhi in such a good measure that he symbolizes the full spectrum of the cultural mosaic that Urdu has come to be. No Urdu poet from Ghalib onwards has lagged behind in showering his eulogies on Mir Anis. Mir Anis himself was aware of his contribution as he writes: "Kisi ne teri terha se aay Anis, Aroos-e-sukhan ko sanwara nahi" "Perhaps there is no other poet in the world who has looked after the aesthetic and spiritual satisfaction of his" The first major and still current critical articulation about Mir Anis was Muazna-e-Anis-o-Dabir (1907) written by Shibli Nomani in which he said "the poetic qualities and merits of Anis are not matched by any other poet" Shamsur Rahman Faruqi in 'How to read Iqbal?' on comparing Iqbal with Nazeer Akbarabadi says that "Iqbal was placed better because he had, among others, Bedil (1644–1720) in Persian and Mir Anis (1802–1874) in Urdu." to inherit the rich tradition of Urdu nazm. He further asserts that, "The mention of Mir Anis may surprise some of us until we realize it that Mir Anis’s marsiyas are the best premodern model in Urdu of narrative-historical, narrative-lyrical, and oral-dramatic poetry, and Iqbal’s poetry extends and exploits the possibilities created by Anis." Marsia The marsia, strictly speaking, is an elegiac poem written to commemorate the martyrdom and valour of Hazrat Imam Hussain and his comrades of the Battle of Karbala. In its form the marsia generally consists of six-line units, with a rhyming quatrain, and a couplet on a different rhyme. This form found a specially congenial soil in Lucknow (a city in Northern India), chiefly because it was the centre of Shia Muslim community, which regarded it an act of piety and religious duty to eulogies and bemoan the martyrs of the battle of Karbala, and Even a short poem written to mourn the death of a friend can be called marsia. Alfred, Lord Tennyson's poem 'In Memoriam' can rightly be called marsia. The sub-parts of marsia are called noha and soz which means lamentation and burning of (heart) respectively. It is usually a poem of mourning. The form reached its peak in the writing of Mir Babbar Ali Anis. The famous marsia writers who inherited the tradition of Mir Anis among his successive generations are Mir Nawab Ali 'Munis', Dulaha Sahab 'Uruj', Mustafa Meerza urf Piyare Sahab 'Rasheed', Syed Muhammad Mirza Uns, Ali Nawab 'Qadeem', Syed Sajjad Hussain 'Shadeed', Syed Sajjad Hussain "Shadeed" Lucknavi, Dr. Syed Ali Imam Zaidi, "Gauher" Luckhnavi the (great grandson of Mir Babber Ali Anis). The Majlis of 25 Rajab, is historically important Majlis of Marsiya in Lucknow, in this majlis Mir Anis used to recite Marsiya. After Mir Anis well known marsiya writers of Mir Anis's family as Dulaha Sahab 'Uruj', Mustafa Meerza urf Piyare Sahab 'Rasheed', Ali Nawab (Qadeem) and Syed Sajjad Hussain 'Shadeed', inherited the legacy of reciting marsiya. Presently, Dr. Syed Ali Imam Zaidi (Gauher) Luckhnavi (grandson of 'Shadeed') recites self composed Marsiya. Anis died at the age of 71.)

The Best Poem Of Mir Babar Ali Anees

Dee Ran Ki Raza Shah Ne Jab Ibne Hasan Ko

When Qasim’s wish for battle was granted by the Prince
At his looming death he rejoiced, of his faith convinced
Armed, valiant, and majestic, like a lion he rode out
The evil army gaped at the grandeur he evinced
“Alit with Hasan’s radiance, who is this youth? They cried
The splendor he evokes, of his Grandfather reminds”
Tall, majestic, and elegant, with an illumined face
Wherefrom did he obtain such splendor, such grace?
With a bow on his back, a spear in his hand he rode
An exemplar of nobility, his enemies were dazed
Blessed with such looks, such poise, such grace
There was no other like him on the earth’s face
Awed by his presence, the enemy cowered in retreat
Confrontation unthinkable, even his gaze they couldn’t meet
No rose could summon the elegance of his face
Heavenly radiance no measure for his splendor indeed
So exceptionally handsome, so striking was this lad
That the moon could not rival his radiance alas!
A mere mortal or an angel? The army wondered in a daze
Like a halo, dark hair swung around his face
Eyebrows dark and thick - drawn along a handsome brow
Lashes thick and long - shielding his dazzling gaze
Eyes dark and piercing - put those of a doe to shame
Like two lions standing guard at their lair, untamed

He’s a mere child” Someone cried “do not run in fear”
Too young to have sprouted a mustache or a beard
His boldness unnerving no doubt; unsettling his approach
Daring and fearless, his glance – and fierce”
Aroma of wedding flowers emanates from his skin
What a moment fate has chosen to part his bride from him
He has the elegance of Hasan, he has Husain’s grace
How grandly he strides, confident, unafraid
The brandishing sword held in his hennaed palm
How well the armor suits him, draped over his chest
Ali’s cummerbund wrapped around his waist he rides
Hasan’s green turban he wears, proudly he strides
A strange aura surrounds him, like a lamp his being glows
Dark locks of hair, around his radiant face flow
Every man on the field stood dazzled by the sight
Radiance unmatched by sunrays, stunned were his foes
Surely his late Father must anguish in the grave
At the loss of such a lad, unthinkable the mother’s pain
His complexion clear and bright, as though mirrors aglow
Unrivaled by celestials, such warmth it holds
On par with the light that once glowed on Mount Toor
To compare his lips to rubies would be a folly bold
For those are mere rocks; no life or warmth they claim
They cannot inspire or lead or so valiantly be slain
Buds envied the elegance, the structure of his face
Sweet in his speech, courteous and modest though praised
Warm in his discourse, refined, gentle and poised
There is no other like him, conceded all amazed
Such a picture of perfection, hearts bowed in tribute
A heavenly vision he was, there was no doubt, no dispute

Even Yusef was not blessed with such looks, such grace
Such exquisite beauty, such fineness, such a noble face
A cypress may stand tall, but without such stature, such built
Such elegance denied to flowers, although worthy of praise
The finest of creation personified in this youth
From the sweat of his brow, a sweet fragrance oozed
Eyes dark and dreamy, a gazelle would envy
A face so elegant and fair, fine gardens would envy
Rubies of Yemen would envy the rosy glow of his lips
Teeth such that Eden’s sparkling gems would envy
Evoking the likeness to a string of pearls
They will soon turn red as rubies, laden with blood
One cannot help but admire his posture, his poise
The elegance of his neck, the tenor of his voice
Proud shoulders reminiscent of Hasan’s dignity and grace
In his fists, the powers of Divinity deployed
No mere extensions of wrists or his illustrious palms
Fingers meant to direct mercy, to protect, to calm
His chest covered by his robe, proud and broad
Held a heart aglow with faith, devoted to his Lord
Abounding with conviction, ablaze like the glow on Toor
Filled with Divine secrets, surrendered to God
No match the moon or sun, radiance superior by far
At his fair, graceful neck, the buttonhole hung like a star
Steadfast in his path, unmatched in his faith
Unflinching in his commitment, though the earth may shake
Undeterred by armies, resolute in his path
This beloved grandson of Hyder was fearless and brave
Never wavering in battle or hesitant in his path
Never known to flee, never a cowardly act

Reaching the battlefield he called out a martial call
“Hear me Oh lost souls, hear one and hear all
I am the grandson of Ali, God’s Lion, His Arm
Nephew of Husain-ibn Ali, the envoy of God”
“I am the son of Fatima’s Son, the Brother of Husain
I am the son of the Man who by poison was slain”
“I’m the progeny of Fatima, whom Mariam, Sarah revered
Adorned by divine traits, by God honored
I belong to a family, unmatched, chosen, and blessed
The exalted rank of my lineage, undisputed, clear”
“We are the family of Ali, we are the Prophet’s kin
To our divinity, our status, the Quran is a testament”
“Of the rank of the Panjetan you are aware, have been told
Created before Adam, their coming foretold
Ali, the Divine envoy, the savior of Moses in need
And the light of Mohammed, on Mount Toor glowed”
“I say these words with no arrogance, I intend not to boast
But to remind you of us, these are but warning words”
“Prominent in history, my ancestors are well-known
Devoted to Islam, their stellar services shone
Ready to lay down their lives, to defend the faith of God
Helpers of Prophets, saviors of lost, needy souls”
“In times of hardship we reach out to help, to save
Relief comes to weary souls by the utterance of our names”
“We are the valiant, fearless soldiers of God
We are the chosen ones, free from sin, from fault
Headed now for the Hereafter, we depart from this life
So oblivious you are, that you heed not our call”
“In reckless abandon, you fear not God’s wrath
Remorse is your destiny for straying from the path

At the Son of Fatima, you have turned your backs
Oh wretched, lost souls, the Prince you attack?
You betray the Imam, the voice of the Quran
You quench every man’s thirst, except His alas
Massive armies you have gathered to slay one man?
Is this your hospitality, the creed of your clan?
What is the sin of the Syed? What has He done?
Has He ever taken aim, attacked anyone?
Has He looted any land, any wealth, any soul?
Has He hurt any Muslim, against you has He turned?
While you have never let Him rest in peace
Forbearing, patient, and forgiving He has always been
His friends were ready to die fighting the day
When with arrows my Father’s bier you assailed
Yet He counseled against violence, He held them back
And next to His Mother, His Brother to rest He lay
His patience is admirable, today as it was then
Tolerant and forbearing as two nephews lie slain
Do not take His patience for weakness on His part
He is reluctant for battle for He values your lives at heart
Our valor unleashed evokes the wrath of God
Our swords brandished even Jibreel cannot stop
When my Grandfather went to battle, you all know well
How armies fled in terror, how soldiers cringed in dread
If the Son of Ali were to draw His sword
Not a single one of you will confront, step forward
Your blood will drench this battlefield no doubt
Those escaping His sword, will die from shock
Do not invoke His wrath, this army will be dead, gone
Horror waits for you if His sword is drawn

Why speak of His valor, for His followers will suffice
To empty this battlefield, if He commands them to fight
Displaying skills reminiscent of the Lion of God
Slaying hundreds with a stroke, with valor, with might
From amongst s such followers, I have come before you
Fearless, bold, gallant, undeterred by my youth
I am ready for battle, my sword is drawn
Show me your gallantry, the skills of war you own
Agitated and nervous, the son of Saad bellowed
Go forth, bring me the head of Hasan’s son
Let the Imam for His son-in-law shed many tears
Extinguish his life with the blow of your spears
Like an ocean, the massive army came alive, swayed
Thousands of spears like dark, ominous waves
Weaponry raised high like sinister, threatening clouds
Arrows flung out in hundreds, in a merciless rain
Undaunted, the fearless youth charged at his foes
His sword flashing at the dark throngs, defying their blows
Like a bolt of lightening, it struck at the army vile
Bringing forth death, on man and beast alike
Striking, slaying those that dared to cross his path
From helmet to saddle, the riders it sliced
Before the vanquished rider had fallen off the steed
Carving through the saddle, it cut through the beast
In panic and frenzy, the men ran out of his path
Their hearts shook with fear at his fury, his wrath
Death was in the air, fatal his sword’s strike
The assassins became victims of a ferocious bloodbath
They found not a moment to pause, to catch their breath
They ran helter-skelter, chased by death

The daring youth fought, fearless and bold
Slaying hundreds with ease by the strike of his sword
Filling their hearts with terror, slicing through the ranks
Daring the swarm army, challenging their vile souls
Those who dare fight him, were astonished by his skill
Severed in two as they sat bewildered on their steed
Hundreds lay dying, panic gripped the army vile
As he brandished his sword, in horror they cried
Their weapons rendered futile, their numbers of no use
Pursued and slain by a valiant, courageous child
They gripped their futile arms, they turned on their heels
Seeking shelter from his fury, they ran from the field
They dropped their weapons, they fled from his sight
“Death surrounds our ranks” in horror they cried
With fury the eyes of the brave youth blazed
“Who dares stop me now?” he cried out in might
“I am ready, come out, where are those with mighty claims?
Come out of hiding so you can slay or be slain”
The son of Saad frantically paced in his tent
As soldiers brought news of the foreboding events
“Captains have fallen, soldiers gripped by death flee
The son of Hasan has reached the Euphrates banks”
“Like a ferocious lion, unstoppable is the youth
Like lightening is his sword, his attack, his pursuit”
Nothing seems to hold him back, fearless he rides
Our weaponry of no use, does not stop his strides
Nobody dares to face him, to cross his path
His horse is too fast, his blows filled with fright
As though made of fire, he rages through the field
Invincible his blows, unstoppable his steed

“Call Arzaq at once” Omar nervously roared
Armed with a spear, Arzaq was brought forth
“We’re on the verge of defeat” Omar said to the man
“Yet for battle you have yet not readied your horse?”
Someone needs to stop this ferocious youth at once
He is closing in fast, he will slay captains in their tents
“You receive a generous pay, grants and gifts
It is your job to protect us from such dangers such threats
People speak of your valor from Syria to Rome
Boost your image by slaying this groom, you must”
His sword seems unstoppable, havoc it rains
If he reaches this camp, neither of us is safe
You are the pride of this army, we rely on your skill
You are famous in the land for your prowess to kill
Your talents surpass those of Rustom, we know
Only you can stop this youth, only you have the will
Inflict on the Imam the loss of this child
Let us watch how a groom is mourned by his bride
Arzaq replied to Omar-e-Saad in disdain and pride
“Certainly you do not suggest that I fight a child?
You are no doubt the commander of this army, I admit
Yet I cannot obey this order, for it insults my might”
“I have slain a thousand men, I command great fear
This act will mar my image far and near”
There is no other like me in this land you well know
With the likes of Rustom and Sohrab I have come to blows
Mighty men shudder at the mere mention of my name
I crush my enemies, I exterminate my foes”
The assault of my spear none has survived
Goliaths have fallen at the display of my might

I do not permit my foe to live to battle for long
My grip on throats forms an inescapable bond
When I aim an arrow, even Arjun is not safe
Mighty men shudder when my sword is drawn
And you dare to suggest that I fight this mere child?
When Husain comes for battle will I unleash my might
“You know not this lad” Omar-e-Saad replied
He is the son of a lion, do not mistake him for a child
Even in childhood this clan is eager to fight, to defend
Fearless in battle, they never retreat, flee, or hide
Death is a certainty when their swords are drawn
This Hashimi clan’s fury is the wrath of God
Faced with thousands they do not even blink an eye
They fear no calamity, ever-willing to die
A hundred of our blows are outweighed by one of theirs
None from the east or west is a match for their might
When they step into battle, thousands are sure to die
They laugh at wounds inflicted by swords of you and I
This lad is the grandson of the Lion we well know
It is said that Jibreel presented Him with a sword
At the draw of His sword, thousands succumbed, died
They are the mightiest, everyone else falls below
Death hovers over us, so long as they live
Even unarmed they are a force to reckon with
In combat one cannot even meet their gaze
There is no overpowering them, they are not fazed
Impervious to hunger, their valor remains steadfast
Their drawn sword, a Goliath would not face
Some are like Hasan, others like Husain
Masters of bravery, over the battlefield they reign

So agile, they do not give you time to advance
To string an arrow in the bow, to grab that chance
Precious moments to raise a shield to cover your face
No time to even flee, to retreat, to plan
They charge at their enemies with such speed, such grace
As though a lion in the jungle lunging at its prey
Bravery, swordsmanship resides in their genes
They are born with the skills of battle, it seems
So daring, they are heedless to the thought of death
Alone they will face massive armies indeed
In infancy Ali displayed feats of grown men
In His crib He tore apart an invading serpent
You are right, yet I must refuse” Arzaq replied
I will not confront this lad, I will not fight this child
If you seek to slay him, I have four sons for this task
Each a fearful giant, each known for his might
Like their father, in the art of war they are skilled
They will bring this lad’s head, within moments they will kill
Saying this Arzaq turned to his oldest son and said
“Go behead this youth, and bring us his head
I am confident of your skills, your ability, your might”
Hearing this Arzaq’s son grabbed at his weapons and left
As he rode out on his horse, the retreating soldiers cried
“Into the arms of death the foolish man rides”
The roar of war drums and trumpets rang out
“Come forth brave ones to fight in this battle, be proud
Wounds are the marks of brave men, do not flee
Write your name in history, stand out of the crowd
The commanders are watching, do not run or hide
Shimer and Omar are here, Imam on the other side

Arzaq’s son arrived, hurling at Qasim a lance
“Beware” cried Qasim, evading the assault in triumph
Swerving on his horse, the man attacked once more
Like lightening Qasim’s sword toward the man advanced
It came at him so fast, what was the man to do?
He stared stunned at his spear, now broken in two
Hastily grabbing his sword, at Qasim he lurched
It was a futile attempt, for Qasim quickly swerved
Reining in his horse, Qasim turned and attacked
The man’s armor, in pieces, to the ground whirled
He never saw it coming, Qasim’s sword, arm, or wrist
So refined, so finessed were Qasim’s battle skills
Frightened and bewildered, the man jumped off his horse
His long hair over his face, unraveled and coarse
Qasim grabbed the hair in the palm of his hand
Into the air then swung the man with astounding force
This was not what the arrogant man had expected, foreseen
His might and power had vanished, his fate had changed
Arzaq’s world was in chaos, bewildered he stared
His evil eyes darkened with shock, gloom, and rage
All stared in awe and wonder at Qasim’s glorious sight
Qasim regal in his valor, Arzaq foul in his hate
At the display of such strength, all watched awed and rapt
Qasim slammed him to the ground with a deafening crash
At the fall of one, the next brother stepped out
He fought with all his might, there is no doubt
Yet he was no match for Qasim, he did not stand a chance
Death clearly his partner on the battlefield route
So quickly it happened, Qasim looked around surprised
With a flash of Qasim’s sword, the evil man had died

It was now the time for Arzaq’s third son to strive
Seething at the loss of his brothers he arrived
He battled with Qasim, spears and swords clashed
He was a fearsome man, but no match for Qasim’s might
As Qasim eluded his aim, turned around and attacked
In frustration the vile man chewed at his lips alas
Unable to subdue Qasim, insolent words he spoke
Qasim’s eyes flashed with anger at such vile words
There was no escape now, nowhere to run or hide
Qasim’s spear came flying towards the evil man’s jaws
Life flew from his body, no time to cry out
The spear dislodged his tongue from the depths of his mouth
Qasim lifted him up, wedged in the spear
Towering above, as Qasim straightened and steered
Flailing helplessly, as though a fish on a hook
“A fruit of my labor in battle” Qasim said in cheer
Against the Imam of his time, the man had rebelled
In wrath it seemed God had ordained his death
Turning to the last of Arzaq’s sons Qasim cried
“It is your turn to taste death now that they have died”
Sword raised, wild with anger, the man charged into the field
To face Qasim, who gloriously fought in Ali’s style
Before the man could even begin the battle or strike
Qasim’s sword struck, in four pieces he was sliced
Upon seeing all his sons slain with such ease
Arzaq’s pride was bruised, with fury he was seized
His ire overshadowed his mourning for their loss
He chained his armor, for battle readied
His sons had failed, their skills had come to naught
His eyes turned bloody with the force of his wrath

Equipped to the hilt, armored galore he arrived
Steel plates over his face, a helmet, a bow on his side
Like a venomous snake, his quiver loaded and agape
Armor draped his body, to the chains a sword tied
Frothing at the mouth, bellowing harsh words
Tugging at the reins, the other hand on his sword
His spear dark and menacing, its tip like a snake’s fang
Arrows packed in his quiver, let out ominous clangs
His sword easily capable of slicing through steel
His massive shield could cover both the horse and the man
Defeat of foes seemed certain from his colossal size
Many had trembled at his approach, quaked at his might
His body armor reinforced with plates of steel
Which no sword could pierce, no arrow could peel
The chain tied around his waist appeared as though
A snake were wrapped around a massive, human, hill
The man seemed a Goliath, his steed a giant beast
Both massive in their size, both brutal in their feats
Arriving in the field, seething, furious, he roared
“Who slew my sons? Who is that daring soul?”
“I take the credit” Qasim replied “I am that man”
Come forth to fight for your honor, your pride that is lost”
The blood of God’s Envoy flows through my veins
I am Ali’s grandson, you Arzaq of Shaam’s fame”
When Husain saw Arzaq step into the battlefield
Clutching at his chest, onto the hot sands he kneeled
“A calamity has befallen, what shall I do?” He cried
Arzaq well-fed and strong, Qasim with thirst weak
“It is indeed a crisis my beloved child must face
He must battle a Goliath, for the challenge he must brace”

Shield Qasim from disaster Oh my Almighty God
Protect him from the brutal strike of Arzaq’s sword
Keep the shadows of widowhood away from Kubra, I pray
Have mercy on my Qasim, my most merciful Lord
Zainab’s sons I willingly offered for the Divine cause
This boy is my brother’s memory, to keep, treasure, recall
Saying this the Noble Prince wept in sorrow and grief
Hasan’s son is gone, lost, His companions believed
Untying their hair in mourning, Zehra’s daughters wept
Qasim’s mother fell to the ground in shock and disbelief
Scared by the lament of the grieving bride
Sakina ran out of the tent, in panic she cried
The battle between Arzaq and Qasim meanwhile began
Onlookers watched the flash of the weapons, the clang
Omar called out to Arzaq, words of support and praise
While Akber’s cries of “Bravo” in the field rang
“You’ve crushed Arzaq, victory is certain” he cried
You are the scion of a lion, glorious is your might
Horsemen circled slyly, watching the battle, concerned
As Qasim eluded Arzaq’s strikes, survived at every turn
It seemed for while that each matched the other’s skill
One the grandson of God’s Lion, the other like Marhab, stern
Massive clouds of dust arose from the hooves of the beasts
Sparks from striking weapons lit up the battlefield
Both battled fiercely, traded strikes back and forth
Neither tiring or yielding, almost on an even score
Their horses perspiring from the exertion, neighed
Qasim passionate in his faith, Arzaq in anger roared
Like a wild beast Arzaq snarled, violently roared
While Qasim called out to Ali, the Lion of God

Every time Arzaq aimed at Qasim his deadly spear
Husain fell to the ground in horror sheer
Collecting Himself then Husain would stand up once more
And call out to Qasim “Watch out my son dear”
“You are no doubt exhausted by lack of water for days
Shield your chest from the arrows, the deadly spears raised”
Spears flew toward Qasim, dark and lethal, asp-like
Capable of slaying giants, so deadly their strike
Arrows steadily assailed him, no respite, no rest
Bits of spears, arrows littered the ground at the site
As Qasim’s spear shattered from the force of the blows
Gripping his sword he turned to Arzaq, bold and composed
Closing in on Qasim, Arzaq arrogantly sneered
“The strike of death is well-known” he taunted, jeered
You have managed to escape my blows thus far
This time I will not spare you Qasim, do you hear?”
“You are no match for me, I will carve you in two
You are more frail than a peacock, to the battlefield new”
His sword drawn, Qasim undaunted replied
“This bravado, in a moment, will fade away, die
Your deeds mark you for the fires of hell, it is clear
Come, let us find who succumbs and who rises above, high”
“The mortal ruler your patron, the Lord of Najaf is with me
Satan sponsors your cause, while God with me agrees”
“You taunt my strength?” Arzaq riled, bellowing in rage
“Come forth for combat” Qasim challenged “Make haste”
Brandishing his weapon Arzaq lunged, calling out to the lad
“Oh naïve child, for this taunt my might you must taste”
Not caring to shield himself from the impending blow
Qasim stopped Arzaq’s blade in mid air with his sword

Then like lightning, Qasim’s sword flashed at the man
Arzaq didn’t get a moment, he didn’t stand a chance
All he saw was the blinding glare of the striking blade
And clutched his shield in reflex, panic filled his glance
Unwittingly the army cheered at Qasim’s prowess, his skill
Like thunder their applause echoed in the desert hills
“You make me proud my dear” Abbas called out in praise
“Brilliant are your moves, such skill, such valor you display”
“You face a Goliath no doubt, so do not lay down your guard
“Wait for the right moment, do not rush toward him to slay”
“You have him cornered, victory now in a short time
He falls to your sword, no place to run or to hide”
That moment, Qasim’s sword sliced through Arzaq’s shield
Landing at his helmet, ripping the metal as it peeled
And flashed in the blinding, scorching midday sun
Severing the neck and chest through the armor of steel
Reminiscent of the valor Ali had shown against Marhab
Qasim had prevailed over a mighty foe, the evil Arzaq
Then hands towards the skies “God is Great” Qasim declared
His sword glinted in the sunlight, his litany filled the air
Grateful, Shabbir rested His forehead on the desert sands
Akber’s face flushed in pleasure, gone was despair
With pride, Abbas called at the stunned legion of Yazid
“Where is your bravado, a mere lad you could not defeat?”
Zehra’s blessed cries at Qasim’s victory could be heard
And he felt the embrace of his father, long martyred
Thankful cries of his mother filled the air within the camps
“I am blessed” she cried “Thank the merciful Lord”
“Though anxious I am for Qasim to die in the Imam’s stead
Yet in the name of Ali, with a new life he has been blessed”

Zainab’s spirit rejoiced, forgetting all despair, all pain
Tears of happiness she wept, that Qasim had been saved
Banu hugged the stricken bride “Lets celebrate” she cried
“Bow your head in gratitude, may God be praised”
“May you always be showered by mercy in Zehra’s name
Long live may the groom, banished from you all pain”
“When I depart from this world, may I go in peace
Knowing joy fills your life, serene, pleased
May I never see you weep as I have seen today
Happily may you live ever after indeed”
“Many children I pray you have, may love overflow
May mercy, peace and joy, to you God bestow”
At such turn of events, the young bride sat stunned
Not knowing what to expect, what news would next come
Hearing the joy in the cries of her mother, her aunts
With tears of happiness, her eyes moistened
She knew not that the groom would never return
She eyed the tent’s doorway, eyes filled with concern
And on the heels of relief, grief soon followed
The desert air darkened with death’s shadow
As the merciless army swarmed at the lone battling lad
Surrounding him, hailing a thousand arrows
Spears struck at his back, his face, his chest
To the ground fell pieces of his robe in shreds
From open wounds, his blood dripped to the desert floor
Overcome with thirst, he could battle no more
His body longed for water, his tongue thorny, parched
In farewell he glanced at his camp, weary of war
A spear slammed at his chest, an arrow at his head
As he doubled in anguish, a sword slashed at his waist

He called out to Husain “Pray, come to me my Lord
I depart from this world, my soul rushes to meet my God
I mean not to trouble you, the disrespect you must forgive
As I prepare to lay down my life for your noble cause”
“No value, no respect Hyder’s progeny has on this day
They mean to trample me alive, my Lord, do not delay”
And the air filled with cries of Hasan’s anguished soul
At the horror yet to come, at Qasim’s fate on the desert floor
Grief-stricken, distraught, Kubra undid her braided hair
Husain rushed at the trampling army, aching to his core
His eyes searching for Qasim, battling with His sword
His heart ached for the lad, He scoured the desert floor
When the legions had fled, He searched the battleground
And crushed by hooves, trampled, Qasim’s body He found
The agony evident in his labored breath, Qasim lay
What a sight awaited Husain, his pain indeed profound
Husain saw His brother’s soul in torment at Qasim’s side
And rushed to embrace the wounded, dying child
Holding Qasim’s shattered body, Husain cried out in pain
“Speak to me dear Qasim, call for me again
Say something my son, so I may hear you once more
Speak to me once more, before your life starts to wane”
“Too heavy is this loss for your mother to endure
Your bride turned widow, at a time premature”
Qasim opened his mouth, amid his feeble breaths
Showed Husain his parched tongue, thirsty even in death
As angels beckoned his soul, ready to quench his thirst
With waters from Kausar his arrival would be met
They gathered in reverence, awaiting his command
In service to this youth, this martyr grand

Yet, at the sight of the offered water Qasim turned away
For Husain had not had a dropp in three long days
Life fled from his broken body, the Prince held him close
Gathering in His robe, the crushed shards that remained
Thus carrying the remains of Qasim, at the camp He arrived
Seeing the women at the doorway, “Here he is” Husain cried
“Here are the remains of Qasim, with these I have come”
Qasim’s mother hugged the bundle which contained her son
“Kubra is ruined” Banu in despair cried
And in grief Zainab ran out, her hair undone
Following Ali’s daughter, the ladies ran out of the tents
All except the mourning bride, crying in lament
“Oh Qasim, dear Qasim” they cried out in despair
“How brutally they killed you” their anguish filled the air
In dejection the Prince wept at the sight before His eyes
“Never shall I forget Qasim’s death” in anguish He said
“Lets take what remains of Qasim to the awaiting bride”
How do I face my daughter, mourning inside?”
Saying this He walked in, the wrapped body held close
Avoiding Kubra’s gaze, weeping, His head bowed
Surrounded by His family, ladies wailing in distress
His heart heavy at the grief inflicted by His foes
Pause now Oh Anees, for the heart can bear no more
Do not speak any further of what happened on Aashoor

Mir Babar Ali Anees Comments