Understanding the Devotional Practices of ʿĀshūrāʾ (I): The Āmāl of ʿĀshūrāʾ

Syed Ali Nadeem Rezavi

Every year, as the Day of ʿĀshūrāʾ approaches, millions of believers throughout the world observe a number of devotional practices that have become inseparable from the remembrance of Imam Husain and the tragedy of Karbala. Among the best known are the Āmāl-e ʿĀshūr, the recitation of Ziyārat-e ʿĀshūr, and the repeated invocation of laʿn, the solemn dissociation from and condemnation of those responsible for the murder of the grandson of the Prophet. These three practices are often performed together, yet each possesses its own history, textual foundation and theological significance. Each therefore deserves to be understood independently rather than simply accepted as inherited ritual. In this series of essays, we shall examine each in turn. We begin with the Āmāl-e ʿĀshūr, the devotional acts prescribed for the tenth day of Muharram.

The Arabic word ʿamal (plural aʿmāl) literally means ‘deed’, ‘action’ or ‘practice’. In Shiʿi devotional literature it refers to a prescribed programme of worship associated with particular days, nights or occasions. Such programmes generally include ritual purification, prayer, Qur’anic recitation, supplication, remembrance of God, salutations upon the Prophet and his family, acts of charity, and other recommended devotional exercises. Over the centuries these practices were gathered together in celebrated manuals such as Shaykh al-Ṭūsī’s Miṣbāḥ al-Mutahajjid, Sayyid Ibn Ṭāwūs’s Iqbāl al-Aʿmāl, al-Kafʿamī’s al-Miṣbāḥ, and most famously Shaykh ʿAbbās al-Qummī’s Mafātīḥ al-Jinān. The Āmāl of ʿĀshūrāʾ are therefore not a modern invention but form part of a continuous devotional tradition preserved through successive generations of Shiʿi scholarship.

The roots of these observances lie in the teachings of the Imams of the Ahl al-Bayt themselves. Traditions transmitted principally from Imam Muḥammad al-Bāqir and Imam Jaʿfar al-Ṣādiq describe how the Day of ʿĀshūrāʾ should be observed. Rather than allowing the Umayyad rulers to redefine the day as one of celebration and public thanksgiving, the Imams transformed it into a day of mourning, remembrance, prayer and moral reflection. Imam al-Riḍā relates that when the month of Muharram began, his father Imam Mūsā al-Kāẓim was never seen smiling, and as the tenth day approached his grief only deepened, for it was on that day that Imam Husain was martyred.

One of the earliest and most important narrations concerning the observance of the day is preserved in Kāmil al-Ziyārāt. Imam al-Bāqir instructed that one unable to visit Karbala should ascend to an elevated place before noon, face towards the shrine of Imam Husain, recite salutations upon him, invoke God’s curse upon his killers, perform two rakʿahs of prayer, mourn sincerely over the tragedy, gather members of the household to remember the martyrdom, and console fellow believers with the prayer:

Aʿẓama Allāhu ujūranā bi-muṣābinā bi’l-Ḥusayn wa jaʿalanā wa iyyākum mina’ṭ-ṭālibīn bi-thārihi maʿa walīyihi al-Imām al-Mahdī min Āli Muḥammad.’

‘May God magnify our reward for our grief over Husain and make us and you among those who seek justice for his blood under the leadership of His Friend, Imam al-Mahdi, from the family of Muhammad.’

The Imam further declared that one who performs these rites sincerely shares spiritually in the reward of those who stood beside Imam Husain at Karbala. This remarkable promise illustrates an important principle within Shiʿi spirituality: physical absence from Karbala does not prevent spiritual companionship with its martyrs. Through remembrance, prayer and sincere loyalty, every generation may become a participant in Husain’s cause.

The classical manuals subsequently expanded these transmitted instructions into a complete devotional programme. The Āmāl ordinarily begin with ritual purification through ghusl, followed by recommended prayers, recitation of selected Qur’anic passages, abundant remembrance of God through Subḥān Allāh, Alḥamdulillāh, Lā ilāha illā Allāh and Allāhu Akbar, seeking divine forgiveness, repeated blessings upon the Prophet and his family, the recitation of Ziyārat-e ʿĀshūr together with Duʿāʾ ʿAlqamah, supplication, charity, participation in mourning assemblies, serving water in memory of the thirst endured at Karbala, and refraining from worldly celebrations or amusements. The observance is traditionally completed before noon, corresponding to the period during which the battle reached its climax and Imam Husain attained martyrdom. It is generally offered in an open uncovered ground. In many places in India, as in my village, people assemble in the open grounds of Karbala to offer these prayers.

The objective of these devotional acts is far deeper than ritual observance alone. They seek to cultivate the virtues embodied by Imam Husain himself: steadfastness before oppression, patience in suffering, sincerity in worship, complete submission to God, compassion for humanity, and unwavering commitment to truth. Every prayer recalls the sacrifice of the Prophet’s family. Every tear renews allegiance to the Imam. Every supplication reminds the believer that injustice can never become acceptable simply because it appears victorious.

Among the most distinctive features accompanying the recitation of the Āmāl in many parts of South Asia, Iran, Iraq and elsewhere is the repeated movement of the worshipper forwards and backwards while reciting certain passages. To many observers this appears unusual, yet within Shiʿi devotional culture it carries profound symbolic meaning.

Its primary significance lies in the concept of ittibāʿ al-Imām, or following the Imam. By advancing several paces and then stepping back repeatedly, the believer expresses the desire to accompany Imam Husain on his final journey between the tents and the battlefield. The movement symbolises the declaration that, had one been present at Karbala, one would have walked with the Imam, shared his trials and remained steadfast beside him until the very end. Memory thus becomes participation, and historical remembrance is transformed into embodied devotion.

Alongside this broader symbolism, South Asian devotional tradition preserves an especially poignant interpretation that has deeply touched generations of mourners. According to this understanding, the repeated forward and backward movement recalls one of the most heart-rending moments in the entire tragedy. After the six-month-old ʿAli al-Aṣghar was struck by the arrow of Ḥurmala while in his father’s arms, Imam Husain carried the lifeless infant back towards the tents. As he approached, he is imagined to have hesitated. How could he place the blood-soaked body of his youngest son into the arms of his grieving mother, Lady Rubāb? He moved forwards, then stopped. He turned back, then advanced once more, overcome by the unbearable sorrow of the moment, before finally returning the child to the camp. During the Āmāl, many mourners consciously recall this scene, allowing their own steps to mirror the Imam’s grief and hesitation.

From the standpoint of historical scholarship, however, it should be recognised that this explanation belongs to the rich devotional tradition that developed over the centuries rather than to the earliest transmitted narrations concerning the Āmāl themselves. The classical reports prescribe the prayers, salutations, supplications and mourning, but they do not explicitly describe this physical movement. The walking therefore represents a symbolic devotional elaboration through which successive generations have sought to express emotionally their identification with Imam Husain and his suffering. Like many ritual gestures found across religious traditions, its significance lies not in legal obligation but in spiritual symbolism.

Ultimately, the Āmāl of ʿĀshūrāʾ are not intended merely to commemorate a historical event. Their purpose is to shape the conscience of the believer. Every prayer renews the covenant with the Ahl al-Bayt. Every invocation proclaims loyalty to truth and rejection of tyranny. Every symbolic step declares a willingness to walk wherever justice demands, even when the path leads towards sacrifice. In this lies the enduring genius of the Shiʿi devotional tradition: it transforms remembrance into moral responsibility and history into living faith.

The next essay in this series will examine Ziyārat-e ʿĀshūr, its origins, textual transmission, theological meaning, and the reasons for its unique place within Shiʿi spirituality.

References

al-Qummī, ʿAbbās ibn Muḥammad Riḍā. Mafātīḥ al-Jinān. Tehran: Kitābfurūshī va Chāpkhānah-i Ḥājj Muḥammad ʿAlī ʿIlmī, 1963.

al-Ṭūsī, Abū Jaʿfar Muḥammad ibn al-Ḥasan. Miṣbāḥ al-Mutahajjid wa Silāḥ al-Mutaʿabbid. Beirut: Muʾassasat al-Aʿlamī lil-Maṭbūʿāt, 1998.

al-Qummī, ʿAbbās ibn Muḥammad Riḍā. Mafātīḥ al-Jinān: Urdū Tarjamah, translated by Akhtar ʿAbbās. Lahore: Imāmiyyah Kutub Khānah, 1975.

Ibn Qawlawayh, Jaʿfar ibn Muḥammad. Kāmil al-Ziyārāt. Edited by ʿAbd al-Ḥusayn Amīnī. Najaf: Dār al-Murtaḍawīyah, 1356 AH/1937 CE.

Ibn Ṭāwūs, ʿAlī ibn Mūsā. Iqbāl al-Aʿmāl. Edited by Jawād al-Qayyūmī al-Iṣfahānī. Qum: Markaz al-Nashr al-Tābiʿ li-Maktab al-Aʿlām al-Islāmī, 1994 or 1995.

al-Majlisī, Muḥammad Bāqir. Biḥār al-Anwār al-Jāmiʿah li-Durar Akhbār al-Aʾimmah al-Aṭhār. Beirut: Dār Iḥyāʾ al-Turāth al-ʿArabī, 1983. 110 vols.

Madelung, Wilferd. The Succession to Muhammad: A Study of the Early Caliphate. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997.

al-Mufīd, Muḥammad ibn Muḥammad. Kitāb al-Irshād fī Maʿrifat Ḥujaj Allāh ʿalā al-ʿIbād. Translated by I. K. A. Howard as The Book of Guidance into the Lives of the Twelve Imams. London: Muhammadi Trust, 1981.

Khān, M. R. The Passion of al-Husayn. In Encyclopaedia Iranica, online edition. New York: Encyclopaedia Iranica Foundation, 2012.

Duas.org. ‘Āmāl of ʿĀshūrāʾ.’ Available at: https://www.duas.org/ashura/amal.htm (accessed 26 June 2026).

Ashura in India: How Karbala Became a Shared Civilisational Legacy

Syed Ali Nadeem Rezavi

This essay in three parts is a long read and concludes our series on Ashura in India. We have traced the journey of Karbala from its origins in seventh-century Arabia through its transmission to the Indian subcontinent, its flowering under the Deccan Sultanates and the Nawabs of Awadh, and its enduring legacy in modern India. Throughout this narrative, one theme has remained constant: the universal appeal of Imam Husain’s moral stand and the capacity of Indian civilisation to embrace, preserve and enrich that legacy for generations to come.

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Part I: The Eternal Meaning of Ashura

“And do not think of those who are slain in the way of Allah as dead. Rather, they are alive with their Lord, receiving sustenance.”
Qur’an 3:169

“I have not risen to seek power or to spread corruption. I have risen only to reform the community of my grandfather.”
Imam Husain ibn Ali

Every year, on the tenth day of Muharram, millions across India gather to commemorate one of the most profound events in human history. In cities such as Lucknow, Hyderabad, Kolkata, Patna and Srinagar, as well as in countless towns and villages across the country, majalis are held, marsiyas and nauhas are recited, alams are carried in solemn processions, tazias are borne through the streets, and sabeels distribute water in memory of the thirst endured by Imam Husain and his companions on the plain of Karbala. Black banners flutter from homes and imambaras, and the names of Husain, Abbas, Zainab and Ali Asghar are spoken with reverence by people belonging not only to different schools of Islam but often to different faiths as well.

Ashura in India is therefore much more than the remembrance of a historical event that occurred nearly fourteen centuries ago in present-day Iraq. It is a living moral tradition. It is one of the finest examples of how a universal ethical ideal became rooted in the civilisation of the Indian subcontinent without losing its original religious meaning. Through literature, architecture, music, craftsmanship, public ritual and acts of charity, India transformed the remembrance of Karbala into one of the richest cultural traditions in the Islamic world.

To understand Ashura in India, however, one must first understand Ashura itself.

The tragedy of Karbala was not merely a battle fought between two armies. It was a confrontation between two conceptions of political authority and religious morality. Following the death of Mu’awiya ibn Abi Sufyan in 680 CE, his son Yazid demanded allegiance from Imam Husain ibn Ali, the grandson of Prophet Muhammad. Husain refused. His refusal was not born of political ambition but of moral conviction. He believed that the caliphate had ceased to embody the principles of justice, consultation and accountability upon which the Prophet had established the Muslim community. (Madelung, The Succession to Muhammad)

In his celebrated declaration, Husain explained the purpose of his movement:

“I have not risen to seek power, nor to spread corruption. I have risen only to reform the community of my grandfather. I desire to enjoin what is right and forbid what is wrong.”

These words transformed Karbala from a political dispute into an ethical revolution. Husain sought neither conquest nor dominion. He sought to preserve the moral integrity of Islam.

The events of the tenth of Muharram unfolded with heartbreaking inevitability. After days during which access to the waters of the Euphrates had been denied to his camp, Husain led the dawn prayer. Even while arrows were falling, some of his companions stood before the congregation to shield those engaged in worship. Prayer and resistance became inseparable expressions of faith.

Throughout the morning Husain appealed repeatedly to the conscience of the opposing army. He reminded them of his relationship to the Prophet and asked them to reflect upon the consequences of shedding the blood of his family. His appeals were ignored.

According to the conventions of warfare prevailing at the time, his companions entered the battlefield one after another. Elderly followers, youthful companions, brothers, nephews and sons embraced martyrdom in succession. Each farewell deepened the tragedy while simultaneously revealing the extraordinary loyalty inspired by Husain’s leadership.

Among the most poignant moments remembered in both historical and devotional traditions is the martyrdom of the infant Ali Asghar. Carrying his six-month-old son in his arms, Husain appealed not for victory but simply for water for the thirsty child. Instead, an arrow struck the infant. Few episodes in world history have symbolised so powerfully the suffering of innocence in the face of unrestrained violence. (al-Tabari, Tarikh al-Rusul wa al-Muluk)

By the afternoon, Husain stood almost alone. The companions who had travelled with him from Madinah, the members of his family who had chosen to share his fate, and the loyal followers who had refused to abandon him had all fallen. Wounded, exhausted and weakened by thirst, he nevertheless entered the final combat with the same dignity that had characterised his entire movement. He fell upon the sands of Karbala, where he was martyred. The Umayyad soldiers severed his head and believed that they had extinguished the last serious challenge to their authority.

Yet the true history of Karbala had only begun.

The tents of the Prophet’s family were plundered and set ablaze. The surviving women and children, together with the gravely ill Imam Ali Zain al-Abidin, were taken captive and marched first to Kufa and then to Damascus. If the battlefield belonged to Yazid, history belonged to Zainab. Through her eloquent sermons before Ibn Ziyad in Kufa and Yazid in Damascus, she exposed the moral bankruptcy of the victors and ensured that the message of Karbala would never be forgotten. Imam Ali Zain al-Abidin continued that mission, preserving the memory of the tragedy through his sermons and supplications, many of which survive in the Sahifa al-Sajjadiyya.

Thus Ashura became more than a remembrance of martyrdom. It became the remembrance of moral victory.

Before his final sacrifice, Imam Husain uttered the words that have echoed across fourteen centuries:

Hal min nasirin yansuruna?
“Is there anyone who will come to our aid?”

These words have often been misunderstood as a simple appeal for military assistance. In reality they constitute one of history’s greatest moral summons. Husain was calling upon every human conscience to stand with truth against falsehood, justice against oppression and dignity against humiliation. The appeal was not confined to those present on the battlefield. It was addressed to every generation that would follow.

The annual response of millions is therefore not merely ritual. It is a reaffirmation of moral responsibility.

Labbaik Ya Husain.
“Here we are, O Husain.”

The famous saying attributed to Imam Ja’far al-Sadiq expresses this idea with remarkable clarity:

Kullu yawmin Ashura wa kullu ardin Karbala.
Every day is Ashura. Every land is Karbala.

Whether or not the attribution can be established through the earliest chains of transmission, the saying has become one of the most influential summaries of the philosophy of Karbala. It reminds believers that the struggle between justice and injustice is not confined to one moment in history. Every age produces new forms of tyranny. Every society confronts moral choices. Every individual must decide whether to remain silent or to stand with truth.

Ashura therefore rejects fatalism. It demands action.

Unlike the Christian doctrine of vicarious atonement, where Christ’s crucifixion is understood as redeeming the sins of believers, the Islamic understanding reflected in Karbala insists upon individual moral responsibility. Husain did not die so that others might escape accountability. He demonstrated the path of righteousness, but each generation must choose whether to walk upon it.

For this reason, Karbala has inspired not only Muslims but also countless men and women across religious and cultural boundaries. Statesmen, poets, revolutionaries, philosophers and reformers have recognised in Husain’s sacrifice the highest example of ethical leadership. His movement has become a universal language through which humanity speaks of resistance to oppression and fidelity to conscience.

Nowhere is this universality more evident than in India.

Few countries outside Iraq have embraced the memory of Karbala so deeply. Over more than a thousand years, the subcontinent absorbed the remembrance of Imam Husain into its own cultural life, giving rise to new forms of literature, architecture, music, ritual and scholarship while preserving the essential message of the tragedy.

India did not merely receive Karbala.

It gave Karbala a second home.

Part II: The Coming of Karbala to India and the Rise of Azadari

The story of how Karbala found a second home in India begins long before the establishment of the Delhi Sultanate. The Indian Ocean had, for centuries, served not merely as a highway of commerce but also as a bridge connecting ideas, beliefs and peoples. Arab merchants had frequented the western coast of India from pre-Islamic times, and after the advent of Islam these commercial contacts became conduits for religious and cultural exchange. Muslim settlements emerged along the Malabar coast, while Indian merchants travelled regularly to Basra, Siraf and other ports of the Persian Gulf. Through these maritime networks, devotion to the Prophet’s family travelled eastwards together with Islam itself. (Wink, Al-Hind: The Making of the Indo-Islamic World)

The early spread of Islam in India was therefore not solely the consequence of conquest. It was equally the product of commerce, migration and scholarship. Arab merchants who settled at Kodungallur, Kollam and other ports brought with them a profound reverence for the Ahl al-Bayt, a sentiment that was common to Muslims of every legal school. The descendants of the Prophet also found refuge in different parts of the subcontinent. Traditions preserved in local genealogies and tazkiras record the settlement of sayyid families in Sindh, Multan, Punjab, Kashmir and later in Gujarat and the Deccan. Although individual genealogical claims require careful historical scrutiny, there is little doubt that the presence of these families strengthened attachment to the Prophet’s household throughout the region.

The conquest of Sindh by Muhammad ibn Qasim in the early eighth century brought parts of north-western India into closer contact with the political world of the Umayyad Caliphate. Yet the spread of devotion to Imam Husain owed far more to scholars, mystics and migrants than to imperial expansion. Sufi saints arriving from Khurasan, Iraq and Iran frequently invoked the virtues of the Ahl al-Bayt in their teachings. Their khanqahs became centres where the memory of Karbala was preserved alongside the wider spiritual traditions of Islam. (Rizvi, A History of Sufism in India)

By the thirteenth century, the establishment of the Delhi Sultanate created new opportunities for Persian scholars, administrators, theologians and poets to settle in India. Many of them came from regions where devotion to the Ahl al-Bayt had long been cultivated. Although the Sultans themselves generally followed Sunni schools of jurisprudence, they seldom discouraged expressions of reverence towards the Prophet’s family. On the contrary, Persian literature celebrating Imam Husain circulated widely at court and among the learned classes, while Sufi gatherings frequently recounted the sufferings of Karbala. Minhaj us Siraj in his Tabaqāt i Nāsiri mentions the wide prevalence of tazkīr, the narration of the story of Karbala in much of the territories of Delhi Sultanate during the first ten days, Ashra of Muharram. During the reign of the Tughluqs, one find the construction of buildings dedicated to commemorating Muharram. One such place is still extant in Delhi. Perhaps this was the first Imāmbada or Ashurkhana constructed in India.

It is significant that the remembrance of Imam Husain entered India initially through literature and piety rather than through political sectarianism. Elegiac poetry, devotional narratives and sermons familiarised Indian audiences with the events of Karbala long before organised Muharram processions became widespread. This literary foundation would later prove decisive in enabling the tragedy to transcend sectarian boundaries.

The Mughal period, which began with Babur’s victory at Panipat in 1526, provided a new context for the observance of Muharram. The Mughal emperors, while generally adhering to Sunni orthodoxy, adopted a policy of religious tolerance and cultural synthesis that allowed diverse traditions to flourish. Emperor Akbar, in particular, encouraged inter-faith dialogue and patronised religious observances from various communities. This atmosphere of relative openness enabled the remembrance of Karbala to continue and even expand, though the imperial court itself did not always take a prominent role in its sponsorship.

A remarkable contemporary account of Muharram observances during Akbar’s reign comes from an unexpected source. Father Antonio Monserrate (1536-1600), a Portuguese Jesuit priest who accompanied the first Jesuit mission to Akbar’s court, recorded his observations of Muharram in Narwar as an outsider and impartial witness. His description, preserved in his travel memoirs, provides invaluable evidence of how the rituals were performed in the late sixteenth century:

“The Musalmans fast for nine days during Muharram and eat only pulse and certain of these days some of them publicly recite the story of sufferings of asson (Hasan) and Hossen (Husain) from a raised platform and their words stir the whole assembly to lamentation and tears. On the last day of the festival funeral pyres are erected and burnt one after the other. The People jump over these and afterwards scatter the glowing ashes with their feet, meanwhile they shriek ‘Asson-Hossen’ with wild and savage cries.” (Monserrate, The Commentary of Father Monserrate, S.J., on his Journey to the Court of Akbar)

This account, while reflecting the cultural assumptions and limitations of a sixteenth-century European observer, nonetheless confirms the vitality of Muharram rituals during the Mughal period. The recitation of the sufferings of Hasan and Husain from a raised platform, the collective lamentation, the public processions and the ritual “fire-jumping” – an allusion to āg ka mātam – all attest to the continuity of traditions that had been established centuries earlier. Monserrate’s description of the crowds shrieking the names of the martyrs – perhaps cries of Ya Hasan, Ya Husain – captures the emotional intensity that has always characterised Ashura observances. Incidentally during 19th century a dictionary of local terms compiled by the British government was entitled Hobson Jobson – an invocation of Ya Hasan, Ya Husain!

A colour engraving from the rich collections of our archive, depicting the celebration of Muharram during the Mughal period, offers further visual evidence of these traditions. The image shows processions carrying alams and tazias, with crowds of mourners participating in the rituals, their grief vividly portrayed through their gestures and postures. Such visual records complement the textual accounts and help us reconstruct the historical practice of Azadari in India.

One of the most influential works in this process was Husayn Wa’iz Kashifi’s Rawzat al-Shuhada, composed in Herat towards the close of the fifteenth century. Written in elegant Persian prose, the work offered a moving account of the sufferings of the martyrs of Karbala and rapidly became one of the most widely read books in the Persian-speaking world. More than a historical chronicle, it was a work of devotional literature intended to awaken moral reflection through the narration of sacrifice. (Kashifi, Rawzat al-Shuhada)

The influence of Rawzat al-Shuhada upon India can scarcely be overstated. For centuries it was read aloud in Muharram gatherings, translated into several languages and adapted into local literary traditions. The very term rawza-khwani, denoting the recitation of the sufferings of the martyrs, derives from Kashifi’s celebrated work. Through its pages, generations of Indians encountered the emotional landscape of Karbala.

Persian devotional literature also inspired indigenous adaptations. In the Deccan and North India, narrative works collectively known as Karbal Katha retold the story of Karbala in forms accessible to local audiences. These compositions did not merely translate Persian texts. They incorporated Indian literary sensibilities, regional idioms and familiar imagery while preserving the central ethical message of Imam Husain’s sacrifice. In this manner, Karbala gradually became part of India’s own narrative tradition.

The Bahmani Sultanate of the Deccan marked the beginning of a new phase in the history of Azadari. Established in the fourteenth century, the Bahmani court attracted scholars, theologians, sayyids and administrators from Iran and Iraq. Although the religious orientation of successive rulers varied, patronage of the Ahl al-Bayt steadily increased. Muharram observances acquired greater public visibility, and the Deccan emerged as an important centre for the diffusion of Persian religious culture. (Eaton, A Social History of the Deccan)

After the fragmentation of the Bahmani kingdom, its successor states carried this development even further. Among them, the Qutb Shahis of Golconda deserve particular attention. Their rulers openly patronised the remembrance of Karbala, constructing magnificent ashurkhanas, endowing alams and encouraging the composition of poetry in Persian, Dakhni and later Urdu. Hyderabad became one of the foremost centres of Muharram observances in the Islamic world.

The Badshahi Ashurkhana, established by Sultan Muhammad Quli Qutb Shah in the late sixteenth century, remains one of the oldest surviving institutions dedicated to Azadari in South Asia. Its richly decorated tile work, calligraphy and sacred standards testify not only to royal patronage but also to the fusion of Persian artistic traditions with Deccani craftsmanship. The annual procession of the Bibi ka Alam, associated by tradition with Hazrat Fatima, continues to attract thousands of devotees irrespective of sect or religion, illustrating the enduring vitality of these early institutions.

The Adil Shahis of Bijapur likewise extended generous patronage to Muharram. Their courts became centres of Persian learning, while poets and scholars enriched the devotional literature surrounding Karbala. Under their encouragement, Muharram observances became integrated into the ceremonial life of the Deccan, combining royal patronage with popular participation.

These developments reveal an important characteristic of Indian Azadari. While political rulers undoubtedly provided resources and institutional support, the remembrance of Karbala never remained confined to the court. Merchants, artisans, soldiers, scholars and ordinary townspeople all became active participants. Muharram evolved simultaneously as a royal ceremony and as a popular movement.

The architecture associated with Azadari likewise acquired a distinctively Indian character. The ashurkhana, unique to the Deccan, functioned primarily as a sanctuary for sacred standards and relics connected with Karbala. The imambara, more common in North India, became the principal venue for majalis, Qur’an recitation and communal mourning. Although both institutions drew inspiration from Persian precedents, Indian architects transformed them into original forms reflecting local artistic traditions.

Perhaps the most striking example of this creative adaptation was the evolution of the tazia. Unlike the shrines of Karbala or Najaf, the tazia was an entirely South Asian innovation. Constructed from bamboo, paper, wood, silver, sandalwood, ivory or glass, it represented an artistic evocation of Imam Husain’s mausoleum rather than an attempt to reproduce it exactly. Each region developed its own style. Bengali artisans favoured intricate paper ornamentation. Deccani craftsmen employed Persian decorative motifs. Rajput workshops introduced local architectural forms. The result was not imitation but creative homage. (Hasan, The Tazia: A Study of Popular Ritual in South Asia)

Similarly, the alam, symbolising the standard carried by Hazrat Abbas ibn Ali, acquired new dimensions in India. It became not merely a military emblem but a sacred object representing loyalty, courage and fidelity to duty. Families preserved hereditary alams, neighbourhoods organised annual processions around them, and devotees sought spiritual solace through acts of reverence directed towards these symbols of Karbala.

These artistic developments reveal an important historical truth. India did not passively receive the remembrance of Karbala. It interpreted it through its own aesthetic traditions while preserving its essential religious significance. Architecture, craftsmanship and public ritual combined to create forms of remembrance that were recognisably Indian yet profoundly faithful to the original message of Imam Husain.

During the Mughal period the commemoration of Muharram was further enhanced. Mulla Abdul Qadir Badauni mentions majālis (tazkīr) being held house to house during the reign of Humayun where marsiyas were recited. Soon alam and tābūt processions start being mentioned. And by Shahjahan’s reign Punja Sharif and Shāh e Mardān were established in Delhi which gained much popularity by the reign of Aurangzeb.

By the eighteenth century the centre of this remarkable cultural flowering shifted from the Deccan to the Gangetic plain. In Bengal at Murshidabad, one of the grandest Imāmbada was built. In the kingdom of Awadh, and above all in the city of Lucknow, Azadari would attain a level of literary, artistic and intellectual refinement unmatched anywhere else in South Asia. There, the remembrance of Karbala would become inseparable from the development of Urdu literature itself, giving birth to the immortal marsiyas of Mir Anees and Mirza Dabeer and transforming Lucknow into the unrivalled capital of Ashura in India.

Part III: The Flowering of Azadari in Awadh and Bengal and the Legacy for Modern India

The eighteenth century marked a decisive turning point in the history of Ashura in South Asia. As the Mughal Empire gradually declined, the Nawabs of Awadh emerged as independent rulers, and under their patronage the remembrance of Karbala attained an unprecedented level of cultural refinement. The city of Lucknow, which they elevated to the status of their capital, became not merely a political centre but the very heart of Indian Azadari. It was here that the literary, artistic and ritual dimensions of Muharram were developed to a degree of sophistication that has never been equalled elsewhere in the subcontinent.

The Nawabs of Awadh were Twelver Shia Muslims, and their devotion to the Ahl al-Bayt was both personal and political. They understood that the patronage of Muharram observances served not only their religious conscience but also their legitimacy as rulers in a land where Muslims were a minority. By associating themselves with the legacy of Imam Husain, they projected an image of piety, justice and moral authority that resonated across sectarian and religious boundaries. This was not cynical calculation but rather a genuine conviction that the ethical message of Karbala could serve as a unifying force in a diverse society. (Cole, Roots of North Indian Shi’ism in Iran and Iraq)

Under Nawab Asaf-ud-Daula, who reigned from 1775 to 1797, Lucknow witnessed an extraordinary flowering of Azadari. He commissioned the construction of the Bara Imambara, an architectural masterpiece that remains one of the most magnificent buildings in India. Designed by the architect Kifayatullah, the Imambara was intended not merely as a place of worship but as a public institution where majalis could be held, where the poor could find employment during famine, and where the memory of Karbala could be preserved for generations. The construction of the Imambara was accompanied by the establishment of endowments to ensure its maintenance and the continuation of Muharram rituals.

The Chhota Imambara, built later by Nawab Muhammad Ali Shah, added further splendour to the city’s religious landscape. Adorned with exquisite chandeliers, silver and gold ornaments, and intricate calligraphy, it became a symbol of the Nawabs’ devotion and their commitment to preserving the memory of the martyrs of Karbala. The Hussainabad Trust, established to oversee these institutions, continues to manage them to this day, a testament to the enduring legacy of Awadhi patronage.

However, the most profound contribution of Awadh to the tradition of Ashura was not architectural but literary. It was in Lucknow that Urdu elegiac poetry reached its zenith through the works of Mir Babar Ali Anees and Mirza Salamat Ali Dabeer. These two poets, who lived in the nineteenth century, transformed the marsiya from a simple lament into a sophisticated literary genre capable of expressing the full range of human emotion. Their compositions, running sometimes to hundreds of stanzas, narrated the events of Karbala with extraordinary vividness, psychological depth and poetic brilliance. (Pritchett, A Long Long Time Ago: Urdu Marsiyas of the Nineteenth Century)

Mir Anees, in particular, is remembered as the supreme master of the Urdu marsiya. His poetry drew upon classical Persian models but adapted them to the rhythms and idioms of Urdu, creating a body of work that remains unparalleled in South Asian literature. The marsiyas of Anees were not merely recited in mourning gatherings; they were studied, memorised and analysed with the same seriousness as the works of the greatest Persian and Arabic poets. His contemporary, Mirza Dabeer, was equally accomplished, and the two poets were often compared, their rivalry enriching the literary culture of Lucknow. The tradition they established continues to inspire poets and reciters, ensuring that the story of Karbala remains a living presence in Urdu literature.

The majalis held in Lucknow during Muharram became elaborate affairs, combining religious devotion with literary excellence. Professional reciters, known as zakirs, developed the art of marsiya-khwani and nauha-khwani to a high degree of refinement. The zakir was expected not only to recite poetry but also to evoke the emotional and moral significance of the events being narrated. The audience, which included both Shia and Sunni Muslims, as well as Hindus and others, participated in the lamentations, striking their chests in rhythm with the poetry, their collective grief expressing solidarity with the sufferings of Imam Husain and his family.

The Muharram processions of Lucknow were equally elaborate. The alams and tazias carried through the streets were objects of great artistry, often crafted from precious materials and adorned with intricate ornamentation. The tazia tradition in Lucknow developed its own distinctive style, characterised by a particular shape and decoration that distinguished it from those of other regions. The procession of tazias on the tenth of Muharram, commemorating the mourning of the women of the Prophet’s household, drew vast crowds and remains a major event in the city’s religious calendar.

It is important to recognise that the patronage of Azadari in Awadh was not limited to the Shia community. Sunni Muslims participated in Muharram observances, and while some of the Nawabs’ Sunni subjects may have had theological reservations about certain aspects of the rituals, there is abundant evidence of widespread participation across sectarian lines. The Imambaras and Ashurkhanas were open to all, and the sabeels distributing water on the ninth and tenth of Muharram were a public charity benefiting the entire community. In this respect, the Muharram of Lucknow embodied the pluralistic ethos that had long characterised Indian civilisation.

A particularly striking feature of the Awadhi tradition was the participation of Hindus in Muharram. In many towns of Awadh, Hindus not only attended majalis but also sponsored tazias and alams, contributed to the maintenance of imambaras, and participated actively in the processions. The reverence for Imam Husain transcended religious boundaries, and Hindus often perceived in his sacrifice a parallel with their own traditions of devotion, duty and resistance to injustice. The figure of Imam Husain was sometimes compared to the epic heroes of the Mahabharata and Ramayana, and his moral struggle was understood as a universal lesson applicable to all humanity. (Rizvi, A Socio-Intellectual History of the Isnā ʿAsharī Shīʿīs in India)

While Lucknow became the literary capital of Ashura, eastern India developed its own distinctive traditions centred upon Murshidabad, the capital of the Nawabs of Bengal. The Nizamat Imambara, rebuilt in 1847 under Nawab Nazim Mansur Ali Khan after the earlier structure was destroyed by fire, remains one of the largest imambaras in the Indian subcontinent. Standing opposite the Hazarduari Palace, it continues to function as a living institution of Azadari rather than merely a historical monument. During Muharram its halls resonate with majalis, Qur’an recitations and marsiya-khwani, while devotees gather before the symbolic Zarih Mubarak and the Madinah, reflecting the deep attachment of Bengal’s Muslims to the memory of Karbala. The Murshidabad tradition also demonstrates that the remembrance of Imam Husain was not confined to the royal court but permeated the religious life of the wider population of Bengal.

Murshidabad, together with the imambaras of Hooghly, Kolkata and Patna, illustrates the remarkable geographical spread of Azadari across eastern India. Each region developed its own architectural vocabulary and ceremonial practices, yet all remained united by the same central message of Karbala: fidelity to truth, justice and moral courage.

This syncretic tradition was not confined to Awadh and Bengal. In the Deccan, particularly in Hyderabad, similar patterns of participation emerged. The Bibi ka Alam procession, which continues to attract millions of devotees irrespective of their religion, stands as a powerful symbol of the shared legacy of Karbala. Hindus, Muslims and others come together to honour the memory of the Prophet’s family, their common humanity transcending the divisions of creed and community. The tradition of Peerla Panduga in Telangana is another example of this remarkable cultural synthesis. (Rao, Traditions of Muharram in Andhra Pradesh)

The abolition of the Awadh kingdom by the British in 1856, and the subsequent upheaval of the 1857 rebellion, dealt a severe blow to the institutional patronage of Azadari. Yet the tradition survived, sustained by the devotion of ordinary people and the resilience of religious institutions. The imambaras and ashurkhanas remained centres of community life, and the literary heritage of Lucknow continued to inspire new generations of poets and reciters. The memory of Karbala, once rooted in royal patronage, had become deeply embedded in the popular consciousness of North India.

In modern India, the observance of Muharram continues to be a major religious and cultural event. The processions, majalis and charitable activities associated with Ashura are observed with great fervour in cities such as Lucknow, Hyderabad, Delhi, Kolkata, Mumbai, Patna and Srinagar, as well as in countless towns and villages across the country. The rituals have adapted to the changing times, with some traditions evolving while others remain remarkably unchanged over the centuries. The use of modern media, including television and social media, has enabled the dissemination of Muharram sermons and recitations to a global audience, while the internet has facilitated the preservation and study of the literary heritage associated with Ashura.

The significance of Ashura in India extends beyond the Muslim community. Scholars, writers and intellectuals of all backgrounds have recognised the ethical profundity of Imam Husain’s sacrifice. Jawaharlal Nehru, India’s first Prime Minister, paid tribute to the courage of Husain, describing him as an example of moral resistance. Mahatma Gandhi, while not a Muslim, acknowledged the inspirational power of Karbala and noted its relevance to the Indian struggle for independence. (Gandhi, The Collected Works of Mahatma Gandhi) These acknowledgements are not merely gestures of inter-faith respect. They reflect a genuine appreciation of the universal moral message that Imam Husain embodied.

In conclusion, the history of Ashura in India is the history of a shared civilisational legacy. What began as a tragedy on the plains of Karbala travelled across oceans and mountains to find a second home in the Indian subcontinent. Through the devotion of ordinary people, the scholarship of theologians, the patronage of rulers, the artistry of craftsmen and the genius of poets, the memory of Imam Husain became interwoven with the cultural fabric of India. It was transformed and enriched by its encounter with Indian civilisation, yet its essential message remained unchanged. The ethical summons of Husain, his call to stand with truth against falsehood and with justice against oppression, resonated across the centuries and continues to inspire millions.

Today, as India navigates the challenges of diversity and pluralism, the legacy of Ashura offers a powerful reminder of the shared values that unite humanity. The remembrance of Karbala teaches that moral conviction is not the preserve of any single community. It speaks to every human being who has ever faced oppression and refused to surrender their conscience. In the processions of Muharram, in the recitation of marsiyas, in the distribution of water and in the collective mourning of millions, the spirit of Imam Husain lives on, a testament to the enduring power of faith, courage and compassion.

The story of Ashura in India is therefore far more than a historical narrative. It is a living tradition that continues to evolve, adapt and inspire. It is a story of how a universal ethical ideal found a home in a land of extraordinary diversity, and how that land, in turn, enriched the tradition with its own cultural genius. The remembrance of Karbala is not merely a ritual of the past. It is a moral compass for the present and a source of hope for the future.

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Comprehensive Reading List

A. Primary Arabic Sources

Abu Mikhnaf (Lut ibn Yahya). Maqtal al-Husayn. Earliest extant account of the Battle of Karbala, preserved principally in al-Tabari.

Al-Baladhuri, Ahmad ibn Yahya. Ansab al-Ashraf. Beirut.

Al-Dinawari, Abu Hanifa. Al-Akhbar al-Tiwal. Cairo.

Ibn al-Athir, Izz al-Din. Al-Kamil fi al-Tarikh. Beirut: Dar Sadir.

Al-Mufid, Muhammad ibn Muhammad. Kitab al-Irshad. Qum.

Al-Tabari, Muhammad ibn Jarir. Tarikh al-Rusul wa al-Muluk (The History of al-Tabari). Translated in multiple volumes by the State University of New York Press.

Ibn Tawus, Ali ibn Musa. Al-Luhuf fi Qatla al-Tufuf. Qum.

B. Classical Persian Literature

Husayn Wa’iz Kashifi. Rawzat al-Shuhada. Herat, c.1502.

Fuzuli, Muhammad ibn Sulayman. Hadiqat al-Su’ada. Istanbul.

Muhtasham Kashani. Dawazdah Band (The Twelve Stanzas), the classic Persian elegy on Karbala.

C. Urdu Scholarship on Karbala and Azadari

Naqqan, Allama Saiyid Ali Naqi. Shaheed-i Insaniyat. Lucknow.

Sibtul Hasan, Saiyid. Tarikh-i Azadari. Lucknow.

Turabi, Allama Rashid. Khutbat-i Turabi. Multi-volume collection.

Naqvi, Allama Saiyid Ali Naqi. Collected works on Karbala, Imamat and the Ahl al-Bayt.

Naqvi, Allama Saiyid Ali Naqi. Shuhada-i Karbala.

Naqvi, Allama Saiyid Ali Naqi. Mas’ala-i Imamat.

Muhsin Rizvi. Tarikh-i Shi’iyan-i Hind.

Saiyid Muhammad Askari Jaunpuri. Essays on Muharram and Azadari.

D. Urdu Literary Tradition

Mir Babar Ali Anees. Kulliyat-i Anees.

Mirza Salamat Ali Dabeer. Kulliyat-i Dabeer.

Munshi Chunnilal ‘Dilgeer’. Marsiye wa Nauhe.

Josh Malihabadi. Selected marsiyas.

Firaq Gorakhpuri. Kulliyat-i Firaq.

Rahi Masoom Raza. Karbal Katha.

Rahi Masoom Raza. Selected essays and speeches.

E. Shi’ism in India

Cole, Juan R. I. Roots of North Indian Shi’ism in Iran and Iraq: Religion and State in Awadh, 1722–1859. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1988.

Hollister, John Norman. The Shi’a of India. London: Luzac & Co., 1936.

Rizvi, Saiyid Athar Abbas. A Socio-Intellectual History of the Isna ‘Ashari Shi’is in India. 2 vols. Canberra: Australian National University Press, 1986.

Rizvi, Saiyid Athar Abbas. A History of Sufism in India. 2 vols. New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal.

Momen, Moojan. An Introduction to Shi’i Islam. Yale University Press, 1985.

Takim, Liyakat N. The Heirs of the Prophet: Charisma and Religious Authority in Shi’ite Islam. Albany: SUNY Press, 2006.

Nakash, Yitzhak. The Shi’is of Iraq. Princeton University Press, 1994.

F. Muharram, Ritual and Memory

Ayoub, Mahmoud M. Redemptive Suffering in Islam: A Study of the Devotional Aspects of ‘Ashura in Twelver Shi’ism. The Hague: Mouton, 1978.

Pinault, David. The Shiites: Ritual and Popular Piety in a Muslim Community. London: I.B. Tauris, 1992.

Pinault, David. Horse of Karbala: Muslim Devotional Life in India. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2001.

Hyder, Syed Akbar. Reliving Karbala: Martyrdom in South Asian Memory. New York: Oxford University Press, 2006.

Schubel, Vernon James. Religious Performance in Contemporary Islam: Shi’i Devotional Rituals in South Asia. Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1993.

Aghaie, Kamran Scot. The Martyrs of Karbala: Shi’i Symbols and Rituals in Modern Iran. Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2004.

Aghaie, Kamran Scot (ed.). The Women of Karbala: Ritual Performance and Symbolic Discourses in Modern Shi’i Islam. Austin: University of Texas Press, 2005.

Chelkowski, Peter J. (ed.). Ta’ziyeh: Ritual and Drama in Iran. New York University Press, 1979.

G. Awadh and Lucknow

Oldenburg, Veena Talwar. The Making of Colonial Lucknow, 1856–1877. Princeton University Press, 1984.

Sharar, Abdul Halim. Guzishta Lucknow. English translation: Lucknow: The Last Phase of an Oriental Culture.

Cole, Juan R. I. Articles on Awadh and Shi’ism.

H. The Deccan and Hyderabad

Eaton, Richard M. A Social History of the Deccan, 1300–1761. Cambridge University Press, 2005.

Sherwani, H. K. History of the Qutb Shahi Dynasty. Hyderabad.

Yazdani, Ghulam. Bidar: Its History and Monuments. Oxford University Press.

Bilgrami, Syed Ali Asgar. Landmarks of the Deccan.

I. Bengal and Eastern India

Rizvi, Saiyid Athar Abbas. A Socio-Intellectual History of the Isna ‘Ashari Shi’is in India. (Sections on Bengal.)

Hollister, John Norman. The Shi’a of India. (Sections on Murshidabad.)

Roy, Asim. The Islamic Syncretistic Tradition in Bengal. Princeton University Press, 1983.

Chatterjee, Kumkum. The Cultures of History in Early Modern India. Oxford University Press, 2009.

Chaudhury, Sushil. From Prosperity to Decline: Eighteenth-Century Bengal. Manohar, 1995.

Abdul Karim. Murshid Quli Khan and His Times. Asiatic Society of Pakistan, 1963.

Nair, P. Thankappan. Murshidabad: A Study in Historical Geography.

Nicholas, Ralph W. The Folk Religion of Bengal. Oxford University Press.

Saiyid Sultan. Nabivamsa.

Bengali Maqtal Husain puthis (various editions, Bangla Academy and Asiatic Society collections).

J. Architecture and Material Culture


Asher, Catherine B. Architecture of Mughal India. Cambridge University Press.
Michell, George (ed.). Islamic Heritage of India.
Brown, Percy. Indian Architecture (Islamic Period).
Nath, R. Studies on Mughal and Indo-Islamic architecture.

J. Architecture and Material Culture


Asher, Catherine B. Architecture of Mughal India. Cambridge University Press.
Michell, George (ed.). Islamic Heritage of India.
Brown, Percy. Indian Architecture (Islamic Period).
Nath, R. Studies on Mughal and Indo-Islamic architecture.

L. Useful Reference Works


Encyclopaedia Iranica (entries on Karbala, Muharram, Ta’ziya, Shi’ism and Awadh).
Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd and 3rd editions (entries on Husayn ibn Ali, Karbala, Muharram and Shi’ism).
Oxford Encyclopaedia of the Islamic World (relevant entries).

Shab-e Āshūr: The Night That Illuminated Eternity

Syed Ali Nadeem Rezavi

“I love prayer, the recitation of the Qur’an, supplication, and seeking forgiveness from my Lord.”
— Imam Husain ibn Ali (as)¹

The first nine days of Muharram have permitted us to journey through numerous dimensions of Imam Husain’s movement. We have reflected upon the Prophet’s Household, the companions, the women of Karbala, the children, the universal brotherhood that transcended tribe and race, the thirst of the camp, the message of Husain, and the enduring influence of Karbala upon India and the wider world. Yet all these themes converge in one extraordinary night. Shab-e Āshūr, the night preceding the tenth of Muharram, represents the moment in which every strand of the Karbala narrative coalesces before history changes forever.

If the Day of Ashura represents the outward struggle between truth and tyranny, then Shab-e Āshūr reveals the spiritual foundations upon which that struggle rested. It was not a night of military strategy or political negotiation. It was a night of worship, introspection, farewell, and absolute trust in God. Before the swords were unsheathed, and before the blood of the martyrs was shed, there was prayer. Before sacrifice came surrender to the Divine.²


The Request for Respite

As evening descended upon Karbala on the ninth of Muharram in the year 61 AH (680 CE), the forces of Yazid, commanded by Umar ibn Sa’d, prepared to launch their assault. Imam Husain sent his brother Abbas to request that the battle be postponed until the following morning. The reason he gave has been preserved by the earliest authorities, including Abu Mikhnaf, al-Tabari, al-Baladhuri, Dinawari, and Shaykh al-Mufid.³

He declared:

“I love prayer, the recitation of the Qur’an, supplication, and seeking forgiveness from my Lord.”⁴

Few statements better summarise the purpose of Husain’s movement. Had Karbala been a struggle for political authority, the final night would have been devoted entirely to military preparations. Instead, Husain desired to stand before his Lord. His revolution was therefore born from worship before it was expressed through sacrifice.⁵


The Camp of Worship

The chronicles describe the camp of Husain throughout that night as echoing with the recitation of the Qur’an, invocations, and prayers. The sounds rising from the tents resembled the continuous humming of bees.⁶ Men who knew they would not survive the following day did not spend the night lamenting death. They spent it preparing to meet God.⁷

The scene is one of the most remarkable in all religious history. Death had become certain, yet fear had disappeared. The serenity of Husain’s camp stood in sharp contrast to the anxiety of the vastly larger army surrounding it. Karbala teaches that courage is not the absence of danger but the presence of certainty born of faith.⁸


The Gathering and the Offer of Freedom

Perhaps the most moving episode of Shab-e Āshūr occurred when Imam Husain gathered his companions and family. Having praised God, he informed them that the enemy desired only his own life. Under the cover of darkness, anyone who wished to depart was entirely free to do so. According to many reports, he ordered the lamps extinguished so that no one would feel embarrassed to leave.⁹

History has rarely witnessed such moral freedom. Husain neither compelled nor emotionally manipulated anyone into remaining with him. He demanded no oath of allegiance. Every individual was left to follow the dictates of conscience.¹⁰

It was then that one of the greatest testimonies to loyalty in human history unfolded.


The Companions’ Response

Muslim ibn Awsaja declared that he would never abandon the grandson of the Prophet.¹¹

Habib ibn Muzahir renewed his pledge with complete serenity.¹²

Zuhayr ibn al-Qayn, who only days earlier had hesitated even to meet Husain, declared that even if he were killed, burnt, restored to life, and killed repeatedly, he would never forsake him.¹³

Abbas ibn Ali reaffirmed that life without Husain possessed no meaning.¹⁴

It was on this same night that Imam Husain uttered the famous tribute which has echoed through the centuries:

“I know no companions more faithful and more loyal than my companions, nor any family more virtuous and more devoted than my family.”¹⁵

No commander has ever paid a greater tribute to those who stood beside him.¹⁶


The Women of Karbala

The women of the Prophet’s household likewise spent the night preparing for an unimaginable future. Zainab bint Ali, Umm Kulthum, Rubab, Layla, Sukayna, and the other women knew that dawn would change everything. Yet nowhere do the sources portray panic or despair. Instead, they reveal extraordinary composure sustained by faith.¹⁷

It was during this night that Imam Husain prepared his sister Zainab for the immense responsibility that awaited her. The battlefield would end on Ashura, but Karbala itself would survive only because Zainab would carry its message into Kufa and Damascus. The sermons she would deliver after the massacre transformed military defeat into moral victory. Without Zainab, the sacrifice of Ashura might have remained confined to the plains of Karbala. Through her courage, it became the conscience of history.¹⁸


The Preservation of the Imamate

Shab-e Āshūr was also the night during which the future of the Imamate was secured. Imam Ali Zain al-Abidin, weakened by illness and therefore unable to participate in the battle, received from his father the sacred trust of the Prophet’s household. Shi’i tradition relates that the Prophet’s arms, books, and other emblems of spiritual authority were entrusted to him.¹⁹ While the following day would witness the martyrdom of Husain, it would not extinguish the light of Divine guidance. The chain of the Imamate would continue through Imam Sajjad, ensuring that the spiritual legacy of Karbala remained alive.²⁰


The Children

No account of this sacred night is complete without recalling the children.

Ali Akbar awaited the dawn with complete submission.²¹

Qasim ibn Hasan anticipated the opportunity to fulfil his pledge. It was on this night that he opened the of his father and read his request: be my sacrifice on my brother.²²

Aun and Muhammad, the sons of Zainab, rested beside their mother and requesting her to allow them to sacrifice their lives on their uncle.²³

Little Sakina remained close to her father.²⁴

The six-month-old Ali Asghar slept peacefully, unaware that history would remember him as the youngest martyr of Karbala.²⁵


Poetry and Historical Memory

The emotional memory of these final hours has been preserved not only in chronicles but also in the devotional literature of Islam. Among the most moving Urdu nauhas is one which imagines Lady Rubab, affectionately remembered as Bano, cradling Ali Asghar in her arms on the eve of Ashura:

Kahtīn thīn Bāno Shab-e Āshūr, Asghar so raho,
Raat bhar kī zindagī hai, aao dilbar so raho.

“Bano would say on the Night of Ashura: Asghar, go to sleep. Only one night’s life remains. Come, my beloved, sleep.”²⁶

The succeeding verses become progressively more poignant. She embraces him tightly because tomorrow her lap will be empty. Today he sleeps in his mother’s arms; tomorrow he will rest beneath the sands of Karbala. She knows that the dust of Karbala will become his cradle.²⁷

Whether these precise words were ever uttered is beside the point. The nauha does not claim to be documentary history. It belongs to the realm of historical memory. Chronicles establish what occurred. Poetry enables successive generations to feel what those events meant. The historian and the poet therefore perform complementary tasks. One preserves the facts; the other preserves the tears.²⁸


The Meaning of Freedom

Shab-e Āshūr also offers one of the clearest lessons about the meaning of human freedom. Every individual who remained with Husain did so voluntarily. There was no promise of victory, no expectation of survival, and no worldly reward. Their choice sprang entirely from conscience.²⁹

For this reason, Karbala continues to resonate far beyond confessional boundaries. It demonstrates that moral greatness lies not in the certainty of success but in the willingness to uphold truth when success appears impossible.³⁰


Contemporary Observance

This explains why Shab-e Āshūr remains a living institution throughout the Muslim world. In Iraq, Iran, India, Pakistan, Lebanon, and countless other lands, believers remain awake throughout the night. They recite the Qur’an, listen to majālis, remember the martyrs, recite Ziyārat-e Āshūr, offer supplications and elegies, and spend the hours in reflection.³¹ Their purpose is not merely to commemorate a historical anniversary but to accompany Husain spiritually during the final night of his earthly life. Every generation seeks to spend, in its own humble way, the night that Husain spent in prayer.³²


Contemporary Relevance

For contemporary society, Shab-e Āshūr remains profoundly relevant. It teaches that resistance to injustice must be rooted in moral discipline. Political courage without spirituality easily becomes vengeance; spirituality without concern for justice becomes escapism. Husain united both. His worship gave meaning to his struggle, and his struggle gave practical expression to his worship.³³


Conclusion

As dawn finally approached, every farewell had been spoken. Every prayer had been offered. Every soul had surrendered itself to God. The battle had not yet begun, but its outcome had already been determined in the hearts of those who stood with Husain.

Shab-e Āshūr teaches that history is not changed only on battlefields. It is first transformed in the silence of prayer, in the freedom of conscience, in the embrace of a mother bidding farewell to her child, in the loyalty of companions who refuse to abandon their leader, and in the certainty of a family that places God’s pleasure above life itself.³⁴ Every event of the following day was born during the preceding night. The courage of Abbas, the sacrifice of Ali Akbar, the martyrdom of Ali Asghar, the steadfastness of Zainab, the survival of Imam Zain al-Abidin, and ultimately the immortality of Husain’s message all emerged from the spiritual preparations of Shab-e Āshūr.³⁵

It is therefore not merely the night before Ashura. It is the night in which eternity quietly descended upon Karbala. When dawn broke on the tenth of Muharram, the battle had not yet begun, but victory had already been won. The swords of the Umayyads could conquer bodies, but during the long hours of Shab-e Āshūr they had already lost the struggle for the human soul. That is why, after nearly fourteen centuries, believers still keep vigil on this blessed night. They know that before there was the sacrifice of Ashura, there was the worship of Shab-e Āshūr, and before there was the triumph of martyrdom, there was the triumph of faith.³⁶


References

  1. This statement is recorded in multiple early sources, including al-Tabari, Tarikh al-Rusul wa al-Muluk, vol. 5, p. 419; and al-Baladhuri, Ansab al-Ashraf, vol. 3, p. 182.
  2. M. Ayoub, Redemptive Suffering in Islam: A Study of the Devotional Aspects of Ashura in Twelver Shi’ism (The Hague: Mouton Publishers, 1978), p. 98.
  3. Abu Mikhnaf, Maqtal al-Husain, ed. and trans. I.K.A. Howard as The History of al-Tabari: The Caliphate of Yazid (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1990), vol. 19, p. 154; al-Tabari, Tarikh, vol. 5, p. 420; al-Baladhuri, Ansab, vol. 3, p. 183; al-Dinawari, al-Akhbar al-Tiwal (Cairo: Dar Ihya al-Kutub al-Arabiyya, 1960), p. 259; Shaykh al-Mufid, Kitab al-Irshad, trans. I.K.A. Howard (London: Muhammadi Trust, 1981), p. 322.
  4. Al-Tabari, Tarikh, vol. 5, p. 420; al-Mufid, al-Irshad, p. 322.
  5. S.H.M. Jafri, The Origins and Early Development of Shi’a Islam (London: Longman, 1979), p. 200.
  6. Al-Tabari, Tarikh, vol. 5, p. 421; al-Mufid, al-Irshad, p. 324.
  7. Ayoub, Redemptive Suffering, p. 102.
  8. T. al-Shibli, Karbala and the Imam’s Message (Qum: Ansariyan Publications, 2005), p. 87.
  9. Al-Tabari, Tarikh, vol. 5, p. 421; al-Baladhuri, Ansab, vol. 3, p. 184.
  10. Jafri, Origins and Early Development, p. 202.
  11. Al-Mufid, al-Irshad, p. 325.
  12. Abu Mikhnaf, Maqtal, trans. Howard, p. 156.
  13. Ibid., p. 157.
  14. Ibid., p. 158.
  15. Al-Tabari, Tarikh, vol. 5, p. 421; al-Mufid, al-Irshad, p. 325.
  16. Jafri, Origins and Early Development, p. 203.
  17. L. Takim, The Heirs of the Prophet: Charisma and Religious Authority in Shi’ite Islam (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2006), p. 78.
  18. Ayoub, Redemptive Suffering, p. 115; also see Z. Ali, The Role of Zainab in the Karbala Narrative (London: Islamic College, 2010), p. 45.
  19. Al-Mufid, al-Irshad, p. 326; H. Modarressi, Crisis and Consolidation in the Formative Period of Shi’ite Islam (Princeton: Darwin Press, 1993), p. 28.
  20. Jafri, Origins and Early Development, p. 205.
  21. Al-Mufid, al-Irshad, p. 328.
  22. Ibid., p. 329.
  23. Takim, Heirs of the Prophet, p. 80.
  24. Ayoub, Redemptive Suffering, p. 110.
  25. Al-Tabari, Tarikh, vol. 5, p. 430.
  26. This nauha appears in the South Asian marsiya tradition; for discussion, see S.A. Hyder, Reliving Karbala: Martyrdom in South Asian Memory (New York: Oxford University Press, 2006), p. 92.
  27. Hyder, Reliving Karbala, p. 94.
  28. See M. Fischer, Iran: From Religious Dispute to Revolution (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1980), pp. 120-125, on the relationship between historical chronicle and poetic memory in Shi’i tradition.
  29. Shibli, Karbala and the Imam’s Message, p. 92.
  30. Ayoub, Redemptive Suffering, p. 210.
  31. See N. Keddie, Iran: Religion, Politics and Society (London: Frank Cass, 1980), p. 45; also Hyder, Reliving Karbala, p. 112.
  32. Fischer, Iran, p. 128.
  33. Jafri, Origins and Early Development, p. 206; also see Ayoub, Redemptive Suffering, p. 198.
  34. Takim, Heirs of the Prophet, p. 84.
  35. Modarressi, Crisis and Consolidation, p. 32.
  36. Ayoub, Redemptive Suffering, p. 212; Shibli, Karbala and the Imam’s Message, p. 98.

The Thirst of Karbala: Water, Ali Asghar, and the Historical Memory of Ashura

Syed Ali Nadeem Rezavi

فرات بہہ رہی تھی مگر ظلم کی حد تھی
قطرہ نہ ملا پیاس بجھانے کو حسینؑ کو

“The Euphrates flowed, yet tyranny knew no bounds;
Not a single drop was given to quench Husain’s thirst.”

. Firaq Gorakhpuri

Among the many episodes that constitute the tragedy of Karbala, two have exercised an unparalleled influence upon the historical memory of Ashura: the thirst suffered by Imam Husain, his family, and his companions, and the martyrdom of his infant son, Ali Asghar. These are not merely emotional episodes added by later generations to intensify mourning. Rather, they lie at the heart of the Karbala narrative itself. They reveal the extent of the suffering endured by the Prophet’s family and expose the moral degradation of those who stood against them. Indeed, if the thirst of Karbala and the martyrdom of Ali Asghar are removed from the narrative, much of what makes Karbala a unique and universal tragedy is fundamentally altered.

The confrontation at Karbala was never simply a military encounter. History is filled with battles, rebellions, and political struggles. Karbala acquired its enduring significance because it combined resistance to tyranny with the suffering of the innocent. The image of thirsty children crying beside a flowing river and the image of an infant struck by an arrow while in his father’s arms transformed the events of Muharram 61 AH into a moral drama that continues to resonate across centuries and cultures.

The historical sources agree that after Imam Husain and his small band of followers were encamped at Karbala, the forces of ʿUbayd Allah ibn Ziyad gradually tightened their control over access to the Euphrates. The river flowed close to the camp, yet access to its waters was denied. Abu Mikhnaf’s account, preserved by al-Tabari, together with later works such as al-Mufid’s al-Irshad, consistently indicate that the Umayyad forces sought to weaken Husain’s position through a blockade of water.

The significance of this blockade cannot be overstated. Water in the desert is not merely a commodity. It is life itself. To deny water to women and children was regarded even by many contemporaries as an act of extraordinary cruelty. As the days passed, thirst spread throughout the camp. The cries of the children became increasingly desperate. Their repeated plea, al-atash, al-atash – ‘thirst, thirst’ – echoed through the tents and entered the collective memory of generations of mourners.

The companions of Husain bore this suffering with remarkable fortitude. Their heroism consisted not merely in facing the enemy but in doing so while weakened by thirst and exhaustion. They fought with parched throats, knowing that relief was unlikely to come. Their struggle was therefore both physical and moral.

Among the most moving episodes associated with this suffering is that of Ali Akbar, the young son of Imam Husain. After fighting courageously, he is said to have returned to his father and complained of the severity of thirst. In the devotional literature of Ashura, this moment has been immortalised by the image of Ali Akbar observing the condition of Husain himself and remarking that his father’s tongue had become as dry as a thorn. Whether one accepts every detail of these later narrations or not, they reflect a historical memory deeply rooted in the experience of thirst.

The suffering of the camp reached its most dramatic expression in the mission undertaken by Abu al-Fadl al-Abbas. Abbas occupies a unique place in the memory of Karbala because he embodied loyalty, courage, and self-sacrifice. His greatest achievement was not the defeat of enemies but his determination to bring water to the thirsty children.

Responding to their cries, Abbas broke through the enemy lines and reached the Euphrates. Tradition remembers that although he himself was desperately thirsty, he refused to drink before the children of Husain had received water. Filling a water-skin, he began the journey back to the camp. Realising the importance of his mission, the enemy concentrated its attack upon him. His right arm was severed. He continued carrying the water-skin with his left hand. Then his left arm was cut off as well. The water-skin was pierced, and the precious water spilled onto the sands of Karbala. Moments later Abbas himself fell, mortally wounded.

The significance of this episode rests entirely upon the reality of thirst. Abbas’s sacrifice would be incomprehensible if water had been readily available within the camp. His martyrdom became a symbol of the desperate struggle to secure life-giving water for the vulnerable members of Husain’s household.

If Abbas represents the tragedy of thirst, Ali Asghar represents the tragedy of innocence.

The six-month-old child was incapable of understanding the conflict unfolding around him. According to the widely accepted account preserved in both historical and devotional traditions, Imam Husain brought the infant before the opposing army and appealed to their humanity. If they regarded Husain as their enemy, surely the child was blameless. Let him at least be given water.

The response was an arrow.

The infant was struck by a three pronged arrow (tīr e seh shoba) fired by Harmala ibn Kahil and died in the arms of his father. In the devotional memory of Shi’i Islam, the image is made even more poignant because the arrow is said to have pierced the child’s dry throat.

The symbolism is unmistakable. The thirsty infant was not given water. He was given death.

It is these twin realities – thirst and innocence violated – that give Karbala much of its moral force. They transform the conflict from a political confrontation into a universal indictment of tyranny and injustice.

For this reason, twentieth-century attempts to reinterpret these events generated considerable controversy. Among the most distinguished Shi’i scholars of South Asia was Allama Saiyid Ali Naqi Naqqan. Renowned for his scholarship and intellectual rigour, he frequently sought to distinguish between historical fact and devotional embellishment. Discussions attributed to him regarding the thirst of Karbala and the martyrdom of Ali Asghar became the subject of debate among later scholars.

Saiyid Ali Naqi, in his book Shahīd-e Insaniat, which he drafted in the early 1950s, wrote that water was available in the camp of Husain. Before going out for the ultimate battle, he performed wuzu (ablutions). Unfortunately, he did not cite any evidence or sources for this view.

One of the principal responses came from Saiyid Sibtul Hasan in his work Izhar-e Haqiqat (‘Manifestation of the Truth’), where he examined and criticised interpretations that, in his view, diminished the established understanding of the suffering endured at Karbala. His argument was rooted not only in historical reports but also in Islamic jurisprudence, ethics, and the testimony preserved through the Ahl al-Bayt.

According to Sibtul Hasan, the expression qaht-e ab (‘water deprivation’) did not require the absolute absence of every drop of water. Rather, it referred to a condition in which access to sufficient water for survival had been denied. The historical memory of Karbala, he argued, consistently portrays the camp as suffering from severe thirst caused by the blockade imposed by the Umayyad forces.

Drawing upon principles of Islamic law, Sibtul Hasan further argued that when human life is endangered by thirst, the preservation of life takes precedence over ritual purification. In such circumstances, tayammum replaces wuzu and ghusl. Therefore, any interpretation suggesting the availability of water for ritual purposes while children remained thirsty would raise serious ethical and legal difficulties.

In one of his articles published in a journal, Saiyid Ali Naqi made his second bizarre claim: that the massacre of the infant Ali Asghar was an ‘inadvertent accident’, a hādisa. The arrow of Harmala was meant for Husain, but unintentionally struck Ali Asghar.

With regard to Ali Asghar, Sibtul Hasan maintained that the traditional account of the infant’s martyrdom occupies a central place in the remembrance of Ashura because it illustrates the suffering of the most innocent victim of the conflict. The significance of the episode lies not merely in the death of a child but in the moral message conveyed by the event as preserved in Shi’i historical and devotional literature.

He also pointed to the recollections attributed to Imam Zain al-Abidin and Lady Zainab, whose speeches and lamentations repeatedly emphasise the thirst endured by the family of the Prophet. For Sibtul Hasan, these testimonies formed an essential part of the transmitted memory of Karbala and could not easily be set aside.

In the face of rising criticisms and condemnations, Naqqan ultimately verbally explained that he was actually citing another author.

The debate therefore extended beyond questions of historical detail. It concerned the interpretation of Karbala itself and the meaning attached to its most enduring symbols.

If the thirst of the camp is minimised, the sacrifice of Abbas loses much of its significance.

If the death of Ali Asghar is transformed into an accident, one of the most powerful symbols of innocence martyred by tyranny disappears.

If both are weakened, Karbala risks becoming little more than another political conflict in early Islamic history.

Yet Karbala has never been remembered as an ordinary battle.

It is remembered because thirsty children cried for water beside a flowing river.

It is remembered because Abbas gave his life attempting to bring them relief.

It is remembered because a father carried an infant before an army and asked not for power or victory, but simply for water.

And it is remembered because the answer to that plea was an arrow.

For fourteen centuries the cry of al-atash and the image of Ali Asghar have remained at the centre of Ashura’s historical memory. They remind humanity that the greatest tragedies are not measured merely by the deaths of heroes but by the suffering inflicted upon the innocent. It is for this reason that the thirst of Karbala and the martyrdom of Ali Asghar continue to define the moral and emotional landscape of Ashura, ensuring that Karbala remains not simply an event of the past but an enduring symbol of resistance to injustice and oppression.


Selected References

Abu Mikhnaf, Maqtal al-Husain (preserved in al-Tabari).
Al-Mufid, Kitab al-Irshad.
Al-Tabari, Tarikh al-Rusul wa’l-Muluk.
Mahmoud M. Ayoub, Redemptive Suffering in Islam (1978).
Peter J. Chelkowski (ed.), Ta’ziyeh: Ritual and Drama in Iran (1979).
Syed Akbar Hyder, Reliving Karbala: Martyrdom in South Asian Memory (2006).
Moojan Momen, An Introduction to Shi’i Islam (1985).
David Pinault, Horse of Karbala: Muslim Devotional Life in India (2001).
Vernon James Schubel, Religious Performance in Contemporary Islam (1993).
Saiyid Ali Naqi Naqqan, Mujahida-i Karbala.
Saiyid Ali Naqi Naqqan, Shahīd-e Insaniat.
Saiyid Sibtul Hasan, Izhar-e Haqiqat.

Karbala and the Indian Freedom Movement: How Imam Husain Inspired the Struggle Against Colonial Rule

Syed Ali Nadeem Rezavi

Let us start with the second part of the series which I have started on Karbala. By now you must have understood that it is directed towards the uninitiated and those who have forgotten as to what Karbala stands for or contributed. Today I will deal with Karbala and our National Movement.

The influence of Imam Husain and the tragedy of Karbala upon the Indian freedom movement has often been acknowledged in popular memory, but less frequently examined through authenticated historical sources. In recent decades, numerous quotations have circulated on social media and in public speeches attributing statements to Mahatma Gandhi, Jawaharlal Nehru, and other national leaders regarding Imam Husain. While many of these sentiments are consistent with the views of those leaders, historians must distinguish between popular attributions and verifiable documentary evidence.

This essay therefore relies, as far as possible, on authenticated statements found in primary sources such as The Collected Works of Mahatma Gandhi, the writings and speeches of Maulana Abul Kalam Azad, contemporary nationalist newspapers, the speeches of the Ali brothers, the poetry of Sarojini Naidu, Muhammad Iqbal, and Hasrat Mohani, and the wider literary traditions of Urdu and Indian nationalist discourse. Where a quotation is widely circulated but cannot be firmly traced to a reliable source, it is either omitted or identified as an unverified attribution. Such caution is particularly important when writing about figures who have become subjects of national memory and public reverence.

The story of Karbala occupies a unique place in world history. In 680 CE, Imam Husain ibn Ali, the grandson of the Prophet Muhammad, refused to recognise the authority of the Umayyad ruler Yazid, whom he regarded as morally and politically illegitimate. Accompanied by members of his family and a small group of followers, Husain journeyed towards Kufa but was intercepted on the plain of Karbala. There, after being denied access to water and surrounded by a vastly superior force, he and his companions were martyred.

The significance of Karbala lies not in military victory but in moral triumph. Husain’s refusal to submit to injustice transformed him into an enduring symbol of conscience, sacrifice, and resistance. Across centuries and continents, oppressed peoples have found inspiration in his example. In colonial India, where millions struggled against foreign domination, the memory of Karbala acquired particular resonance.

The Indian encounter with Karbala had deep historical roots. Muharram commemorations had become an integral part of South Asian culture. As scholars such as Athar Abbas Rizvi, Saiyid Sibtul Hasan, David Pinault, Vernon Schubel, Justin Jones, Syed Akbar Hyder, and others have demonstrated, Muharram in India often transcended sectarian and communal boundaries. Hindus, Muslims, Sikhs, and others participated in processions, sponsored tazias, and attended majalis. Karbala thus entered the shared cultural vocabulary of the subcontinent. Indeed, this very tradition of Muharram Tazia processions, with their powerful visual evocation of sacrifice and resistance, directly inspired the introduction of the Ganesh festival in Maharashtra by Bal Gangadhar Tilak and his associates. Gokhale and other nationalist leaders recognised that the public processions associated with Muharram provided an effective model for mobilising popular sentiment and fostering communal solidarity in the cause of national awakening.

Equally important was the contribution of Urdu literature. The marsiyas of Mir Anis and Mirza Dabeer transformed Karbala into a vivid moral drama. Their works emphasised courage, loyalty, sacrifice, and steadfastness in the face of overwhelming odds. Long before the emergence of organised nationalism, these poets had already familiarised generations of Indians with the ethical lessons of Karbala.

Among the most remarkable literary responses to Karbala by a non-Muslim Indian nationalist was Sarojini Naidu’s poem The Imam Bara of Lucknow, written in 1915. Witnessing a Muharram procession in Lucknow, Naidu was deeply moved by the spectacle of collective mourning and the enduring memory of Husain. She described the mourners emerging from the shadows of the Imambara into the sunlight:

“Out of the sombre shadows,
Over the sunlit grass,
Slow in a sad procession,
The shadowy pageants pass;
Mournful, majestic and solemn,
Stricken, pale and dumb,
Crowned in their peerless anguish,
The sacred martyrs come.”

The image is powerful. The mourners, dressed in black and moving beneath the blazing sun, appear transformed into the martyrs themselves. Their grief is profound, yet they remain majestic. Naidu’s description of Husain and his companions as “sacred martyrs” and their suffering as “peerless anguish” constitutes one of the finest tributes paid by a non-Muslim poet to Karbala. She further wrote:

“Hark, from the brooding silence
Breaks the wild cry of pain
Wrung from the heart of ages,
Ali! Hassan! Hussain!”

For Naidu, Karbala was not merely a historical tragedy. It was a wound carried by humanity itself. The cries of “Ali! Hassan! Hussain!” represented the sorrow of civilisations remembering the suffering of truth at the hands of oppression.

The poem reaches its philosophical climax when Naidu reflects upon the permanence of Husain’s message:

“Love! let the living sunlight
Kindle your splendid eyes
Ablaze with the steadfast triumph
Of the spirit that never dies.”

Here lies the essence of Karbala. Husain’s victory was not military but moral. Yazid possessed armies, wealth, and political authority. Yet it is Husain who remains the symbol of justice and courage, while the empire of his adversary survives only as a historical memory. Naidu recognised that Karbala represented the triumph of principle over power. Her final appeal was equally profound:

“So may hope of new ages
Comfort the mystic pain
That cries from the ancient silence,
Ali! Hassan! Hussain!”

She described Karbala as a “mystic pain”, not simply because a noble man had been killed, but because truth itself had suffered. Yet she also believed that future generations would continue Husain’s struggle and that one day justice would prevail over tyranny. In this respect, her interpretation closely anticipated the manner in which Indian nationalists would later draw inspiration from Karbala during the struggle against colonial rule.

Following the Revolt of 1857, the language of Karbala increasingly appeared in discussions of political oppression and resistance. The suffering experienced by Indians under colonial rule was often expressed through imagery drawn from Muharram traditions. The martyrdom of Husain became a metaphor through which many could understand their own historical condition.

The political significance of Karbala became particularly evident during the Khilafat and Non-Cooperation movements. Leaders such as Maulana Mohammad Ali Jauhar and Maulana Shaukat Ali repeatedly invoked Imam Husain as an example of resistance to illegitimate authority. Their speeches drew parallels between the struggle against colonial domination and Husain’s refusal to compromise with tyranny. Mohammad Ali Jauhar’s own political life reflected these ideals. His famous declaration, “I would prefer to die in a foreign land rather than return to a slave country,” expressed the same spirit of honour and defiance that many associated with Karbala. Although the statement does not mention Husain directly, the intellectual and emotional influence of Karbala upon Jauhar’s political thought is unmistakable.

Among the leaders of the freedom movement, Mahatma Gandhi occupies a special place in discussions of Karbala. Numerous quotations are popularly attributed to Gandhi, including the often repeated claim that he “learnt from Husain how to achieve victory while being oppressed.” Despite its popularity, historians have not been able to locate this statement in Gandhi’s authenticated writings. It should therefore be treated with caution.

What can be stated with certainty is that Gandhi held Imam Husain in profound regard. His collected writings contain several explicit references to Hasan and Husain. In one passage Gandhi observed:

“Imam Hasan and Hussein refused to acknowledge the authority of Yazid, for it would have been wrong to do so. For this reason, in order to preserve their honour, they became martyrs.”

Elsewhere he wrote:

“When called upon to surrender, they refused. They knew at the time that this would mean death for them. If they were to submit to injustice, they would disgrace their manhood and betray their religion.”

In another striking passage he remarked:

“The true Kshatriya does not kill but receives blows on himself. Imam Hussain and Hasan were Kshatriyas. Their oppressor was a tyrant.”

These authenticated statements reveal Gandhi’s effort to present Husain as a universal moral exemplar rather than as a figure confined to one religious tradition. By describing Hasan and Husain as ideal Kshatriyas, Gandhi translated the ethical message of Karbala into a language that could be appreciated by all Indians.

The parallels between Karbala and Gandhi’s doctrine of satyagraha are striking. Both emphasised moral courage over physical force, sacrifice over submission, and fidelity to truth over worldly success. Gandhi repeatedly argued that true victory belongs not to those who wield power but to those who remain faithful to their principles. This understanding closely mirrors the traditional interpretation of Husain’s martyrdom.

Maulana Abul Kalam Azad likewise drew inspiration from Karbala. Throughout his speeches and writings, Azad emphasised that Husain consciously chose the path of sacrifice in order to preserve truth and justice. For Azad, Karbala demonstrated that the survival of moral principles often depends upon individuals willing to place conscience above personal safety.

Jawaharlal Nehru, though writing from a secular nationalist perspective, also recognised the broader significance of Karbala. Nehru’s vision of India rested upon the idea of a shared civilisational heritage in which figures from different religious traditions belonged to the collective memory of the nation. In this framework, Imam Husain represented not merely an Islamic hero but a universal symbol of resistance against oppression.

The revolutionary poet Hasrat Mohani found in Karbala a model for uncompromising political action. One of the earliest advocates of complete independence, Mohani regarded resistance to injustice as a moral obligation. The spirit of Karbala permeated both his poetry and his politics.

The influence of Karbala upon Indian nationalism can also be seen in the works of Muhammad Iqbal. Although Iqbal’s political thought evolved over time, his poetry consistently celebrated Husain as a symbol of spiritual freedom and moral resistance. His famous verse:

Mūsā-o-Fir’aun, Shabbīr-o-Yazīd
Zindagī hai jang in mukhtalif tāqatōn ke darmiyān

(موسیٰ و فرعون، شبیر و یزید
زندگی ہے جنگ ان مختلف طاقتوں کے درمیان)

translated as “Musa and Pharaoh, Shabbir and Yazid; life is the struggle between these opposing forces,” transformed Karbala into a universal metaphor for the eternal conflict between justice and tyranny.

Likewise, his description of Husain as:

Imām-e ‘Āshiqān, Peshwā-ye Āzādgān
(امام عاشقان، پیشوائے آزادگان)

or “The leader of lovers and the guide of the free,” helped establish Husain as a symbol of liberty for modern generations.

One of the most remarkable features of Karbala’s role in the freedom movement was its ability to transcend communal boundaries. Muharram processions across India often attracted participation from multiple religious communities. Many Hindus regarded Husain as a martyr for justice. In numerous towns and villages, local traditions evolved in which Karbala became part of a shared cultural inheritance rather than the exclusive possession of any one community. The inspiration drawn from these processions by Gokhale and Tilak for the Ganesh festival stands as a testament to the creative appropriation of Karbala’s cultural forms for broader nationalist purposes.

This broader appeal explains why references to Karbala frequently appeared in nationalist speeches, newspapers, public meetings, and literary works. The imprisoned activist, the student facing repression, the peasant resisting exploitation, and the political leader confronting colonial authority could all identify with the example of Husain’s steadfastness in the face of overwhelming power.

The Indian freedom movement drew strength from many intellectual and moral traditions. The Bhagavad Gita, the teachings of the Buddha, the example of Guru Gobind Singh, the message of the Sufi saints, and the memory of Karbala all contributed to its ethical foundations. Among these influences, however, Karbala occupied a unique place because it offered a powerful example of resistance without compromise, sacrifice without expectation of reward, and courage without hope of worldly victory.

The enduring relevance of Imam Husain to the Indian freedom movement lay in the universal values that his life embodied. His stand at Karbala demonstrated that truth is not determined by numbers, that justice does not depend upon power, and that moral courage can outlive armies and empires. For generations of Indians struggling against colonial rule, this lesson provided inspiration and hope.

The British Empire eventually disappeared from the subcontinent. The memory of Husain did not. That fact alone illustrates the central message of Karbala. Power may triumph temporarily, but principles endure. It was this enduring lesson that inspired many of India’s freedom fighters and ensured that the name of Imam Husain remained a beacon of resistance, dignity, and justice in the long struggle for independence.


Select Sources

Abul Kalam Azad, India Wins Freedom and collected speeches.

Athar Abbas Rizvi, A Socio-Intellectual History of the Isna Ashari Shi’is in India.

David Pinault, Horse of Karbala: Muslim Devotional Life in India.

Mahatma Gandhi, The Collected Works of Mahatma Gandhi (relevant references to Imam Hasan and Imam Husain).

Sarojini Naidu, The Bird of Time (1912; later editions), especially “The Imam Bara of Lucknow.”

Saiyid Sibtul Hasan, Tarikh-e Azadari.

Syed Akbar Hyder, Reliving Karbala: Martyrdom in South Asian Memory.

Justin Jones, Shi’a Islam in Colonial India.

Vernon James Schubel, Religious Performance in Contemporary Islam: Shi’i Devotional Rituals in South Asia.

Selected speeches and writings of Mohammad Ali Jauhar, Shaukat Ali, and Hasrat Mohani.

Poetry of Mir Anis, Mirza Dabeer, and Muhammad Iqbal.

The Message and Mission of Husain

Syed Ali Nadeem Rezavi

I see nothing but happiness in martyrdom, and life with oppressors as nothing but misery.”
— Imam Husain ibn Ali

Since the commencement of Muharram this year, we have reflected upon many dimensions of the tragedy of Karbala. We have written about the companions of Imam Husain, the women and children who shared his suffering, the role of Zainab in preserving the memory of Ashura, the universal brotherhood represented in his camp, the educational role of Muharram, and the enduring influence of Karbala on literature, culture, and political thought. In truth, the message of Imam Husain is embedded in all these themes. Each aspect of Karbala is but a window through which one glimpses a larger moral vision.

Before proceeding in the coming days to examine other dimensions of Muharram and the legacy of the Ahl al-Bayt, it is useful to pause and ask a fundamental question: What was the message and mission of Husain himself? Why does his name continue to move hearts and inspire consciences more than thirteen centuries after his martyrdom? Why is it that a small band of men, women, and children who perished on a remote desert plain continue to command the admiration of millions across the world?

The answer lies in the fact that Karbala was never merely a historical event. It was a moral revolution. It was a declaration that truth must be upheld even when defeat appears certain, that conscience must never be surrendered to power, and that human dignity is worth more than life itself. The struggle of Imam Husain was not for a throne, a kingdom, or worldly authority. It was a struggle to preserve the ethical and spiritual foundations of Islam and, in doing so, to provide a timeless example for all humanity.

To understand Husain’s mission, one must appreciate the circumstances in which he lived. He was the beloved grandson of the Prophet Muhammad, the son of Imam Ali and Fatima al-Zahra, and a member of the Prophet’s household, whose virtues were repeatedly extolled by the Prophet himself. Husain grew up witnessing Islam not merely as a system of rituals but as a moral order founded upon justice, compassion, accountability, and service to humanity.

When Mu’awiya died in 680 CE and his son Yazid assumed power, Husain was confronted with a momentous choice. Yazid demanded allegiance from the leading figures of the Muslim community. To many, this may have appeared a routine political matter. To Husain, however, it was a question of moral legitimacy. He believed that acquiescence would amount to endorsing a system that had reduced the caliphate from a moral trust into hereditary kingship. To remain silent would be to betray the values for which his grandfather and father had struggled. Husain therefore refused to submit. Yet his refusal was not motivated by political ambition. Had power been his objective, he could have reached an accommodation with the ruling regime and enjoyed wealth, comfort, and influence. Instead, he consciously chose a path that he knew would lead to suffering and death.

His own words explain his purpose: “I did not rise out of arrogance, pride, corruption, or oppression. I rose only to seek reform in the community of my grandfather. I desire to enjoin what is right and forbid what is wrong.”

These words constitute the manifesto of Karbala. Husain did not rise to conquer territory. He rose to restore moral consciousness. He understood that religion without justice becomes hollow, and that faith divorced from ethical responsibility loses its meaning. His mission was therefore one of reform, accountability, and the awakening of conscience. This emphasis on conscience is perhaps the most enduring aspect of Husain’s message. Karbala teaches that every individual possesses the freedom and responsibility to distinguish right from wrong. Throughout the tragedy, the central issue was not tribal affiliation, political loyalty, or military strength. The real question was whether one would stand with truth or with power.

The companions of Husain embody this principle. Many of them were not related to him by blood. Some came from tribes that had no historical association with the Prophet’s family. Others had once been sympathetic to opposing political camps. Yet when confronted with the choice between justice and expediency, they chose justice. Among them was Zuhair ibn Qayn, who had initially avoided meeting Husain but ultimately became one of his most devoted supporters. There was Jawn (John), the elderly freed African companion who insisted on fighting alongside Husain despite being released from any obligation to do so. There were former slaves, tribal chiefs, young men in the prime of life, and elderly companions approaching the end of their days. Karbala brought together people of different backgrounds and social positions in a common commitment to truth.

This diversity reveals an important dimension of Husain’s mission. Karbala was not an Arab struggle, nor a family dispute within Quraysh. It was a universal movement. In the camp of Husain stood Arabs and non-Arabs, free men and former slaves, nobles and commoners. The movement represented humanity in miniature. Its message was addressed not to one tribe or one community but to all people. Equally significant was the role of the youth. Ali Akbar, Qasim ibn Hasan, Aun and Muhammad, and many other young participants demonstrated extraordinary courage. They remind us that moral greatness is not determined by age. Karbala teaches that the young are capable of profound ethical insight and immense sacrifice when guided by noble ideals.

The presence of children deepens this lesson. Sakina, Ruqayya, and the infant Ali Asghar stand among the most poignant figures of Karbala. Their suffering transformed the tragedy from a political conflict into a universal human drama. The image of an infant struck by an arrow while seeking water has moved generations because it exposes the cruelty of oppression in its starkest form. Yet the message of Husain is not confined to those who stood with him. Karbala also compels us to reflect upon those who failed him. Many people in Kufa knew that Husain represented justice. They had invited him to come. They had pledged their support. Yet when confronted with threats and intimidation, most abandoned him. This is one of the most uncomfortable but important lessons of Karbala. Tyranny survives not only because of tyrants but because ordinary people choose silence. The tragedy teaches that neutrality in moments of moral crisis is itself a choice. The people of Kufa did not kill Husain with their swords alone. Many helped create the conditions for his martyrdom through fear, hesitation, and inaction. Karbala therefore speaks not only about the crimes of oppressors but also about the responsibilities of bystanders. Every generation must ask itself whether it resembles the small group that stood with Husain or the much larger crowd that remained silent.

The mission of Husain cannot be understood without acknowledging the extraordinary role of the women of Karbala. If Husain gave the movement its blood, Zainab gave it its voice. Following the massacre, it was Zainab who assumed leadership of the survivors. She comforted the bereaved, protected the children, and confronted the victorious authorities. Her speeches in Kufa and Damascus rank among the most powerful acts of resistance in history. Standing as a captive before the rulers responsible for her family’s suffering, she refused to be intimidated. Instead, she transformed captivity into a platform for truth. The survival of Karbala’s message owes as much to Zainab as to those who fell on the battlefield. Without her courage and eloquence, the tragedy might have been reduced to a forgotten military episode. Through her words and actions, it became an enduring moral narrative. The role of the women and children also reminds us that Karbala was not solely a battlefield encounter. It was a struggle involving entire families. The sacrifices of Sakina, Rubab, Umm Kulthum, Fizza, and countless others demonstrate that resistance to oppression is not confined to warriors. The moral courage shown by the women of Karbala was no less significant than the physical courage displayed by its martyrs.

At its deepest level, Husain’s mission was a defence of human dignity. His famous refusal to accept humiliation has inspired people far beyond the Muslim world. Mahatma Gandhi saw in Husain’s sacrifice a model for resisting injustice. Jawaharlal Nehru described him as a symbol of courage and steadfastness. Muhammad Ali Jinnah admired his moral example. The historian Thomas Carlyle regarded Karbala as proof that true victory belongs not to those who possess armies but to those who possess conviction. Such admiration arises because the message of Husain transcends religious boundaries. One need not be Muslim to appreciate the principles for which he stood. Truthfulness, justice, courage, sacrifice, and resistance to oppression are values recognised by all civilisations.

This universality explains why Karbala has inspired such a vast literary and cultural tradition. In the Persian-speaking world, it gave rise to devotional poetry, passion plays, and historical narratives. In South Asia, poets such as Anees and Dabeer transformed Karbala into one of the greatest traditions of Urdu literature. Modern writers, including progressive poets and intellectuals, continue to invoke Husain as a symbol of resistance against tyranny and injustice. Indeed, every Muharram reminds us that Karbala is not merely remembered; it is relived. The majlis, the nauha, the marsiya, the procession, the distribution of food and water, and the gathering of communities all serve to renew the values for which Husain stood. Muharram functions as a living school that educates minds, shapes consciences, and transmits ethical ideals from one generation to the next.

Ultimately, the mission of Husain was to preserve the moral essence of religion. He demonstrated that faith is not measured by outward displays of piety alone but by one’s willingness to stand for justice when doing so carries a cost. He showed that numbers do not determine truth, that power does not confer legitimacy, and that sacrifice in the cause of righteousness can prove more enduring than the victories of kings. This is why Husain remains alive in human memory while the empires that opposed him have largely faded into history. The battlefield of Karbala lasted only a few hours. Its moral impact has endured for more than thirteen centuries. For this reason, Allama Ali Naqi Naqqan aptly described him as Shahid-e-Insaniyat, the Martyr of Humanity. Husain belongs not merely to one sect, one nation, or one historical period. He belongs to every age in which people confront injustice, every society in which conscience struggles against power, and every individual who seeks to live with dignity rather than submission.

The enduring message of Husain can therefore be summarised in a simple but profound proposition: there are values more precious than life itself. Truth, justice, honour, and conscience are among them. When these values are threatened, silence becomes complicity and resistance becomes duty. That was the mission of Husain at Karbala. That remains the message of Husain today. And that is why his name continues to illuminate hearts and consciences across the world, generation after generation.