Karbala 2015

I was a little put out at the idea of coming here before seeing Ameerul Momineen in Najaf. That's how I've always seen Iraq. Kadhmain, Samarrah, Najaf, Karbala. I'm here now and I'll tell you it was perfect. 

Everything in life happens the way it doesn't because that's how it's meant to be. 

We walked the final 4km towards Karbala, barefoot. We walked, we talked, we saw, we felt, we watched. Seeing the sunset is a favourite moment. Something you never see in London. So I treasure every element of the myriad of sky shades here. I listened, even made requests. It was different to my last walk, in many ways, but Murtaza Bandali reciting, watching the man that's led my Amal for years, live. I mean live. Was something else. People see fear in your stance here and grab your hand. It's the land where the air breathes Husayn. Not just anywhere. I wasn't alone. No ones alone. They won't let you be alone. Husayn as never lets anyone alone. That's not his style, his way, his persona. 

I say persona, when you arrive in Karbala you will see, feel and understand. It's something words can't comprehend. If words could do justice to the power of Husayn, the feeling of Karbala, I'd be the wrong person to describe it. I'm no one, nothing, insignificant compared to Husayn, Karbala, to what this is. 

I'll be honest I came on this trip to see Abbas. Abbas. My birth right to me is sharing his day. I came to tell the Alamdaar of Husayn's army my issues. My problems. My drama. When I saw his dome, a realisation hit me. He owes me nothing. I was struck by such emotion, that I can only describe as awe. He stands tall till today. No one can take his stance away. The answer to the dua of Imam Ali as. Now I need you to stop and think. The answer, the fulfilment of the dua of Ameerul Momineen. I'm not saying, the answer of any old persons Dua. This is the lion of Allah. Haider. The man the ka'ba split at the seems for. Can you for one moment comprehend who this man is. That's Abbas. Abbas son of Ameerul Momineen. The son of Ummul Baneen. The hope the aas of Zaynab as, and to think you'll see him, feel him, speak to him. Abbas son of Ameerul Momineen. The thing that strikes me most is the love. You never think Abbas, alam without Sakina. She was just a young child. You remember her musical when you see him. You think Husayn, you think Ali, you think Zaynab, Ummul banin, Fatemah Zahra as. Abbas never comes alone. He comes with a arsenal of thoughts. That's who I came to see!