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| Karbila, circa 1930s |
In those days Siyyid Kázim became increasingly aware of the
approach of the Hour at which the promised One [the Báb] was to be revealed. He
realised how dense were those veils that hindered the seekers from apprehending
the glory of the concealed Manifestation. He accordingly exerted his utmost
endeavour to remove gradually, with caution and wisdom, whatever barriers might
stand in the way of the full recognition of that Hidden Treasure of God.
He repeatedly urged his disciples to bear in mind the fact
that He whose advent they were expecting would appear neither from Jabúlqá nor
from Jabúlsá.’ [1] He even hinted at His presence in their very midst:
“You behold Him with your own eyes,” he often observed, “and
yet recognise Him not!”
To his disciples who questioned him regarding the signs of
the Manifestation, he would say:
“He is of noble lineage. He is a descendant of the Prophet
of God, of the family of Háshim. [2] He is young in age, and is possessed of
innate knowledge. His learning is derived, not from the teachings of Shaykh
Ahmad, [his master] but from God. My knowledge is but a drop compared with the
immensity of His knowledge; my attainments a speck of dust in the face of the
wonders of His grace and power. Nay, immeasurable is the difference. He is of
medium height, abstains from smoking, and is of extreme devoutness and
piety.”
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| Siyyid Kazim |
Shaykh Hasan-i-Zunúzí, [one of his disciples] himself,
informed me [Nabil] that he too entertained such doubts, that he prayed to God
that if his supposition was well founded he should be confirmed in his belief,
and if not that he should be delivered from such idle fancy.
“I was so perturbed,” he once related to me, “that for days
I could neither eat nor sleep. My days were spent in the service of Siyyid
Kázim, to whom I was greatly attached.
One day, at the hour of dawn, I was suddenly awakened by
Mullá Naw-rúz, one of his intimate attendants, who, in great excitement, bade
me arise and follow him. We went to the house of Siyyid Kázim, where we found
him fully dressed, wearing his ‘abá, and ready to leave his home. He asked me to
accompany him. ‘A highly esteemed and distinguished Person,’ he said, ‘has
arrived. I feel it incumbent upon us both to visit Him.’
The morning light had just broken when I found myself
walking with him through the streets of Karbilá. We soon reached a house, at
the door of which stood a Youth, as if expectant to receive us. He wore a green
turban, and His countenance revealed an expression of humility and kindliness
which I can never describe. He quietly approached us, extended His arms towards
Siyyid Kázim, and lovingly embraced him. His affability and loving-kindness
singularly contrasted with the sense of profound reverence that characterised
the attitude of Siyyid Kázim towards him. Speechless and with bowed head, he
received the many expressions of affection and esteem with which that Youth
greeted him.
We were soon led by Him to the upper floor of that house,
and entered a chamber bedecked with flowers and redolent of the loveliest
perfume. He bade us be seated. We knew not, however, what seats we actually
occupied, so overpowering was the sense of delight which seized us. We observed
a silver cup which had been placed in the centre of the room, which our
youthful Host, soon after we were seated, filled to overflowing, and handed to
Siyyid Kázim, saying: ‘A drink of a pure beverage shall their Lord give
them.’ Siyyid Kázim held the cup with
both hands and quaffed it. A feeling of reverent joy filled his being, a
feeling which he could not suppress. I too was presented with a cupful of that
beverage, though no words were addressed to me. All that was spoken at that
memorable gathering was the above-mentioned verse of the Qur’án. Soon after,
the Host arose from His seat and, accompanying us to the threshold of the
house, bade us farewell.
I was mute with wonder, and knew not how to express the
cordiality of His welcome, the dignity of His bearing, the charm of that face,
and the delicious fragrance of that beverage. How great was my amazement when I
saw my teacher quaff without the least hesitation that holy draught from a
silver cup, the use of which, according to the precepts of Islám, is forbidden
to the faithful. I could not explain the motive which could have induced the
Siyyid to manifest such profound reverence in the presence of that Youth—a
reverence which even the sight of the shrine of the Siyyidu’sh-Shuhada’ [Imam
Husayn] had failed to excite.
Three days later, I saw that same Youth arrive and take His
seat in the midst of the company of the assembled disciples of Siyyid Kázim. He
sat close to the threshold, and with the same modesty and dignity of bearing
listened to the discourse of the Siyyid. As soon as his eyes fell upon that
Youth, the Siyyid discontinued his address and held his peace. Whereupon one of
his disciples begged him to resume the argument which he had left unfinished.
‘What more shall I say?’ replied Siyyid Kázim, as he turned
his face toward the Báb. ‘Lo, the Truth is more manifest than the ray of light
that has fallen upon that lap!’
I immediately observed that the ray to which the Siyyid
referred had fallen upon the lap of that same Youth whom we had recently
visited.
‘Why is it,’ that questioner enquired, ‘that you neither
reveal His name nor identify His person?’
To this the Siyyid replied by pointing with his finger to
his own throat, implying that were he to divulge His name, they both would be
put to death instantly.
This added still further to my perplexity. I had already
heard my teacher observe that so great is the perversity of this generation,
that were he to point with his finger to the promised One and say: ‘He indeed
is the Beloved, the Desire of your hearts and mine,’ they would still fail to
recognise and acknowledge Him. I saw the Siyyid actually point out with his
finger the ray of light that had fallen on that lap, and yet none among those
who were present seemed to apprehend its meaning. I, for my part, was convinced
that the Siyyid himself could never be the promised One, but that a mystery
inscrutable to us all, lay concealed in that strange and attractive Youth.
Several times I ventured to approach Siyyid Kázim and seek
from him an elucidation of this mystery. Every time I approached him, I was
overcome by a sense of awe which his personality so powerfully inspired.
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| Shrine of Imam Husayn in Karbila, cica 1930s |
Many a time I heard him remark: ‘O Shaykh Hasan, rejoice
that your name is Hasan [praiseworthy]; Hasan your beginning, and Hasan your
end. You have been privileged to attain to the day of Shaykh Ahmad, you have
been closely associated with me, and in the days to come yours shall be the
inestimable joy of beholding “what eye hath seen not, ear heard not, nor any
heart conceived.”’
“I often felt the urge to seek alone the presence of that
Háshimite Youth and to endeavour to fathom His mystery. I watched Him several
times as He stood in an attitude of prayer at the doorway of the shrine of the
Imám Husayn. So wrapt was He in His devotions that He seemed utterly oblivious
of those around Him. Tears rained from His eyes, and from His lips fell words of
glorification and praise of such power and beauty as even the noblest passages
of our Sacred Scriptures could not hope to surpass. The words ‘O God, my God,
my Beloved, my heart’s Desire’ were uttered with a frequency and ardour that
those of the visiting pilgrims who were near enough to hear Him instinctively
interrupted the course of their devotions, and marvelled at the evidences of
piety and veneration which that youthful countenance evinced. Like Him they
were moved to tears, and from Him they learned the lesson of true adoration.
Having completed His prayers, that Youth, without crossing the threshold of the
shrine and without attempting to address any words to those around Him, would
quietly return to His home. I felt the impulse to address Him, but every time I
ventured an approach, a force that I could neither explain nor resist, detained
me. My enquiries about Him elicited the information that He was a resident of
Shíráz, that He was a merchant by profession, and did not belong to any of the
ecclesiastical orders. I was, moreover, informed that He, and also His uncles
and relatives, were among the lovers and admirers of Shaykh Ahmad and Siyyid
Kázim.
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| Shrine of Imam Husayn in Karbila, circa 1930s |
(Adapted from 'The Dawn-Breakers' by Nabil, translated and edited by Shoghi
Effendi)
[1] Mysterious cities where Shi’ah’sbelieve the 12th Imám to be living with his chosen companions, waiting to come forth in the fullness of time and fill the earth with justice (‘Baha’i Glossary’, by Marzieh Gail)
[2] Family of Prophet Muhammad
