Ashura: Where Humanity Walks Together
By: Dr. Shahid Ali Khan
‘On Ashura’s road, I saw no hate, no sword, no cry….Only Hussain’s love that made all hearts unify.’
As I stepped out from my home in Rawalpora and made my way along the old airport road through the winding lanes of Srinagar, something sacred began to stir within me. It wasn’t just another day, it was Ashura. A day not only of pain, remembrance and sacrifice, but above all, of humanity.
As I approached the solemn streets of Zadibal, I witnessed something that touched the very core of my being. I saw elderly men, their hands trembling with age, standing shoulder to shoulder with young children. They weren’t asking for anything. They were giving. With quiet devotion, they served water, juice, sherbet, and basil seed milk to mourners, passers-by, and even strangers. And as they served, their eyes reflected more than grief, they reflected love. A love so pure, so unfiltered, that it spoke the universal language of compassion that connected hearts across every boundary.
I saw people from the Sikh community, young boys in black turbans, handing out water with quiet reverence and heartfelt compassion within the premises of the Imambada. There were no barriers. No labels. No “us” and no “them.” Just people. Just humans. Connected not by faith or identity, but by something far deeper, a shared understanding of pain, of loss, and of sacred sacrifice. The police, were walking gently beside the mourners. They weren’t just managing crowds. They were facilitating a sacred journey. I saw them helping the elderly, guiding the young, holding the line between order and devotion, not with authority, but with humility. I saw municipal workers and health officials working under the sun without pause. They weren’t simply doing a job. They were serving. They were contributing to something larger than themselves, the memory of a sacrifice that still shakes the heavens: the martyrdom of Imam Hussain (a.s.) and his 72 companions.
As I walked through the main roads of downtown Srinagar, towards the historic Imam Bara of Zadibal, I was not met with chaos or conflict. I didn’t hear slogans of division or anger. What I saw, what I felt, was something far more powerful. I saw peace. I saw dignity. I saw eyes filled with tears, not of hate, but of remembrance.
I heard words of highest good, sacrifice, humility, courage, truth and loyalty to justice. And above all, I saw people, people who may not share the same religion, background or language, stand united by the blood of Karbala. A blood that wasn’t shed for power or revenge, but for love, justice and humanity. Imam Hussain (A.S.) did not embrace martyrdom for a throne. He rose for truth.
He didn’t pick up arms for dominance. He picked them up to defend the values we so often forget: truth over falsehood, compassion over cruelty, dignity over humiliation and humanity over tyranny. He sacrificed not for himself, but for us, all of us. He showed us that it is possible to live with honour, even if you die for it. That it is better to die with dignity than live with shame.
That even if the world turns against you, standing with truth makes you victorious in the eyes of time and history. And that is why the message of Imam Hussain (A.S.) rises above religion, geography, and generations. He has inspired not only Muslims, but leaders and thinkers across the world.
Mahatma Gandhi, the father of our nation, once said, “I learned from Hussain how to achieve victory while being oppressed.” For Gandhi, Karbala wasn’t about swords or politics but it was about the moral courage to resist evil with integrity.
And Sarojini Naidu, the Nightingale of India, deeply revered Imam Hussain (A.S.). She once said: “I congratulate Muslims that from among them, Hussain (A.S.), a great human being, was born, who is revered and honored totally by all communities.”
In these words, she expressed what countless hearts have long felt, that Imam Hussain does not belong to any one community. He is a symbol of truth and moral strength for all who believe in dignity, justice, and resistance against oppression. His life was not just a stand against tyranny; it was a timeless lesson in moral courage for all humanity.
Even from across continents and cultures, voices rose in reverence. Charles Dickens, the great English novelist, remarked: “If Hussain had fought to quench his worldly desires… then I do not understand why his sister, wife, and children accompanied him. It stands to reason, therefore, that he sacrificed purely for Islam.”
And the British historian Edward Gibbon observed: “In a distant age and climate, the tragic scene of the death of Hussain will awaken the sympathy of the coldest reader.” Dr. Rajendra Prasad, India’s first President, affirmed: “The sacrifice of Imam Hussain is not limited to one country or nation, but it is the hereditary state of the brotherhood of all mankind.
Today, we need to ask ourselves, what are we doing with this legacy? If Ashura teaches us anything, it is this: We are not separate. We are one. When we hurt one another in the name of caste, creed, colour, gender, or religion, we betray the very sacrifice we mourn. When we spread hatred instead of love, we silence the message of Karbala. Let us not make Ashura a ritual of a day. Let us carry it in our hearts. Let us speak like Hussain (a.s) with truth.
Let us walk like Hussain, with courage. Let us live like Hussain with dignity. Let us love like Hussain with open hearts, beyond boundaries. Because in the streets I walked, I did not find hatred. I found humanity. I found peace in grief, unity in mourning and love in remembrance. Let the tears of Karbala wash away our ego. Let the memory of Imam Hussain (a.s) ignite in us a desire to stand with the oppressed, to speak for the silenced, and to live with grace, purpose and principle.
If Imam Hussain (a.s ) could give his everything, his family, his companions, his comfort, his life for truth and justice, can we not give up a little of our ego, a little hate, a little silence? Can we not be kind? Can we not forgive? Can we not build bridges instead of walls? In the name of Imam Hussain (a.s), may we never forget to be human again. Because on the roads of Ashura, I did not find hatred. I found humanity. And that is the miracle of Karbala. It keeps reminding us, again and again, that love is greater than hate and humanity is greater than everything else.
The way I saw elders guiding their children, tiny hands offering water with reverence, learning to serve humanity before they even learn to speak fluently, I wondered: can there be a greater form of education than this? This is not just mourning; this is moral training. This is not just ritual; it is a lifetime lesson in compassion.
The love, the care, the humility I witnessed on the roads of Ashura, I wish it would not end with the day. I wish this kindness flowed throughout the year, throughout our lives, through every generation and across every border. If we could carry this spirit beyond Ashura, the spirit of peace, brotherhood, respect, love and dignity, then perhaps the dream of a just and united humanity would no longer seem distant. Let this not be a memory. Let it be a movement. Let it be our inheritance, not only from Hussain, but for those who come after us.
Karbala is not behind us, it walks beside us, every time we choose love over hate.
(The author is an academician who currently works as Cultural Officer at the University of Kashmir)
