Imam Zayn al-‘Abidin: The Man Who Carried Karbala' for Fifty-Seven Years

Imam Abu al-Hasan ‘Ali ibn Husayn Zayn al-‘Abidin was born on Thursday, the 5^th of Sha’ban, 38 AH, in Madinah al-Munawwarah.  He died a martyr — poisoned by Walid ibn ‘Abd al-Malik — on the 18^th of Muharram, 95 AH, at the age of 57 or 58.  Between those two dates sits one of the most remarkable lives in Islamic history: a life shaped by grief, sustained by prayer, and characterised by a moral excellence that silenced critics, converted enemies, and left the scholarly tradition without adequate superlatives.

Sayyidina ‘Abdullah ibn ‘Abbas — the greatest Qur’anic scholar among the Companions, the cousin of the Prophet, a man not given to casual flattery — would look at Imam Zayn al-‘Abidin and call him the Beloved of the Beloved.  Imam Muhammad ibn Muslim ibn Shihab az-Zuhri — the great Tabi’i scholar of Madinah — said he had not seen any Qurayshi more excellent than him.  Imam Abu Hazim Salamah ibn Dinar al-A’araj al-Madani said he had not seen any jurist more exalted.  Imam Abu ‘Abdullah Malik ibn Anas, the founder of the Maliki madzhab, called him a man of excellence.  When the scholars of the first three generations speak of a man in those terms, it is worth paying attention.

The Weight He Carried

He was two years old when his grandfather Sayyidina Abu Turab ‘Ali ibn Abu Thalib was martyred.  He spent ten years with his uncle Sayyidina al-Hasan ibn ‘Ali, who was poisoned.  He spent eleven years with his father Sayyidina al-Husayn, who was martyred at Karbala’.  He survived Karbala’ because he was ill during the battle — too weak to fight, which is the only reason he was not killed alongside the 72 men and boys who were martyred on the plains of the Euphrates on the 10^th of Muharram, 61 AH.  He then watched his father’s severed head being carried on a lance.  He was marched to Damascus in chains, with the women and children of the Prophet’s family, as a captive.

In the time of ‘Abd al-Malik ibn Marwan, he was arrested again — chained and forced to walk from Madinah to Syria.  His most loyal student, Imam az-Zuhri, could not bear to witness the spectacle and went personally to ‘Abd al-Malik to secure his release.  Through all of this — the chains, the march, the captivity, the grief — he did not complain.  Not once.  Not a single word about his condition in the Court of Allah.  He made shukr, gratitude, on every step of the march from Madinah to Syria in chains.  This is not the patience of someone who has been defeated.  This is the patience of someone who understands something about the nature of this world that most human beings spend their entire lives failing to grasp.

The Character That Disarmed His Enemies

There is a pattern in the biographical accounts of Imam Zayn al-‘Abidin that deserves specific attention.  Every account of someone who spoke ill of him, insulted him, or bore him malice ends the same way: the person repented, sought forgiveness, and affiliated themselves with the Imam.  A man consistently spoke ill of him.  Imam Zayn al-‘Abidin went to the man and treated him with such respect and kindness that he repented entirely and sought the Imam’s company thereafter.

A man swore at him and made slanderous accusations.  Imam Zayn al-‘Abidin, “If the attributes you accuse me of are found in me, then I repent to Allah and ask for Forgiveness.  If the attributes are not found in me, then on your behalf I ask Allah for Forgiveness.”

The man kissed him on the forehead and sought his prayers for the acceptance of his own repentance.

This is the natural expression of a character so thoroughly oriented toward Allah that the ordinary human responses — defensiveness, indignation, retaliation — simply did not arise.  The ego that requires protecting was not present.  What was present instead produced the response that no enemy could withstand.

The Secret Charity

He sacrificed his entire wealth twice for Islam.  He gave charity secretly — the sources record that he would carry food to the poor of Madinah at night, his face covered, so that the recipients would not know the identity of their benefactor.  He carried the sacks himself.  He knocked on doors at night.  He left and disappeared before anyone could see him.

The only time the people of Madinah discovered that the secret benefactor had been Imam Zayn al-‘Abidin was after his death.  When he was buried, the night-time deliveries stopped.  And the people made the connection.  One hundred families in Madinah, according to some accounts, had been receiving his secret charity.  One hundred families who had prayed for their anonymous benefactor without knowing they were praying for the great-grandson of the Prophet.  He was a man who gave without needing credit for the giving.  In an era saturated with performative generosity, this distinction is worth dwelling on.

The House on Fire

He used to perform one thousand raka’at of nafl prayer every night.  The physical discipline required for this practice is beyond what most people who have never attempted extended night prayer can readily imagine.  One night during his prayers, his house caught fire.  The people around him rushed to extinguish the flames.  He continued praying.  He did not move.  He completed his swalah.

When the people told him afterward that the house had been on fire, he said, “You were trying to extinguish this fire, and I was trying to extinguish the fire of the Hereafter.”

When he performed wudhu’, his face would become pale.  When he stood in swalah, his complexion would change to the point where those who knew him could not recognise him.  People asked what had happened to him.  He replied, “Swalah is a time when you are present in the Court of Allah.  Who is so naive as to smile and look happy when standing before his Creator?”

This is the answer of a man who understood what prayer is.  Not what the books say it is.  What it actually is.

The Grief of Karbala’ That Never Left

He was walking in Madinah one day when he saw a man preparing to slaughter a goat — sharpening the knife, the animal on the ground.  He became visibly distressed.  He asked the man whether he had given the goat food and water.  The man said he had fed and watered the goat for three days and had given it water just before laying it down.

Imam Zayn al-‘Abidin let out a sigh.  He said, “It is sad that the people of Kufa did not even care for him like the goat.  They starved him for three days and nights and then martyred him in this state.”

Sayyidina al-Husayn and his companions had been without water for three days before Karbala’.  The Euphrates had been blocked.  The children had been thirsty.  Sayyidina al-Husayn had held up his infant son, Sayyidina ‘Ali al-Asghar — asking for water for the child — and the child had been struck by an arrow.

A goat being given water before slaughter was the trigger.  Because a goat had been treated better.  Because his father had not been.  This grief did not leave him.  It sat with him for thirty-four years after Karbala’ until the poison reached him.

The Defence of the Companions

When visitors came to speak ill of Sayyidina Abu Bakr ‘Abdullah ibn ‘Utsman asw-Swiddiq, Sayyidina Abu Hafsw ‘Umar ibn al-Khaththab al-Faruq, and Sayyidina Abu ‘Amr ‘Utsman ibn ‘Affan in his presence, Imam Zayn al-‘Abidin silenced them with three verses from Surah al-Hashr and asked them to leave.

The great-grandson of the Prophet — the son of the man martyred at Karbala’, the survivor of the most devastating event in early Islamic history — defended the three Caliphs against disrespect in his own home, with the Qur’an, without hesitation.  This is the position of the Ahl al-Bayt.  Transmitted by the Ahl al-Bayt themselves.

His Passing and What Followed

He was poisoned by Walid ibn ‘Abd al-Malik.  He died a martyr in Madinah and was buried in Jannat al-Baqi’ — the blessed cemetery of Madinah, where Sayyidina ‘Utsman, the wives of the Prophet, and many of the greatest figures of the first generation are buried.

After his burial, his camel placed its head on his tomb and began to cry.  Imam Muhammad ibn ‘Ali al-Baqir, his son, the fifth Imam, attempted to move it away.  The camel refused.  Imam al-Baqir said, “She will die in this exact place.”  She did.

The Prophet had told Sayyidina Jabir ibn ‘Abdullah al-Answari, while holding Sayyidina al-Husayn as a child, that a son would be born to him named “‘Ali”, and that ‘Ali’s son would be named “Muhammad”, and that when Jabir met the child, he should pass the Prophet’s salam to him.

The salam of the Prophet was transmitted through Sayyidina Jabir, to Imam Zayn al-‘Abidin.  That transmission — the Prophet’s ﷺ greeting reaching his great-grandson across decades through a Companion who had been told to deliver it — is the biographical detail that places this life within its proper frame.  He was expected.  He was known.  He was greeted before he arrived.  And everything he did with the life he was given was consistent with being a man who carried the Prophet’s salam in his chest.