STORY -- THE HOTEL

Not long ago, three friends came to the New York city. They decided to stay in a hotel during the visit. It so happened that their room ended up being on the 60th floor. The policy of the hotel was that every night after 12:00AM the elevators are shut down for security reasons. So on the next day, the three friends rented a car and went out to explore the city. They enjoyed movies, concerts and other things throughout the whole day. At one point they remembered that they have to get back to the hotel before 12.00AM.

When they arrived, it was beyound 12.00AM at night. The elevators were shut down. There was no other way to get back to their room but to take the stairs all the way to the 60th floor. All of a sudden, one friend got an idea. He said, "For the first 20 floors, I will tell jokes to keep us going. Then another one of us could say wisdow stories for the next 20 floors. Then we will cover the other 20 floors with sad stories." 

So one of the friends started with the jokes. With laughs and joy, they reached the 20th floor. Now another friend started saying stories of wisdom. So they learned alot whilst reaching the 40th floor. Now it was time for the sad stories. So the thrid friend started thus, "My first sad story is that I have left the key for the room in the car."

Now, what is the point of this story? This story resembles our life cycle. For the first 20 years of our life, we spend time in joking and enjoying whatever is out there. Then after we reach 20, we go into the work forve, get married, have kids and this is the time when we use our wisdom. Then IF we reach 40 we finally see the white hairs and begin to think that my life is coming to an end.

It is better that we start our life in the very beginning by remembering death rather than preparing for it at the end of our lives, when very few of us have the energy to obey ALLAH completely. 

May ALLAH make us carry this KEY (ISLAM) with us at all times, so it will enable us to open the doors to Jannah. Aameen

The Day I Died

It was Halloween night. I made plans with my friends Omar and Malik to go watch SAW 3 at a nearby theatre in Santa Monica, California. We were running late and I realized that I had not prayed Isha but I didnt say anything because I did not want to upset the mood. "Ill just pray afterwards," I told myself.

 

I only lived 26 years. My 27th birthday was exactly two weeks away. I always imagined I would live long. At least until age 60. It just wasn't imaginable that I would have such a sudden, unexpected death.

 

I graduated from the University of Southern California three years earlier with a degree that means absolutely nothing right now. Shortly after, I landed a job as the marketing director of a major clothing company. Aside from the usual life problems, I was living a normal life.

 

My girlfriend of 4 years was starting to pressure me into us getting a place together. I knew I wasn't supposed to have a girlfriend in the first place but I enjoyed her company and friendship. I wasn't ready to give that up. I used to always tell myself that eventually I would marry her. Plus, what would these few years of living a sinful life mean by the time I got older?

 

My job, girlfriend and life-friends took up the majority of my time. It seemed I never had time to pray. I hardly even had time to sit down and eat. Offering prayer was always something that irritated me. I did give an effort to keep up on my prayers but for the last two years of my life I gave up. I pretty much stopped praying altogether.

 

I never made it home in time to pray that night. SAW 3 was a walk through the rose garden compared to what I was about to experience. I was doing 80 on the route 10 freeway. At 12 midnight, 80mph is not considered speeding. Omar flipped through FM radio stations searching for the song he liked. Malik had fallen asleep in the back seat. I began to doze off too. I used to hate when that happened. I shook out of what seemed like a 10 second snooze. I tried to keep my eyes open. But again I dozed off.

 

Omar screamed, "HEY!" It was too late. The car struck the center divider and spun back into the flow of traffic. An on coming car hit my door. That car was also hit by another vehicle. We finally came to a halt somewhere in the middle of the freeway, a hundred yards from the spot of the collision. I didn't feel any pain. I was just dizzy. I heard Omar and Malik moaning as good civilians tried pulling us from the wreck.

 

I wasn't rescued until the fire fighters arrived. It was quite a task recovering my battered body from my totalled car. Breathing became difficult. The fire fighters huddled around me and frantically applied device after device. "He's not gonna make it," I heard one of them say. I'm not gonna make it? How? I didn't feel like I was dying. I felt nothing. My heart started pounding. I was soaked in sweat and blood. I saw Malik standing over the top of me with tears in his eyes. "Don't quit on me", he told me. At that time I knew it was over. I started to cry.

 

The fire fighters moved him away as they made last attempts to revive me. I died. An angel came to me and removed my soul. I watched him fly away with it in disbelief. "How could you? I'm not even 27," I pleaded. "It's time," he told me and left...

 

Two minutes later they pulled a white sheet over me. Omar and Malik, apparently doing better than me, pulled the sheet back to look at me one last time. They cried their eyeballs out. I had known them ever since I was 13 years old and had never seen either one cry. It was a depressing sight.

 

The ride to the morgue, until then, was the worst experience I ever had. I was alone. It was dark and cold. I missed my mom. I missed my brother. I missed my sister. I wished I had spent that last night with my family instead of with Omar and Malik. I worried what my mother was going to do when she saw me in this state. I was ugly. When we finally arrived, I was placed in another cold room with dozens of other dead people.

 

I missed my family so much. Every so often a family came in to view their dead. I always thought it was my family but it wasn't. Hour after hour passed. No mom. No dad. I started to cry again. Then one odd hour I recognized voices. My father walked in with my mother in his arms. His face was worn from stress. Hers wet with tears. They just stared into my eyes and cried. I stared back. I wanted to tell them I loved them. I couldn't. I wanted to hug them. I couldn't. Mom stroked my bloodied hair and kissed my forehead. Dad held her up from collapsing. He slowly pulled her away.

 

I was to be buried the next day. When my parents left, it hit me. I never made Isha prayer! My heart jumped out my chest. I owed Allah a prayer and failed to deliver it to Him. I had hundreds of missed prayers over the past two years. Now I was about to face Him. I felt powerless. For those of you who have never experienced guilt at death, there is not a worldly feeling that amounts to it. It is guilt and sorrow at another level. I tried getting up to make Isha prayer but I couldn't move. It was over. I had no second chance.

 

Then I began to think back. I never knew my memory was so good. I had more than enough time to ponder as I was awaiting my burial. I literally remember every single prayer I missed and reasons why I missed them. Most were laziness, procrastination and neglectfulness. I knew I was in trouble. I wished they would take longer to bury me. I failed! I failed!

 

My girlfriend paid me a visit. She was a devil. When I was alive I saw her as a pretty angel. My pretty angel who loved me and would do anything to make me happy. If I had the ability, I would have cursed her and demanded her to leave the morgue. She put her hand on my forehead. I allowed her to do that for the past four years. Now that I opposed to it, I could do nothing about it. The devil cried for hours at my side. She just would not leave. I felt cheated. I felt like she pulled a joke on me for the past couple of years of my life. I hated this devil! She was ugly! She smelled horrible! She finally left... As she walked out the door my heart was filled with fear and anxiety.

 

The funeral was simple. My body was washed. I didn't seem to care that my naked body was exposed. My worries far surpassed my desire to be modest. I was wrapped in three white sheets. About 300 people attended my funeral. I was saddened not to see my mom at the funeral. I wished she came to see me one last time before they put me in the ground. I never knew so many people cared about me. Many just stared at the tightly wrapped figure in disbelief. Others cried and cried some more.

 

The mass prayed for me. Thousands of individual prayers were made. They asked Allah to have mercy on me. They asked Him to forgive me. I wanted to pray for myself but I couldn't speak. I was helpless. I was carried to the hole in the middle of the barren desert. The people followed. It seemed like slow motion. I didn't want to go. If I had 24 bonus hours I would pray non-stop. They lowered me into the ground. The anticipation was eating away at me. I had surely failed life.

 

I thought back on everything I had worked so hard to accomplish. I earned a college degree. I had a well paying job. I spent hours and hours in the gym ever since I was 16 years old developing my body. I had a pretty girlfriend who loved me. In that life, that was a badge of honor. But as they were lowering me into this grave, which seemed like it took forever, I realized I couldn't use any of those "accomplishments". If only I had been that dedicated to praying five times daily, I would have been at peace right now. Instead I am a nervous wreck beyond anything you all can comprehend.

 

Dirt fell in my hole. Darkness overcame my new home. The last shovels of sand filled the grave. Everyone sadly walked away. The graveyard started to empty. Family by family. Mine was the last to leave. I could hear their footsteps as they walked away. By nightfall it was just me. All alone. My wrapping was soaked in sweat. I nervously awaited the angels to come and question me.

 

They finally did. My final judgment has not been reached yet. I am now waiting for judgment day. Still lying here, alone, as day comes and night falls. Soon I will meet Allah Himself and He will decide whether He will forgive me or not. I can only lay here, wait and hope The All Forgiving, The Most Merciful forgives me and does not punish me. I hope. That is all I have right now. Hope.

 

THIS IS A STORY BUT THIS IS ALSO THE REALITY OF LIFE. YOU WILL DIE ONE DAY. COULD BE TOMORROW. COULD BE TODAY. FOR THE SINNERS THERE WILL BE TORTURE IN THE GRAVE. PLEASE TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY. DO NOT WASTE THIS PRECIOUS TIME WHILE YOU ARE ALIVE.

She's My Sister

Bismillahi Ar Rahmani Ar Rahim - In the Name of Allah, the Most Gracious and the Most Merciful

As Salamu Alaykum Wa Rahmatullahi Wa Barakatuhu My Dear Sisters and Brothers in Islam!

I hope you all are doing Great, InshaAllah! May Allah (Subhanahu Wa Ta'alaa) grant you all with the best of health and strong emaan (faith), Ameen!

There is a pretty emotional story that brought tears into my eyes, but it has a Great message and I would like to share it with you! InshaAllah, we will all benefit from it and take the lesson the message is giving us!

Mohammad Alshareef translated the following true story from the book "Azzaman Alqaadim" and gave it as his final speech at the MYNA East Zone conference.

 

~*~   She's My Sister   ~*~

Her cheeks were worn and sunken and her skin hugged her bones. That didn't stop her though, you could never catch her not reciting Qur'an. Always vigil in her personal prayer room Dad had set up for her. Bowing, prostrating, raising her hands in prayer. That was the way she was from dawn to sunset and back again, boredom was for others.

As for me I craved nothing more than fashion magazines and novels. I treated myself all the time to videos until those trips to the rental place became my trademark. As they say, when something becomes habit people tend to distinguish you by it. I was negligent in my responsibilities and laziness characterized my Salah.

One night, I turned the video off after a marathon three hours of watching. The adhan softly rose in that quiet night. I slipped peacefully into my blanket.

Her voice carried from her prayer room. "Yes? Would you like anything Noorah?" I said.

With a sharp needle she popped my plans. "Don't sleep before you pray Fajr!"

Agh...there' s still an hour before Fajr, that was only the first Adhaan!

With those loving pinches of hers, she called me closer. She was always like that, even before the fierce sickness shook her spirit and shut her in bed. "Hanan can you come sit beside me."

I could never refuse any of her requests, you could touch the purity and sincerity. "Yes, Noorah?"

"Please sit here."

"OK, I"m sitting. What's on your mind?"

With the sweetest mono voice she began reciting:

"Every soul shall taste death and you will merely be repaid your earnings on Resurrection Day"

She stopped thoughtfully. Then she asked, "Do you believe in death?"

"Of course I do."

"Do you believe that you shall be responsible for whatever you do, regardless of how small or large?"

"I do, but Allah is Forgiving and Merciful and I've got a long life waiting for me."

"Stop it Hanan ... aren't you afraid of death and it's abruptness? Look at Hind. She was younger than you but she died in a car accident. So did so and so, and so and so. Death is age-blind and your age could never be a measure of when you shall die."

The darkness of the room filled my skin with fear. "I'm scared of the dark and now you made me scared of death, how am I supposed to go to sleep now. Noorah, I thought you promised you'd go with us on vacation during the summer break."

Impact. Her voice broke and her heart quivered. "I might be going on a long trip this year Hanan, but somewhere else. Just maybe. All of our lives are in Allah's hands and we all belong to Him."

My eyes welled and the tears slipped down both cheeks.

I pondered my sisters grizzly sickness, how the doctors had informed my father privately that there was not much hope that Noorah was going to outlive the disease. She wasn't told though. Who hinted to her? Or was it that she could sense the truth.

"What are you thinking about Hanan?" Her voice was sharp. "Do you think I am just saying this because I am sick? Uh - uh. In fact, I may live longer than people who are not sick. And you Hanan, how long are you going to live? Twenty years, maybe? Forty? Then what?" Through the dark she reached for my hand and squeezed gently. "There's no difference between us; we're all going to leave this world to live in Paradise or agonize in Hell. Listen to the words of Allah:

"Anyone who is pushed away from the Fire and shown into Jannah will have triumphed."

I left my sister's room dazed, her words ringing in my ears: May Allah guide you Hanan - don't forget your prayer.

Eight O'clock in the morning. Pounding on my door. I don't usually wake up at this time. Crying. Confusion. O Allah, what happened?

Noorahs condition became critical after Fajr, they took her immediately to the hospital ... Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'un.

There wasn't going to be any trips this summer. It was written that I would spend the summer at home.

After an eternity...

It was one O'clock in the afternoon. Mother phoned the hospital. "Yes. You can come and see her now." Dad's voice had changed, mother could sense something had gone deathly wrong. We left immediately.

Where was that avenue I used to travel and thought was so short? Why was it so long now, so very long. Where was the cherished crowd and traffic that would give me a chance to gaze left and right. Everyone, just move out of our way. Mother was shaking her head in her hands crying as she made dua'a for her Noorah.

We arrived at the hospitals main entrance.

One man was moaning, another was involved in an accident and a third's eyes were iced, you couldn't tell if he was alive or dead.

We skipped stairs to Noorahs floor. She was in intensive care.

The nurse approached us. "Let me take you to her." As we walked down the aisles the nurse went on expressing how sweet a girl Noorah was. She reassured Mother somewhat that Noorah's condition had gotten better than what it was in the morning.

"Sorry. No more than one visitor at a time." This was the intensive care unit. Through the small window in the door and past the flurry of white robes I caught my sisters eyes. Mother was standing beside her. After two minutes, mother came out unable to control her crying.

"You may enter and say Salam to her on condition that you do not speak too long," they told me. "Two minutes should be enough."

"How are you Noorah? You were fine last night sister, what happened?"

We held hands, she squeezed harmlessly. "Even now, Alhamdulillah, I'm doing fine."

"Alhamdulillah. ..but...your hands are so cold."

I sat on her bedside and rested my fingers on her knee. She jerked it away. "Sorry ... did I hurt you?"

"No, it is just that I remembered Allah's words

One leg will be wrapped to the other leg (in the death shroud) {waltafatul saaqu bil saaq}

"Hanan pray for me. I may be meeting the first day of the hearafter very soon. It is a long journey and I haven't prepared enough good deeds in my suitcase."

A tear escaped my eye and ran down my cheek at her words. I cried and she joined me. The room blurred away and left us ^Ö two sisters - to cry together. Rivulets of tears splashed down on my sister's palm which I held with both hands. Dad was now becoming more worried about me. I've never cried like that before.

At home and upstairs in my room, I watched the sun pass away with a sorrowful day. Silence mingled in our corridors. A cousin came in my room, another. The visitors were many and all the voices from downstairs stirred together. Only one thing was clear at that point ... Noorah had died!

I stopped distinguishing who came and who went. I couldn't remember what they said. O Allah, where was I? What was going on? I couldn't even cry anymore.

Later that week they told me what had happened. Dad had taken my hand to say goodbye to my sister for the last time, I had kissed Noorah's head.

I remember only one thing though, seeing her spread on that bed, the bed that she was going to die on. I remembered the verse she recited:

"One leg will be wrapped to the other leg (in the death shroud)" and I knew too well the truth of the next verse: "The drive on that day we be to your Lord (Allah)!"

I tiptoed into her prayer room that night. Staring at the quiet dressers and silenced mirrors, I treasured who it was that had shared my mother's stomach with me. Noorah was my twin sister.

I remembered who I had swapped sorrows with. Who had comforted my rainy days. I remembered who had prayed for my guidance and who had spent so many tears for so many long nights telling me about death and accountability. May Allah save us all.

Tonight is Noorah's first night that she shall spend in her tomb. O Allah, have mercy on her and illumine her grave. This was her Qur'an, her prayer mat and this was the spring rose-colored dress that she told me she would hide until she got married, the dress she wanted to keep just for her husband.

I remembered my sister and cried over all the days that I had lost. I prayed to Allah to have mercy on me, accept me and forgive me. I prayed to Allah to keep her firm in her grave as she always liked to mention in her supplications.

At that moment, I stopped. I asked myself: what if it was I who had died? Where would I be moving on to? Fear pressed me and the tears began all over again.

Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar...

The first adhan rose softly from the Masjid, how beautiful it sounded this time. I felt calm and relaxed as I repeated the Muadhdhins call. I wrapped the shawl around my shoulders and stood to pray Fajr. I prayed as if it was my last prayer, a farewell prayer, just like Noorah had done yesterday. It had been her last Fajr.

Now and insha' Allah for the rest of my life, if I awake in the mornings I do not count on being alive by evening, and in the evening I do not count on being alive by morning.

We are all going on Noorah's journey. What have we prepared for it?
---------

May Allah (Subhanahu Wa Ta'alaa) strengthen our emaan and keep us firm on the straight path to Jannah and make our journey in the Hereafter easy, Ameen!!

Stay Strong Dear Sisters and Brothers in your deen and emaan! Keep Allah (Subhanahu Wa Ta'alaa) in rememberance and prepare yourselves for the Hereafter, only Allah (Subhanahu Wa Ta'alaa) knows when we will meet the Angel of death!

Stay Blessed all!
Wa Alaykumusalam Wa Rahmatullahi Wa Barakatuhu

-------
Anything good that I have said is from Allah (Subhanahu Wa Ta'alaa), and if anything I said was bad and wrong is from myself. May Allah (Subhanahu Wa Ta'alaa) forgive our mistakes and sins and increase our knowledge of the deen, Ameen!
['Amr bil Ma'ruf Wa Nahi anil Munkar! (Command the good and forbid the evil!) - So, please dear sisters and brothers - correct me if I do a mistake or say something wrong! InshaAllah, Allah (Subhanahu Wa Ta'alaa) will reward us for correcting the mistakes of each other!

Imām ash-Shafi’ī & His Shaykh

 

Often times as students of knowledge we set our goals in terms of Ayāt and Abyāt, or how many verses and lines of text to memorize. It is easier to gauge our progress by taking measure of how much we have memorized. In times of distress or confusion regarding what to do in our lives, it is natural to seek out the counsel of trusted scholars and supplicating to Allah to remove the distress from us.

However is there anything else that we can focus on in our daily lives that can limit what we are caused to forget of the Qur’ān or Ahādīth? Is there anything we can do every day that will open our heart and intellect and make them better receptacles for knowledge?

Imām ash-Shafi’ī undoubtedly had a powerful memory. It is reported that he memorized al-Muwata from Imām Mālik in a single day. However he began to sense a deficiency in his ability to memorize and retain information, so he asked his Shaykh, the famous Wakī’ bin al-Jarrāh about that. So this situation was turned into prose:

I complained to Wakī’ of a deficiency in my ability to memorize ** So he instructed me to abandon sin

And he said to me that knowledge is a light ** And the light of Allah is not granted to a sinner. [1]

Sin as a cause of forgetfulness was recognized by Abd Allah bin Mas’ūd, may Allah be pleased with him. [2] Many scholars who have compiled books about Hifdh, or memorization of Qur’ān and Hadīth, have made lists of the causes for forgetfulness, and have consistently included ‘Sin’ as one of the causes. So in order to preserve the power of memory and retain that which we have learned, it is important to avoid sin.

A relatively unknown way to increase memory and improve the ability to comprehend and grasp difficult concepts is to seek forgiveness from Allah, Glorified and Exalted is He. It is also a way for a person to open themselves up to the mercy and blessings of Allah in general, among which are memory and comprehension.

Shaykh Ibn al-Uthaymīn mentioned something relevant to this:

“Some of our Mashā’ikh have mentioned to me that it is sufficient for whoever has a question about an issue to increase himself in seeking forgiveness from Allah, as extracted from the verse: {Indeed We have revealed to you the Book in truth in order that you judge between people with what Allah has shown you and not to argue on behalf of the traitors. And seek forgiveness from Allah; indeed Allah is Forgiving, Merciful}[an-Nisā’: 105,106]. Indeed to seek forgiveness a great deal leads to the removal of sins which are the reason for forgetting knowledge and [the state of] ignorance just as indicated in the verse: {Thus by their breach of their agreement We have cursed them and made their hearts hard; they change the words from their places and forget in error that which they were reminded}[al-Mā’idah: 13]. [3]

And the advice of Dr. Muhammad bin Khalīfah, a teacher at al-Madīnah University:

"So it is essential that the seeker of knowledge purify his heart of any cheating, tarnish, rancor, jealousy, or evil in regards to beliefs or character in order to be a suitable receptacle for knowledge, its preservation, and in order to capture the subtleties of its meanings and realities of its enigmas. Thus knowledge is as some of them say: '[It] is the secret prayer, the worship of the heart, and inner piety; and just as the prayer- which is worship of the outer limbs- is not acceptable without outer purification from impurity and filth, thus knowledge- which is worship of the heart- is of no use without purifying it from filthy attributes and the impurity of evil character and [impurity of the] garment [of the heart, i.e. character]'.” [4]

Some of the lessons that we can take from all of this is that:

• The seeker of knowledge should see memory and preservation of learned knowledge as a blessing from Allah which must be protected and guarded from remembering or learning evil or unbeneficial things.
• The seeker of knowledge must maintain a heart that is free of impurities and its garment, al-Akhlāq, free from those qualities unbefitting a Believer.
• The seeker of knowledge must be constant in Istighfār or seeking forgiveness from Allah in order to be relieved of not only those sins which can be recalled or perceived but also those that we may be unaware of as well.

We ask Allah, Glorified and Exalted is He, to convey our greetings and blessings to the Prophet Muhammad, to be pleased with the Companions and Imām al-A’immah ash-Shāfi’ī, to have mercy on Shaykh Ibn al-Uthaymīn, to preserve Dr. Muhammad bin Khalīfah and the teachers and volunteers at the Cordoba Academy. Ameen.

References

[1] From a collection of poems attributed but not all authentically established on his authority called: Dīwān al-Imām ash-Shāfi’ī p. 18

شَكَوْتُ إِلَى وَكِيعٍ سُوءَ حِفْظِي... فَأَرْشَنِي إِلَى تَرْكِ الْمَعَاصِي

وَقَالَ بِأَنَّ الْعِلْمَ نُورٌ ... وَنُورُ اللهِ لَا يُؤتَاهُ عَاصِي

[2] al-Jāmī’ li-Akhlāq ir-Rāwī wa Ādāb is-Sāmi’ by al-Khatīb 2/258

[3] al-Ilm 1/202

[4] Seeking Knowledge: Between Faithfulness in Its Undertaking and Responsibility for Its Execution 1/18, by Dr. Muhammad bin Khalīfah bin Alī at-Tamīmī

Position of a Mother

There was a young man, before he was a Muslim; he lived with his mother until he was about 18 years old. Then he moved out of his home and lived in a different place on his own. During those days, he met some Muslims and became very close friend to them.
Eventually he himself became a Muslim after learning about the beautiful religion of Islam from them. He made an effort every day to learn more and more about Islam. One day, he came to learn about the benefits of being good to one’s parents. After knowing this, he decided to visit his mother whom he did not visit for many years. He bought some flowers and fruits for her on his way. His mother was very pleased to see him after so long. He started spending lots of time with his mother on a regular basis. During his visits, he would stare at his mother and tears would roll down from his eyes. The mother noticed this happening many times and asked him one day the reason, why he visits her so much all of a sudden and why he cries. He told her about how he became a Muslim and that the position of a mother in Islam is very high.
He also told her about the reward he gets for looking at her.
But while looking at her, he cries because the mother is not a Muslim and would not be able to save herself if she dies in this state. The mother immediately recognized the beauty of Islam and became a Muslim.

Who was Yazid? / Yazid Kaun Tha

Yazid was a man who had inherited all the bad qualities of the Umayyad Family. His disposition, beliefs,
way of thinking and the manner of looking at various matters were exactly the same as those of Bani Umayyah
in general. Besides the evils inherited by him from his ancestors he had other mischievous tendencies and satanic qualities as well. He did not possess the apparent qualities of his father which are considered to be his (i.e. Mu`awiya's) merits although they were only tools to strengthen his rule. In fact it may be said that whereas all the bad qualities of his family had combined in him he did not at all possess any good quality. There has been no other reveller amongst Bani Umayyah like Yazid and it was on account of his being wildly festive that he lost his life .
It is said that one day, while mounted on a horse, he was trying to out-pace a monkey. During this competition, however, he fell down from the horse and died. His contemporaries have drawn a very precise and concise picture of his in these words: "He was a drunkard. He used to wear silken clothes and played on a  tambourine".
If Husayn proved to be a model of virtue and good morals Yazid proved to be the worst specimen of his
ancestral vices. If Husayn was sympathetic towards others as magnanimous persons usually are, Yazid had no human sentiments and was absolutely shameless.
Yazid had been brought up in a family which considered Islam to be a political movement. According to Bani
Umayyah the prophethood of the prophet was only a pretext to acquire power and authority and Islam meant
transfer of power from the hands of Bani Umayyah to the hands of Bani Hashim. Yazid considered his countrymen to be only an army whose duty it was to remain faithful to the ruler. In his eyes the object of the existence of his countrymen was that they should pay land revenue and taxes and increase the wealth of the treasury which was to be spent according to the sweet will of the ruler.
As Yazid was born and brought up in such a family it was necessary that he, too, should adopt the ways which
were adopted by his forefathers and other members of his family during the age of ignorance and after the advent of Islam. Furthermore, he was brought up in the house of a father who spent large sums of money of the public treasury at his pleasure. When wealth and ignorance are combined the result can be nothing else except profligacy and debauchery.
It was for this reason that like every ignorant person who possesses wealth Yazid was a drunkard and was fond of a life of pleasure and played with dogs. As soon as he ascended the throne he began spending money lavishly to lead a life of debauchery and sensual pleasure. He gave enormous sums to his asociates, slaves, slave-girls, singers etc. He had a large number of dogs who slept by his side and were made to wear ornaments of gold and silver and silken dresses, while the poor people, from whom taxes were realized under coercion, starved and suffered hardships.
He ruled for three and a half years only but during this short period he combined in him all the disgrace,
absurdity and impudence which were the result of Umayyad politics. Yazid was a man who had inherited all the bad qualities of the Umayyad Family. His disposition, beliefs,
way of thinking and the manner of looking at various matters were exactly the same as those of Bani Umayyah
in general. Besides the evils inherited by him from his ancestors he had other mischievous tendencies and satanic qualities as well. He did not possess the apparent qualities of his father which are considered to be his (i.e. Mu`awiya's) merits although they were only tools to strengthen his rule. In fact it may be said that whereas all the bad qualities of his family had combined in him he did not at all possess any good quality. There has been no other reveller amongst Bani Umayyah like Yazid and it was on account of his being wildly festive that he lost his life .
It is said that one day, while mounted on a horse, he was trying to out-pace a monkey. During this competition, however, he fell down from the horse and died. His contemporaries have drawn a very precise and concise picture of his in these words: "He was a drunkard. He used to wear silken clothes and played on a  tambourine".
If Husayn proved to be a model of virtue and good morals Yazid proved to be the worst specimen of his
ancestral vices. If Husayn was sympathetic towards others as magnanimous persons usually are, Yazid had no human sentiments and was absolutely shameless.
Yazid had been brought up in a family which considered Islam to be a political movement. According to Bani
Umayyah the prophethood of the prophet was only a pretext to acquire power and authority and Islam meant
transfer of power from the hands of Bani Umayyah to the hands of Bani Hashim. Yazid considered his countrymen to be only an army whose duty it was to remain faithful to the ruler. In his eyes the object of the existence of his countrymen was that they should pay land revenue and taxes and increase the wealth of the treasury which was to be spent according to the sweet will of the ruler.
As Yazid was born and brought up in such a family it was necessary that he, too, should adopt the ways which
were adopted by his forefathers and other members of his family during the age of ignorance and after the advent of Islam. Furthermore, he was brought up in the house of a father who spent large sums of money of the public treasury at his pleasure. When wealth and ignorance are combined the result can be nothing else except profligacy and debauchery.
It was for this reason that like every ignorant person who possesses wealth Yazid was a drunkard and was fond of a life of pleasure and played with dogs. As soon as he ascended the throne he began spending money lavishly to lead a life of debauchery and sensual pleasure. He gave enormous sums to his asociates, slaves, slave-girls, singers etc. He had a large number of dogs who slept by his side and were made to wear ornaments of gold and silver and silken dresses, while the poor people, from whom taxes were realized under coercion, starved and suffered hardships.
He ruled for three and a half years only but during this short period he combined in him all the disgrace,
absurdity and impudence which were the result of Umayyad politics.