'The days of our youth are the days of our glory'. What hopes and feelings surge in young hearts during this time of life! How every nerve and sinew quivers with the joy of living! But there are some youths to whom the cup of life is dealt in another measure. There are some budding flowers that are destined to be swept away by the hot desert winds before they have the opportunity to bloom. Such was the destiny of Husain's three nephews who were gathered outside the tents on the eve of that eventful day of Muharram.
Qasim,
Aun and Muhammad were gathered to discuss the part they would play on
the following day in defense of their uncle. There was grim
determination writ large on their young faces. They were watching the
progress of the moon as it was marching slowly through that cloudless
sky, anxiously waiting for the morrow to unfold its event. Each one of
them had the desire to go first into the battlefield to shed his blood.
Even the few words they exchanged amongst themselves pertained to their
anxiety lest their uncle Hussain might hold them back. They were
discussing among themselves how to secure the permission of the Imam to
march off into the battlefield.
