A mother, who stayed inside the tents telling her fellow women that her sixth month old had gone in the battlefield just like their young youthful and martyred sons. That her son received the blessing of 'Nusrat e Imam E waqt' just like their martyred sons.
A father, who protected the infant under his cloak to prevent his beautiful face from burning in the scorching sun light.
A mother, who waited for her Asghar (as) to return after having some water from the enemy and tell her in his own way about how the battlefield was for him.
A father who raised the infant in his hands to ask from the killers of his entire family and friends for a few drops of water.
An arrow, heavier than the weight of the infant which was shot to strike a very tiny throat. The infant's body received this arrow and flips from the severity of the shot in the hands of the father.
A father and mother together burry their tiny baby in the sand to hide his tiny corpse from further mutilation from the enemy. The enemy didn't refrain and count the head of the tiny infant amongst their achievement of brutal killing.
A father who was killed and mutilated, trampled and beheaded soon afterwards.
A mother who never let go of the burnt woods of the cradle of her infant and never sat under the shade until she died.