Completely dreading my first Arbaeen in London after having been in Karbala for the past two. It feels like I’m completely out of place here, commuting on trains and tubes rather than being on a plane, going to uni lectures instead of a majlis in the haram of Abul Fadhl Abbas (sa), saying salaam to my friends instead of my Imams (sa). It feels wrong. Disconnected. My heart is aching to give my salaams to Amir ul Mu’mineen (sa), my condolences to Aba Abdillah (sa), my heart to Abul Fadhl (sa). I’m aching to gaze upon those beautiful domes, to feel the peace of Najaf, the sorrow of Karbala, the content of Kadhmain. I don’t know how to go about my life knowing that the oppression faced by my Imams (sa) is continuing till today. Knowing that the oppression faced by the women and children is continuing. My heart breaks at what Shaam has become. My heart breaks with longing as I think of the hours I spent with Sayyida Zainab (sa) and Sayyida Ruqayya (sa), pouring my heart out and weeping for the pain they faced. I can’t be expected to write an essay when all I can think of is that sweet fragrance of Najaf, the hospitality of zuwaar whilst walking to Karbala, the heart-wrenching relief of finally reaching my masters (sa) in my exhaustion and being able to rest my eyes on those glistening domes, the adrenaline on the night of Arbaeen walking through those blessed harams, down Bayn ul Haramayn chanting Labbayk Ya Hussain, Labbayk Ya Abbas, Labbayk Ya Zainab, Labbayk Ya Mahdi. My heart lies in Bayn ul Haramayn, Najaf, Kadhmain. I would come crawling to you Sayyidi Ya Hussain (sa).