The Brother Who Waited Outside

A retelling based on Memorials of the Faithful by 'Abdu'l-Baha. Short phrases in quotation marks are words preserved in that account.

Khurshid Begum, who was given the title Shamsu'd-Duha, the Morning Sun, was the mother-in-law of the King of Martyrs. She lost both her parents as a child and was reared by her grandmother in the home of the famed Muhammad-Baqir, chief of the 'ulamas of Isfahan and her cousin on her father's side. There she was trained in theology, the sciences and the arts.

In Karbila she spent three years in close company with Tahirih, and from being with her she grew more on fire with the Faith than ever. When the clergy of Karbila called for a massacre, a mob hunting for Tahirih broke into her house by mistake, dragged her through the streets to the bazaar, beat her with clubs and stoned her. They let her go only when a voice screamed through the uproar that Qurratu'l-'Ayn had been arrested. Later her husband, Mirza Hadi, went on to Badasht, where he was attacked and stoned; he died in a ruined caravanserai, and his brother buried him by the roadside.

Her daughter married the King of Martyrs. When Shamsu'd-Duha went to live in his princely house, people thronged its doors day and night, for the leading women of the city came and went. Among those outside the Faith she became known as Fatimih, "the Baha'is' Lady of Light."

Then a decree was issued against the King of Martyrs, and the Shah commanded that he and his brother, the Beloved of Martyrs, be put to death. Their houses were looted and all they owned was carried off. No one in the household was spared, "not even infants at the breast."

After the martyrdom Shamsu'd-Duha was hunted down, and she took refuge in her brother's house. He was not a believer. He was a man of learning and an ascetic who kept to himself like a hermit, known in Isfahan as upright and pious, and for these reasons trusted by everyone.

The government did not give up its search. With the help of the clergy it found where she was and summoned her, and her brother had to take her to the Governor's house himself. He waited outside while she was sent into the women's apartments. The Governor came to the door there and kicked and trampled her so savagely that she fainted. Then he shouted to his wife: "Princess! Princess! Come here and take a look at the Baha'is' Lady of Light!"

The women lifted her up and put her in one of the rooms.

Her brother, dumbfounded, was still waiting outside. At last he pleaded with the Governor: "This sister of mine has been beaten so severely that she is at the point of death. What is the use of keeping her here? There is no hope for her now." He asked to take her home, saying it would be better for her to die there. She was a descendant of the Prophet, he said, and had done no wrong; there was nothing against her except her kinship to the King of Martyrs.

The Governor answered: "She is one of the great leaders and heroines of the Baha'is. She will simply cause another uproar."

The brother said: "I promise you that she will not utter a word. It is certain that within a few days she will not even be alive."

Because he was respected and trusted by high and low alike, the Governor released her into his custody.

She lived for a while in his house, crying out, grieving, mourning her dead. The hostile would not leave them alone, and every day brought some new turmoil. Her brother decided to take her on pilgrimage to Mashhad, hoping the unrest would die down, and they settled in a vacant house near the Shrine of the Imam Rida.

Every morning he went to the Shrine and stayed at his devotions until almost noon, and in the afternoon he hurried back there and prayed until evening. With the house empty, Shamsu'd-Duha got in touch with the Baha'i women of the city, and in the hours when her brother was gone they flocked there to hear her. Life in Mashhad was dangerous for the believers; if the malevolent so much as suspected someone, they murdered him. But she could not keep silent. She was, the account says, "capable of flinging herself into flames, or into the sea." Her brother frequented no one and would not so much as speak to another person, so he knew nothing of it.

Then one day he saw that trouble had broken out in the city, and he knew it would end in serious harm. He was so calm and silent a man that he did not reproach his sister. He simply took her away from Mashhad without warning, and back in Isfahan he sent her to live with her daughter, the widow of the King of Martyrs. He would no longer shelter her under his roof.

In Isfahan she went on teaching as boldly as before. When it became clear that calamity was about to overtake the household of the King of Martyrs again, Baha'u'llah called them to the Most Great Prison, and she came to the Holy Land with her widowed daughter and the children. There her grandson, Mirza 'Abdu'l-Husayn, died of the tuberculosis he had contracted from his sufferings in Isfahan, and then came the passing of Baha'u'llah. She grew so feeble that she took to her bed, unable to move, yet she did not keep silent for a moment. She told of days long gone and of what had come to pass in the Cause, recited from Holy Writ, and chanted her prayers, until, out of the Most Great Prison, she "soared away to the world of God."

'Abdu'l-Baha ends His account of her with these words: "Unto her be salutations and praise, and most great mercy, sheltered in the compassion of her omnipotent Lord."

This is a retelling. For the fuller account, see Memorials of the Faithful by 'Abdu'l-Baha.

'Abdu'l-Baha. (1915). *Memorials of the Faithful*. Baha'i Publishing Trust.