The Brothers Who Stayed Together

A retelling for children, based on the account of Áqá Muhammad-Báqir and Áqá Muhammad-Ismá‘íl in Bahá'í Chronicles.

In a city called Adrianople, two brothers made up their minds to leave everything behind.

Their names were Muhammad-Báqir and Muhammad-Ismá‘íl. They had grown up far away, in the land of Persia. But they had heard of Bahá'u'lláh, and a great longing had taken hold of them — a wish to be near Him. So they packed up their lives, said goodbye to their homeland, and traveled all the way to Adrianople, where Bahá'u'lláh was. There, under His loving care, they felt they had finally come home.

The brothers came from a family that loved God deeply. They had another brother too, a tradesman who, to look at him, seemed like an ordinary working man with no schooling at all. Yet the moment that brother began to speak about the things of the spirit, the people around him would fall silent in wonder. Out of his great love for God, he had cast everything else aside — and somehow, in a single leap, he had reached heights of understanding that learned men spend their whole lives climbing toward. He stayed a friend and helper to every seeker of truth, right up to his last breath.

That was the family Muhammad-Báqir and Muhammad-Ismá‘íl belonged to: a family that gave its whole heart to God and held nothing back.

But following Bahá'u'lláh in those days was not easy or safe. Cruel rulers were determined to stop Him. When Bahá'u'lláh was sent as a prisoner to a fortress in the city of 'Akká, the two brothers were not left free and comfortable somewhere else. They went where He went. Along with the other faithful friends, they were taken captive and shut inside the great prison too — sharing the very same hardship as the Beloved they had crossed the world to follow.

'Akká was a harsh and unhealthy place. The moment they arrived, the guards locked everyone inside the barracks and sealed up every door, so that no one could come in and no one could go out. The air itself made people sick. Almost as soon as a newcomer set foot there, he would fall ill.

And so it happened to the two brothers. Muhammad-Báqir and Muhammad-Ismá‘íl both came down with a terrible sickness. There was no doctor inside those walls, and not a single bit of medicine to be found. There was nothing anyone could do but stay close and pray.

The brothers had come into the world as part of one family, and they had walked the whole long road together. Now, on one quiet night inside the prison, they left the world together too — the two of them passing away on the very same night, wrapped in each other's arms. No one in that place slept untroubled. There was not a soul there who did not weep that night.

When morning came, the friends wanted to carry the brothers out and lay them to rest with honor. But the guards refused. "You are forbidden to go out of the fortress," they said. "You must hand over these two corpses to us. … But first you must pay for it."

The friends searched, and found they had no money at all. Then Bahá'u'lláh did something the friends would never forget. There was a small prayer carpet — the very carpet that had been spread beneath His own feet. Bahá'u'lláh took it up Himself and said, "Sell it. Give the money to the guards."

So the carpet was sold, and the coins were handed over. Even so, the guards showed no gentleness. They simply dug a single grave and laid the two brothers in it side by side, just as they were.

And here is the part that turns sorrow into something beautiful. Because the brothers were buried together, their resting place is one. Their souls had risen up joined together into God's shining Kingdom — and down here on the earth, their bodies stayed joined too, each one still holding the other in a close embrace. Bahá'u'lláh poured out His blessings on these two brothers. He had cared for them while they lived, and after they were gone, He remembered them in His own writings, so that their names would never be forgotten.

Muhammad-Báqir and Muhammad-Ismá‘íl gave up their home, their comfort, and in the end their very lives, all for the love of God — and they never let go of each other along the way. Real love is like that. It holds on through the hardest times, and what is joined by love is not torn apart, not even at the very end.

This is a retelling for children. For the fuller account, see "Áqá Muhammad-Báqir and Áqá Muhammad-Ismá‘íl, the Tailor".

editors, B. C.. *Bahá'í Chronicles*. https://bahaichronicles.org/aqa-muhammad-baqir-and-aqa-muhammad-ismail-the-tailor/