Every year, as the dust rises and the sun watches from above,
Millions of hearts set out on foot,
Bound not by chains, but by love—toward Karbala.
They walk through scorching heat, across long and weary roads,
Not for fame, not for recognition,
Not to be seen or praised—
But for something deeper, something eternal.
They walk out of love.
Love for truth.
Love for justice.
Love for Hussain.
Arbaeen is more than a date—it is the echo of a cry that never died.
It marks forty days since the greatest stand in human history:
The stand of Imam Hussain (peace be upon him),
The grandson of the Prophet Muhammad,
Who chose sacrifice over silence, dignity over defeat.
With only seventy-some companions, he faced an empire of oppression,
Knowing full well that death awaited him.
Yet he stood.
Not for victory in battle,
But to awaken sleeping souls and stir the conscience of the world.
And in dying, he lived.
Not in palaces or pages of the powerful,
But in the heartbeat of every seeker of truth.
His name lives not because he wielded a sword,
But because he refused to kneel.
Arbaeen is not just a visit.
It is not a ritual of the feet—
It is a revolution of the heart.
A silent sermon that speaks louder than words:
That truth, no matter how abandoned, is never defeated.
That standing with justice, even when alone, is the path to eternal life.
To the young and old,
To the strong and weary,
To the mothers with children in their arms,
To the men walking barefoot with tears in their eyes—
This walk is a prayer, a pledge, a poem written on the earth
With every step toward Karbala.
To those walking this year,
Carrying your pain, your hopes, your prayers:
May your steps be kissed by angels,
May your hearts burn brighter with every mile,
And may your visit be accepted by the One who sees all.
This is not just a march.
It is a resurrection.
A journey to Karbala,
And a journey within.