I do not know who wrote this story, it surely appears to be fictional, but that is not the point. This short story will make you want to cry, are we ready? What have we been doing with our lives? Why are we so obsessed in little things that we can so easily avoid such as movies and music; things that deviate us from the right path?

Short Story: Are we ready for Zahoor-e-Imam Mahdi (ATFS)

I don’t quite understand whether it was real or a dream. I only remember that it was late in the night and I was sitting on my favorite sofa with an article titled “Philosophy of Awaiting” in my hands. I was reading the letter of Imam Mahdi (atfs) addressed to Shaikh Mufeed (ra), it said:

“We are not negligent of your affairs and are not forgetful of your remembrance. Had it been so, then terrible calamities would have struck you and your enemies would have destroyed you. Fear Allah, strengthen your hands, so that we may relieve you of the tribulations that have afflicted you.” (Beharul-Anwar, Vol.53, Chap.21)


I was tired and I began to nod. In that world between asleep and awake I found myself in a huge room, it was not a particular room except for a wall full of drawers like you find in a library. The drawers went from the floor to the ceiling and looked like there was no end on sight. Each drawer had a different name. When I got close, one of the titles called my attention: “Missed opportunities for standing up for justice”

Without paying much attention I opened it and started to read the cards inside. All of the sudden I realized that I recognized the opportunities on each one of them and the stupid lame excuses and reasons I had, for letting it go.

I started to realize where I was. This huge room with its endless drawers represented my existence. There I could find each one of the actions of my life even the small ones that I had forgotten. I started to feel a sensation of curiosity, expectation, and wonder when I started to open the drawers randomly, to explore what they contain.

Very few made me happy and brought back sweet remembrances. Others, on the contrary, gave me a feeling of shame and guilt so intense that I had to turn to see if someone was watching me.

The file “Brothers and Sisters” was next to the “Brothers and Sisters that I have betrayed” and “Brothers and Sisters that I have abandoned when they needed me the most”

The titles went from the ordinary to the ridiculous like “Books that I have read”; “Lies that I have told”; “Hypocrisy that I have practice”; “Hard time that I inflicted”; “Rights of Parents that I suppressed”, “Rights of children’s that I violated”……

The titles kept amazing me. In some drawers there were more cards than the ones I thought would be and in others less. But each card confirms the truth. Each card had my signature and was handwritten.

I became dumb founded when I saw the drawer “Movies that I saw” when I discovered that it did not have an end in sight. I felt ashamed equally for the quality of the movie’s and the amount of time I have wasted watching them.

When I arrived to the drawer titled “Curses that I collected”, a tremble ran throughout my body. I only open the drawer a few inches… I was ashamed to discover its depth. All along I was thinking that I was cursing the enemies of the Prophet (saw) and his holy Ahlul Bayt (as) but I didn’t knew every time I indulge in any act or omission that made me appear to be following the foot-prints of the very people I was cursing.

Randomly I took a card out and I read it. I felt sick knowing that “this” moment hidden in obscurity had been recorded. I didn’t need to see any more…An animal instinct came out of me. A thought dominated my mind. No one should ever see these cards. No one should ever enter into this room… I have to destroy it! With insane feelings I pulled on a drawer, I had to empty it and burn the cards that it contained.

But I discovered that I could neither empty nor could I burn the cards. I realized that I could not even dislodge a single one from the drawer. I became desperate and tried to yank even harder, only to discover that they were harder than steel when I tried to rip them. Defeated and completely defenseless, I returned the drawer to its place.

Placing my head against the endless bookcase, invincible witness to my miseries I started to cry. Then the title of one of the drawers made me feel a little bit better. “Fundraising for charity” When I opened it I found less than 4 cards. One card read, “No personal contribution made despite being wealthy – No personal belief in the “cause” and “returns” from Allah (swt), while trying to convince and collect funds from others”. Once more tears came to my eyes. I was crying from the depth of my being. I could not even take a breath. I fell to the floor crying in
shame. A new thought came to my head: No one should enter this room; I need to find the key and lock it permanently.

While I dried my tears, I saw him. Oh no! please don’t!!, not Him!!, anyone but my Imam. Helpless, I saw how my Imam opened the drawers, and read each card. I could not stand to look at his reaction. At that moment I didn’t want to meet his eyes. Intuitive Imam drew near the worse drawers. Why does he have to read them all?

With sadness in his eyes he looked into mine, I lowered my head with shame; I put my hands on my face and started to cry once more. He came near, put his hands on my shoulders. He could have said many things. But he did not speak. He stood next to me, in silence. That was the day that my Imam kept silence… and cried with me.

And returning to the drawers, from one side to the other side of the room, started to open them and one by one and on each card he signed his name over mine. Oh NO! I screamed running toward HIM. The only thing I could say was NO! NO!! When I ripped the card from his hands. His name didn’t need to be on those cards…………… But there it was. Written in crimson. His name covered mine. He took the card from my hand; he looked at me with a sad smile and continued signing cards. I don’t understand how he did it so quickly.

The next instance I saw him closing the last drawer and come to me. He gave a tender look and said to me: “Our Shiah are the one whose heart is pure of malice, deception and corruption. His words and deeds are only for the pleasure of Allah.”

At that moment he left the room…Room that still is open… because there are more cards to be filled…I am grateful to Allah (swt) that I still have the opportunity to ensure that next time my Imam returns to that room, he will find more cards that will make him happy, less wasted time and less vanity and shameful cards.

On this auspicious occasion of birth anniversary of Imam Mahdi (atfs) let us all make one resolution that will hasten his return. Let each one of us promise to our Imam to give up one such activity that is contrary to the doctrines of Islam. If we can do that what a strong community we would be and what an excellent legacy we would leave for our children!