This story is about a great Arab lady narrated in Arabic by her son. Here is the translation of the story in the words of his son:

I belong to Makkah and my house is very close to the Baitullah. It is so close that we can hear the Athan clearly. I was inspired by the west and fell a victim to their propagandas. Like other Arabs I kept deaf ears to the cries of oppressed humanity. I admired the infidel ways of the west. After completing my education I got a job in an airline and I decided to settle in London. I returned after sometime to get married. I was busy in preparing for the wedding when my friend told me that 'the battle between Kufr and Islam has just begun in Afghanistan and the Soviets have come with all their power to extinguish the light of Allah. The Soviets are killing and plundering. The time has come for Muslims to unite and fight this Infidel Powers and be ready for Jihad fi sabilillah.

I was surprised to hear his words. I was blinded by luxuries and battling against infidels was totally opposite to my thoughts. The nation which had shown us the path of progress why should we fight her? I told my Mujahid friend 'probably you have become mad'. I went back to home and told this news to my mother.

As I was telling her I looked to her face. I was shocked to see her crying. I asked her why she was crying. She told me sorrowfully: "For Allah's sake take me to Afghanistan I want to be martyred in the way of Allah."

The words of my mother fell like a thunderbolt on me. I felt a strong disgust for myself. The faces of so many of those mothers who had become the victims of the oppression of infidels because of my negligence started revolving around my eyes. I could see their frail hands near my throat. "Take me to Afghanistan" the voice of my mother shook me once again.

I said to my beloved mother: "Dear mother you don't need to go there I am ready to sacrifice on your behalf." She replied firmly "I want to participate myself."

I found myself helpless in front of her firmness. We then decided that I will go there first and manage some place to stay and other things and then take my mother later. My mother hardly agreed to it but she departed me happily. After reaching Pakistan I managed a place to stay and returned to take my mother with me back to Peshawar. I found her to be in hospital and according to doctors in the last stages of her life. I told her that I have come to take you for Afghanistan. On hearing this, an electric current ran down her frail body and all the sickness disappeared.

The next day I was surprised to see that my great mother sold all her property and jewelry to donate it to the Mujahideen. I left my siblings crying and headed with my mom to Peshawar. On reaching Peshawar she grew even more restless to reach the front. When I asked my Ameer to allow my mother to participate he decided to talk to my mother himself. On seeing the Ameer my mother became extremely happy and handed all the money to him. The Ameer told her that it was enough from her and going to the front was not appropriate for her. She did not dare to refuse in front of the Ameer but she became extremely sad. So she left and I stayed with the intention of staying on the front for the rest of my life.

Only a little time had passed when I was informed that my mother was extremely sick and crying every time for the love of martyrdom and that she was reaching Islamabad on so and so date. I went to Islamabad. The emotional state of my mother had dragged me into a great unrest. She told me that this time she had come to sacrifice for the dominance of Islam and with no intention of going back. I took my old mother to the Jalalabad front. My mother was so happy so much that her tears won't stop. That day the Kufr must be shaking. The weak hands of this old lady looked so strong.

We reached the Jalalabad front. All the young Mujahideen started chanting enthusiastic slogans on seeing an old lady fighting for the dominance of Islam. Some moments can never be forgotten. They became a art of history... My mother had just reached the front when the enemies of Islam starting firing mortars to extinguish the radiance of Islam. Those taking part in Jihad know how pleasant such a moment is for a Mujahid. Thus, the Mujahideen brought forward my old mother against the so called Super power.

She chanted Bismillah and Allahu Akbar to put the mortar in the cannon and like that with a Takbeer she would fire them on the enemies. These five hours were like a disaster for the infidels. As usual, the Russian planes responded by bombing the area with their planes. All the Mujahideen therefore left for their bunkers but this Mujahidah lady stood in the middle of battlefield. She raised her hands in prayer to Almighty Allah: "O'Allah bless me with martyrdom" for a long time she stood there praying in pursuit of martyrdom. Then she prayed like this: "O' Allah! If you haven't written martyrdom in my fate then give me a wound in your way. I don't want to meet you without any signs of Jihad on the Day of Judgment". Her prayer was granted and this great lady got the gift of being wounded in the way of Allah so hapily she returned to her home.

[Mujahid ki Azaan Part II]

[From Brave Women in Jihaad]

Taken from Benefit of the Day Magazine

Translated and Submitted by a Mujahid

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