The Grace of Lady Fatimah (SA) upon a woman who organised gatherings in remembrance of Imam Husayn (SA)
Ustaad Shaykh Masoud Aali mentioned this story in his lecture:
The late Ayatollah Mirza Ali Hastei Isfahani, one of the disciples and admirers of Fazlullah Nouri, was a devout and respected jurist. Despite his esteemed status as a mujtahid (jurisprudential authority), he would humbly go to recite elegies and eulogies (in mourning gatherings). In his memoirs, he recalls a time when the month of Muharram was approaching, and he deeply wished that Lady Fatimah (SA) would somehow convey to him where she preferred him to perform these elegies.
He says that he passionately invoked her, praying to be shown a gathering that would earn her satisfaction. On the first night of Muharram, he dreamed of Lady Fatimah (SA) and asked her directly, "The gatherings have started, but I have not yet committed to any place, waiting for a sign from you. Where should I go?" Lady Fatimah responded, "Anywhere the flag of our Husayn is raised, we are present, and we love that place." He asked again which gathering she preferred most, and she repeated, "Wherever Husayn’s flag is raised, that place has our attention and love."
After insisting a few more times, she finally mentioned a particular place... a deprived neighbourhood in southern Tehran, near the old quarters of Darvazeh Ghar and Darvazeh Shush, in a small, destitute area known as Soap-Maker Alley. She mentioned a woman by name, saying, “She holds a gathering that has our special favour. We, too, attend it.”
When Ayatollah Hastei awoke, he immediately went to the location, even though there was no running water in those days. He found a woman sitting by the stream, washing dishes, and asked if she knew the lady by the name mentioned by Lady Fatimah in his dream. The woman replied, “Yes, I am she.” He asked if she held a mourning gathering for Imam Husayn.
She pointed down a narrow dead-end alley, saying, "There, where the old flag is displayed, weathered and faded from years in the sun.” He saw a flag, worn to a pale shade from exposure, hanging there. He asked if he might recite there. She replied, “We don’t have many attendees.” Despite this, Ayatollah Hastei committed to attending.
The next day, he arrived and saw only three or four women gathered in a small room with an old chest and a modest space. Tea was served from a small corner. He had already decided not to accept any payment for reciting there, but upon seeing the humbleness of the place, he was certain that he would not take anything at all. As he recited, he could hear the cries of the few women there. Interestingly, there was another sound of weeping from within the small cornered chest room, in addition to the voice of the homeowner.
The days of mourning passed, and at the end of the gathering, he quickly tried to leave before anyone could offer him payment. But as he left, he saw the lady running after him. She called out, “Haj Agha, wait!” When he stopped, she said, “Do you think you are clever? I have been saving up for this. For a whole year, I worked in people’s homes, gathering what little money I could for this gathering.”
Seeing her pure intention and humble sincerity, he accepted her offering as a blessed token. Then he asked her, “During these days when I was reciting, I heard an extra sound of crying from the chest room. Besides your own, whose voice was that?” She replied, “Didn’t they tell you in your dream? Didn’t they say, ‘We, too, would come?’”
This revelation left him awestruck. He reflected on the profound difference in spiritual paths, realising that a woman with such purity, modesty, and self-sacrifice could reach spiritual heights that others could only aspire to, with her grace and presence in both her home and community.
