The Dawn-Breakers Novel
Exported from Holy-Writings.com on 2026-06-18 - 1 clipping

Source: Bahá'í Library Online (bahai-library.com), curated by Jonah Winters. Used by permission of the curator. Original citation: James J. Keene, The Dawn-Breakers Novel, bahai-library.com.
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THE DAWN-BREAKERS Novel 1
by

James J Keene

© 2021 James J Keene

Posted as a sample at
https://bahai-library.com/keene_dawnbreakers_novel . Purchase
online at https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B09895BRXC .

Page format small because copied from the Kindle edition.
Preface
A movie screenplay is often based on a novel. However,
this novel is based on the film script by the author,
recently published as a book in "THE DAWN-BREAKERS
Movie".

Some may prefer to read the novel version of the story.
The screenplay version might provide a different
experience. What if the reader is handed the script and
asked to be the Director of the production, "What do you
see, hear and feel?"

This is the question that readers of either the movie or
novel versions may answer. Those answers suggest a
variety of experiences of the story linked to the
imagination of each reader.

The objective of the author is that the experience based
on either the movie script or this novel version may enrich
the lives of readers.

The working title of the movie is "The Dawn-Breakers".
This title has become well known among Baha'is from the
important historical account written by Shoghi Effendi,
Guardian of the Baha'i Faith from 1921 to 1957.

In about 1986, the author and a prospective investor in
the film production were invited to meet with Ruhiyyih
Khanum (1910-2000), the widow of the late Guardian, in
her suite while at the Theater Hotel, Vienna, Austria. The
investor argued to Ms. Khanum that the movie should not
have the same title as the Guardian's book. Her response
was simple and brief, with a few words to the effect that
she did not see any problem at all concerning the movie
title.

ii
At that time, the author had sent hundreds of pages
including the script and supporting documents to the
international administrative body of the Baha'i Faith,
known as The Universal House of Justice, in Haifa, Israel.
In a written reply, The House advised that the author
should maintain control of the project and that they were
praying for its success.

In the 1980s before "The Dawn-Breakers" screenplay was
written, a detailed chronology of the story did not exist.
Yes, many were familiar with the broad outline of the story
based on various books that described its key episodes. So
to write the film script, the author had to create a time-line
of events in the story. This chronology was published in
"THE DAWN-BREAKERS Movie", 2021, 30 pages in
Appendices A and B.

After the author sent the script and related documents to
The Universal House of Justice, one of the members began
correspondence with the author. In one of these letters,
he noted that he had shared the chronology with persons
in the Baha'i community interested in Babi history. This
may or may not have been appropriate since the
documents at that time had been marked as proprietary
materials of Keene Productions. Whatever the case, it
appeared that there may have been some public release of
the documents, perhaps mainly to Baha'i scholars.

Fast forward to the present writing of the novel version of
the screenplay over three decades later. The internet was
searched for illustrations for this book. Happily, it was
noted that many sources now featured Babi history in
chronology tabulations of events and dates, Wiki articles,
videos and books, all closely following the chronology
created by the author. Is this all original research or did
the author's chronology play a role in some of these
developments? In any case, the outcome is welcome.

iii
In much of these works, historical figures are portrayed
mostly in a one-dimensional, even zero-dimensional,
manner. That is, the people are treated as if they were
just cardboard cutouts or perfect saints. This can be both
unrealistic and boring. In contrast, the movie script and
this novel pose the question: what if these figures were
real human beings? People who laugh, scream, cry, tell
jokes, bleed, shout, smile, dream, get muddy. People with
both weak and strong moments.

Finally, some housekeeping items may be helpful.

The dialogue in a screenplay might not include the name
of a particular character. Hence, the script might invent
descriptive names, like, say, "Waitress" or "Cop #1". This
practice is continued in the novel version. Examples: A
bread vender is "Bread". A wool vender is "Wool".

Many of the real names of characters are long and
unfamiliar to many readers. Thus, many characters are
identified with short names. Examples: Mulla Husayn is
"Husayn", Abbas Quli-Khan is "General".

Scholarly accounts may carefully include accents on vowels
in names of people, places and things. Sorry, folks. No
vowel accents here. Technically, there is no ambiguity
since each name, whether with or without accents, refers
to the same person, place or thing.

The lights are dimming.
THE DAWN-BREAKERS is about to begin.

James J Keene
July 9, 2021

iv
Contents

Anticipation of the Mission of the Bab ............................. 1
The Shaykhi Movement in Karbala ................................ 11
Proclamation of the Mission of the Bab ......................... 27
The State Reacts - Shiraz ............................................. 37
Biela's Comet Split in Two ............................................ 45
Vahid Investigates the Babis ........................................ 57
Shiraz Governor Ordered to Kill the Bab ........................ 67
The State Reacts - Isfahan ........................................... 77
The Bab Disappears..................................................... 93
The State Reacts - Tehran ......................................... 101
The Bab Imprisoned at the Mak-Ku Fortress ................ 111
The Babis Act ............................................................ 119
Mulla Husayn Walks from Mashhad to Mah-Ku ............. 131
Islamic Clerics Agree to Execute Tahirih ...................... 141
Christian Missionary Watches the Babis ....................... 147
Mulla Husayn Back in Mashhad ................................... 151
Badasht Conference and the Trial of the Bab ............... 155
Dream of a Tabriz Youth ............................................ 169
Babis March from Mashhad to Mazindaran................... 173
Babis Attacked Again by Religious Fanatics .................. 187
Babi Defense at Tabarsi Shrine ................................... 199
Tabarsi Fort 1.0 ........................................................ 205
Tabarsi Fort 2.0 ........................................................ 213
Babis Target Munitions to Disable Besiegers ................ 225
Fifteen Minutes of Fame for a General ........................ 233
Tabarsi Fort 3.0 ........................................................ 243
Babis Betrayed and Massacred at Tabarsi .................... 247
Babi Numbers Increase Throughout Persia .................. 251
Turmoil and Death in the Capital ................................ 255
Siege of Zanjan Babis by the Shah's Troops ................ 265
Martyrdom of the Bab ................................................ 275
Postscript.................................................................. 287

v
vi
Anticipation of the Mission of the Bab

This is the true story
of a youth from Shiraz known as the Bab

HAIFA, PALESTINE, 1843

At the Mediterranean shore of the small port of Haifa,
Palestine, the sun is about to rise over Mt. Carmel, a
barren mass rising right from the shoreline. Austin Wright
and Captain move with the gentle sway of a fifty-foot
cargo boat, where they sit on the stern rail. Three Arab
locals are unloading sacks of grain: one in the hold, one on
deck and one stacking the sacks on a cart on the small
pier to which the boat is moored.
"A long way from America," says Captain.
"I can't believe I'm here," replies Wright.
"Don't start on that again."

A rooster crows at dawn. A few voices and a baby crying
come from the few modest houses lining the street leading
up the mountain. Each off-loaded sack thuds on the cart.

Wright: 32, an American Christian missionary, earnest, clean-
shaven with moustache, a talker, seeks an audience.
Captain: unkempt beard, middle-aged British adventurer.

The Arab on deck throws a fifty-pound sack to the pier.
As it leaves his hands, he hears the sound of wood and
rope under suddenly increased tension.
The line attaching the bow to the pier has no slack and
the bow rises slightly increasing its tension as each sack is
off-loaded.
"People are buying white
robes in London ... to climb
a mountain like that,"
Wright     says,   gesturing
toward Mt. Carmel.
Captain is a skeptic.
"These people are insane."
The Arab on deck listens
to the conversation as he
works.
"They're coming here.
You'll see!"
Wright gazes up at Mt.
Carmel, "It began in 1755
with the great earthquake
of Lisbon, Portugal."
A sea swell begins a slow
roll of the boat as the Arab tosses another sack off the
boat.
The bowline is about to give way. The rope unravels and
slips. The deck and pier cleats strain and wood creaks.
Cargo shifts below deck. A couple having an argument
scream in one of the nearby shacks. It sounds like an
earthquake.
The bowline is so tight that the boat can no longer
move. Wright continues, "This one ranks first among all
recorded earthquakes, killing 60,000 people in six
minutes."
The bow-pier attachment gives way. The pier plank with
the mooring cleat at the bow breaks loose. The boat
bobs up and down. Wright almost goes overboard.
Captain grips the stern rail.
"Jesus," Captain says, as he shakes his head in
resignation while the Arabs hasten to refasten the bow. A
small swell from the sea slams the boat into the pier.
"Are we sinking?" Wright asks with an impish smile.
Captain replies with playful sarcasm, "Just an
earthquake."

"Ah. Then in 1780 there was the Dark Day. Imagine."
The picture in Wright's mind is a New York street with
people looking up, circa 1780. The mid-day sun begins to
darken.
"An eclipse?" asks Captain.
"No, the cause was not known," replies Wright. His
imagined flashback to the event continues. The sun and
sky darken. Star constellations become visible. New York
people and animals react, run and look. The moon
becomes visible in the darkening sky. Wright continues,
"but in the day-time darkness the moon appeared red as
blood."
A few seagulls fly by. Dogs are barking in the distance.
Wright looks for a reaction. But Captain just glances up
at Mt. Carmel.
The sun has now arisen above the horizon. The sacks
keep thumping their way from boat hold to pier cart. The
Arab at mid-ship still listens to Wright's description,
"The third thing. The historic shooting star displays of
1799 and 1833. I tell you. All around the world, serious
people are preparing for the sudden appearance of Christ
next year."
Hearing this, the Arab drops a sack of grain on the deck,
as if it had become electrified and steps forward crying out
in Arabic, "Shi'ihs are waiting for the prophet in Karbala!"
Wright looks to Captain for the English translation, "The
Muslims also are waiting for their prophet to return in
Karbala."
The Arab can speak a little English and barks out, "Next
year. Big trouble," before resuming his work.
Closing his eyes Captain says, "Descend from the clouds,
eh?"

Captain recalls having a drink ten years ago with Lt.
Francis Farrant and Lt. Justin Sheil in the countryside near
Hamadan, Persia. They are in a military tent. They see
dancing light from camp fires and hear depraved partying
of Persian soldiers in the night.

"Ten years ago in '33, Farrant, Sheil and I were training
the Persian cavalry forces of Fath-'Ali Shah. Suddenly there
was silence. We looked outside."

They look up at the cloudless sky of Nov 13, 1833.
Against the constellations of fixed stars, with that of Leo
seen prominently, hundreds of shooting stars appear as
flying sparks. This is the famous "Leonid" meteor shower.
The dramatic burning of each entering meteor is heard.
The breaking of several meteors into pieces is even louder.
Fireballs created by large meteorites are breathtaking,
followed by thunderclaps. This shooting star display is said
to be the biggest recorded in history.

QAZVIN

Two women walk briskly down a narrow street in the
noon sun. We suppose they are women by their voices,
since they are completely covered in black veils and the
only opening is a cloth grid of a few square inches for
them to see out. Their black forms contrast the light brown
mud walls along the dusty street. They are Tahirih and
Mardiyyih.

Tahirih: 26, is beautiful, a "man's woman", a child prodigy,
known as the most educated woman in Persia, a renowned
poetess. At age 13, Tahirih had been forced to marry her cousin,
now about 35, the son of a Mulla who is a brother of her father.
Thus, Tahirih was related as wife-cousin, niece and daughter
respectively to three powerful clerics in Qazvin.

Her sister, Mardiyyih, 20,
is her attractive and faithful
companion.

Others are on the street, as
Tahirih's husband passes
them.
"That was my husband.
Now I've had it."
"If he knew it was us,"
Mardiyyih replies.
They both laugh. The
other women on the street
are covered in identical
head-to-toe veils which are
indistinguishable.

Tahirih's Husband: 35, is
cruel and arrogant, but unable to subdue her free spirit and
outstanding intellect.

The two women stop at a door along the walled narrow
street. It opens just enough to see a man inside. It's
Tahirih's uncle, mid-40s, open mind and heart.
Tahirih's eyes are barely visible behind the cloth grid
opening in the full body veil. It appears that nothing is
happening in this very brief encounter. However, Tahirih
discretely passes a letter to her uncle. She pulls it from her
sleeve handing it to her uncle, who then disappears behind
the door. Not a word is spoken. The women scurry off.
As her uncle, his eyes not yet adjusted to the outdoor,
mid-day sun brightness, is about to close the door, he
notices a small disturbance down the street. A vendor
points to the sky as he hawks copperware vessels from a
street cart to potential customers. High in the sky, strange
circles or halos appear around the sun. Tahirih's uncle
glances upward as he closes the door.
It is dark inside the front door hall. He blinks with
watered eyes.

He sees a long darkened hall, much like a tunnel,
opening into a bright inner courtyard.
He squeezes his eyes shut
again.
The light at the end of the
passageway is replaced with
that of the sun with halos in
negative image. It is the after-
image still tingling in his visual
system. Words cannot describe
the beautiful bursts of swirling
colors that his vivid imagination
freely adds to this unusual
image. Blinking several times, in a stroboscopic series of
images, he sees his hand rise into the passageway holding
the letter from Tahirih. The letter is bound with a ribbon
with its wax seal and addressed in Persian calligraphy. The
letter rises to match the position of the sun after-image
and mix with it. Tahirih's uncle whispers, "Karbala."

Tahirih's room has no windows and the subdued lighting
comes from roof ports and the doorway, which opens as
she and Mardiyyih romp in. The room is not big, but by the
time they reach the other side, they have quickly shed
their veils down to simple dresses. They dislike the veil,
the discomfort associated with it and waste no time in
getting it off now that they have arrived in their own
women's quarters. Even though it is a cool day, they are
covered with sweat, from the excessive clothing, the
vigorous walk and the excitement of their mission. It
almost looks like they had been swimming. Tahirih's face is
particularly enticing. They embrace. Both are filled with
emotion.
Mardiyyih says, "Now you can teach us again tonight."
"Um-hum. Tell the women."
Behind them, Tahirih's desk is filled with papers and
books. Mardiyyih, then Tahirih, notice something on the
floor behind a chair.

A closer look reveals bits of shredded manuscripts.
Furthermore, some books have been torn apart and the
ink well had been emptied over precious documents. They
sigh at the view of this destruction.
Good thing the women had not yet fully released their
embrace, so they can grab each other in sudden fear as a
voice booms, "Women should not read and your 'poetry' is
disgraceful ... Give it up ... and you can see my children
again."
Tahirih's Husband had not yet left the room when the
two women entered. He makes his statement and leaves.
This is closer to the last, than to the first, altercation
between Tahirih and her husband. Tears flow. He is gone
but she calls out, "Our children ... my children."
Mardiyyih, speechless, tries to comfort her older sister.

The Shaykhi Movement in Karbala

KARBALA

Mysterious halos appear around the sun quite different
in pattern than before. They are seen above the Shi'ih holy
city of Karbala in Ottoman Turkish territory (now Iraq),
near the provincial capital of Baghdad.
Tens of thousands of Persians flock to this city for its
holy shrine of Imam Husayn, a sacred figure in Shi'ih Islam
history. And they come to the city, at times, simply to get
out of Persia for a while.

RESIDENCE OF SIYYID KAZIM, KARBALA

Siyyid Kazim has paused and is about to finish a talk to a
group of some thirty men in a shady porch-like enclosure
opening into the courtyard of his ample residence.

Siyyid Kazim, 59, is a Persian spiritual leader of the Shaykhi
movement and perhaps the most prominent and respected
resident of Karbala. As a measure of his stature, when Turkish
troops sacked the city a few months ago (January, 1943) to put
down an uprising of a rival Persian faction, the residence of
Siyyid Kazim was hardly touched.

As Siyyid Kazim thumbs to a page in the Qur'an, some
listeners are seen, including Javad, Sadiq, Mamaqani,
Mulla and Karim.

And there is Shaykh
seated at the periphery.

Shaykh and a friend,
Eyes, late teens, are
slightly apart from the
group.

There is an empty spot
between Shaykh and Eyes
on which a ray of light
seems to dance on the
tiles. The     ray    shines
through a hole in an
awning, flapping in the breeze.
Siyyid Kazim speaks, "I am spellbound by the vision. I
am mute with wonder ... I am powerless to divulge the
mystery and find the people incapable of bearing its
weight." He closes the Qur'an and retires through a door
to an inner parlor. His listeners begin to disperse.

In the center of Siyyid Kazim's parlor, Farrant sits, cross-
legged, at the head of a Persian rug near a tea set. When
Siyyid Kazim enters. Farrant, now 35, stands immediately
showing deference.

"I        heard       your
statement." says Farrant.
"You're a Christian. You
know that the 2,000 year
period of Daniel is about to
elapse."
"There is discussion."
"Questions?"
"If you permit it, sir,"
Farrant replies. "The British
Ambassador at Istanbul..."
Farrant and Siyyid Kazim
plunge into a discussion of
the affairs of the day.

Back in the courtyard,
Eyes begins to move closer, but is detained by a gesture
from Shaykh who then places his hand on the spot
between them, where the ray of sunlight dances. The
dancing of this illuminated spot seems magical.
Shaykh is older than Eyes, sort of the difference
between college graduate and high school age.
Shaykh says, "Let me tell you about this spot. A few
years ago an intimate of Siyyid Kazim awoke me at dawn."
Bingo, just the inside story Eyes wanted.

Shaykh recalls how he, Siyyid Kazim and an intimate
associate of Siyyid Kazim walked a Karbala street. Vendors
are opening their shops. A man, putting on his turban,
eyes them. The intimate associate of Siyyid Kazim is easily
into his forties. Clearly, the younger Shaykh, tagging
behind the two men, is thrilled to be part of whatever
these illustrious gentlemen are about to do. Shaykh
narrates, "The morning light had just broken. I followed
them through the streets of Karbala. We reached a house.
In the open door stood a youth."

Eyes is captivated as
Shaykh continues, "He
had an expression of
kindliness I can never
describe. He embraced
each of us."
Eyes is leaning forward
and has to be reminded
not to block the light ray
on the spot between them
as Shaykh speaks.
"At the upper floor, we
entered      a     chamber
bedecked with flowers ...
the loveliest perfumes. We
sat. At the center ... a
silver cup. The youth said,
'A drink of a pure
beverage shall their Lord give them'."
Eyes says, "Words from the Qur'an."
Shaykh continues, "Siyyid Kazim drank from the silver
cup, forbidden by Islam."

By now, Shaykh and Eyes are alone in the courtyard.
Shaykh jumps up to better dramatize the end of his story.
"Three days later, the same youth arrived and sat right
there."
The light ray dances on the tiles as Shaykh points. Eyes
gives the spot a little more room.
"Siyyid Kazim was speaking to an assembly."
Now Shaykh has stepped up to the spot where Siyyid
Kazim speaks some twenty-five feet away and acts out his
description, "As soon as his eyes fell upon that young man,
he said, 'What more shall I say? Lo, the Truth is more
manifest than the ray of light that has fallen upon that
lap!'"
Of course, Shaykh has puffed up his posture to his idea
of the dignity with which Siyyid Kazim presents himself. He

swings his arm around to emphasize how Siyyid Kazim had
pointed to the spot where "the youth" had been.
"Some of Siyyid Kazim's listeners, Husayn, Quddus,
Mulla, Sadiq, Javad and finally Mamaqani, turned their
heads toward him. They all looked curiously. But the
mean-looking, one-eyed Mamaqani, an ugly scar over the
bad eye, looked disdainfully."
Shaykh surveys the courtyard to see if it is still empty. It
is. They are alone.
"O.K. Ask me ... Ask me who this youth is."
Eyes grins, jumps up, raising his hand to be recognized
as Siyyid Kazim's students would do and asks, "Can you
reveal his name?"
Slitting his throat with his finger, acting Siyyid Kazim's
role, Shaykh answers grimly, "If I divulge his name, we
both would be put to death instantly."

After a journey from Qazvin, Persia, over the mountains
to Karbala, Tahirih's uncle has delivered her letter to Siyyid
Kazim one summer night in his parlor.
The opened letter from Tahirih is centered on Siyyid
Kazim's writing table. Siyyid Kazim holds another letter, his
reply, and speaks to Tahirih's uncle, "Your niece. The most
educated woman in Persia. A renowned poetess. Now
this."
The uncle asks, with his eyes, "Now this, what?"
Siyyid Kazim hands to him his sealed letter, with these
words, "In my reply, I address her as Qurratu'l-'Ayn,
'Solace of the Eyes.' She has already stepped beyond
poetry."

CHRISTIAN MISSION, URUMIYYIH

The Christian Mission at Urumiyyih is a handsome stone
structure in the northwest of Persia, near the Russian and
Turkish borders. This building still stands today. Urumiyyih
is now called Rizaiyyih, Iran.
In the front parlor, the American Wright is speaking with
a visiting British Bishop, near retirement, who does not
share Wright's expectations. Bishop reads the religious
newspaper, "Midnight Cry." Not lifting his eyes from the
paper, he pays only minimal attention to Wright.
Wright is enthused, "In America, William Miller and
Joseph Smith say the coming is imminent."
Bishop replies, "Here it says that British and American
societies are spreading the Gospel in every part of the
world."
"Just so! Everything is in place."
In his own low key manner, Bishop is skeptical, "With
Mt. Ararat not far away and all the cloudiness lately, it
might seem so."
Wright has found a listener, "The Sunnis and Shi'ihs say
that..."
For the first time, Bishop looks at Wright with more than
a glance, "Nothing simple can cross the bridge between us
and Islam."
Sensing that he was not getting anywhere, Wright steps
outside while Bishop continues relaxing and reading.

In the May-June night air, Wright strolls the crest of a
slope with distant mountains barely visible. He looks back
at the mission building, thinking, "We say 1844. They say
1260. In our calendar, 1844."
Swiftly, clouds part. Wright beholds the appearance of a
stunning sight, the Great Comet of 1843. It was not called
"The Great Comet" for nothing. It was so astounding that
it was first seen during bright sunlight.
Wright begins to romp, jump and run away from the
mission into the darkness. As he dashes off like a child, he

screams as if the rocky empty slopes are lined with
listeners. Wright always seeks an audience, "Their 1260 is
our 1844."

Seated in the mission
parlor, Bishop looks up
momentarily      from     his
paper. Perhaps the voice
(of Wright) he hears in the
distance is a whirling
dervish. Not to worry. It is
not uncommon that human
voices in the distance
interrupt the night silence.

As Wright's exclamations
are now quite loud, a
dervish peers at Wright
from among some large
rocks.

Dervish is a sight rivaling that of the Great Comet. In his 50s,
he has long stringy hair and mustache, an unusual outfit
accented by his leopard's skin cloak and little round spectacles
about to slide down his nose. His face has sharp but pleasant
features. With wandering dervishes of this type, one may be
dealing with a con-man or simply a bum or a genuine mystic
spiritualist of the Sufi tradition.

The moving clouds reveal a fuller view of the Great
Comet. Wright shouts, "That's it! It's happening!"

Wright is now dancing, twirling, his arms out-stretched
and vocalizing loudly something not quite understandable.
The mountains seem crowned by the giant comet glowing
above.

Dervish inspects the ecstatic trance of Wright. He fingers
his prayer beads and scratches his chin with the curved-
blade hatchet commonly carried by such individuals. He
seems to be considering several unspoken theories: "This
Westerner has seen me here and is making fun of me" or
"This Westerner is really with it, whatever it is."

Suddenly, Wright freezes as his twirl throws him eye to
eye with Dervish. A bit dizzy, Wright notices the sharp,
curved hatchet blade. Dervish howls, tosses the hatchet
aside, jumping up to twirl in his own reverie. His
spectacles fall at Wright's feet. Wide-eyed, exhausted,
Wright sighs and dashes after him.
Now two "whirling dervishes" dance on a hill crest below
the Great Comet.

THE BAB'S FAMILY RESIDENCE, SHIRAZ

Illuminated by a lantern, a beautiful, very young baby
lies still in a Persian style crib. Its eyes are open. It is
absolutely motionless. After a few heart beats, the horror
of this sight hits home. All is not well.
These are the moments after the death of the only child
of a quiet, young man, who will later assume the title of
"the Bab," meaning "the gateway" to a new era of history,
our modern age.
The Bab's Wife and Mother, tears gushing, sob and wail,
hugging the lifeless child and clinging to each other.

It is a silent night, but for an ethereal and profoundly
sad Persian chant. These intonations are prayers offered
by her husband, the Bab, on this solemn occasion.

Later, the Bab's Wife, despondent, sits on a bench in the
small courtyard. She looks up in the direction of the source
of the chant, coming from the roof of a second story of the
house. Her eyes are wet and red. The Bab's Mother
appears and comforts her.
She tells the mother, "He said he was not destined to
leave any children."
"Come to bed ... He will not stop until morning."

The Great Comet dominates the night sky. From the
courtyard, it appears to connect with a place on the roof of
the house. The prayerful chanting continues.

COURTYARD OF SIYYID KAZIM, KARBALA
December, 1843

According to custom, Siyyid Kazim has been prepared for
burial. This is not a dream. He is dead. Light filters through
moving tree leaves illuminating his figure. Prior to his
death, however, there was a dream of a modest Shepherd
of similar age to Siyyid Kazim. Consider his story, near the
mosque of Baratha, not far from Baghdad.

BARATHA, COUNTRYSIDE NEAR BAGHDAD

In the same position as Siyyid Kazim now lies on his
back, the sun-burned and wind-worn face of this Shepherd
appears, also in the shade, illuminated by light filtering
through moving foliage. The Shepherd opens his eyes and
rises to a sitting position, as if rising from the dead. He
smiles, seeing his livestock and dog nearby. But he just
had a disturbing dream.

IN FRONT OF MOSQUE-I-BARATHA

Camels loaded with possessions mill about in front of the
mosque. A group of some twenty men have gathered
under a palm in the foreground. The Shepherd and his dog
approach with hesitation. He is about the leave, when two
men in the group, Sadiq and Javad smile and beckon him
to join them.
Just as the Shepherd finds himself among the men, one
of them turns for a close look at him. It is Siyyid Kazim.
The Shepherd almost collapses. His dog whines when the
one-eyed Mamaqani approaches.
Recomposed, the Shepherd quotes from his dream to
Siyyid Kazim, "'When you shall have returned to Karbala,
there, three days after your return, you will wing your
flight to Me'."
Sadiq and Javad, but not Siyyid Kazim, become
disturbed.
The Shepherd finishes his account, "That's what the
voice said, 'Tell him, from Me'."
Suspicious        that    a
conspiracy might be afoot
with respect to their leader,
Siyyid Kazim, some of the
men can barely restrain
themselves. No fool, the
Shepherd       realizes   what
methods might be used to
extract further information.
He sees that he cannot
make a run for freedom. He
is surrounded. Siyyid Kazim's
men would not have harmed
him, but the Shepherd is
relieved when Siyyid Kazim
intervenes smiling, "This was
a dream?"
Looking around at the
men, the Shepherd carefully

pronounces in his most credible tone of voice, "Yes, that's
right. A dream." His dog wags its tail.
Then Siyyid Kazim states, "There is no doubt of the truth
of this dream."
The emotions of the men shift from anger and suspicion
toward confusion and grief as Siyyid Kazim continues,
"Would you not wish me to die, that the Promised One
may be revealed?"

COURTYARD OF SIYYID KAZIM
1844

Tahirih's uncle had personally delivered Siyyid Kazim's
reply to her letter. This kind uncle, Tahirih and her sister,
Mardiyyih, then embarked on the long journey to Karbala
to study under Siyyid Kazim. Upon their arrival, Mardiyyih
awaits a reunion with her husband, Ali, who was already in
Karbala as a student of Siyyid Kazim.
Alas, Siyyid Kazim had
passed away before their
arrival. Now Karbala was
buzzing        with       the
expectation that a new
era was beginning and a
new       prophet     might
appear.
The courtyard of Siyyid
Kazim's      residence      is
empty. Mardiyyih stands
in the doorway to the
women's area of the
household.
Three men enter the
courtyard from the street
entrance,           Shaykh,
Tahirih's uncle and Ali, about 22.
"Ali!" cries Mardiyyih.

Shaykh and Tahirih's uncle stop at the entrance and
politely look away as Ali runs to embrace Mardiyyih.

"To have traveled so far only to find that Siyyid Kazim
had..." Ali says.
Mardiyyih whispers, "Umm ... you're here."

Husayn, 31, is another of Siyyid Kazim's students. As many of
Siyyid Kazim's following, he is a scholar, devoted to religious
studies, a Muslim cleric known as "Mulla Husayn." He is
handsome and on this day, as he appears on the street in front
of Siyyid Kazim's residence, his popularity is evident.
Husayn is not large, either by build or stature and may even
be considered on the fragile side physically. He is serious,
determined and possessed of an attractive personality that
makes him a natural leader. A slight tremor is seen whenever he
uses his right hand.

Mounted on horses, Husayn followed by his Brother and
Nephew ride toward the residence of Siyyid Kazim.
Husayn's Brother and Nephew, younger men, are almost
constant companions devoted to Husayn.

Attracted by the sound of
a crowd, Tahirih's uncle
and Shaykh emerge from
the front entrance of Siyyid
Kazim's residence to see
the three men near the
stand of a bread vendor.

This vendor -- let us call
him "Bread" -- is short, stout,
flabby,    unkempt,      gruff,
without class.

In the threshold of the
dwelling next to Siyyid
Kazim's, Husayn's mother,

early 40's and his sister, Bibi, mid teens, wearing face
veils, scarfs and dark dresses, watch the scene.
"Look at him!" Bibi says.
Husayn's mother, standing behind Bibi, wraps her arms
around Bibi and replies stoically, "Take a good look at your
brother."

A young boy, who will be called Street, then 10 years
old, is thrilled to touch Husayn's saddle, as the crowd
presses in.

From a window on the outer side of the parlor of Siyyid
Kazim's residence, Tahirih lifts her shawl to cover her face
and peers out at Husayn.
Near the rump of Husayn's horse, Street cups his hands
to form a step to hoist his younger brother -- call him Kid,
only five years old -- up on to the horse. High-strung and
prancing in place, the horse shifts position. Street and Kid
hit the ground.

Kid    and    Street    are
brothers visiting Karbala with
their father, a widower; are
"lower class" and often seem
unaware of "manners"; they
wear something distinctive to
be easily recognized about
three years later.

Above the voices of well-
wishers all speaking at
once, the Bread vendor
calls to Husayn, "Stay in
Karbala! It is you they
want.    Thousands      are
coming! Big business!" as if
a bread vendor could select
or appoint the Promised
One.

Husayn is expressionless. His Brother and Nephew are
shocked by the crassness of this remark.
Street and Kid, grinning, are again positioned beside the
rump of Husayn's horse.
We notice the tremor in his right hand when Husayn
pulls out a coin. He tosses it to the Bread vender, who
eyes it before enclosing it in his fist.
Plop! Kid lands on the horse's rump behind Husayn.
The Bread vender steps back from his stand, opening his
arms. No one doubts the meaning. Quickly and orderly,
the group cleans all the bread from the stand.
Joy in her eyes, Tahirih chuckles. Everyone is having
fun.
Kid pulls himself up to sit behind Husayn. Though very
young and with his hands on Husayn's shoulders, clearly
Kid is daring and agile. The crowd cheers him.
Two glassy-eyed men seated smoking water pipes stare
straight ahead, as if none of this activity was taking place.
Surveying and enjoying the near anarchy, the Bread
vender notices that Husayn is staring at him and runs into
his shop.
Kid manages to stand
behind Husayn on the
horse.
The      Bread    vendor
reappears, carrying more
bread from the shop for
the people. More cheers.
Husayn's Brother and
Nephew laugh, seeing
that Kid behind Husayn
and out of Husayn's view,
has raised an arm in a
victory expression and
bows to the crowd, as if
the cheers were only for
him. Realizing what is
happening, Husayn also

laughs and snatches Kid down to his lap and hugs him.
At that instant, the eyes of Tahirih and Husayn meet and
remain interlocked as Husayn's horse continues shifting
position. No question of the profound mutual admiration.

Tahirih turns away from
the window. The shawl
raised to cover her face slips
down. She is glowing. She
repositions the shawl over
her face when she notices
that Mardiyyih and Ali are
standing on the other side of
the room in the doorway.
Looking out the window
again, she says, "Mulla
Husayn will not rest until he
has found the treasure hard
to attain."
Turning to Mardiyyih and
Ali, she touches a sealed
letter to her cheek, crossing the room toward them.
"And when you, Ali, shall have also found him, would
you offer this expression of my love and devotion?" she
asks as she places this letter in Ali's hand.
Mardiyyih beams with pride at her husband.

Proclamation of the Mission of the Bab

THE BAB'S FAMILY RESIDENCE, SHIRAZ

Uncle, early 40s, raised
the Bab almost as a father
and     is    a    successful
merchant. His dress is
elegant but not ostentatious.
He is a gracious host to the
new friends of his nephew,
Siyyid 'Ali-Muhammad (later
known as the Bab).

The house of the Bab is
part of a complex near to
the residence of the Bab's
Uncle.

It is night. Looking up
from a small courtyard,
Husayn can be seen
standing at the top of a stairway to the second floor. His
posture is casual but it might seem that he is guarding the
entrance. The Bab's Wife emerges carrying a tray with tea
cups and descends the stairs.

Quddus: 22, confident, relaxed, but respectful; handsome,
with a sensitive face of a poet; clean-shaven. His dress is
colorful and unusual, even bizarre, compared to other young
men of his class who were religion students.

Ali and Quddus sit in the courtyard. The Bab's Wife
passes them. Uncle asks, "Would you men like some tea?"
Ali, "Oh ... no thank-you, sir, we're fine."

Uncle, "I hope my young 'Ali-Muhammad is not keeping
you waiting."
Ali, "Ah ... no ... Actually,
he..."
In the interior hallway
behind     Husayn,       Mulla
enters from a room and
heads for Husayn and the
stairs.
Quddus nudges Ali to
signal that Husayn and
Mulla are descending the
stairs.
Quddus chimes in to
Uncle, "Actually, sir, we
were just on our way out.
You have been more than
kind."

Mulla: named Mulla 'Ali, a little older than Husayn and sports
a full beard with strands of gray.

The four men exit the house of the Bab to the street
from the front entrance, which is a double door in a wall
enclosing the residence. As Husayn closes the doors, Mulla
grabs both arms of Ali in a friendly, excited manner,
"Listen to this."
Back against the wall, Ali looks to Quddus, "I was going
to tell him..."
Quddus, "Tell him what? What would you say to the
uncle of the Bab who has been like a father to him?"
Mulla, "Listen, 'Ali. I am to deliver a message to
Qurratu'l-Ayn."
Across the narrow street on the second story, a woman
opens a curtain to look.
Husayn, "Gentlemen, let's go."
-- The Dawn-Breakers Novel (Used by permission of the curator)