The Masked Hero

There are types of people who are dead physically yet alive with us, and people who are alive with their bodies yet dead. One can survive everything nowadays, except death, and live down anything, except a good reputation. My brother died but somehow he lives in the hearts of many. My brother was living with us and we all thought of him as a normal man, just a simple man in the cycle of life and death. Yet the moment people heard about his death shocked not only his family but also to thousands of people.

It was 11:00 PM when we were burying my brother, a time were people usually don’t bury the dead. In case if they buried, other people usually don’t attend to pray for the dead at that time. However, that night I was shocked, when we were praying in the cemetery’s mosque, more than thousand people came to participate in the prayer. I was surprised where all these people came from. Some of them have work the next day; others supposed to be sleeping and some not living in our city. People came from different places, Abu Dhabi, Sharjah, Ras Al-Khaima! I thought we were the only people who knew our brother. Watching thousand people gathering in short time was a surprise yet I was happy to the extent I wished if I was in my brother’s place.

The next day, three mosques each in different areas, after the prayer finished, the Imam talked about the death of my brother as if he was a famous person. Even in Al Juma’a prayer, I went to pray to a mosque far away from home. That mosque was full of poor Indians & Pakistanis. I thought it will be the usual preaching but I was shocked when he was telling the people we lost a great invisible soldier, a man with good deeds, he started talking about him, my brother...

I was shocked; how come such people living far away know my brother! After we finished the prayer, I told the Imam I am the brother of the man you are speaking about; I asked him how he knew my brother. The Imam told people I was his younger brother, Dozens of Pakistanis & Indians surrounded me and hugged me to tell me how sad they feel that my brother is no longer alive.

According to them, every Friday he will give money for the poor so they can eat in a restaurant. He was paying their debts, giving them money to insure food and shelter; he was sponsoring dozens of family, supporting them in all-important aspects of their lives.

He was memorizing many chapters of the Quran, great deal of Hadith and he was considered a teacher for many people. He was giving lectures for some others. He was fastening every Monday and Thursday. He was defending the weak, he considered all Muslims equals he specially loved the poor. His heart was like an island connected to all others not cut off isolated island from others, he was gracious to strangers and to his family. He greeted the poor in front of VIPs as if he was his brother… he would treat the poor the same way as the VIPs unlike many others today.

There are also some others whom nobody in our family know yet were sending a chain of emails about my brother's good deeds & sayings. Another personal experience was when I went to visit my brother's grave; the gatekeeper asked me who I am looking for? I answered I am looking for my brother’s grave. Hearing the name, the gatekeeper was shocked to meet his younger brother, the gatekeeper knew my brother, kept talking about my brother’s kindness, support and many of his great deeds. I told myself he even reached so far that the gatekeeper knew him. My eyes were filled with tears, I didn’t say any words, and there are moments in life we don’t have words for…

Every now and then I come across someone I don’t know, and each one of them tells me a deed of my brother or a personal experience with him. I was surprised how we were ignorant of his acts while so many people know him very well. It’s because he was hiding his good deeds like a masked man, so after his death Allah rewarded him by revealing his good deeds. My brother was someone who understood the responsibility that came with his freedom; he was their Hero…