And then the Supreme Leader passed. The moment the liberal faction had perhaps calculated would fracture the nation instead became the most overwhelming demonstration of popular will in the Islamic Republic’s history. Millions upon millions of mourners flooded the streets, not merely to grieve, but to demand revenge. They came not as a disorganized crowd but as a nation in arms of the spirit. They carried black flags, but these were not the black flags of mourning alone. They were the black flags of Karbala, the banners of a civilization that has chosen, for fourteen centuries, the camp of Hussein over the palace of Yazid. And among them, the red flags of vengeance were raised, the ancient signal that the blood of the martyrs will not go unanswered. The reformist offers the palace: air-conditioned negotiations, gradual normalization, survival at the price of honour. The millions in the street chose the desert of Karbala, where the small band stood against the army of the usurper knowing that death was certain and that victory belongs to the principle, not the battalion.

These millions are the true kshatriya of this age, the warrior caste loyal not to a profane government but to the Leader and the principle. The funeral was not just a mere funeral; it was a referendum. The people declared, with their presence and their voices, that they are not the pacified consumers the liberal faction imagined. They are the heirs of Hussein, and they will accept annihilation before they accept the MOU that sells their martyrs’ blood for a currency peg.