Talbiya Echoes from Gaza, Defying Empires

The true Talbiyah is not merely a ritual chant echoed by Hujaaj in white garments—it is a lived declaration of surrender, resilience, and unwavering devotion to Allah. Its power is not confined to the plains of Arafat or the circuits around the Kaaba, but is most profoundly manifested in lives that respond to Allah’s call through hardship, sacrifice, and steadfastness. When a mother in Gaza whispers Labbayk as she buries her children, when a child maimed by war raises a trembling hand toward heaven, when the hungry still praise, and the broken still believe—this is the Talbiyah in its purest form. It is not performed. It is lived.
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لَبَّيْكَ اللَّهُمَّ لَبَّيْك

Here we are, O Allah, here we are—
Even under siege, even beneath rubble, even when the world forgets us,
Gaza responds to Your call.
Not with comfort, but with conviction.
Not from luxury, but from loyalty.
Even when a mother buries the last of her nine children with her own trembling hands—
She still says Labbayk.
Even as a woman gathers the dust of flour from a broken sack, hoping to feed her kin,
She still says Labbayk.
Even as a child, limbless and scarred, whispers through pain,
She still says Labbayk.

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لَبَّيْكَ لَا شَرِيكَ لَكَ لَبَّيْك

Here we are—You have no partner—here we are—
No tyrant is our master.
No occupation can claim dominion over hearts that beat for You.
No alliance, no empire, no silence of nations replaces Your justice.
Here, where a doctor sobs uncontrollably,
Because the child he operated on without anesthetic did not survive—
He still says Labbayk.
Here, where grief has become a daily ritual and courage a quiet scream,
We still say Labbayk.

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إِنَّ الْحَمْدَ وَالنِّعْمَةَ لَكَ وَالْمُلْك

Truly, all praise, all blessings, and all sovereignty are Yours—
Even when our homes are destroyed,
Even when our children cry from hunger and fear,
The praise remains on our tongues,
Because blessings are not measured in things,
But in steadfast hearts and unwavering faith.
And the dominion is Yours—even over oppressors who think they rule,
Even over missiles, markets, and media that erase our names—
Still, we say: Al-hamdu Lillah.

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لَا شَرِيكَ لَكَ

You have no partner—
So we do not bow to false saviors, nor to power that trades lives for profits.
We resist not in our name,
But in Yours alone—
The One without partner,
The One who hears the prayers from beneath the rubble and above the drones.
We shout in silence and bleed with dignity,
And even in the ashes of our cities,
We rise and say again:
Labbayk, Allahumma Labbayk.
Here we are, O Allah—still responding to You. Always.