Muhammad Iqbal

Muhammad Iqbal

1877–1938 · lived 60 years PK PK

Allama Muhammad Iqbal was a South Asian intellectual, poet, and politician, widely regarded as the spiritual founder of Pakistan. He was a strong advocate for the political and spiritual regeneration of the Muslim world, particularly in British India. His poetry, written in both Urdu and Persian, is renowned for its philosophical depth, nationalist fervor, and exploration of Islamic themes. He is celebrated for inspiring a sense of pride and self-reliance among Muslims.

n. 1877-11-09, Sialkot · m. 1938-04-21, Laore

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A Longing

A Longing

O Lord! I have become weary of human assemblages!
When the heart is sad no pleasure in assemblages can be


I seek escape from tumult, my heart desires
The silence which speech may ardently love!


I vehemently desire silence, I strongly long that
A small hut in the mountain's side may there be


Freed from worry I may live in retirement
Freed from the cares of the world I may be


Birds chirping may give the pleasure of the lyre
In the spring's noise may the orchestra's melody be


The flower bud bursting may give God's message to me
Showing the whole world 1 to me this small wine-cup may be


My arm may be my pillow, and the green grass my bed be
Putting the congregation to shame my solitude's quality be


The nightingale be so familiar with my face that
Her little heart harboring no fear from me may be


Avenues of green trees standing on both sides be
The spring's clear water providing a beautiful picture be


The view of the mountain range may be so beautiful
To see it the waves of water again and again rising be


The verdure may be asleep in the lap of the earth
Water running through the bushes may glistening be


Again and again the flowered boughs touching the water be
As if some beauty looking at itself in mirror be


When the sun apply myrtle to the evening's bride
The tunic of every flower may pinkish golden be


When night's travellers falter behind with fatigue
Their only hope my broken earthenware lamp may be


May the lightning lead them to my hut
When clouds hovering over the whole sky be.


The early dawn's cuckoo, that morning's mu'adhdhin2
May my confidante he be, and may his confidante I be


May I not be obligated to the temple or to the mosque
May the hut's hole alone herald of morning's arrival be


When the dew may come to perform the flowers' ablution



May wailing my supplication, weeping my ablution be

In this silence may my heart's wailing rise so high
That for stars' caravan the clarion's call my wailing be
May every compassionate heart weeping with me be

Perhaps it may awaken those who may unconscious be
Read full poem
Bio

Identification and basic context

Muhammad Iqbal, later known as Allama Muhammad Iqbal, was a poet, philosopher, politician, and barrister. He is widely considered the ideological founder of Pakistan. He wrote poetry primarily in Urdu and Persian. His work profoundly influenced Muslim nationalism in British India. He is revered as a national poet in Pakistan and is commemorated in Iran for his Persian poetry.

Childhood and education

Iqbal was born in Sialkot, Punjab, British India. He received a traditional Islamic education alongside modern schooling. He studied at the Scotch Mission College in Sialkot and later at Government College, Lahore, where he was influenced by his teacher, Sir Thomas Arnold, who encouraged his interest in Western philosophy and Arabic. He pursued higher studies in Europe, obtaining a B.A. from Trinity College, Cambridge, and a Ph.D. from the University of Munich. He also qualified as a barrister in London.

Literary trajectory

Iqbal initially wrote patriotic Urdu poetry. His early work, like "Bang-i-Dara" (The Call of the Caravan), reflected a strong sense of Indian nationalism and universal humanism. However, his philosophical training and travels abroad, particularly his exposure to Western thought and the state of the Muslim world, led to a profound shift. He began to advocate for the spiritual and political revival of Muslims, moving towards pan-Islamism and eventually the idea of a separate homeland for Indian Muslims. His Persian poetry, such as "Asrar-i-Khudi" (Secrets of the Self) and "Rumuz-i-Bekhudi" (Secrets of the Selflessness), became highly influential in articulating his philosophical vision.

Works, style, and literary characteristics

Major works include "Asrar-i-Khudi" (Secrets of the Self) (1915), "Rumuz-i-Bekhudi" (Secrets of Selflessness) (1918), "Payam-i-Mashriq" (The Message of the East) (1923), "Zabur-i-Ajam" (Psalms of Persia) (1927), "Javid Nama" (The Book of Eternity) (1932), and "Bal-i-Jibril" (Wings of Gabriel) (1935). His poetry is deeply philosophical, exploring themes of the self (Khudi), love, spiritual journey, the decline and revival of Muslim civilization, and critiques of materialism and Western modernity. His style is characterized by its powerful imagery, eloquent language, and profound thought. He masterfully blended traditional Islamic concepts with modern philosophical ideas. His Persian poems are particularly noted for their mystical and philosophical depth, while his Urdu poems often carry a strong nationalist and reformist message.

Cultural and historical context

Iqbal lived during a critical period of transition for India under British rule and for the wider Muslim world, which was grappling with the decline of the Ottoman Empire and the rise of Western dominance. He was a contemporary of leaders like Mahatma Gandhi and Muhammad Ali Jinnah, and his ideas significantly shaped the discourse leading to the creation of Pakistan. He belonged to the broader Islamic modernist movement, seeking to reconcile Islamic principles with modern challenges.

Personal life

Iqbal married three times and had several children. His life was dedicated to intellectual pursuits and public service. He was deeply religious and profoundly affected by the socio-political conditions of his time. His travels, especially to Europe, provided him with a unique perspective on both Eastern and Western cultures, leading him to critically examine the perceived weaknesses of the Muslim world and the limitations of Western materialism.

Recognition and reception

Iqbal is revered as a national hero and poet in Pakistan, where his birthday is a national holiday. His works are widely studied and quoted. In India, he is recognized as a significant poet and philosopher, though his political role is viewed differently. Internationally, he is acknowledged as a major Islamic thinker and poet of the 20th century. His ideas on the reconstruction of religious thought in Islam were groundbreaking.

Influences and legacy

Iqbal was influenced by Rumi, Goethe, and Nietzsche. His own ideas, particularly his concept of 'Khudi' (the Self) and his advocacy for a separate Muslim state, profoundly influenced the political landscape of South Asia. He inspired a generation of Muslims to re-evaluate their identity, heritage, and future. His legacy is inextricably linked to the creation of Pakistan.

Interpretation and critical analysis

Iqbal's work has been subject to diverse interpretations, ranging from secular nationalist readings to conservative religious ones. Debates often center on the precise meaning of his concept of the Self, his views on nationalism versus pan-Islamism, and his critique of modernity. His poetry continues to be a source of inspiration and intellectual engagement for scholars and the public alike.

Curiosities and lesser-known aspects

Despite his profound philosophical and political contributions, Iqbal was also known for his keen sense of humor and his love for classical music. His journey to Europe for studies was a significant undertaking that shaped his worldview immensely. He was also a proficient debater and orator.

Death and memory

Allama Muhammad Iqbal passed away in Lahore. His tomb in Lahore is a major tourist attraction. His intellectual and poetic legacy remains immensely powerful, particularly in Pakistan, where he is celebrated as the national poet and the visionary behind the nation's formation.

Poems

17

Pathos Of Love

Pathos Of Love

O Pathos of Love! You are a glossy pearl
Beware, you should not appear among strangers


The theatre of your display is concealed under the veil
The modern audience' eye accepts only the visible display


New breeze has arrived in the Existence' garden
O Pathos of Love! Now there is no pleasure in display


Beware! You should not be striving for ostentation!
You should not be obligated to the nightingale's lament!


The tulip's wine-cup should be devoid of wine
The dew's tear should be a mere dropp of water


Your secret should be hidden in the bosom somewhere
Your heart-melting tear should not be your betrayer


The flowery-styled poet's tongue should not be talking
Separation's complaint should not be concealed in flute's music


This age is a critic, go and somewhere conceal yourself
In the heart in which you are residing conceal yourself


The learning's surprise is neglecting you, beware!
Your immature eye is not the seeker of Truth, beware


Let the elegant thought remain in search of Truth
Let your wisdom-loving eye remain in astonishment


This is not the garden whose spring you may be
This is not the audience worthy of your appearance


This audience is the lover of the material sights
The purpose of your sight is the closet of secrecy


Every heart is intoxicated with the wine of thinking
Something different is the Tur of the Kalims of this age
541

Jawab-e-Shik

Jawab-e-Shik


Whatever comes out of the heart is effective
It has no wings but has the power of flight

It has holy origins, it aims at elegance
It rises from dust, but has access to the celestial world

My love was seditious, rebellious and clever
My fearless wailing rent through the sky


On hearing it the sun said, 'Somewhere there is somebody! '
The planets said, 'At the 'Arsh-i-Bar
254

First Date Tree Saeeded By Abdul Rahman The Firs

First Date Tree Saeeded By Abdul Rahman The Firs

You are the apple of my eye,
My heart's delight:
I am remote from my valley,
To me you are the Burning Bush of Sinai!
You are a houri of the Arabian Desert,
Nursed by the Western breeze.
I feel homesick in exile,
You feel homesick in exile:


Prosper in this strange land!
May the morning dew quench your thirst!


The world presents a strange sight:
The vision's mantle is torn apart—
May valour struggle with the waves if it must,
The other side of the river is not to be seen!
Life owes itself to the heat of one's soul:
Flame does not rise from dust.
The Syrian evening's fallen star
Shined brighter in the exile's dawn.


There are no frontiers for the Man of Faith,
He is at home everywhere.


[Translated by the Editors]


*
That blood of pristine vigour is no more;
That yearning heart's power is no more;
Prayer, fasting, hajj, sacrifice survive,
But in thee nature's old dower is no more.


[Translated by Naim Siddiqui]


Not: These verses from Abdul Rahman the First
are quoted in Tarikh al Muqqari. The
following Urdu poem is a liberal
translation (the tree mentioned here was
planted in Madinatut Zahra)
435

A Spider and A Fly

A Spider and A Fly

One day a spider said to a fly
'Though you pass this way daily


My hut has never been honored by you
By making a chance visit inside by you


Though depriving strangers of a visit does not matter
Evading the near and dear ones does not look good


My house will be honored by a visit by you
A ladder is before you if you decide to step in


Hearing this the fly said to the spider,
'Sire, you should entice some simpleton thus


This fly would never be pulled into your net
Whoever climbed your net could never step down'


The spider said, 'How strange, you consider me a cheat
I have never seen a simpleton like you in the world


I only wanted to entertain you
I had no personal gain in view


You have come flying from some unknown distant place
Resting for a while in my house would not harm you


Many things in this house are worth your seeing
Though apparently a humble hut you are seeing


Dainty drapes are hanging from the doors
And I have decorated the walls with mirrors


Beddings are available for guests' comforts
Not to everyone's lot do fall these comforts'.


The fly said, 'All this may very well be
But do not expect me to enter your house


'May God protect me from these soft beds
Once asleep in them getting up again is impossible'


The spider spoke to itself on hearing this talk
'How to trap it? This wretched fellow is clever


Many desires are fulfilled with flattery in the world
All in the world are enslaved with flattery'


Thinking this the spider spoke to the fly thus!
'Madam, God has bestowed great honors on you!



Everyone loves your beautiful face
Even if someone sees you for the first time

Your eyes look like clusters of glittering diamonds
God has adorned your beautiful head with a plume

This beauty, this dress, this elegance, this neatness!
And all this is very much enhanced by singing in flight'.

The fly was touched by this flattery
And spoke, 'I do not fear you any more

I hate the habit of declining requests
Disappointing somebody is bad indeed'

Saying this it flew from its place
When it got close the spider snapped it

The spider had been starving for many days
The fly provided a good leisurely meal
332

A Mountain and A Squirrel

A Mountain and A Squirrel

A mountain was saying this to a squirrel
'Commit suicide if you have self-respect


You are insignificant, still so arrogant, how strange!
You are neither wise, nor intelligent! not even shrewd!


It is strange when the insignificant pose as important!
When the stupid ones like you pose as intelligent!


You are no match in comparison with my splendor
Even the earth is low compared with my splendor


The grandeur of mine does not fall to your lot
The poor animal cannot equal the great mountain! '


On hearing this the squirrel said, 'Hold your tongue!
These are immature thoughts, expel them from your heart!


I do not care if I am not large like you!
You are not a pretty little thing like me


Everything shows the Omni-potence of God
Some large, some small, is the wisdom of God


He has created you large in the world
And He has taught me climbing large trees


You are unable to walk a single step
Only large size! What other greatness have you?


If you are large show me some of the skills I have
Show me how you break this beetle nut as I can


Nothing is useless in this world
Nothing is bad in God's creation
627

A Longing

A Longing

O Lord! I have become weary of human assemblages!
When the heart is sad no pleasure in assemblages can be


I seek escape from tumult, my heart desires
The silence which speech may ardently love!


I vehemently desire silence, I strongly long that
A small hut in the mountain's side may there be


Freed from worry I may live in retirement
Freed from the cares of the world I may be


Birds chirping may give the pleasure of the lyre
In the spring's noise may the orchestra's melody be


The flower bud bursting may give God's message to me
Showing the whole world 1 to me this small wine-cup may be


My arm may be my pillow, and the green grass my bed be
Putting the congregation to shame my solitude's quality be


The nightingale be so familiar with my face that
Her little heart harboring no fear from me may be


Avenues of green trees standing on both sides be
The spring's clear water providing a beautiful picture be


The view of the mountain range may be so beautiful
To see it the waves of water again and again rising be


The verdure may be asleep in the lap of the earth
Water running through the bushes may glistening be


Again and again the flowered boughs touching the water be
As if some beauty looking at itself in mirror be


When the sun apply myrtle to the evening's bride
The tunic of every flower may pinkish golden be


When night's travellers falter behind with fatigue
Their only hope my broken earthenware lamp may be


May the lightning lead them to my hut
When clouds hovering over the whole sky be.


The early dawn's cuckoo, that morning's mu'adhdhin2
May my confidante he be, and may his confidante I be


May I not be obligated to the temple or to the mosque
May the hut's hole alone herald of morning's arrival be


When the dew may come to perform the flowers' ablution



May wailing my supplication, weeping my ablution be

In this silence may my heart's wailing rise so high
That for stars' caravan the clarion's call my wailing be
May every compassionate heart weeping with me be

Perhaps it may awaken those who may unconscious be
497

The goat replied, 'This complaint is unjust

The goat replied, 'This complaint is unjust


Though truth is always bitter
I shall speak what is fair
This pasture, and this cool breeze


This green grass and this shade


Such comforts, were beyond our lot!
They were a far cry for us speechless poor!
We owe these pleasures to Man


We owe all our happiness to Man


We derive all our prosperity from him
What is better for us, freedom or bondage to him?
Hundreds of dangers lurk in the wilderness


May God protect us from the wilderness!


We are heavily indebted to him
Unjust is our complaint against him
If you appreciate the life's comforts


You would never complain against Man'


Hearing all this the cow felt embarrassed
She was sorry for complaining against Man
She mused over the good and the bad


And thoughtfully she said this


'Small though is the body of the goat
Convincing is the advice of the goat! '
366

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