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

The Withered Rose

The Withered Rose

O withered rose! How can I still call you a rose?
How can I call you the longing of nightingale's heart?


Once the zephyr's movement was your rocking cradle
In the garden's expanse joyous rose was your name


The morning breeze acknowledged your benevolence
The garden was like perfumer's tray by your presence


My weeping eye sheds dew on you
My desolate heart is concealed in your sorrow


You are a tiny picture of my destruction
You are the interpretation of my life's dream


Like a flute to my reed-brake I narrate my story
Listen O rose! I complain about separations!
253

The One I Was Searching For On the Earth and in Heaven

The One I Was Searching For On the Earth and in Heaven

The one I was searching for on the earth and in heaven
Appeared residing in the recesses of my own heart


When the reality of the self became evident to my eyes
The house appeared among residents of my own heart


If it were somewhat familiar with taste of rubbing foreheads
The stone of Ka’ba’s threshold would have joined the foreheads


O Majnun! Have you ever glanced at yourself
That like Layla you are also sitting in the litter


The months of the union continue flying like moments
But the moments of separation linger for months!


O seaman, how will you protect me from being drowned
As those destined to drowning get drowned in the boats also


The one who concealed His Beauty from Kalim Allah
The same Beloved is manifest among beloveds


The breath of Lovers can light up the extinguished candle
O God! What is kept concealed in the breast of the Lovers?


Serve the fakirs if you have the longing for Love
This pearl is not available in the treasures of kings


Do not ask of these Devotees, if you have faith, you should look at them
They have the illuminated palm up their sleeves


The insightful eye for whose spectacle is tantalized
That elegance of congregation is in these very recluses


Burn the produce of your heart with some such spark
That the Last Day’s sun may also be among your gleaners


For Love search for some heart which would become mortified
This is the wine which is not kept in delicate wine glasses


The Beauty itself becomes the Lover of whose Beauty
O Heart! Does someone among the beautiful has that beauty?


Someone became highly excited at your grace of Ma’arafna
Your rank remained among the most elegant of all the Lovers


Manifest Thyself and show them Thy Beauty some time
Talks have continued among the sagacious since long time


Silent, O Heart! Crying in the full assembly is not good
Decorum is the most important etiquette among the ways of Love


It is not possible for me to deem my critics bad



Because Iqbal, I am myself among my critics
322

The Sun

The Sun

O Sun! The world's essence and motivator you are
The organizer of the book of the world you are

The splendor of existence has been created by you
The verdure of the garden of existence depends on you

The spectacle of elements is maintained by you
The exigency of life in all is maintained by you

Your appearance confers stability on everything
Your illumination and concord is completion of life

You are the sun which establishes light in the world
Which establishes heart, intellect, essence and wisdom

O Sun! Bestow on us the light of wisdom
Bestow your luster's light on the intellect's eye

You are the decorator of necessaries of existence' assemblage
You are the Yazdan of the denizens of the high and the low

Your excellence is reflected from every living thing
The mountain range also shows your elegance

You are the sustainer of the life of all
You are the king of the light's children

There is no beginning and no end of yours
Free of limits of time is the light of yours
336

The Intellect And The Heart

The Intellect And The Heart

One day Intellect said to the heart
'A guide to the misguided ones I am

Being on the earth I reach up to the sky
Look, how deep in comprehension I am

Guidance on earth is my sole occupation
Like the auspicious Khidr 1 in character I am

Interpreter of the book of life I am
The Manifestation of God's Glory I am

You are only a dropp of blood, but
The invaluable ruby's envy I am'

Hearing this the heart said, 'All this is true
But look at me as well, what I am

You understand the secrets of life
But seeing them with my own eyes I am

Concerned with the manifest order you are
And acquainted with the inward I am

Learning is from you, but Divine Knowledge is from me
You only seek Divinity, but showing Divinity I am

Restlessness is the end of Knowledge 2
But the remedy for that malady I am

You are the candle of the assembly of Truth
The lamp of the Divine Beauty's assemblage I am

You are related to time and space
The bird recognizing the Sidrah 3 I am

Look at the grandeur of my station
The throne of the God of Majesty I am
268

The Morning Sun

The Morning Sun

Far from the ignoble strife of Man's tavern you are
The wine-cup adorning the sky's assemblage you are

The jewel which should be the pearl of the morning's bride's ear you are
The ornament which would be the pride of horizon's forehead you are

The blot of night's ink from time's page has been removed!
The star from sky like a spurious picture has been removed!

When from the roof of the sky your beauty appears
Effect of sleep's wine suddenly from eyes disappears

Perception's expanse gets filled with light
Though opens only the material eye your light

The spectacle which the eyes seek is desired
The effulgence which would open the insight is desired

The desires for freedom were not fulfilled in this life
We remained imprisoned in chains of dependence all life

The high and the low are alike for your eye
I too have longing for such a discerning eye

May my eye shedding tears in sympathy for others' woes be!
May my heart free from the prejudice of nation and customs be!

May my tongue be not bound with discrimination of color
May mankind be my nation, the whole world my country be

May secret of Nature's organization clear to my insight be
May smoke of my imagination's candle rising to the sky be

May search for secrets of opposites not make me restless!
May the Love-creating Beauty in everything appear to me!

If the rose petals get damaged by the breeze
May its pain dropping from my eye as a tear be

May the heart contain that little spark of Love's fire
The light of which may contain the secret of the Truth

May my heart not mine but the Beloved's mirror be!
May no thought in my mind except human sympathy be!

If you cannot endure the hardships of the tumultuous world
O the Great Luminary that is not the mark of greatness!

As you are not aware of your world-decorating beauty
You cannot be equal to a speck of dust at the Man's door!

The light of Man eager for the Spectacle ever remained


And you obligated to the tomorrow's morning ever remained

Longing for the Light of the Truth is only in our hearts
Abode of Lailah of desire for search is only in this litter
Opening of the difficult knot, Oh what a pleasure it is!

The pleasure of universal gain in our endless effort is!

Your bosom is unacquainted with the pain of investigation
You are not familiar with searching of the secrets of Nature
492

The Crescent

The Crescent

The sun's boat is broken and drowned in the Nile
But a piece is floating about on the water of the Nile

The twilight's pure blood drips into the sky's basin
Has the lancet of Nature drawn the sun's blood?

Has the sky stolen the ear ring of the evening's bride?
Or has the fragile cord in the Nile's waters strolling?

Your caravan is afoot without help of bell's call
The human ear cannot hear your foot-steps' sound

You show the spectacle of rise and fall to the eyes
Where is your home? To which country are you going?

O star-like planet take me with yourself
The prick of Longing's thorn keeps me restless

I am seeking light, I am weary in this habitation
I am the restless child in the existence's school…
265

The Cloud On The Mountain

The Cloud On The Mountain

Elevation bestows the sky's nearness to my abode
I am the mountain's cloud, my skirt sprinkles roses

Now the wilderness, now the rose garden is my abode
City and wilderness are mine, ocean is mine, forest is mine

If I want to return to some valley for the night
The mountain's verdure is my carpet of velvet

Nature has taught me to be a pearl spreader
To chant the camel song for the camel of the Beloved of Mercy

To be the comforter of the dispirited farmer's heart
To be the elegance of the assembly of the garden's trees

I spread out over the face of the earth like the locks
I get arranged and adorned by the breeze's

I tantalize the expecting eye from a distance
As I pass silently over some habitation

As I approach strolling towards a brook's bank
I endow the brook with ear rings of whirlpools

I am the hope of the freshly grown field's verdure
I am the ocean's offspring, I am nourished by the sun

I gave ocean's tumult to the mountain spring
I charmed the birds into thrilling chants

I pronounced 'Rise' standing by the verdure's head
I conferred the taste for smile to the rose-bud

By my benevolence farmers' huts on the mountain side
Are converted into bed chambers of the opulent.
281

The Candle

The Candle

O Candle! I am also an afflicted person in the world assembly
Constant complaint is my lot in the manner of the rue


Love gave the warmth of internal pathos to you
It made me the florist selling blood-mixed tears


Whether you be the candle of a celebrating assembly or one at the grave
In every condition associated with the tears of sorrow you remain


Your eye views all with equity like the Secret's Lovers
My eye is the pride of the tumult of discrimination


Your illumination is alike in the Ka'bah and the temple
I am entangled in the temple and the Haram's discrimination


Your black smoke contains the sigh's elegance
Is some heart hidden in the place of your manifestation?


You burn with pathos due to distance from Tajalli's Light
Your pathos the callous ones consider your light


Though you are burning you are unaware of it all
You see but do not encompass the internal pathos


I quiver like mercury with the excitement of vexation
As well I am aware of vexations of the restless heart


This was also the elegance of some Beloved
Which gave me perception of my own pathos


This cognition of mine keeps me restless
Innumerable fire temples are asleep in this spark


Discrimination between high and low is created by this alone!
Fragrance in flower, ecstasy in wine is created by this alone!


Garden, nightingale, flower, fragrance this Cognition is
Root of the struggle of ‘I and you' this Cognition is


At creation's dawn as Beauty became the abode of Love
The sound of "Kun" taught warmth to the spirit of Love


The command came Beauty of Kun's garden to witness
With one eye a thousand dreadful dreams to witness
Do not ask me of the nature of the veil of being
The eve of separation was the dawn of my being


Gone are the days when unaware of imprisonment I was
That my abode the adornment of the tree of Tur was
I am a prisoner but consider the cage to be a garden



This exile's hovel of sorrow I consider the homeland


Memories of the homeland a needless melancholy became
Now the desire for sight, now Longing for search became
O Candle! Look at the excessive illusion of thought
Look at the end of the one worshipped by celestial denizens


Theme of separation I am, the exalted one I am
Design of the Will of the Universe's Lord I am


He desired my display as He designed me
When at the head of Existence' Divan He wrote me


The pearl likes living in a handful of dust
Style may be dull the subject is excellent


Not seeing it rightly is the fault of shortsighted perception
The universe is the show of effulgence of taste for Cognizance


This network of time and space is the scaling ladder of the Universe
It is the necklace of the neck of Eternal BeautyI
have lost the way, Longing for the goal I am
O Candle! Captive of perception's illusion I am


I am the hunter as well as the circle of tyranny's net!
I am the Haram's roof as well as the bird on Haram's roofAm I the Beauty or head to
foot the melting love am I?
It is not clear whether the beloved or the Lover am I?


am afraid the old secret may come up to my lips again
Lest story of suffering on the Cross may come up again.
356

Sympathy

Sympathy


Perched on the branch of a tree
Was a nightingale sad and lonely

'The night has drawn near', He was thinking
'I passed the day in flying around and feeding

How can I reach up to the nest
Darkness has enveloped everything'?

Hearing the nightingale wailing thus
A glow-worm lurking nearby spoke thus

'With my heart and soul ready to help I am
Though only an insignificant insect I am

Never mind if the night is dark
I shall shed light if the way is dark

God has bestowed a torch on me
He has given a shining lamp to me

The good in the world only those are
Ready to be useful to others who are
824

Mirza Ghalib

Mirza Ghalib

Through you the secret was revealed to the human intellect
That innumerable enigmas are solved by human intellect

You were the complete soul, literary assembly was your body
You adorned as well as remained veiled from the assembly

Your eye is longing to witness that veiled Beauty
Which is veiled in everything as the pathos of life

The assemblage of existence is rich with your harp
As mountain's silence by the brook's melodious harp

The garden of your imagination bestows glory on the universe
From the field of your thought worlds grow like meadows

Life is concealed in the humor of your verse
Picture's lips move with your command of language

Speech is very proud of the elegance of your miraculous lips
Thurayyah is astonished at your style's elegance

Beloved of literature itself loves your style
Delhi's bud is mocking at the rose of Shiraz

Ah! You are resting in the midst of Delhi's ruins
Your counterpart is resting in the Weimar's garden

Matching you in literary elegance is not possible
Till maturity of thought and imagination are combined

Ah! What has befallen the land of India!
Ah! The inspirer of the super-critical eye!

The lock of Urdu's hair still craves for combing
This candle still craves for moth's heart-felt pathos

O Jahanabad! O cradle of learning and art
Your entire super-structure is a silent lament

The sun and the moon are asleep in every speck of your dust
Though innumerable other gems are also hidden in your dust

Does another world-famous person like him also lie buried in you?
Does another gem like him also lie concealed in you?
249

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