Tuesday, July 1, 2025

A Yearning of the Creative Self in the Age of Imitation

 بِسْمِ اللّهِ الرَّحْمـَنِ الرَّحِيمِ

 

اثَر کرے نَہ کرے، سُن تو لے مِری فریاد
نہیں ہے داد کا طالِب، یہ بَندَۂ آزاد

Translation:
Whether it has effect or not—at least listen to my cry.
This free soul is not begging for praise.

Explanation:
Iqbal begins with an appeal—not to be heard for validation, but to simply be listened to. The “بندۂ آزاد” (free man) does not seek applause or judgment. He speaks from conviction, not for reward. This sets the tone: sincerity over spectacle, truth over approval.

یَہ مُشْتِ خَاک، یَہ صَرْصَر، یَہ وُسعَتِ اَفْلاک
کَرَم ہَے یَا کِہ سِتَم، ت
یری لَذّتِ اِیجاد!

Translation:
This handful of dust, this desert wind, this vastness of the skies—
Is it mercy, or oppression—your thrill of creation?

Explanation:
Iqbal questions the purpose behind the grandeur and violence of creation. The “مُشتِ خاک” (handful of dust, symbolizing man), “صرصر” (tempestuous wind), and the expansive heavens show both vulnerability and magnificence. Iqbal addresses God’s creative impulse—asking whether it is benevolence or a cosmic burden.

 ٹھَہَرْ سَکَا نَہ ہَوَائے چَمَنْ مِیں خَیْمَۂ گُل
یَہی ہَے فَصْلِ بَہاری، یَہی ہَے بَادِ مُراد؟

Translation:
The flower’s tent could not stand in the garden's breeze—
Is this your spring season? Is this your wind of hope?

Explanation:
Here, Iqbal reflects on fleeting beauty and unrealized potential. The flower (representing beauty, ideals, perhaps a new order) fails to thrive even in the supposed spring. The “بادِ مُراد” (wind of desire) is ironic—it’s destructive, not fulfilling. Nature’s symbolism reflects spiritual and civilizational disillusionment.

قُصُورْوَارْ، غَرِیبُ الدِّیَارْ ہُوں، لَیکِنْ
تِرا خَرابَہ، فَرِشْتے نَہ کَرْ سَکَے آبَاد

Translation:
I may be guilty, a stranger to this land—
But even your ruin, the angels could not restore.

Explanation:
Iqbal humbly admits his outsider status (perhaps as a thinker not accepted by society), but points out that even divine agents (angels) have failed to revive the ruin he addresses—possibly referring to Muslim civilization, or spiritual decay. It's a bold juxtaposition of personal humility and critical truth.

مِری جَفا طَلَبِی کُو دُعَائیں دَیتَا ہَے
وُہ دَشْتِ سَادَہ، وُہ تِرا جَہَانِ بے بُنْیَاد

Translation:
My thirst for trial is blessed by
That simple desert—your rootless world.

Explanation:
Iqbal contrasts two realms: the harsh, clear desert (symbolizing spiritual testing and honesty) and the world built on illusions or without foundation. His desire for struggle and truth is affirmed by the former, while the latter—shallow and deceptive—offers nothing of real substance.

خَطَرْ پَسَنْدْ طَبِیعَتْ کُو سَازْگَار نَہِیں
وُہ گُلِسْتَانْ، کِہ جَہَاں گھاتْ مِیں نَہ ہو صَیَّاد

Translation:
A danger-loving nature finds no harmony
In a garden where no hunter lies in wait.

Explanation:
Iqbal again aligns himself with struggle and risk. He prefers a world where there is resistance, where life means challenge. A garden without a hunter is too safe, too dull—he rejects complacent peace that lacks purpose or trial.


مَقَامِ شَوْقْ، تِرَے قُدْسِیوں کے بَسْ کَا نَہِیں
اُنھی کَا کَامْ ہَے یَہ، جِنْ کے حَوْصَلَے ہَیں زِیَاد

Translation:
The station of yearning is beyond your holy ones—
This task belongs to those of greater courage.

Explanation:
Iqbal critiques passive piety. The “قدسی” (the saintly) may be pure, but lack the burning passion or daring spirit to seek transformation. The “مقامِ شوق” (station of longing) belongs to bold souls who risk, strive, and suffer for meaning—not those content with sanctity without struggle.

 




To what extent has he persisted in arrogance and heedlessness?"



بِسْمِ اللّهِ الرَّحْمـَنِ الرَّحِيمِ

Isma'il ibn al al-Muqarrī: (ابن المُقَرِّي) 


اِسْمُهُ إِسْمَاعِيلُ بْنُ أَبِي بَكْرٍ بْنِ عَبْدِ اللهِ بْنِ إِبْرَاهِيمَ بْنِ عَلِيٍّ بْنِ عَطِيَّةَ بْنِ عَلِيٍّ الشَّاوِرِيُّ الشَّرْجِيُّ الحُسَيْنِيُّ اليَمَنِيُّ الشَّافِعِيُّ، وَاشْتُهِرَ بِابْنِ المُقَرِّي، لَقَبُهُ شَرَفُ الدِّينِ، وَكُنْيَتُهُ أَبُو مُحَمَّدٍ، وَيُقَالُ لَهُ: ابْنُ المُقَرِّي الزُّبَيْدِيُّ، أَوِ اليَمَنِيُّ، أَوْ إِسْمَاعِيلُ ابْنُ المُقَرِّي.
وَالحُسَيْنِيُّ نِسْبَةٌ إِلَىٰ أَبْيَاتِ حُسَيْنٍ بِاليَمَنِ، مَوْلِدُهُ فِيهَا، وَالشَّرْجِيُّ نِسْبَةٌ إِلَىٰ شَرْجَةَ مِنْ سَوَاحِلِهَا، وَالشَّاوِرِيُّ نِسْبَةٌ إِلَىٰ قَبِيلَةِ شَاوِرَ مِنْ بُطُونِ حَاشِدٍ، أَصْلُهُ مِنْهَا.

His name is:

Ismāʿīl ibn Abī Bakr ibn ʿAbd Allāh ibn Ibrāhīm ibn ʿAlī ibn ʿAṭiyyah ibn ʿAlī al-Shāwirī al-Sharjī al-Ḥusaynī al-Yamanī al-Shāfiʿī

  • Ismāʿīl – His given name.

  • ibn Abī Bakr... – This is a full genealogical chain tracing seven generations back.

  • al-Shāwirī – Attributed to the tribe of Shāwir, a sub-branch of the powerful Ḥāshid tribal confederation in Yemen.

  • al-Sharjī – Attributed to Sharjah, a coastal region in Yemen (not to be confused with the city in the UAE).

  • al-Ḥusaynī – Refers to Abyāt Ḥusayn, a place in Yemen where he was born.

  • al-Yamanī – "The Yemeni," indicating national origin.

  • al-Shāfiʿī – Indicates his adherence to the Shāfiʿī school of Islamic jurisprudence.


He became known as:

Ibn al-Muqarrī – “Son of al-Muqarrī,” likely a title inherited from an ancestor known for being a qāriʾ (reciter) or scholar.


His titles:

  • Laqab (honorific): Sharaf al-Dīn – “The Nobility of the Religion”

  • Kunya (teknonym): Abū Muḥammad – “Father of Muḥammad”

  • He is also known as:

    • Ibn al-Muqarrī al-Zubaydī – possibly referencing the Zubayd region or tribe.

    • Ibn al-Muqarrī al-Yamanī – “the Yemeni”

    • Ismāʿīl ibn al-Muqarrī – Formal full-name variant.


Final Clarifications on Attributions:

  • al-Ḥusaynī here does not refer to descent from al-Ḥusayn ibn ʿAlī (as in the Ḥasanī/Ḥusaynī Sayyids), but rather:

    A place-based nisbah to Abyāt Ḥusayn, a locality in Yemen where he was born.

  • al-Sharjī – Attributed to Sharjah, a coastal region or village on the Yemeni shore.

  • al-Shāwirī – Attributed to Qabīlat Shāwir, a sub-clan of the Ḥāshid tribal confederation, indicating his tribal roots.


He writes in one of the classical Arabic zuhdiyyah (ascetic, didactic poem) with consistent meter and rhyme, culminating in a final duʿāʾ (supplication) and a salutation upon the Prophet ﷺ — is one of a devotional or ethical collection of Islamic poetry from the Mamluk period.

 

 إِلَىٰ كَمْ تَمَادَىٰ فِي غُرُورٍ وَغَفْلَةٍ

وَكَمْ هَكَذَا نَوْمٌ إِلَىٰ غَيْرِ يَقْظَةِ؟

How long will you persist in delusion and heedlessness?
And how long will this sleep last without waking? 


A rhetorical opening appealing to the soul lost in worldly distractions, portraying spiritual negligence as prolonged sleep.

لَقَدْ ضَاعَ عُمْرٌ، سَاعَةٌ مِنْهُ تُشْتَرَىٰ

بِمِلْءِ السَّمَاءِ وَالأَرْضِ أَيَّةَ ضَيْعَةِ؟

A lifetime has been wasted — an hour of it could purchase
a treasure greater than the heavens and earth


Time, especially when used for righteousness, is more valuable than all creation. Wasting even an hour is a catastrophic loss.

أَيُنْفَقُ هَذَا فِي هَوَىٰ هٰذِهِ الَّتِي
أَبَىٰ اللهُ أَنْ تَسْوَىٰ جَنَاحَ بَعُوضَةِ؟

Shall this precious life be spent chasing what
God has deemed unworthy of even a mosquito’s wing?

 
A reference to a famous hadith that the dunya is worth less than a mosquito’s wing in the sight of God—thus unfit for the believer’s heart.

أَتَرْضَىٰ مِنَ العَيْشِ الرَّغِيدِ وَعِيشَةٍ
مَعَ المَلَإِ الأَعْلَىٰ بِعَيْشِ البَهِيمَةِ؟ 


Are you content with a life of ease—
like a beast—while among the heavenly host?

A scolding question: how can the soul, created to ascend spiritually, be satisfied with mere animal pleasures?

   فَيَا دُرَّةً بَيْنَ المَزَابِلِ أُلْقِيَتْ
وَجَوْهَرَةً بِيْعَتْ بِأَبْخَسِ قِيمَةِ! 

O pearl cast among refuse,
O jewel sold for the cheapest price!

The poet likens the noble soul to a precious gem discarded in filth — a metaphor for self-degradation through heedlessness.

 أَفَانٍ بِبَاقٍ تَشْتَرِيهِ سَفَاهَةً؟
وَسُخْطًا بِرِضْوَانٍ، وَنَارًا بِجَنَّةِ؟ 

Do you foolishly trade what is lasting for what perishes—
wrath for mercy, and the Fire for the Garden?

A warning against irrational spiritual choices: giving up eternal bliss for fleeting worldly enjoyment.

أَأَنْتَ صَدِيقٌ أَمْ عَدُوٌّ لِنَفْسِهِ؟
فَإِنَّكَ تَرْمِيهَا بِكُلِّ مُصِيبَةِ! 

Are you a friend or an enemy to your soul?
You hurl it into every disaster!

This blunt rebuke targets the reader's self-harm — through sin, negligence, and indulgence, the soul is its own worst enemy.

وَلَوْ فَعَلَ الأَعْدَاءُ بِنَفْسِكَ بَعْضَ مَا
فَعَلْتَ، لَمَسَّتْهُم لَهَا بَعْضُ رَحْمَةِ! 

Had your enemies done to you what you’ve done to yourself,
you would’ve pitied them for such cruelty!

Highlighting the irony: we are harsher on ourselves than even our enemies might be. A call for self-awareness and mercy on the soul.

لَقَدْ بِعْتَهَا هَوْنًا عَلَيْكَ رَخِيصَةً،
وَكَانَتْ بِهٰذَا مِنْكَ غَيْرَ حَقِيقَةِ!

You sold your soul cheaply, with little care—
a treatment unworthy of her noble essence.

The poet decries the devaluation of the soul. The line implies regret over choosing lowly pursuits over spiritual elevation.

أَلَا فَاسْتَفِقْ! لَا تَفْضَحَنَّهَا بِمَشْهَدٍ
مِنَ الخَلْقِ، إِنْ كُنْتَ ابْنَ أُمٍّ كَرِيمَةِ!

So wake up! Do not disgrace her publicly
before creation—if you are the son of a noble mother!

A powerful call to dignity: rise from humiliation and sin, for it is disgraceful to be exposed in shame on the Day of Judgment.

فَبَيْنَ يَدَيْهَا مَشْهَدٌ وَفَضِيحَةٌ
يُعَدُّ عَلَيْهَا كُلُّ مِثْقَالِ ذَرَّةِ

Before her lies a scene of exposure and disgrace,
Where every atom’s weight will be accounted.

Refers to the Day of Judgment. The soul will stand before God where even the smallest deeds—good or evil—will be weighed and revealed.

فُتِنْتَ بِهَا دُنْيَا كَثِيرٌ غُرُورُهَا
تُعَامِلُ فِي لَذَّتِهَا بِالخَدِيعَةِ

You have been seduced by a world full of deception,
That deals in pleasures through trickery.

This couplet emphasizes the dunya’s illusory nature. Its delights mislead and betray, offering joy while hiding harm.

إِذَا أَقْبَلَتْ بَذَّتْ، وَإِنْ هِيَ أَحْسَنَتْ
أَسَاءَتْ، وَإِنْ ضَاقَتْ، فَثِقْ بِالكُدُورَةِ

When it arrives, it struts in arrogance; if it improves, it betrays;
and if it constricts, expect only bitterness. 

The world is portrayed as unstable and deceptive: its good is mixed with harm, and its hardship is filled with sorrow.

وَإِنْ نِلْتَ مِنْهَا مَالَ قَارُونَ، لَمْ تَنَلْ
سِوَىٰ لُقْمَةٍ فِي فِيكَ مِنْهَا، وَخِرْقَةِ

Even if you gained the wealth of Qārūn,
you’d get nothing more than a bite in your mouth—and a rag.

Despite immense wealth, one’s real share of the world is minimal: some food and clothing. Referencing Qārūn who was destroyed for arrogance.

وَهَيْهَاتَ تَحْظَىٰ بِالأَمَانِيِّ، وَلَمْ تَكُنْ
لِتَنْزِعَهَا مِنْ فِيكَ أَيْدِي المَنِيَّةِ

Far-fetched is it to attain your dreams—
when the hands of death can snatch them from your mouth.

A sobering reminder of mortality. Even as one pursues dreams, death may interrupt and take everything mid-breath.

فَدَعْهَا وَأَهْلِيهَا، لِتَغْبِطَهُمْ، وَخُذْ
لِنَفْسِكَ عَنْهَا، فَهْوَ كُلُّ غَنِيمَةِ 

So leave the world and its people—let them have it and be envied.
Take what saves your soul instead, for that is the true prize. 

Encourages detachment and asceticism. Let others chase the world’s illusions; seek instead what benefits you eternally.

وَلَا تَغْبِطَنَّ مِنْهَا بِفَرْحَةِ سَاعَةٍ
تَعُودُ عَلَيْكَ بِأَحْزَانٍ طَوِيلَةِ

Do not envy a fleeting moment of joy from this world,
which will return to you with long-lasting grief. 

Momentary pleasures often lead to enduring sorrow—spiritual or moral. Joy without meaning is not worth the price.

فَعَيْشُكَ فِيهَا أَلْفُ عَامٍ، وَتَنْقَضِي
كَعَيْشِكَ فِيهَا بَعْضُ يَوْمٍ وَلَيْلَةِ

Your life in this world—even if a thousand years—will end
as if it were a portion of a day and night.

Time is fleeting, and even long lives feel short once they’ve passed. The couplet echoes Qur’anic imagery of temporal illusion.

وَكُنْ ذَاكِرًا لِلَّهِ فِي كُلِّ لَحْظَةٍ
وَلَا تَنْسَهُ، تُنْسَ، فَخُذْ بِنَصِيحَتِي

Remember God in every moment—
Do not forget Him, lest you be forgotten. Take my advice.

A clear exhortation to dhikr (remembrance of God), tied to a profound warning: divine neglect awaits those who neglect the Divine.

كُلِّفْتَ بِهَا دُنْيَا كَثِيرٌ غُرُورُهَا
تُقَابِلُنَا فِي نُصْحِهَا بِالخَدِيعَةِ

You became attached to this world, which is full of illusion—
It answers our counsel with deception.

Even when warned, the soul persists in pursuing worldly temptations. The world itself “replies” to sincere advice with treachery.

عَلَيْكَ بِمَا يُجْدِي عَلَيْكَ مِنَ التُّقَىٰ
فَإِنَّكَ فِي سَهْوٍ عَظِيمٍ وَغَفْلَةِ

Hold fast to what will truly benefit you—namely, piety—
for you are deep in heedlessness and great distraction.

A call to taqwā (God-consciousness), reminding the soul that while it's preoccupied with distractions, it is neglecting what truly matters. 

تُصَلِّي بِلا قَلْبٍ، صَلَاةً بِمِثْلِهَا
يَكُونُ الفَتَىٰ مُسْتَوْجِبًا لِلْعُقُوبَةِ

You pray without your heart—such a prayer
makes a youth deserving of punishment.

The poet condemns empty, heartless prayer, stressing that form without spirit does not fulfill religious purpose and may even incur divine disapproval.

 تُخَاطِبُهُ "إِيَّاكَ نَعْبُدُ" مُقْبِلًا
عَلَىٰ غَيْرِهِ فِيهَا، لِغَيْرِ ضَرُورَةِ

You say to Him, “You alone we worship,”
yet your heart turns elsewhere without necessity. 

A piercing criticism of insincerity in worship: the lips recite devotion to God, but the mind and heart wander. 

وَلَوْ رَدَّ مَنْ نَاجَاكَ لِلْغَيْرِ طَرْفَهُ
تَمَيَّزْتَ مِنْ غَيْظٍ عَلَيْهِ وَغَيْرَةِ

If someone you spoke with turned his gaze to another,
you would burst with rage and jealousy.

A sharp analogy: we expect full attention from others but give divided attention to God. The line exposes a spiritual hypocrisy. 

فَوَيْلَكَ! تَدْرِي مَنْ تُنَاجِيهِ مُعْرِضًا،
وَبَيْنَ يَدَيْ مَنْ تَنْحَنِي، غَيْرَ مُخْبِتِ؟

Woe to you! Do you know whom you address while turning away—
before whom you bow without humility? 

A stern reprimand. The poet underscores the gravity of neglecting reverence in divine worship, stressing the majesty of the One worshipped.

أَيَّا عَامِلًا لِلنَّارِ، جِسْمُكَ لَيِّنٌ!،
فَجَرِّبْهُ تَمْرِينًا بِحَرِّ الظَّهِيرَةِ

O you who labor for the Fire—your body is soft!
Try training it first under the heat of the noonday sun

A sarcastic and scathing reminder: one sins as though they could bear Hell, while they can barely endure summer’s heat. A visceral wake-up call.

 وَدَرِّبْهُ فِي لَسْعِ الزَّنَابِيرِ تَجْتَرِي،
عَلَىٰ نَهْشِ حَيَّاتٍ هُنَاكَ عَظِيمَةِ 

Train it to endure the sting of wasps,
if you dare expose it to the bites of the mighty serpents there.

Continuing the imagery of Hell, the poet urges the sinner to consider whether they can even handle minor worldly pain before daring greater punishment.

 فَإِنْ كُنْتَ لَا تَقْوَىٰ، فَوَيْلَكَ! مَا الَّذِي
دَعَاكَ إِلَىٰ إِسْخَاطِ رَبِّ البَرِيَّةِ؟

If you cannot endure it—woe to you!—then what
drove you to enrage the Lord of creation?

A rational and emotional plea: if one is too weak for Hell, then why act in ways that earn God's wrath?

تُبَارِزُهُ بِالمُنْكَرَاتِ عَشِيَّةً،
وَتُصْبِحُ فِي أَثْوَابِ نُسْكٍ وَعِفَّةِ؟

You confront Him with sins by night,
then arise in the morning clothed in piety and modesty? 

A striking denunciation of hypocrisy: engaging in sin privately while displaying religious virtue outwardly. The contradiction is laid bare.

تُسِيءُ بِهِ ظَنًّا، وَتُحْسِنُ تَارَةً،
عَلَىٰ حَسَبِ مَا يَقْضِي الهَوَىٰ فِي القَضِيَّةِ

You think ill of Him, then well—at times—
depending on what your desire dictates in the matter.

The poet points out the inconsistency of faith shaped by convenience. Trust in God is not to be swayed by whim or mood.

فَأَنْتَ عَلَيْهِ أَجْرَأُ مِنْكَ عَلَىٰ الوَرَىٰ
بِمَا فِيكَ مِنْ جَهْلٍ، وَخُبْثِ الطَّوِيَّةِ

You are bolder with Him than you are with people—
because of your ignorance and the corruption of your intent. 

A sharp rebuke: the sinner shows more daring in disobeying God than they would show in wronging others—exposing both ignorance and inner wickedness.

تَقُولُ مَعَ العِصْيَانِ: رَبِّي غَافِرٌ!
صَدَقْتَ، وَلَكِنْ: غَافِرٌ بِالمَشِيئَةِ

You say while sinning: ‘My Lord is Forgiving!’
You speak the truth—but He forgives by His will.

Affirming God's mercy, but warning that forgiveness is not guaranteed without repentance. Presumption upon divine mercy is dangerous.

وَرَبُّكَ رَزَّاقٌ كَمَا هُوَ غَافِرٌ،
فَلِمَ لَا تُصَدِّقْ فِيهِمَا بِالسَّوِيَّةِ؟

And your Lord is the Provider, just as He is Forgiving—
So why don’t you trust in both equally?

A probing question: if one truly believes God provides sustenance without striving, why doesn't one rely equally on His mercy through obedience, rather than sin?

فَكَيْفَ تُرَجِّي العَفْوَ مِنْ غَيْرِ تَوْبَةٍ،
وَلَسْتَ تُرَجِّي الرِّزْقَ إِلَّا بِحِيلَةِ؟

How can you hope for pardon without repentance,
while you never hope for provision without a strategy?

This exposes hypocrisy: while people plan and work for worldly gain, they lazily assume forgiveness will come without spiritual work.

عَلَىٰ أَنَّهُ بِالرِّزْقِ كَفَّلَ نَفْسَهُ،
وَلَمْ يَتَكَفَّلْ لِلأَنَامِ بِجَنَّتِي

Though He guaranteed sustenance for all,
He did not guarantee Paradise to any.

A theological distinction: rizq (sustenance) is a divine promise; Paradise, however, is conditional—earned through faith and action.

وَمَا زِلْتَ تَسْعَىٰ بِالَّذِي قَدْ كُفِيتَهُ،
وَتُهْمِلُ مَا كُلِّفْتَهُ مِنْ وَظِيفَةِ!

You continue to strive for what’s already guaranteed,
and neglect the duty you were assigned!

Critique of misplaced priorities. One’s obsession with wealth and livelihood comes at the expense of the real spiritual responsibilities of worship and ethical living.

إِلٰهِي! أَجِرْنَا مِنْ عَظِيمِ ذُنُوبِنَا،
وَلَا تُخْزِنَا، وَانْظُرْ إِلَيْنَا بِرَحْمَةِ

O my Lord! Save us from the weight of our great sins,
Do not disgrace us—gaze upon us with mercy!

This marks a shift into heartfelt supplication. After a long series of moral rebukes, the poet now pleads with God for forgiveness and grace.

وَخُذْ بِنَوَاصِينَا إِلَيْكَ، وَهَبْ لَنَا
يَقِينًا يَقِينَا كُلَّ شَكٍّ وَرِيبَةِ

Take hold of our forelocks and draw us near to You,
and grant us a certainty that protects us from all doubt and confusion.

This is a Qur’anic-style plea for spiritual guidance and certainty. The image of the “forelock” indicates complete submission to divine will.

إِلٰهِي! اهْدِنَا فِيمَنْ هَدَيْتَ، وَخُذْ بِنَا
إِلَىٰ الحَقِّ نَهْجًا، فِي سَوَاءِ الطَّرِيقَةِ

O my Lord! Guide us among those whom You have guided,
and lead us to truth upon a straight and balanced path.

This echoes the language of the qunūt supplication and al-Fātiḥah. It asks for inclusion among the rightly guided and constancy in the path of truth.

وَكُنْ شُغْلَنَا عَنْ كُلِّ شُغْلٍ وَهَمٍّ،
وَبُغْيَتَنَا عَنْ كُلِّ هَمٍّ وَبُغْيَةِ 

Be our occupation from every other occupation and worry,
and our ultimate aim above every goal and desire. 

A beautiful expression of total devotion: may God become the center of all concern, desire, and purpose.


وَصَلِّ صَلَاةً لَا تَنَاهَىٰ عَلَى الَّذِي
جَعَلْتَ بِهِ مِسْكًا خِتَامَ النُّبُوَّةِ

And send endless blessings upon the One 
through whom You sealed Prophethood with musk.

A beautiful expression of total devotion: may God become the center of all concern, desire, and purpose.


A poetic reference to the Prophet Muḥammad ﷺ, described as the fragrant seal (مسك ختام النبوة). Musk was a prized scent and metaphor for beauty and finality. The poet ends with salutation upon him, as is fitting in classical Islamic poetry.


THEMATIC OVERVIEW

This zuhdiyyah (ascetic poem) presents a complete spiritual cycle:

Verses 1–10: Begin with a critique of heedlessness and misplaced trust in the dunya.

Verses 11–20: Warn about Judgment Day, worldly deceit, and the futility of wealth.

Verses 21–30: Turn to the shallowness of ritual worship without sincerity.

Verses 31–36: Analyze theological inconsistencies and misplaced priorities.

Verses 37–40: Shift into urgent, intimate supplication to God.

Verses 41–46: Conclude with a yearning for divine closeness and a noble salutation upon the Prophet ﷺ.



 

 



Thursday, June 26, 2025

Grant me six things

 


بِسْمِ اللّهِ الرَّحْمـَنِ الرَّحِيمِ


Abusa'id Abolkhayr or Abū-Sa'īd Abul-Khayr (ابوسعید ابوالخیر) has one of his quatrains (Ruba'i) which is used in my home town as a supplication after prayers, especially in the morning: 

 

ای بارِ خُدا! به‌حَقِّ هَستی،

O Lord, by the truth of existence itself,

شِش چیز مرا مَدَد فِرِستی:

Grant me six blessings to aid my life:

ایمان و أمان و تَن‌دُرُستی،

Faith unwavering and peace unbroken, Health of body and spirit renewed,

فَتح و فَرَج و فَراخ‌ دَستی.

Victory in trials and release from burdens,
And abundance in generosity and provision.

 

This poetic prayer is a heartfelt supplication to God, invoking the ultimate truth and reality of existence ("the truth of existence itself") as the basis for the plea. It asks for six essential blessings:

1. Faith (ایمان): A steadfast belief in God, which provides spiritual strength and guidance through life's challenges.


2. Peace (امان): Both external safety and internal tranquility, ensuring a life free from fear and turmoil.


3. Health (تن درستی): Physical well-being and vitality, essential for fulfilling one's duties and enjoying life.


4. Victory (فتح): Success and triumph over obstacles, symbolizing progress and achievement in personal and communal endeavors.


5. Relief (فرج): The removal of difficulties, providing hope and solace during times of hardship.


6. Abundance (فراخ دستی): Generosity and financial well-being, signifying both material prosperity and the ability to share with others.



Saturday, June 14, 2025

Keep going within His Sight

 

  بِسْمِ اللّهِ الرَّحْمـَنِ الرَّحِيمِ

 

 وَٱصْبِرْ لِحُكْمِ رَبِّكَ فَإِنَّكَ بِأَعْيُنِنَا ۖ وَسَبِّحْ بِحَمْدِ رَبِّكَ حِينَ تَقُومُ 


At-Tur (The Mount) 52:48

And so, await in patience thy Sustainer’s judgment, for thou art well within Our Sight.  And extol thy Sustainer’s limitless glory and praise whenever thou risest up

 

From the Hikayat of Khwaja Tajir in the Masnavi of Rumi.

اندرین ره می‌تراش و می‌خراش
 

On this path, chisel and carve without rest—

تا دم آخر دمی فارغ مباش
 

Not for a breath be idle, till your final breath.

تا دم آخر دمی آخر بود
 

For that breath may well be the last—

 

که عنایت با تو صاحب‌ سِر بود
 

And in it, grace may descend upon you, O keeper of the secret.

 

هر چه می‌کوشند اگر مرد و زنست
 

All who strive—whether man or woman—

 

گوش و چشم شاه جان بر روزنست
 

The Sovereign of souls stands watch, ear and eye at the window.

 فَإِنَّكَ بِأَعْيُنِنَا

 


"Chisel and carve" reflects mujāhada—the inner work of purifying the self. Rumi often uses imagery of sculpting the soul toward divine form.

"Not for a breath be idle" embodies Islamic sabr (steadfastness) and himmah (spiritual aspiration), where the seeker is never off-duty.

"Keeper of the secret" (صاحب‌ سِر) alludes to those who are entrusted with divine mysteries through maʿrifa (gnosis).

The final couplet is a quiet, awe-struck affirmation of murāqaba—God’s watchful nearness. Striving is seen, not lost; every act is heard. 
فَإِنَّكَ بِأَعْيُنِنَا 

Masjid-e-Qurtuba

 

 بِسْمِ اللّهِ الرَّحْمـَنِ الرَّحِيمِ

 

یہ حُوریانِ فرنگی، دل و نظر کا حجاب
بہشتِ مغربیاں، جلوہ ہائے پا بہ رکاب

Translation:
These Western houris (women) are veils over heart and sight,
The paradise of the West lies in beauties ready to obey.

Explanation:
Iqbal criticizes the seductive materialism of the West. He refers to European women (symbolically) as a distraction—not inherently negative, but as symbols of how beauty and desire veil deeper vision and heart-based truth. “Jalwa haaye paa-ba-rikaab” (beauties ready to ride forth) suggests constant availability and pursuit of pleasure—for Iqbal, a sign of a shallow civilization. 


دل و نظر کا سفینہ سنبھال کر لے جا
مہ و ستارہ ہیں بحرِ وجود میں گرداب

Translation:
Steer well the ship of your heart and sight—
The moon and stars are mere whirlpools in the ocean of existence.

Explanation:
Iqbal warns the seeker to carefully guard inner clarity and perception. Even celestial forces—moon and stars, symbols of knowledge and power—are insufficient; they too are trapped in the flux of being, unable to offer spiritual direction. He urges inner control amidst external grandeur.



جہانِ صوت و صدا میں سما نہیں سکتی
لطیفۂ ازَلی ہے فغانِ چنگ و رباب

Translation:
The world of sound and voice cannot contain it—
The eternal subtlety is the cry of harp and lute.

Explanation:
The music of traditional instruments (chang-o-rabaab) may express something eternal, but true spiritual lament (fughaan)—a timeless, subtle longingtranscends ordinary perception. Iqbal critiques shallow aestheticism while still acknowledging music as a possible vessel for spiritual expression—but never its substitute.

  

سِکھا دیے ہیں اسے شیوہ ہائے خانقہی
فقیہِ شہر کو صوفی نے کر دیا ہے خراب

Translation:
He has taught him the ways of the Sufi retreat—
The city’s jurist has been ruined by the dervish.

Explanation:
Iqbal laments the corruption of Islamic scholarship and spirituality. The jurist (faqih), who should represent law and reason, has been misled by a degenerated form of Sufism—one that teaches withdrawal and ritualism rather than dynamic spiritual and ethical leadership. It’s a critique of decadent religious culture.


وہ سجدہ، روحِ زمیں جس سے کانپ جاتی تھی
اُسی کو آج ترستے ہیں منبر و محراب
 

Translation:
That prostration which once made the soul of the earth tremble—
Today the pulpits and prayer-niches long for it.

Explanation:
Iqbal mourns the loss of spiritual power in Muslim prayer. Once, sujood (prostration) symbolized a powerful, living faith that could shake the world. Today, the institutions of religion (minbar and mehrab) miss that sincerity and fire—they are empty forms devoid of transformative spirit.


سُنی نہ مصر و فلسطیں میں وہ اذاں میں نے
دیا تھا جس نے پہاڑوں کو رعشۂ سیماب

Translation:
I did not hear that call to prayer in Egypt or Palestine—
The one that once made mountains tremble like quicksilver.

Explanation:
Iqbal refers to the original, fiery Adhan (call to prayer)—a symbol of Islam’s early revolutionary energy. Its absence in the heartlands of Islam (like Egypt and Palestine) signals decay. The comparison to trembling mountains echoes Qur'anic imagery—a faith that once changed landscapes now lacks inner vitality.

  

ہوائے قُرطُبہ! شاید یہ ہے اثر تیرا
مری نوا میں ہے سوز و سُرورِ عہدِ شباب

Translation:
O breeze of Cordoba! Perhaps this is your effect—
In my melody now burns the joy and pain of youthful days.

Explanation:
Iqbal ends this section on a reflective note. The air of Cordoba, once a center of Islamic civilization, rekindles his youthful spiritual fire. Suroor (joy) and soz (burning pain) represent a passionate longing for renewal. He’s inspired to revive the spirit of a lost golden age, not replicate it superficially.

Husain Ahmad

 

 بِسْمِ اللّهِ الرَّحْمـَنِ الرَّحِيمِ

 

Here is a poem that Iqbal wrote which caused grief to a lot of the Muslims supportive of Indian National Congress. But it's important to understand it in modern context 




 
حُسین احمد!
عجم ہنوز نداند رموزِ دیں، ورنہ
 

Husain Ahmad!
The non-Arab still does not grasp the secrets of the faith—otherwise...

 
ز دیوبند حُسین احمد! ایں چہ بوالعجبی است
 

That Husain Ahmad of Deoband—what strange absurdity is this!



 
سرود بر سرِ منبر کہ مِلّت از وطن است
 

He proclaimed from the pulpit: “Nationhood comes from the homeland”!



 
چہ بے خبر ز مقامِ محمدِؐ عربی است
 

How unaware he is of the rank of Muhammad the Arab ﷺ!



 
بمصطفیٰؐ برساں خویش را کہ دیں ہمہ اوست
 

Align yourself with Mustafa ﷺ—for the faith is entirely in Him;



 
اگر بہ او نرسیدی، تمام بولہبی است
 

If you do not reach Him, your faith is nothing but Abu Lahab’s.




Maulana Husain Ahmad Madani supported territorial nationalism, proposing that Muslims and Hindus could form one Indian nation (qaum) based on shared land and anti-colonial struggle.

Iqbal rejected this, insisting that Muslim identity and nationhood were based not on geography or ethnicity, but on a shared spiritual and ideological connection to the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ.


“He proclaimed from the pulpit: ‘Nationhood comes from the homeland’”
Iqbal sees this as a departure from Islamic principles, a borrowing of Western nationalist ideology which defines a nation by land, not by belief.

“How unaware he is of the rank of Muhammad the Arab ﷺ!”
Iqbal points out that Madani's framework ignores the prophetic model, which did not rely on bloodline or territory, but on belief and submission to the message.

And here lies Iqbal’s critical point:
 

If nationhood were based on shared homeland or ethnicity, then Abu Lahab—who belonged to the same tribe, same city, and same bloodline as the Prophet ﷺ—would have been part of his nation.
But Islam did not count him as such.
Because faith, not land or lineage, defines the Muslim ummah.



“Align yourself with Mustafa ﷺ—for the faith is entirely in Him”
Iqbal insists that the true bond that forms a nation in Islam is alignment with the Prophet’s message and mission. Any attempt to define nationhood outside of this is hollow.

“If you do not reach Him, your faith is nothing but Abu Lahab’s.”
Iqbal ends sharply: even if one opposes colonialism, waves flags, or speaks of unity—if it is not rooted in prophetic truth, it is spiritually empty, like the religion of Abu Lahab who lived with the Prophet but stood opposed to his truth.


 

Monday, April 28, 2025

The Radiance of Feeding the Hungry


بِسْمِ اللّهِ الرَّحْمـَنِ الرَّحِيمِ
 
 Shaykh Abdul Qadir Gilani (Persianعبدالقادر گیلانی), is an influential figure in Sufi circles, and himself is known to be one of the greatest Sufis, and the reviver of religion is supposed to have delivered this shortest lecture or khutbah on charity. Despite searching for the origin, the author has yet to locate the authentic origin or source except for a few social media posts. The first line has been discussed in context of being a hadith and is not considered to be a hadith, nor a logical statement as traditionally building a thousand masjids should definitely exceed the reward of just a morsel. Anyhow, the author is providing this in order to understand the text and the meaning, and also letting people know not to take anything at face value, but to verify the facts of the matter.
 

 "The Radiance of Feeding the Hungry"


لُقْمَةٌ في بَطْنِ جائِع
خَيْرٌ مِنْ بِنَاءِ أَلْفِ جامِع

 وَخَيْرٌ مِمَّنْ كَسَا الكَعْبَةَ وَأَلْبَسَهَا البَراقِع
 وَخَيْرٌ مِمَّنْ قامَ لِلَّهِ راكِع 

 وَخَيْرٌ مِمَّنْ جاهَدَ لِلكُفْرِ بِسَيْفٍ مُهَنَّدٍ قاطِع
 وَخَيْرٌ مِمَّنْ صامَ الدَّهْرَ وَالحَرُّ واقِع

 وَإِذا نَزَلَ الدَّقيقُ في بَطْنِ جائِعٍ لَهُ نُورٌ كَنُورِ الشَّمْسِ ساطِع

 فَيــــــا بُشْرَى لِمَنْ أَطْعَمَ جائِعًا.

A morsel in the belly of a starving person 
is better than the construction of a thousand mosques, 
better than clothing the Ka‘bah with adorned coverings, 
better than one who stands the night bowing before Allah (superogatory prayers), 
better than one who strives against unbelief with a sharp, cutting sword, 
and better than one who fasts the entire year enduring the heat.
When a measure of flour enters the belly of a starving person, it shines with a light as radiant as the sun.

Glad tidings (of paradise), then, to the one who feeds the hungry.