iqbal on nationalism (or is it?)

[abu Hasan]

allama iqbal's poem:
http://www.geocities.com/drmuhammadiqbal/84.0.JPG

tarana e milli

cheen o arab hamaraa hindostaaN hamaara
muslim hain hum; watan hai saara jahaaN hamaara

tawheed ki amaanat seenoN meiN hai hamaarey
aasaaN naheeN miTaana naam o nishaaN hamaara

dunyaN ke but-kadoN meiN pahlaa woh ghar khudaa kaa
hum uskey paasbaaN haiN woh paasbaaN hamaara

tayghon key saaye meiN hum, pal kar jawaaN huwey haiN
khanjar hilaal kaa hai qawmi nishaaN hamaara

maghrib ki waadiyoN meiN guunji azaaN hamaari
thamata na thaa kisee se sayl rawaaN hamaara

baatil se dabney waaley ay aasmaaN nahiN hum
sau baar kar chukaa hai tu imtihaaN hamaara

ay gulsitaan e andalus! woh din haiN yaad tujh ko
thaa teri DaaliyoN par jab aashiyaaN hamaara

ay mawjey dajlah! tu bhi pahchaanti hai hum ko
ab tak hai tera daryaa afsaana khwaaN hamaara

ay arz e paak! teri hurmat pey kaT marey hum
hai khooN teri ragoN meiN ab tak rawaaN hamaara

saalaar e kaarwaaN hai Mir e Hijaz apnaa
is naam se hai baaqi aaraam e jaaN hamaara

iqbal kaa taraana baang e daraa hai goyaa
hotaa hai jaadah paymaa phir kaarwaaN hamaara

--------------------
china and arabia is ours, india is ours
we are muslims and the whole world is our homeland

the treasure of tawhid is in our hearts,
it is not easy to wipe out our name and mark.

the first house we have liberated from idols is the ka'abah;
we are its custodians, and she is our protector

we have grown up in the shadows of swords,
our mascot is the crescent shaped dagger

our prayer calls have reverberated in the valleys of the west,
the force of our flow could not be stopped by anyone

o the skies! we will not be subdued by falsehood,
you have tried (our steadfasteness) a hundred times!

o, the garden of andalusia! do you remember those days -
when our abode was the nest on your branches?

o, the waves of tigris! surely, you recognize us -
your river tells our tales even to this day

o, the pure land! we have bled and died for your honor,
our blood flows in your veins until now [**]

the leader of our caravan, is the Prince of Hijaz [Sallallahu alayhi wa sallam]
it is his name that keeps our heart in comfort and peace.

iqbal's song is a clarion call
for the caravan to rise and continue the journey once more

-----
* probably referring to the mongol incident when the invaders threw entire libraries into the river. it is said that its waters were colored by the ink for many days.

** either Haram ash-Sharif or Karbala

[naqshbandijamaati]

:s1:

thanks for this. however his tarana e hindi is definitely nationalist and almost a national anthem right?

saaray jahan se acccha hindustan hamara...

same meter as tarana e milli (which was written later)

lovely translation too!

[abu nibras]

assalam`alaikum,

i think "saare jahaan" was written much before this. Iqbal makes his latter viewpoint clear in another of his poems

is daur meiN mai aur hai jaam aur hai jam aur
sâqi ne binâ ki rawish-e-lutf o sitam aur
tahzeeb ke âzar ne tarashwâye sanam aur
muslim ne bhi tâmeer kiya apnâ haram aur
in taaza khudâouN me baDâ sab se watan hai
jo pairahan iskâ hai wo mazhab ka kafan hai
nazzara-e-deyrina zamâney ko dikhâdey
ai mustafawi khaak me is but ko milâ dey

--an

[naqshbandijamaati]

Gabriel:
My old friend,
How is the world of sight and sound?

Satan:
Pain and passion; quest and yearning.

Gabriel:
Thou never talkest of anything but the heavens.
Is there no cure for thy constant pain?

Satan:
Thou knowest not, alas, the secret of my pain!
The loss I have suffered, has increased my passion more-,
How silent is this world; desolate and wild!
I cannot ever live here; I cannot!
For one whose despair throbs in the heart of the universe,
What is better-despair, or hope?

Gabriel:
By thy refusal thou hast lost thy place in heaven—
And disgraced the angels in the eyes of the Lord.

Satan:
My courage gave a speck of dust the impulse to grow;
My cunning is the fabric of man’s intellect.
Thou watchest the war of good and evil, safely ashore,
And who is battered by the storm-thou or I?
Ask God, if thou hast the time to ask:
Whose blood gave colour to Adam’s inglorious tale?
I am a thorn in the Almighty’s mighty heart,
And thou but mumblest His praise day and night.

-Iqbal, Bal i Gibril (Jibril o Iblis). Translated by Naeem Siddiqui. From http://www.allamaiqbal.com

[naqshbandijamaati]

http://www.geocities.com/drmuhammadiqbal/19.1.JPG
http://www.geocities.com/drmuhammadiqbal/19.2.JPG
http://www.geocities.com/drmuhammadiqbal/19.3.JPG

Translation
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

(translation NOT by me)
"