Remembering Iqbal

After having lived in official quarters for a very long time, I finally moved into my own accommodation recently. I was elated with the joy of owning this 'aashiyana' (abode) in a neighbourhood , which is reputed to be one of the fastest developing suburbs. I was all the time thanking God for being kind to me and was also expressing joy and satisfaction through a couplet from a poem of Iqbal which I found myself reciting all the time silently (to myself)


पा गयी आसूदगी कू-ए-मुहब्बत में वह ख़ाक
मुददतों आवारा जो हिकमत के सहराओं में थी

( Pa Gayi Aasoodagi kooy-e-mohabbat mein woh khaq
muddaton aawara jo hikmat ke sehraaoN mein thi )

( the dust which had been flitting aimlessly in wilderness of knowledge and wisdom finally achieved tranquility and peace when it reached the street of love)

Shortly afterwards, I found myself remembering Iqbal again but this time for another of his couplets

नवा-ए-सुबह गाही ने जिगर खूं कर दिया मेरा
खुदाया जिस ख़ता की यह सज़ा है वह ख़ता क्या है
( Navaa-e-subah gaahi ne jigar khooN kar diya mera
khudaaya jis khataa ki yeh sazaa hai woh khataa kya hai )

(The early morning call is inflicting wounds on my heart
O' God please let me know what wrong have I done for which I am getting this punishment.)

A numebr of loudspeakers keep on blaring not just in the morning but all through the day and night and the ears and the mind keep getting pierced not by the call for prayers but all kinds of 'besur' singing and fiery lectrures replete with rhetoric good enough to exhort an army to launch a ferocious attack on the neighbouring country.

I am (un)happy that I share something with Iqbal : The feeling of helplessness