Monday, 28 November 2011
Thursday, 24 November 2011
Tuesday, 8 November 2011
ALLAMA IQBAL QUOTES
 |  |  | |  | |  |
 | Art: If the object of poetry is, to make men, then poetry is the heir of | |
| prophecy. |
| Be not entangled in this world of days and nights; Thou hast another time | |
| and space as well. |
| Become dust - and they will throw thee in the air; Become stone - and they | |
| will throw thee on glass. |
| But only a brief moment is granted to the brave one breath or two, whose | |
| wage is the long nights of the grave. |
| Destiny is the prison and chain of the ignorant. Understand that destiny like | |
| the water of the Nile: Water before the faithful, blood before the unbeliever. |
| Ends and purposes, whether they exist as conscious or subconscious | |
| tendencies, form the wrap and woof of our conscious experience. |
| God is not a dead equation! |
| I am a hidden meaning made to defy. The grasp of words, and walk away | |
| With free will and destiny. As living, revolutionary clay. |
| I have never considered myself a poet. I have no interest in poetic artistry. |
| I have seen the movement of the sinews of the sky, And the blood coursing | |
| in the veins of the moon. |
| I lead no party; I follow no leader. I have given the best part of my life to | |
| careful study of Islam, its law and polity, its culture, its history and its literature. |
| I, therefore, demand the formation of a consolidated Muslim State in the | |
| best interest of India and Islam. |
| If faith is lost, there is no security and there is no life for him who does not | |
| adhere to religion. |
| If the object of poetry is, to make men, then poetry is the heir of prophecy. |
| Indeed, in view of its function, religion stands in greater need of a rational | |
| foundation of its ultimate principles than even the dogmas of science. |
| Islam is itself destiny and will not suffer destiny. |
| It is the lot of man to share in the deeper aspirations of the universe around | |
| him and to share his own destiny as well as that of the universe, now by adjusting himself to its forces, now by putting the whole of his energy to his own ends and purposes. |
| It is the nature of the self to manifest itself, In every atom slumbers the | |
| might of the self. |
| Nations are born in the hearts of poets, they prosper and die in the hands | |
| of politicians. |
| People who have no hold over their process of thinking are likely to be | |
| ruined by liberty of thought. If thought is immature, liberty of thought becomes a method of converting men into animals. |
| Physiologically less violent and psychologically more suitable to a | |
| concrete type of mind. |
| Plants and minerals are bound to predestination. The faithful is only bound | |
| to the Divine orders. |
| Rise above sectional interests and private ambitions... Pass from matter | |
| to spirit. Matter is diversity; spirit is light, life and unity. |
| Since love first made the breast an instrument Of fierce lamenting, by its | |
| flame my heart Was molten to a mirror, like a rose I pluck my breast apart, that I may hang This mirror in your sight. |
| The Ego is partly free. partly determined, and reaches fuller freedom by | |
| approaching the Individual who is most free: God. |
| The immediacy of mystic experience simply means that we know God just | |
| as we know other objects. God is not a mathematical entity or a system of concepts mutually related to one another and having no reference to experience. |
| The scientific observer of Nature is a kind of mystic seeker in the act of | |
| prayer. |
| The wing of the Falcon brings to the king, the wing if the crow brings him to | |
| the cemetery. |
| Thou art not for the earth, nor for the Heaven the world is for thee, thou art | |
| not for the world. |
| Though the terror of the sea gives to none security, in the secret of the | |
| shell. Self preserving we may dwell. |
| Unbeliever is he who follows predestination even if he be Muslim, Faithful | |
| is he, if he himself is the Divine Destiny. |
| Vision without power does bring moral elevation but cannot give a lasting | |
| culture. |
| When truth has no burning, then it is philosophy, when it gets burning from | |
| the heart, it becomes poetry. |
| Why hast thou made me born in this country, The inhabitant of which is | |
| satisfied with being a slave? |
| Why should I ask the wise men: Whence is my beginning? I am busy with | |
| the thought: Where will be my end? |
| Words, without power, is mere philosophy. | Source: disna.us |
Monday, 19 September 2011
Saturday, 17 September 2011
Mirza Ghalib and Allama Iqbal:
On the Urdu sky, there are two moons; Ghalib and Iqbal. If Ghalib represents prodigious vogue, then Iqbal is all about passionism, splendid and imperishable excellence of sincerity and strength.
Ghalib was without any doubt passionate and dauntless soldier of a forlorn ray of elusive hope, who, ignorant of the future and unconsoled by its promises and wishes, nevertheless waged against the stereotypical of the old impossible and shackled world so fiery battle; waged it till he perished, – waged it with such splendid and imperishable rigor of strength. Whereas Iqbal lived in a different world with the same vigor and with the same zeal and zest.
Iqbal has an insight into lasting origins of joy and consolation for mankind which Ghablib has not; his poetry and the underlying ideas gives us more which we may rest upon than Ghalib’s, – more which we can rest upon now, and which men may rest upon always. The eternal ideas of Iqbal, which ignited the passion than, are illuminating our worlds even now, and they are here to stay, even surpass us, guiding our posterity.
Ghalib was Zauq’s inverse in almost every respect. He disapproved of Zaug’s trite statements and run-of-the-mill notions, clothed in idiomatic and smooth verses. Himself, like Browning he was rough and rugged, obscure and elliptical, full of far-fetched conceits and imagery. He was rebel in and out, and he revel in the revolts and loved to swim against the tide.He revolted against the contemporary style and very often coined his own original, through at times rather unhappy, metaphors from all kinds of
origins, which made him, obscure and incomprehnsible for his people.
They very first couplet of his Diwan is a formidable obstruction to his readers and had found as many interpretations as there are annotators, thought he himself explained it in a letter.
Against whose bold brush are all these pictures complainants? Disgustedly dressed in flimsy, paper raiment’s.
The reader is dumbstricken at the very start, but Ghalib on coining obscurer and obscurer images to suit his purpose. In his very first poem, to spend the night of separation is like (Farhad’s) digging the canal of milk out of a mountain. The curve of the sword-blade indicates the lover\s eagerness to be killed. His poetry is as elusive as the mythical bird, ‘anqa, and cannot be caught in the net of understanding, however wide. In his captivity (of love?), he is in extreme torture and his chains have burnt down to become ringlets’. If the start was so forbidding, what wonder that, to begin with, readers ridiculed him. The same fate met Browning, who ground his teeth then he found Tennyson’s works going through edition after edition, whereas his own would not fetch even their const price. Ghalib, further, believed in the brevity of style, even ellipses, like Browning, and omitted connectives and sometimes whole clause.
You and the dressing of you curls! I and my far-flung thoughts!
Numerous Commentators have applied their wits to fathom his thoughts, and have gone wool-gathering. Painters have grown lyrical over it in their pictures. Here is another couplet out of a hundred.
People may be unhappy with rivals, but Zuleikha is happy With the women of Egypt who got infatuated with Joseph.
Economy is characteristic of all poetic style. Ghalib knew it and felt proud of it.
Prolixity is enamoured of my ambiguity; My economy pours out like amplification.
Iqbal, like Tennyson, in comparison, was sharp and clear-cut. His metaphors were mostly conventional and familiar, though used in ever and ever fresh context, and his thoughts, well argued out. There was no vagueness or ambiguity about them. He repeated them again and again and as soon as the work khudi or ‘ishq or faqar was mentioned, the reader knew what to expect. He had read it a dozen times before. Iqbal had to make an appeal as a precept and could no afford to leave his readers guessing. He made direct and forceful statements and delivered repeated hammer-strokes to make his point. He did not confuse or mystify. His thought was lucid and his diction polished and chistled, though he himself preferred a little obscurity in poetry. In his note-book dated 1910, he jotted down, “Mathew Arnold is a very precise poet. I like, however, an element of obscurity and vagueness in poetry, since the vague and the obscure appear profound to the emotions.”
Vagueness or obscurity, as such, is no merit, but the subtlety of feelings is often too deep for clear expression, however great the poet’s mastery over language. Clarity often indicates that the content is not deep enough. Dr. Richards Writes:
“The truth is that very much of the best poetry is necessarily ambiguous in its immediate effect. Even the most careful and responsive reader must re-read and do hard work before the poem forms itself clearly and unambiguously in his mind.”
T.S. Eliot goes to the length of saying that the poet himself cannot wholly understand what he writes. When Goethe was asked what his masterpiece, faust, meant, he was puzzled, ‘as if I know’.
Here a few parallel quotations from both.
Ghalib: I am brimful of complaint, as the musical instrument is of Song. Iqbal: We are the silent instruments of music, brimful of complaint. Ghalib: they dole out wine according to the capacity of the cup. Iqbal: The distribution of wine here is according to the capacity of the cup. Ghalib: Against whose sketching is the picture complaining? Iqbal: I am a picture that has a grievance against the painter. Ghalib: My pain did not accept the obligation of the remedy. Iqbal: The remedy of the wound consists in non-obligation of dressing. Ghalib: The seven skies are revolving like a pair of compasses round as a centre. Iqbal: All this circle is by the rotation of my pair of compasses. Ghalib: You, being a nightingale, have been encaged for music. Iqbal: They encage them who create sweet music. Ghalib: whoever became a savant in religion did not please his-ancestors. Iqbal: If imitation were a virtue the Prophet (P.B.U.H) too would have gone the way of his ancestors. One could go on in this manner to any length. Stretch to new lengths, and there little remains in the Urdu literatue which cannot be discussed in the light of these two. It was, therefore, no idle boast when Ghalib claimed that he had smoothened the path of is successors.
The thorns got burnt due to the heat of my steps; My successors, on this path, will be under my obligation.
A golden era of Urdu poetry started from Ghalib and ended at Iqbal. Urdu wouldnt be what it is today without both of these kings. They both are the greatest monument of idealism in Urdu poetry, where Iqbal touches the mind, and Ghalib does wonders with the heart.
Source: www.chowrangi.com
On the Urdu sky, there are two moons; Ghalib and Iqbal. If Ghalib represents prodigious vogue, then Iqbal is all about passionism, splendid and imperishable excellence of sincerity and strength.
Ghalib was without any doubt passionate and dauntless soldier of a forlorn ray of elusive hope, who, ignorant of the future and unconsoled by its promises and wishes, nevertheless waged against the stereotypical of the old impossible and shackled world so fiery battle; waged it till he perished, – waged it with such splendid and imperishable rigor of strength. Whereas Iqbal lived in a different world with the same vigor and with the same zeal and zest.
Iqbal has an insight into lasting origins of joy and consolation for mankind which Ghablib has not; his poetry and the underlying ideas gives us more which we may rest upon than Ghalib’s, – more which we can rest upon now, and which men may rest upon always. The eternal ideas of Iqbal, which ignited the passion than, are illuminating our worlds even now, and they are here to stay, even surpass us, guiding our posterity.
Ghalib was Zauq’s inverse in almost every respect. He disapproved of Zaug’s trite statements and run-of-the-mill notions, clothed in idiomatic and smooth verses. Himself, like Browning he was rough and rugged, obscure and elliptical, full of far-fetched conceits and imagery. He was rebel in and out, and he revel in the revolts and loved to swim against the tide.He revolted against the contemporary style and very often coined his own original, through at times rather unhappy, metaphors from all kinds of
origins, which made him, obscure and incomprehnsible for his people.
They very first couplet of his Diwan is a formidable obstruction to his readers and had found as many interpretations as there are annotators, thought he himself explained it in a letter.
Against whose bold brush are all these pictures complainants? Disgustedly dressed in flimsy, paper raiment’s.
The reader is dumbstricken at the very start, but Ghalib on coining obscurer and obscurer images to suit his purpose. In his very first poem, to spend the night of separation is like (Farhad’s) digging the canal of milk out of a mountain. The curve of the sword-blade indicates the lover\s eagerness to be killed. His poetry is as elusive as the mythical bird, ‘anqa, and cannot be caught in the net of understanding, however wide. In his captivity (of love?), he is in extreme torture and his chains have burnt down to become ringlets’. If the start was so forbidding, what wonder that, to begin with, readers ridiculed him. The same fate met Browning, who ground his teeth then he found Tennyson’s works going through edition after edition, whereas his own would not fetch even their const price. Ghalib, further, believed in the brevity of style, even ellipses, like Browning, and omitted connectives and sometimes whole clause.
You and the dressing of you curls! I and my far-flung thoughts!
Numerous Commentators have applied their wits to fathom his thoughts, and have gone wool-gathering. Painters have grown lyrical over it in their pictures. Here is another couplet out of a hundred.
People may be unhappy with rivals, but Zuleikha is happy With the women of Egypt who got infatuated with Joseph.
Economy is characteristic of all poetic style. Ghalib knew it and felt proud of it.
Prolixity is enamoured of my ambiguity; My economy pours out like amplification.
Iqbal, like Tennyson, in comparison, was sharp and clear-cut. His metaphors were mostly conventional and familiar, though used in ever and ever fresh context, and his thoughts, well argued out. There was no vagueness or ambiguity about them. He repeated them again and again and as soon as the work khudi or ‘ishq or faqar was mentioned, the reader knew what to expect. He had read it a dozen times before. Iqbal had to make an appeal as a precept and could no afford to leave his readers guessing. He made direct and forceful statements and delivered repeated hammer-strokes to make his point. He did not confuse or mystify. His thought was lucid and his diction polished and chistled, though he himself preferred a little obscurity in poetry. In his note-book dated 1910, he jotted down, “Mathew Arnold is a very precise poet. I like, however, an element of obscurity and vagueness in poetry, since the vague and the obscure appear profound to the emotions.”
Vagueness or obscurity, as such, is no merit, but the subtlety of feelings is often too deep for clear expression, however great the poet’s mastery over language. Clarity often indicates that the content is not deep enough. Dr. Richards Writes:
“The truth is that very much of the best poetry is necessarily ambiguous in its immediate effect. Even the most careful and responsive reader must re-read and do hard work before the poem forms itself clearly and unambiguously in his mind.”
T.S. Eliot goes to the length of saying that the poet himself cannot wholly understand what he writes. When Goethe was asked what his masterpiece, faust, meant, he was puzzled, ‘as if I know’.
Here a few parallel quotations from both.
Ghalib: I am brimful of complaint, as the musical instrument is of Song. Iqbal: We are the silent instruments of music, brimful of complaint. Ghalib: they dole out wine according to the capacity of the cup. Iqbal: The distribution of wine here is according to the capacity of the cup. Ghalib: Against whose sketching is the picture complaining? Iqbal: I am a picture that has a grievance against the painter. Ghalib: My pain did not accept the obligation of the remedy. Iqbal: The remedy of the wound consists in non-obligation of dressing. Ghalib: The seven skies are revolving like a pair of compasses round as a centre. Iqbal: All this circle is by the rotation of my pair of compasses. Ghalib: You, being a nightingale, have been encaged for music. Iqbal: They encage them who create sweet music. Ghalib: whoever became a savant in religion did not please his-ancestors. Iqbal: If imitation were a virtue the Prophet (P.B.U.H) too would have gone the way of his ancestors. One could go on in this manner to any length. Stretch to new lengths, and there little remains in the Urdu literatue which cannot be discussed in the light of these two. It was, therefore, no idle boast when Ghalib claimed that he had smoothened the path of is successors.
The thorns got burnt due to the heat of my steps; My successors, on this path, will be under my obligation.
A golden era of Urdu poetry started from Ghalib and ended at Iqbal. Urdu wouldnt be what it is today without both of these kings. They both are the greatest monument of idealism in Urdu poetry, where Iqbal touches the mind, and Ghalib does wonders with the heart.
Source: www.chowrangi.com
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