The Tribune - Spectrum

ART & LITERATURE
'ART AND SOUL
BOOKS
MUSINGS
TIME OFF
YOUR OPTION
ENTERTAINMENT
BOLLYWOOD BHELPURI
TELEVISION
WIDE ANGLE
FITNESS
GARDEN LIFE
NATURE
SUGAR 'N' SPICE
CONSUMER ALERT
TRAVEL
INTERACTIVE FEATURES
CAPTION CONTEST
FEEDBACK

Sunday, April 13, 2003
Books

Signs & signatures
Iqbal’s vision of Islam: A dream that turned sour
Darshan Singh Maini

GHALIB and Iqbal are considered two of the greatest poets in the Urdu language, and my aim is to show how in their idiom and vision the two remain divided, Ghalib moving more in the orbit of personal contingencies and circumstances, and Iqbal in that of wider, ideological considerations. And while Ghalib’s politics, if any, are subsumed in his aesthetic, Iqbal’s stand cut in sharp contrast. Again, while Ghalib’s faith was seldom a driving force in his ghazals with their Donne-like complexity and involuted poetics, Iqbal’s Islamic vision, in the end, alone vindicated his unexpected development. Whether it was a progression or a regression depends upon how one sees the controversy.

Iqbal’s radical thought in the earlier stages, and his Islamic absoluteness and crusading zeal in the end, placed against Ghalib’s poetic journey, and show why his evolved dialectic drove him towards the late 20’s into the waiting arms of Jinnah. No wonder, he is, today, rightly regarded as the ideological founder of Pakistan, and its national poet.

So, what we are confronted with is the dilemma of two Iqbals, each authentic in his own way. From his western education abroad which enlarged his egalitarian vision, he moved on progressively to Islam as a unique religion with its destiny to become the ultimate faith of the entire mankind. There is, then, a white-heat intensity in his rhetoric tending towards obsessive or possessed consciousness. The gain in acuteness of perception is lost in the jettisoning of his earlier radicalism.

 

It was during his Cambridge days and his German influences that he came under the spell of two powerful, but opposed, ideologies — Socialist-egalitarian and Nietzschean. Never a Marxian, Iqbal, nonetheless, absorbed, unconsciously perhaps, its deeply humanistic world-view. No wonder, on his return to India in 1908, he repudiated the more orthodox and strangulating aspects of the Shariat, and considered the welfare of the Indian Muslims in relation to their participation in the Indian freedom movement. He, thus, became an eloquent champion of nationalism and an anti-British, anti-imperialist patriot. He exhorted the Muslim masses to shed their isolationism which both the British rulers and the misleading mullahs had helped create to further their own interests. And he advocated strongly the need to create a sentiment for Hindu-Muslim unity.

It was this period of Iqbal’s poetry which produced the poems on Guru Nanak as a supreme master with his message of toheed or Oneness of God and the brotherhood of mankind. He also thought well of other Hindu liberals and intellects. His patriotic verses belong to this phase, and one recalls with nostalgia his celebrated lines which rendered loosely read thus: Our country is supreme in the world/we’ re but nightingales in that garden of flowers. Also memorable are his inspired verses on the toiling Indian peasantry under the yoke of feudal masters. His clarion call to them to rise and claim their rightful due is best found in such lines as these: That piece of field which denies the peasant his own bread/Go, put each ear of its wheat-stalk to torch and flame! Few Marxian poets could have asked for more while exhorting the peasantry to adopt revolutionary means.

However, even as he advocated passionately a philosophy of righteous action, he remained acutely aware of the plight of Islam in India. In India it had not followed the path of modernity like in Turkey under Kamal Uttaturk. And he laments over its fate, though it takes a queer form. In the poems called Shikva or ‘the complaint’ and in its sequel, Jawab-e-Shikva, Iqbal had began to see the pristine Islam as a call for piety. His ‘complaint’ against God was that He had placed Muslims in a disadvantageous position and robbed them of their rightful place. We can see the churnings of a soul in torment, and Iqbal’s seeking to connect with his Arab heritage. During the post-1920 period, he gradually drifted away from his radical-nationalist vision, and turned to Islam as his only saviour, far above all the philosophies that had fallen into the basin of his mind in his formative years. And perplexingly enough, there are few firm formulations regarding the Koranic code of legal rights and observances.

Now, he began to produce poems on the kinetics of khudi or the self. The Nietzschean concept of the sovereignty of the self surfaced increasingly in his poetry, though he sought to subsume it under the Islamic framework of thought. Perhaps his Kashmiri Brahmin origins now erupted in his consciousness to add fuel to his burgeoning pan-Islamic sentiment.

Literary theorists have identified two distinct modes of progression in the passage of nearly all great poets, these being the Shakespearian-Keatsian-Yeatsian, and the Shelleyan-Swinburnian. In other words, a journey from "feathers to lion" (Keats’s phrase), or from escapist romance to meeting the assaults of reality, emerge as the two routes of growth. The utopian visions of love and society get eroded through the abrasive processes of struggle if the Shakespearian mode is at work. Where does Iqbal fit into this double frame?

I believe Iqbal’s progress was from vision to vision, the earlier rooted in radicalism of the western imprint, and the latter in Koranic epiphanies. The Nietzschean — Islamic idealism had elements of regression, and his politics now came to mean, more and more, a crusade for an Islamic homeland within the boundaries of India itself. In the late twenties when he had participated in the First Round Table Conference in London, his political commitments had crystallised quite clearly. He never lived to see Pakistan and the world’s worst communal carnage and the greatest mass-migration tragedy in human history. Nor did he ever imagine that his ideological vision would, one day, create a monstrous culture of hatred, and unleash jehadi terrorism in Kashmir, his ancestral home. How he would have reacted to see "the Valley of Paradise" turned into a vale of tears, agony and unending suffering is a matter of speculation. I presume, he would have realised the misery of pursuing a communal dream that negated the essence of his being and becoming. But then, who knows?