Has Iqbal Left?

It was November 9, 2015. I was invited as a guest judge to a speech competition in a high school.

The program – against my expectations – commenced on time. After Tilawat and Na’at, students of grades four-eight participated in the competition, and excelled. The eloquent speeches and the burning knot of Iqbal’s poems made a perfect match.

The guest of honor for the event was a retired professor who also had some years of experience of teaching O-levels Physics in Oman. He was old. Before inviting him, a girl was invited to recite a poem of Iqbal.

The professor was overwhelmed by the program. When he was called upon to the stage for speech, he had tearful eyes. In a trembling voice, he said, “Today, seeing the feelings of innocent children, my eyes could not stay barren. I had no idea that the new generation was so familiar with Iqbal. Hearing the children’s speeches, and witnessing their emotions, it felt like Iqbal was alive. Like Iqbal had never left us. Like Iqbal’s words ran through our veins.”

The hall resounded with applause; the professor wiped his tears, and forced a smile. Then he said, “My dear children, you do not know what a difficult time we have gone through to get this country. We have seen it stagger, and disintegrate. Its soil is wet with our own blood. I am grateful to all of you for the joy of seeing Iqbal come alive in your speeches today.

But alas!” Professor Sahib paused for a moment, looked down, as if engrossed in a deep thought, a frown appeared on his forehead. Wiping his forehead, he looked up and said, “Beta, we celebrate Iqbal Day in November and April every year and revive Iqbal, but perhaps to keep him buried in his grave for the rest of the year. Isn’t it important to follow the poems, the speeches, the couplets you just read, all year long? Does Iqbal come to life only on his birthday and death? Who is buried in his grave all year long? ”

I don’t know if the children were affected by these remarks or not, but the teachers and the administration at the venue must have felt embarrassed hearing this. The professor moved on.

There was a cough in the air. The sky was clear. But our eyes were dim. Prof. Sahib then told the children that Sir Dr. Allama Muhammad Iqbal was to be knighted. But he accepted the honour only on the condition of the title of ‘Shamsul Ulama’ for his teacher.

The children were told that Iqbal’s teacher did not write a book himself, but Iqbal used to say that he was the living doctrine of his teacher. Then the awards were distributed to the best speakers, and the ceremony ended.

Let us contemplate for a moment: there are hundreds of graves in our nearest cemetery. But we barely know the names of 5 or 10 of these people. Our next generation will not even know these 10 names.

That is, man’s identity is limited to, at most, one, if not two, generation after his death. Then his name disappears. But strange enough, some people who passed away some twenty years ago or hundreds of years ago, seem to be alive even today. When we talk about them, it seems as if we have met them; we knew them ourselves and they are somehow alive among us.

A close friend used to say, “If you were born, made money in life, paid your utilities, paid your children’s fee, and eventually died, what difference did it make to the world? If you have not made any change in the world you have not actually lived at all.” So, do something in life to immortalise yourself.

I have always had the impression that Iqbal was immortal. He was among those who died but shall live forever. In 2016, media played colossal tributes to Iqbal on Iqbal Day. Symbolic shrines of Iqbal exist in many countries and states.

Respected Tayyip Erdogan, during his recent visit to Pakistan, had reiterated that Iqbal is a poet not only of Pakistan but of the entire Ummah. In Iran, Iqbal is still referred to as Iqbal-i-Lahori.

But alas, on April 21, 2020, not formal statement from any government house was issued. The media also forgot Iqbal’s services for this country and the Muslim nation. What hurt me the most was the fact that our young generation was mourning the death of Tom & Jerry’s director on social networking websites, but Iqbal’s name failed to appear in the top trends.

When custodians of the history shall write about April 21, 2020, their pens will probably break on writing, “Pakistan mourned Tom and Jerry’s director’s demise; Corona was politicized, IPP’s report was presented in a press conference and Iqbal finally died.”

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