One of the towering giants in the rich domain of the Karbala elegiac art of marsiya, Mirza Salamat Ali Dabir, had at one place turned Imam Husain into a terrifying metaphor of a ferocious lion — a lion whose terror makes the battlefield quake and the heart of the legendary Rustam quiver in his shroud. Rustam is, of course, the supreme embodiment of virility and brute strength.

What an apt spectacle it is — transcending space and time, and myth and history. Here by implication, Husain becomes a cosmic force, unbounded in historical time; and in this way he is raised above sects, and creeds and parochial localism.

But raising the Ahl-i-Bait [members of the household of the Prophet (upon whom be peace)] expressly from the domain of history to that of metaphysics, and projecting them on to the cosmos is an eminent contribution of Allama Iqbal.

The remarkable thing is that Iqbal accomplishes this with historical/ factual sensitivity; he does not bypass the concrete realm of what are considered actual events that unfolded in reality, nor does he eschew established, guarded traditions of the community.

Sadly, it has gradually been dwindling from our memory that, in his first two collections of poetry, both in Persian — Asrar-i-Khudi [Secrets of the Self] and Rumuz-i-Bekhudi [Mysteries of Selflessness] — the poet shines on his horizon Imam Ali, his monumental wife and the Prophet’s daughter Fatima and, of course, Karbala and Husain.

Husain shows us the dialectic of good against evil; the poet tells us pharaoh and Yazid are on the one horn of this dialectic, and Husain on the other! Husain is indeed a cosmic archetype. How beautifully Iqbal gives us an antidote to sectarianism and the disease of “othering.”

Supreme here is the embodiment of creative excellence that is adorned with surrendering devotion; Iqbal’s skills are particularly manifest in his glowing poetic imagery, which skillfully retains its contact with hallowed traditions.

In a poem about Ali in the Secrets, ‘Mysteries of the Names of Ali’, the Imam appears as a universal emanation, a concept, a cosmic flow — and from all of this Iqbal derives three eternal principles of life: knowledge [‘ilm], action [‘amal] and creative love [‘ishq].

And, as we have already noted, the poet remains true to history. Thus, the names and titles of the Imam are brought into focus with factual accuracy of the enduring Muslim tradition — Bu Turab [literally, Father of Dust], Murtaza [Agreeable], Yadullah [Hand of God], Karrar [Valorous attacker], Bab al-‘ilm [door of the (city) of knowledge, Asadullah [Lion of God], and so on. And from this bouquet are distilled out immutable principles of human existence. Ali here is both a metaphor and a transcendental metaphysical phenomenon.

The same creative treatment is given to Husain, and to Karbala. Again, these are not events trapped in a particular moment in historical time or localised in the valley of Tigris and Euphrates. For Iqbal in the Mysteries, they are cosmic emanations of bravery, truth and sacrifice. Husain shows us the dialectic of good against evil; the poet tells us pharaoh and Yazid are on the one horn of this dialectic, and Husain on the other!

One most significant thing to note is that, in keeping with the thrust of the universalisation of Karbala and the Ahl-i-Bait, Iqbal turns proper nouns into common nouns, as if they are archetypes.

For example, in a ghazal in the Zabur-i-‘ajam [Persian Psalms], he says “look, the desert is thirsty, bring back Husain’s blood to your own kufa and syria. Here the name of the two places are considered common nouns. And again, in the Bal-i-Jibra‘il [Gabriel’s Wing], he says in the same vein that “there isn’t a single husain in the caravan of Hijaz, even though the hair of Tigris and Euphrates still retain their lustre.”

A single husain? And this indicates that Husain is indeed a cosmic archetype. How beautifully Iqbal gives us an antidote to sectarianism and the disease of “othering.”

In our own times, the leading poet Iftikar Arif has carried the standard of this Iqbalian thrust and has done wonders. Indeed, it is agreed upon ubiquitously that the younger poet’s language is just glorious. And when he speaks about the Ahl-i-Bait, his sublime devotion glows. But he also takes Iqbal on a poetically adventurous path — and it is this feature of his poetry that ought to be noted particularly.

As far as I know, Iftikar Arif never wrote as an isolated poetic unit a marsiya with its musaddas (six-line) form and standardised structure. His unique achievement is that he has fully integrated Karbala into the very fibres out of which he weaves his poetry. The imagery of Karbala lurks all over — in his romantic nazms as well as in his lyrical ghazals.

In one ghazal, whose radeef (a word repeated after every verse) is ‘khwaab’ [dream], the poet is searching for the destination of his dreams, and then surrenders: “how can I find this destination — the medina of dream on the one hand, the damascus of destiny on the other!”

Here, again, the name of geographical places appear as common nouns — yes, they are archetypes, not specific territories.

All translations are by the writer.

The columnist is Chair, Arts and Humanities Review Panel of the Pakistan Higher Education Commission

Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, August 6th, 2023