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Timeless Stories of Allama Iqbal: The Poet Who Inspired Nations
The Timeless Stories of Allama Iqbal BY: Ubaid Allama Muhammad Iqbal, the national poet of Pakistan, was more than just a poet. He was a philosopher, thinker, visionary, and above all, a man of deep humility and spiritual strength. His life was filled with remarkable incidents that continue to inspire generations. Here are some timeless stories from his life that reflect his wisdom, simplicity, and greatness. --- The Deer Skins at Raja Narendra Nath’s House Once, Raja Narendra Nath invited Allama Iqbal to a gathering at his residence. When Iqbal entered the room, he noticed that deer skins were spread across the floor. Instead of walking over them, he carefully stepped aside and avoided touching them. Puzzled, the Raja asked why. Iqbal smiled and replied, "Sitting or walking upon deer skins unknowingly instills arrogance in man." The Raja was astonished by the depth of this remark and stood silently, deeply moved by Iqbal’s insight. --- The Famous “Complaint” Poem In 1911, during the annual session of the Anjuman-e-Himayat-e-Islam in Lahore, Iqbal recited his famous poem “Shikwa” (The Complaint). His father, Sheikh Noor Muhammad, was also present, silently watching his son’s brilliance and rising fame. The hall echoed with applause. Overcome with admiration, a devoted admirer, Khawaja Safdar, placed his expensive shawl over Iqbal’s shoulders. Yet Iqbal, in his humility, immediately handed the shawl to the organizers of the Anjuman, requesting them to auction it for charity. The shawl was sold to the highest bidder, and the proceeds were donated to the Anjuman. --- The Nobel Prize Question One day, a group of students came to meet Iqbal and curiously asked, "Why were you never awarded the Nobel Prize?" Their reasoning was simple—if Rabindranath Tagore, the great Bengali poet, could receive the Nobel, why not Iqbal? Iqbal listened patiently and then replied with a smile, "If I had received the Nobel Prize, people would have questioned what I had done to deserve it. But since I did not receive it, that question does not even arise." His answer left no room for further debate, reflecting his wisdom and detachment from worldly honors. --- The Cigarette as a Relic Once, while traveling by train to Lahore, Iqbal met an elder from the Kakayzai family. Overjoyed at meeting the Poet of the East, the elder accepted a cigarette from Iqbal but instead of smoking it, he carefully put it in his pocket. Surprised, Iqbal asked why. The elder replied, "This cigarette is a sacred relic. I will preserve it for my family." Iqbal smiled warmly and offered another one, but the elder placed that too in his pocket instead of smoking it. Iqbal chuckled and let the moment pass. --- A Meal with a Mughal Prince During his visit to Hyderabad Deccan, Iqbal stayed as a guest of Maharaja Sir Kishen Pershad. While there, a Mughal descendant, dressed in old-fashioned attire, came to meet him. He humbly invited Iqbal to his modest home for a meal. Despite the simplicity of the invitation, Iqbal graciously accepted. When he arrived, the prince welcomed him at the door and, overwhelmed with emotion, recited a poignant verse of Mirza Zauq: "At the moment of death, to see one’s beloved is like Eid." Hearing this, Iqbal’s eyes welled with tears as he reflected on the fallen grandeur of the Mughal dynasty. --- A Poet in Simplicity One day, Iqbal sat in his verandah dressed in a simple vest and dhoti, smoking his huqqa while chatting with friends. Two tall soldiers, likely from northern Punjab, entered quietly and sat down. After some time, one of them whispered to a guest, asking, "Where can we find the great poet and philosopher, Sir Dr. Allama Iqbal?" At this, the entire gathering burst into laughter, including Iqbal himself. The soldiers were astonished to realize that the great philosopher they sought was the very man sitting humbly before them in such simplicity. --- Standing Before the Viceroy Before the creation of Pakistan, the rulers of princely states were under the authority of the British Viceroy. Once, the Nawab of Bahawalpur sought Iqbal’s legal help against a Prime Minister imposed on his state by the British. Iqbal agreed to represent him and traveled to Delhi. When he reached the Viceroy’s office, the secretary asked him to register his name in the visitor’s book. Iqbal refused, saying, "If the Viceroy wishes to meet me, he will do so after seeing my card. If not, I will return." The secretary had no choice but to present the card. The Viceroy agreed to meet Iqbal. With great logic and courage, Iqbal persuaded him to remove the Prime Minister and appoint someone acceptable to the Nawab. So impressed was the Viceroy that he invited Iqbal to dinner. But Iqbal politely declined, saying he must return to Lahore that very day. Such was his confidence and independence, even before the British rulers. --- The Mysterious Midnight Guest Iqbal’s loyal servant, Ali Bakhsh, once shared a strange incident. Late one night, he noticed Iqbal restless in bed. Suddenly, Iqbal got up and opened the door facing McLeod Road. To Ali Bakhsh’s astonishment, a noble-looking man in shining clothes entered. Iqbal respectfully seated him on his bed and began pressing his feet. When asked what he would like, the guest requested a glass of buttermilk. Ali Bakhsh was confused—where could he find buttermilk at midnight? Yet as he stepped outside, he saw a market he had never seen before. A milkman handed him fresh buttermilk, saying, “Our accounts with Allama Sahib are settled.” Ali Bakhsh returned, and the guest drank two glasses before asking Ali Bakhsh to drink the third himself. Soon after, the mysterious guest left. When Ali Bakhsh followed, both the guest and the entire market had vanished. Later, Iqbal revealed to him that the noble guest was none other than Hazrat Khwaja Moinuddin Chishti (R.A.), and the milkman was Hazrat Data Ganj Bakhsh Ali Hujwiri (R.A.). --- A Legacy Beyond Words Allama Iqbal’s life was not just about poetry or philosophy. It was a reflection of humility, spirituality, and courage in the face of power. His simplicity inspired those around him, while his wisdom left even rulers speechless. These stories are more than historical anecdotes—they are reminders of a man who lived with dignity, loved his nation, and continues to inspire generations across the world.
By Ubaid about a year ago in Confessions
The Courage to Be Imperfect: Why Flaws Make Us Human
Introduction: The Myth of Perfection We live in a world that glorifies perfection. From polished Instagram feeds to carefully curated résumés, society often rewards those who appear flawless. We are taught early on to “be the best,” to achieve without stumbling, and to hide our vulnerabilities. Yet, behind this constant striving lies a truth we often forget: perfection is an illusion, and our flaws are what make us real, relatable, and deeply human.
By Aiman Shahidabout a year ago in Confessions
Stretchmark Inkless Tattoo: Safe, Effective & Long-Lasting
Stretch marks are common skin concerns that affect both men and women at different stages of life. They often appear after pregnancy, weight fluctuations, or rapid growth, leaving lines across the skin that can impact self-esteem. While creams and lotions may provide some temporary relief, they rarely deliver lasting results.
By Gourav Singhabout a year ago in Confessions
The Price of Perfection: Why Chasing Flawlessness Keeps Us from Living Fully
Perfection is one of those words that sounds beautiful on the surface. It suggests order, harmony, and excellence. But when perfection becomes the standard by which we measure our lives, it often brings more harm than good. The pursuit of flawlessness can leave us anxious, dissatisfied, and disconnected from the richness of real human experience.
By Aiman Shahidabout a year ago in Confessions
My Family’s Wild Secret Nearly Destroyed Us
I grew up in a chaotic, crowded house—eight of us kids, five girls, three boys. The age gap between the oldest and youngest was a whopping 25 years, like we spanned two generations! Our home was always loud, filled with laughter, fights, and the smell of Mom’s cooking. Money was tight, though. Dad worked long hours at a factory, and Mom stitched clothes to make ends meet. With eight mouths to feed, we learned to fend for ourselves early. By my teens, we all had little gigs—delivering papers, babysitting, odd jobs—because our parents couldn’t carry the load alone. Independence was our survival trick.
By zinatabout a year ago in Confessions
The Cost of Ignoring a Mother’s Advice
The Cost of Ignoring a Mother’s Advice BY:Khan “Osman, my dear son, don’t play with Nasser,” Mama said firmly one afternoon. “He is not a good boy. I’ve heard he steals, skips school, and spends his time wandering with bad company.” “But Mama,” Osman protested, “he is my classmate and, more than that, he’s my cousin. I meet him every day.” Mama’s face grew serious. “My son, never underestimate the influence of bad company. A person is shaped by the people he spends time with.” Osman tried to reassure her. “Don’t worry, Mama. Your son will never do wrong. I’ll even try to guide him and make him understand.” She shook her head in doubt. “Stealing and roaming the streets have become his habit. Do you really think you can change him?” “Mama, don’t stress yourself. I’ll handle it.” Osman kissed her hand and left the house. Both boys were in seventh grade. During school recess, when students went out to eat snacks, Nasser was always the most active among his group of friends. Four or five boys followed him like shadows. They would devour spicy chickpeas, crispy gol gappas, or cold ice cream—and Nasser was the one who always paid. Osman was puzzled. Sometimes he joined in, sometimes he used his own allowance, but he kept wondering: Where does Nasser get all this money from? Osman only received ten rupees a day, barely enough for a small snack. He knew Nasser’s parents weren’t wealthy enough to give him fifty or sixty rupees every day. Finally, his curiosity overcame him. “Nasser,” he asked one afternoon, “tell me honestly, where do you get all this money?” Nasser lifted a finger to the sky and said, “From the One above.” “That’s true,” Osman replied, “but He gives to everyone. I mean, really, where from?” With a sly smile, Nasser snapped his fingers. “Eat the mangoes, don’t count the trees, brother.” But Osman pressed him. “No, tell me. I want to know.” Nasser narrowed his eyes. “You’re too soft-hearted. You won’t have the courage to do what I do.” “Why not? I also want to spend freely like you.” “It costs nothing to wish,” Nasser laughed. “Look, Nasser, please. I want to be your partner. I want to make money too.” After a pause, Nasser leaned closer. “Are you sure? Think carefully. Once you’re in, you can’t back out.” “I’m sure,” Osman said eagerly. The next day, Osman met Nasser at the appointed place. Together they headed toward a poultry farm at the edge of the village. Nasser carried a sack. He crawled through a broken section of wire fencing and disappeared inside. Moments later, he emerged with the sack full of eggs. Handing it to Osman, he said, “Take this to Sheru’s grocery store. He’ll give you cash. Then go home. Don’t worry, he already knows.” Osman’s heart pounded as he sneaked through the fields, clutching the sack. At the store, Sheru handed him the money. As Osman felt the crisp notes in his hand, his fear faded into excitement. Within half an hour, the boys had earned two hundred rupees. Osman’s hesitation melted quickly. After several trips, he was the one climbing through the fence, filling the sack, and running off boldly. The thrill of easy money drowned his mother’s voice in his memory. But as the saying goes, “The goat’s mother cannot celebrate forever.” One day, the poultry farm’s owner came to inspect. He noticed the egg count was lower than usual. Suspicious, he decided to watch the next day. The following afternoon, just as the boys slipped inside with their sacks, the owner hid nearby. Osman filled his sack and left while Nasser stayed to grab more. Suddenly, the owner appeared. He caught Nasser red-handed. Meanwhile, Osman was on his way back from Sheru’s store with the money when he saw a motorcycle approaching. On it sat the furious owner, gripping Nasser tightly. Osman froze. The owner pounced on him too. Both cousins were beaten severely before being dragged to the police station. A theft report was filed. News spread quickly. At school and in the neighborhood, children mocked them, crowing like roosters whenever they passed: “Cock-a-doodle-doo!” Both boys burned with shame. Osman’s parents rushed to the station, pleaded with the farm owner, and paid compensation to secure their son’s release. Nasser’s family did the same. But for Osman, the humiliation cut deep. He remembered his mother’s warning: “Don’t play with Nasser. Bad company corrupts.” If only he had listened. That day, Osman learned the hardest truth: ignoring wise advice—especially from parents—can lead to disgrace and regret.
By Khan about a year ago in Confessions
The Risk of Serving Kings: A Timeless Lesson from Sheikh Saadi
The Advice of Sheikh Saadi: A Tale of Wisdom, Temptation, and Consequence BY:Khan Long ago, in a time when people turned to the wise for guidance before making any life-changing decision, a poor man approached the great Persian scholar and poet, Sheikh Saadi. This man was burdened with poverty, his children were many, and his means of livelihood were almost nonexistent. Hunger gnawed at him and despair filled his heart. “Respected Sheikh,” the man said with a trembling voice, “I can no longer endure this life of want. My children are hungry, my wife suffers with me, and I have no trade or income to provide for them. Many times I have thought of abandoning this place to seek a better fortune elsewhere, but then I fear the taunts of people. They will accuse me of being heartless—of leaving my family behind in hardship just to ease my own burden. I beg you, guide me. You are known for wisdom in both worldly and spiritual matters. Please recommend me for service under a king. Perhaps in a royal court, I may find relief.” Sheikh Saadi looked at him with a calm and piercing gaze. He answered: “Serving a king is like standing on the edge of a sharp blade. There are two sides to such service: the hope of wealth and the risk of your very life. Wise men say it is never wise to put your life in danger merely for the hope of provision. Be content with simple bread and peace.” But the man grew restless. “O Sheikh, that is not the answer I seek! You do not understand my pain. If I serve the king honestly, without betrayal or deceit, why should I ever face harm from him?” To this, Sheikh Saadi narrated a parable: “One day, a fox was seen running frantically through the forest. People stopped her and asked, ‘What danger drives you so swiftly?’ The fox replied, ‘I have heard that the lions are conscripting animals for labor.’ The people laughed. ‘But you are no kin of the lion. Why should you fear?’ The fox sighed and said, ‘What if my enemies, out of jealousy, claim that I am the lion’s cub? Who then will save me from such an accusation?’ Do you not see, my friend? Even if you remain faithful and honest in your duties, jealous rivals may accuse you falsely. And in the presence of a powerful king, who will dare to defend you? For fear of their own safety, even loyal companions fall silent. Thus, it is better to endure poverty with dignity than to expose yourself to peril in the court of kings.” The poor man, however, became angry. He felt Sheikh Saadi had dismissed his suffering. Persistently, he begged again for a position. Finally, to quiet him, Sheikh Saadi recommended him to royal service. In time, the man rose through the ranks of the court. His diligence and intelligence earned him promotions. From a poor beggar, he became a respected officer. Soon, he was counted among the trusted companions of the king himself. His household prospered, and his children no longer went hungry. He felt proud that he had defied Sheikh Saadi’s caution and carved out success for himself. Years later, Sheikh Saadi traveled for the pilgrimage to Mecca. Upon his return, he happened to see the same man again—but this time in rags, broken and destitute. His face bore the scars of betrayal and hardship. Saadi was astonished. “What has happened to you?” asked the Sheikh. “How did fortune turn against you so harshly?” The man sighed heavily and spoke with bitterness. “Your words were true, Sheikh. My jealous rivals accused me of treachery against the king. Though I was innocent, the king ordered an investigation. None of my friends, none of my companions in court, dared to defend me. Their silence condemned me. The same people who once bowed before me now trample me under their feet. When I held power, they praised me. But when I fell, they abandoned me. Thus, I lost not only my position but also my honor.” Sheikh Saadi shook his head gently. “Did I not tell you? Serving kings is like living in a river—every step is threatened by drowning. If a man does not have the strength to endure a second sting, why should he place his hand again in the nest of a scorpion? Wisdom is given so that men may learn from experience. The wise profit from advice, while the foolish insist on learning only through suffering. And often, that suffering leaves scars too deep to heal.” The man lowered his head in silence. He now understood the weight of those words he had once ignored. --- Moral of the Story This timeless parable reminds us of a profound truth: not all opportunities are worth the risk they bring. The allure of wealth and position may dazzle us, but they often come with hidden dangers—jealous rivals, fragile loyalties, and the cruelty of power. It is better to live humbly and in peace than to gamble one’s life and honor in the treacherous court of kings. Sheikh Saadi’s wisdom, centuries old, still speaks to us today: true wealth lies not in riches or positions, but in contentment, integrity, and the courage to live simply.
By Khan about a year ago in Confessions
The Hidden Cost of Always Being Available: Why Constant Connectivity Drains Our Joy
Introduction: The Pressure of Being “Always On” In today’s hyperconnected world, the idea of being unreachable feels almost impossible. Our smartphones buzz, our inboxes flood, and notifications flash across multiple screens from dawn until late at night. We carry the internet in our pockets, giving people unlimited access to us anytime, anywhere. What was once a tool of convenience has quietly become a leash of expectation: the expectation to reply immediately, to always “check in,” and to never truly disconnect.
By Aiman Shahidabout a year ago in Confessions
The Silent Strength of Solitude: Why Time Alone Can Heal and Empower You
Introduction: Redefining Solitude In a world that glorifies constant connectivity, solitude often gets mistaken for loneliness. We live in an age where being “busy” is worn like a badge of honor, and silence is quickly filled with notifications, streaming videos, or endless scrolling. The very idea of being alone without distraction can feel uncomfortable—almost foreign. Yet solitude, when embraced intentionally, is far from a void. It is a source of restoration, growth, and empowerment.
By Aiman Shahidabout a year ago in Confessions
Something I need to tell you
Dear Aunt, I am sending this as an email because I need a clear place to say what I have been carrying for a long time. I will use “Aunt” here because that is what you are, even though, for many months, you have not acted like someone who cares gently for us. I will still show you respect in this message, because respect is all I can offer if nothing else remains. I know you may not answer. I know it may be ignored. Still, I need to be honest.
By Zidaneabout a year ago in Confessions
The Happiness Trap: Why We Confuse Comfort with Fulfillment
Introduction Most of us grow up believing happiness is the ultimate goal. Advertisements sell us the latest gadgets with the promise that life will be easier, calmer, and more enjoyable. Social media feeds are full of curated smiles, exotic vacations, and cozy living rooms that seem to embody what it means to “live well.” Yet despite all this pursuit of comfort and pleasure, levels of anxiety, depression, and loneliness remain alarmingly high across the globe.
By Aiman Shahidabout a year ago in Confessions
The Art of Saying “No” at Work
The first time I said “no” at work, my voice was barely more than a whisper. My palms were sweaty, my heart pounded in my chest, and I braced for the silence that followed. For years, I had trained myself to be the “yes” person, so speaking that one word felt like betrayal.
By BehindTheDeskabout a year ago in Confessions