Iqbal’s Word and the Soul of Balochistan

(In Memory of Iqbal—For the Survival of the Muslim Ummah, the Defence of Pakistan, and the Demands of the Present Age)
ٱلْـحَمْدُ لِلّٰهِ رَبِّ ٱلْعَـٰلَمِينَ، وَٱلصَّلَوٰةُ وَٱلسَّلَامُ عَلَىٰ سَيِّدِ ٱلْمُرْسَلِينَ، وَعَلٰى آلِهِ وَأَصْحَابِهِ أَجْمَعِينَ۔
أَعُوذُ بِاللّٰهِ مِنَ الشَّيْطَانِ ٱلرَّجِيم۔ بِسْمِ ٱللّٰهِ ٱلرَّحْمٰنِ ٱلرَّحِيم۔
﴿وَاعْتَصِمُوا بِحَبْلِ ٱللّٰهِ جَمِيعًا وَلَا تَفَرَّقُوا﴾
(Surat Āl ʿImrān, 3:103)
“Hold fast, all of you together, to the rope of God, and do not fall into division.”

This resounding verse is nothing less than the distilled philosophy of Muslim nationhood. It is the axis upon which the thought, prose, and spiritual intuition of Muhammad Iqbal converge—an injunction that is at once a summons to unity and a manifesto for intellectual awakening. It is this very note that Iqbal strikes into the anvil of his poetic revelation:
ایک ہوں مسلم حرم کی پاسبانی کے لیے
نیل کے ساحل سے لے کر تابخاکِ کاشغر
One Muslim nation, guardians of the sacred precinct,
From the banks of the Nile to the dust of Kashghar.
This unity—once the hidden pulse of our collective consciousness—has grown faint, and in its absence neither faith retains its warmth nor homeland its serenity. Across centuries, this Divine command continues to stir the slumbering conscience of the Ummah, and Iqbal’s spirit, aflame with vision, echoes the call:
افراد کے ہاتھوں میں ہے اقوام کی تقدیر
ہر فرد ہے ملت کے مقدر کا ستارہ
In the hands of individuals lies the destiny of nations;
Each soul is a star in the constellation of its people.

This is not a mere rhetorical flourish; it is a mirror held before a distracted civilisation. Iqbal does not ask a question—he unveils an indictment. His verse is not poetry alone; it is the clarion of a new dawn, summoning reason to vigilance, faith to ardour, and character to renewal.
To Iqbal, the Muslim youth is not a passive recipient of civilisation, but its architect—no imitator, but an interpreter of his age. Hence his assurance:
نہیں ہے ناامید اقبال اپنی کشتِ ویراں سے
ذرا نم ہو تو یہ مٹی بڑی زرخیز ہے ساقی
Iqbal despairs not of his barren fields;
A drop of moisture, and this soil turns to gold.

O young Muslim—thou art the lamp whose extinction would plunge the history of thy nation into shadow. Reflection is not mere thought; it is the art of living within the triad of faith, reason, and purposeful action. The Qur’ān names thee خَلِيفَةً فِي الْأَرْضِ, a vicegerent upon earth. But hast thou pondered that vicegerency is not dominion alone, but responsibility?
Thus speaks Iqbal:
خودی کو کر بلند اتنا کہ ہر تقدیر سے پہلے
خدا بندے سے خود پوچھے، بتا تیری رضا کیا ہے
Raise thyself to such heights that, before destiny is ordained,
God Himself shall inquire of thee: “Tell Me, what dost thou desire?”

Such reflection is the wellspring of nations. It is the forge of balanced knowledge, steadfast character, and action rooted in conviction. A nation stands not by gold nor by thrones, but by the spiritual force of its inner sovereignty. Its survival is nurtured not by the might of arms alone but by the discipline of thought and the sovereignty of the soul.

Today, when the din of the world drowns out truth, when social media pours the poisons of heedlessness into youthful minds, Iqbal calls the youth back to the Book. He points toward the eschatological vision of the Qur’ān:
﴿يَوْمَ نَطْوِي السَّمَآءَ كَطَيِّ السِّجِلِّ لِلْكُتُبِ﴾
(Surat al-Anbiyāʾ, 21:104)
“The Day We shall fold up the heavens like the scroll of a written record…”
Rise—for the heavens are not the arbiters of thy fate; they are but constellations awaiting the command of thy will. Reflection—Tadabbur—is the compass that pulls man from fleeting passions toward eternal purpose.

To Iqbal, youth is not an age but a disposition—an interior fire, an orientation of resolve. Hence he prays:
جوانوں کو مری آہِ سحر دے
پھر ان شاہیں بچوں کو بال و پر دے
خدایا آرزو میری یہی ہے
مرا نور بصیرت عام کر دے
Grant my youth the ardour of dawn;
Give these young falcons their wings once more.
O God, this is my solitary plea—
Let the light of my insight spread among them.
Should the youth of today grasp Iqbal’s message, he would become, by the pen, by knowledge, and by unwavering resolve, a spiritual guardian of his age.

The World of 2025: A New Tempest
In the ever-shifting world of 2025—particularly in the months following May, when Pakistan repelled India’s aggression—a new storm of intrigue has gathered. Yet this is hardly the first time that forces, seen and unseen, have sought to encircle Pakistan. This land, founded upon Lā ilāha illā Allāh, is no mere parcel of earth; it is an idea, a covenant, an ark of identity for a wounded Ummah—much as the Ottoman Caliphate once stood as its bulwark
اگر عثمانیوں پر کوہِ غم ٹوٹا تو کیا غم ہے
کہ خونِ صد ہزار انجم سے ہوتی ہے سحر پیدا
If grief’s mountains crushed the Ottomans—what matter?
For dawn is born of a thousand shattered stars.
Pakistan today is such a dawn—fragile yet radiant.
When adversaries sharpen their blades of conspiracy, Iqbal’s counsel returns to steady the heart. The saintly warrior, the darwīsh of resolve, teaches us that the Ummah does not shrink from ordeals; it learns to become the confidant of the Almighty.

In the aftermath of Modi’s defeat, powerful global factions have devised new stratagems—to weaken Pakistan, fracture it from within, and loosen its moorings from its ideological foundations. Whether it is Modi’s bellicose designs or the duplicitous policies of his Western patrons, the answer does not lie, first and foremost, in the sword—but in faith, unity, and principle.

Our cunning enemies forget that Pakistan is no accident of history; it is a manifestation of Divine decree. A nation built on the testimony of Lā ilāha illā Allāh draws its strength not from artillery, but from creed.

Iqbal’s dream of Pakistan was not a reverie; it was an imperative for the survival of a civilisation:
Thou art the secret of “Be—and it is”; unveil thyself before thine own eyes.
Be the interpreter of God’s command; be the custodian of His mysteries.
Pakistan’s greatness does not lie in its nuclear arsenal alone, but in its spiritual and ideological identity.

The nation must learn again that the defence of the homeland is waged not merely with armaments, but with vision and the weapon of selfhood. As the Qur’ān enjoins:
﴿وَأَعِدُّوا لَهُم مَّا اسْتَطَعْتُم مِّن قُوَّةٍ﴾
(“Prepare against them whatever strength you can muster.”)
This strength is of knowledge, of faith, of unity. Without selfhood, even nuclear power becomes an empty shell. Hence Iqbal’s timeless summons:
خودی کو کر بلند اتنا کہ ہر تقدیر سے پہلے
خدا بندے سے خود پوچھے، بتا تیری رضا کیا ہے
Raise thyself to such heights…
That God Himself shall inquire of thee: “What is thy wish?”
From this global gathering, we must raise a voice of unmistakable clarity—
that Pakistan is not merely a nation-state, but the forward bastion of Islamic civilisation. Should we remain vigilant, no earthly power can subdue us. For the Qur’ān proclaims:
﴿إِنَّ اللّٰهَ مَعَ الصَّابِرِينَ﴾
“Indeed, God is with those who endure with steadfastness.”
Iqbal, in his visionary commentary, transposes this into a call of spiritual ascension:
قوتِ عشق سے ہر پست کو بالا کر دے
دہر میں اسمِ محمد سے اجالا کر دے
Through the power of love, raise the low to heights above;
Let the name of Muhammad illumine all the world.
Thus, from this world conference our message to the youth must be unmistakable:
Pakistan is not merely a territory; it is, in the modern epoch, the emblem of Islamic honour and dignity. Its defence begins not with the sword, but with contemplation, unity, faith, and knowledge.

Iqbal’s universal message, moreover, is addressed to our Afghan brethren. Pakistan and Afghanistan are not two bodies, but two forms of one spiritual essence—regions bound by Islamic ardour, by the legacy of struggle, and by the honour of faith.

Let us recall that when Daoud’s regime collapsed and a handful of Afghan collaborators invited the Soviet Union to overrun their homeland, it was Pakistan that opened its heart for forty long years. Millions of refugees were sheltered; their wounds tended; their dignity preserved.

This was not mere neighbourliness—this was the covenant of faith.

And recall, too, the aftermath of 9/11, when the United States, in a moment of imperial wrath, threatened to bomb Pakistan “back to the Stone Age” unless it complied with its designs in Afghanistan. Despite this coercion, Pakistan upheld its ancient duty of hospitality and continues to do so to this day.

If critics reproach Pakistan by claiming American use of its soil, will they also forget the role of our fellow Muslim nation, Qatar—
where the Afghan office was formally established, where the Doha Accords were negotiated, where America’s largest regional airbase, Al-Udeid, launched some of the most devastating airstrikes in the Afghan theatre?

Pakistan’s historic contribution to the American withdrawal is conveniently erased, while no complaint is directed at Qatar—
and once again, it is Doha that has been chosen for the negotiation table between Kabul and Islamabad.
Likewise, NATO forces in Afghanistan included contingents from Turkey, yet there is no grievance towards Ankara.
Why then, after forty years of refuge, support, and sacrifice, does resentment fall only upon Pakistan?

When Afghan friends in London learned of my participation in this Iqbal Conference, they expressed deep emotion, bearing testimony that for four decades Pakistan has carried its Afghan brothers in its embrace—sharing its bread, opening its doors, turning its cities into sanctuaries. This was not humanitarianism alone; it was the rarest manifestation of Islamic fellowship.

Have they forgotten when Mullah Omar declared that Afghanistan could never, until the Day of Judgment, repay its debt to Pakistan— that where Pakistan shed its sweat, Afghanistan would shed its blood? As a Kashmiri myself, I remember his impassioned address promising liberation for the oppressed of Kashmir from the tyranny of Indian occupation. Those words were etched into history as a pledge of honour. At his side, then a youth of twenty, sat today’s Afghan leader Sirajuddin Haqqani, and nearby, the young child who would grow to become the present Minister of Defence, Mullah Yaqoob.

One wonders how the soul of Mullah Omar stirred when, during the recent visit of Afghan ministers to India, statements were issued that wounded the hearts of Pakistanis and Kashmiris alike.

Alas, the same soil that once symbolised resistance against Soviet aggression—supported resolutely by Pakistan, defended by hosts who protected Afghan honour even at the cost of their lives—has today become a sanctuary for the TTP.

This is not a political injury alone; it is a moral and spiritual decline.
When nations sacrifice religion upon the altar of expediency, the light of faith dims. Thus speaks Iqbal to the Afghan heart:
The blood flowing beneath your Hindu Kush is not the crimson of brotherhood, but the tragic stain of a divided Ummah. Today, the very hosts who sheltered millions ask, with wounded sincerity:
why has your land become a refuge for those who shed the blood of fellow Muslims?
The TTP—the neo-Kharijites—and the mischief-mongers of Baloch separatism, proxies of inimical powers, strike at Pakistan from Afghan soil.

Were Iqbal alive today, he might have counselled with sorrow rather than scorn:
افغانیوں کی غیرتِ دیں کا ہے یہ علاج
ملا کو ان کے کوہ و دمن سے نکال دو
The cure for Afghan honour today
Is to drive the false cleric from your mountains and your plains.
This is no reproach—it is a lament for a wounded civilisation. Iqbal saw in the Afghan spirit the raw material of Islamic liberty. He believed that if the Afghan were awakened, the Ummah itself could rise. But should he fall prey to deception, his sword—once the guardian of faith—may be turned upon his own kin.

From Balochistan—the land of fidelity—I send this message to our Afghan brothers:
Pakistan is not your adversary; it is your shield. We share your faith, your trials, your destiny. Yet if you barter your soil to the enemies of Islam, your offspring will never forgive you. Honour, once awakened, is a fortress; lost, it is dust.
For the Qur’ān declares:
﴿إِنَّمَا الْمُؤْمِنُونَ إِخْوَةٌ﴾
“Indeed, the believers are but brothers.”
If you are true believers, let not your land be used for falsehood. Your faith, your honour, your sword—all demand that you stand with Pakistan as Pakistan stood with you for forty years, not with Modi, the eternal adversary of Muslims, to conspire against this nation and to fuel the fires of terror.

And now, even as plans emerge to divert the waters of the Kabul River, Iqbal’s cry rings out:
ایک ہوں مسلم حرم کی پاسبانی کے لیے
نیل کے ساحل سے لے کر تابخاکِ کاشغر
Let Muslims stand united as guardians of the Sacred Sanctuary—
From the banks of the Nile to the farthest dust of Kashghar.
From the sacred soil of Balochistan, this message is delivered to you— that the unity of the Ummah is a shared covenant, a duty binding you and us alike. And today, I bring to the proud and valiant people of Balochistan
Iqbal’s call to action—his message of life and renewal. Balochistan is the spirit of Pakistan.

A land where the rugged mountains cradle the lamps of loyalty; where tribal pride is not estranged from Islam, but rather a pillar of its preservation. To Iqbal, nationhood is not a cartography of borders—it is a covenant of faith. Balochistan, whose very dust carries the resonance of history, the fragrance of fidelity, and the dignity of honour.

For centuries this region has stood as the gateway to the citadel of Islamic civilisation. Its people have, time and again, offered models of loyalty, sacrifice, and resolve. Iqbal wrote:
اسلام کے دامن میں بس اس کے سوا کیا ہے
ایک ضربِ ید اللہی، ایک سجدۂ شبیری
What else is there in the fold of Islam except this?
A stroke of the hand of Allah, a prostration to Allah.

Today, the people of Balochistan must be reminded that Islam, Pakistan, and Balochistan are three points of a single triangle. If one fractures, the entire structure collapses.
O young Baloch—
the world seeks to strip you of your true identity, to confine you within the narrow walls of tribalism and wrench you away from the vast horizon of nation and Ummah. But your real identity, as Iqbal declares, is this:
ہزاروں سال نرگس اپنی بے نوری پہ روتی ہے
بڑی مشکل سے ہوتا ہے چمن میں دیدہ ور پیدا
For a thousand years, the narcissus weeps for lack of vision;
With great difficulty does a seer appear in the garden.

You are that seer, in whose vision rests the survival of Pakistan. Your faith carries the ember that can illuminate the conscience of the Ummah. When the mountains of Balochistan echo with the cry of loyalty, the entire Muslim world is stirred to awakening.

So, soar like Iqbal’s falcon— and be to your homeland what a soldier is to his banner.
For Iqbal counselled:
افراد کے ہاتھوں میں ہے اقوام کی تقدیر
ہر فرد ہے ملت کے مقدر کا ستارہ
In the hands of individuals lies the destiny of nations;
Each soul is a star in the constellation of its people.

To the youth of Balochistan I say:
you are the fulfilment of Iqbal’s dream; your character is the foundation upon which Pakistan’s honour stands. Whether it be CPEC, national unity, or resistance to hostile intrigues— the Baloch have always held aloft the banner of fidelity.

Iqbal warns:
یہی شیخِ حرم ہے جو چرا کر بیچ کھاتا ہے
گلیمِ بوذر و دلقِ اویس و چادرِ زہراؑ
This is the Shaykh of the Sanctuary—
who steals and sells the cloak of Buzar, the patch of Uways,
and the veil of Zahra.

The spirit of this verse cautions you: guard the treasures of your homeland. The enemy seeks to sever you from your own resources;
خودی کا سرِ نہاں لا إله إلا الله
خودی ہے تیغ، فساں لا إله إلا الله
but Iqbal teaches: The secret of selfhood is Lā ilāha illā Allāh;
Selfhood is the sword, its whetstone Lā ilāha illā Allāh.

O sons of Balochistan—your true wealth is this selfhood,
your faith, your loyalty. Through these the very idea of Pakistan is completed.

From this conference must rise a solemn resolve— that we shall take knowledge and reflection as our foremost weapons; that we shall guard Pakistan’s ideological and geographical frontiers; that the unity of the Muslim Ummah shall be the axis of our politics and society;
that the new generation shall be initiated into Iqbal’s philosophy of the Self;
and that the mischief of adversaries shall be confronted with learning, ethics, character—
and with the Qur’ān. For the Qur’ān declares:
﴿إِنَّ ٱللّٰهَ لَا يُغَيِّرُ مَا بِقَوْمٍ حَتَّىٰ يُغَيِّرُوا مَا بِأَنْفُسِهِمْ﴾
“God does not change the condition of a people until they change what lies within themselves.”
And Iqbal affirms:
عمل سے زندگی بنتی ہے جنت بھی جہنم بھی
یہ خاکی اپنی فطرت میں نہ نوری ہے نہ ناری ہے
Through action life becomes heaven or hell—
This creature of dust is by nature neither angelic nor infernal.
This, then, is the essential message of this assembly:
that Iqbal was not merely a poet, but a Qur’ānic thinker, and his message remains as fresh today as in his own age— awaiting only that we revive it within our hearts.
From this global conference we pledge to make Iqbal’s dream the substance of our consciousness. The survival of the Islamic world is no longer a slogan— it demands practical unity, scientific advancement, intellectual awakening, and spiritual renewal.

My dear friends and brothers—
the time has come to journey from Shikwah to Jawāb-e-Shikwah; from heedlessness to awakening, from imitation to ijtihād, from frailty to strength. All my words today are but the symbol of Iqbal’s call to awakening— a flame of selfhood kindled in the heart of every Muslim, whispering:
نہیں تیرا نشیمن قصرِ سلطانی کے گنبد پر
تُو شاہین ہے، بسیرا کر پہاڑوں کی چٹانوں پر
Your nest lies not beneath the domes of sultanic palaces;
You are the eagle—your dwelling is on the granite crags of mountains.
With this, I thank you all and take my leave with a prayer
اَللّٰهُمَّ اجْعَلْ مَجْلِسَنَا هٰذِهِ مَجْلِسًا مُبَارَكًا، مَغْفُورًا، مَشْهُودًا، وَاجْعَلْ خِتَامَهٗ رَحْمَةً وَمَغْفِرَةً۔ اَللّٰهُمَّ احْفَظْ بِلَادَ الْإِسْلَامِ، وَخُصَّ مِنْهَا بِلَادَ الْبَاكِسْتَانِ، وَاحْفَظْ جُيُوشَهٗ وَشَعْبَهٗ، وَوَحِّدْ صُفُوفَ الْمُسْلِمِينَ۔ اَللّٰهُمَّ اجْعَلْنَا مِنَ الَّذِينَ يَسْتَمِعُونَ الْقَوْلَ فَيَتَّبِعُونَ أَحْسَنَهٗ۔ آمِينَ، يَا رَبَّ الْعَالَمِينَ۔