ke is mein ko kya karun
hi hai mujhe meri hai
ye hai ki ke ko kya karun
hi hai mera ke
ko kya karun ko kya karun
hun ab ek hai
mein ko kya karun
“My God, what am I to do with my thoughts — in this city of the blind, what use have I for light? I must walk; my destination lies miles away — the trouble is, what do I do with the blisters on my feet? My own heart is enough for my worship — what need have I of the mosque, what need of the temple? I know that to think is now a crime — but what am I to do with the questions rising in my heart?”
अंधों के इस में उजालों को क्या करूँ
ही है मुझे मेरी है मीलों
ये है कि पाँवों के छालों को क्या करूँ
ही है मेरा के
को क्या करूँ मैं शिवालों को क्या करूँ
मैं हूँ अब एक है
मैं में उठते सवालों को क्या करूँ
The verse in Devanagari — it carries the authenticity of the original, and every Hindi reader can read it.
A quiet, dangerous ghazal — the voice of a thinking person in an age that punishes thought. Its centre is the couplet that needs neither mosque nor temple: worship is interior, and a sincere heart is the whole sanctuary. Around that centre sits the cost — light wasted on the blind, blistered feet, questions that refuse to be silenced.
Conscience is not housed in a building. If your honest questions are being treated as a crime, that is a fact about the room, not about the questions. Keep walking — blisters and all.
The heart of this site stays with Iqbal: explore his couplets → Or browse the whole Other Voices shelf →