andhon ke is nagar mein ujalon ko kya karun
chalna hi hai mujhe meri manzil hai milon dur
mushkil ye hai ki paon ke chhalon ko kya karun
dil hi bahut hai mera ibadat ke waste
masjid ko kya karun main shivalon ko kya karun
main janta hun sochna ab ek jurm hai
lekin main dil mein uthte sawalon 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 नगर में उजालों को क्या करूँ
चलना ही है मुझे मेरी मंज़िल है मीलों दूर
मुश्किल ये है कि पाँवों के छालों को क्या करूँ
दिल ही बहुत है मेरा इबादत के वास्ते
मस्जिद को क्या करूँ मैं शिवालों को क्या करूँ
मैं जानता हूँ सोचना अब एक जुर्म है
लेकिन मैं दिल 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 →