9th November: Happy Birthday to Poet of East


Lahore (Web Desk) Today marks the 144th birth anniversary of the poet of East, Allama Iqbal. The nation is all set to celebrate the day with traditional zeal and enthusiasm.

Allama Iqbal was born on 9th November 1877 and died on 21 April 1938. He was a Muslim poet, politician, and philosopher. His poetry in Urdu and Persian is still considered the greatest in the modern era.

Allama Iqbal was the first person who used the word “nation” for the Muslim of the sub-continent and it was his vision that now Pakistan is an independent state.

Allama Iqbal had written many famous books including:

  • Bang-i-Dara in 1924
  • Bal-i-Jibril in 1935
  • Zarb-i Kalim in 1936
  • Asrar-e-Khudi
  • Zabur-i-Ajam
  • Zarb-i-Mashriq
  • Ilm ul Iqtisad in 1903
  • Rumuz-i-Bekhudi in 1917
  • Payam-i-Mashriq in 1923
  • Javid Nama in 1832
  • Pas Cheh Bayed Kard ai Aqwam-e-Sharq in 1936
  • Armughan-e-Hijaz in 1938

Famous Iqbal Quotes:

  • I have seen the movement of the sinews of the sky, And the blood coursing in the veins of the moon.
  • Nations are born in the hearts of poets, they prosper and die in the hands of politicians.
  • Words, without power, is mere philosophy.
  • Indeed, in view of its function, religion stands in greater need of a rational foundation of its ultimate principles than even the dogmas of science.
  • It is the nature of the self to manifest itself, In every atom slumbers the might of the self.
  • The ultimate aim of the ego is not to see something, but to be something.
  • Vision without power does bring moral elevation but cannot give a lasting culture.
  • The standpoint of the man who relies on religious experience for capturing Reality must always remain individual and incommunicable.
  • I lead no party; I follow no leader. I have given the best part of my life to the careful study of Islam, its law and polity, its culture, its history, and its literature.
  • When truth has no burning, then it is philosophy, when it gets burning from the heart, it becomes poetry.



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