The Man Who cannot Die – A Poetic Version
For enlightenment, some million year’s earth wails
And then only a scholar is born out of a mother.
Iqbal [R.A] was born, and how could he had not come out and play a part, when his mother never fed him by her breast for she never wanted an illicit morsel to land into his stomach as well as soul. Nations are born in the hearts of poets, he once said and this perception allows me to address ‘the man who can’t die’, as a poet. And I salute the mother who gave birth to the son of soil- the poet in Iqbal’s [R.A] context.
A flower blooms amid the waste land, it is the Creators way. And the barren land irrigates the flower so that it comes out and showers its fragrance. I shivered when one of my glances landed into the valley he was born in, for it is full of communal harmony. His house situated amidst paddy fields with heavenly aroma revolving, birds singing, music liberating off the riverlet narrating the stories of the bright past that our ancestors had, the best place that a poet can have to let the Muse descend and inspire him to poetry. Well said by someone,
Though inlaid in duckweed the lotus glows
A dusky spot enhances the moon’s radiance
And this is all that allows the man to rise to the top and stand still there forever. To top is not difficult but to stand there still is something that only the biography of legends reflect.
John Donne failed to inculcate into the mentality of people that death aint all powerful through versification, but ‘The man on a mission’ did it by sacrificing His holy life for the cause of others-the oppressed. He defeated Donne-poet- and a poet can be defeated only by a poet, so transitive relation plays its part and that is why I call Him a poet who never wrote a verse but poetry reflected from His actions. Poetry is to inspire, He inspired a nation, countless men from different regions travelled to attend His funeral procession. And thus He emancipated us from the fear of death. He defeated death, because a paradigm shift was observed when He migrated from the land of thorns to the bed of roses, sky wept like a child, birds cried as if they had lost the way to their nests so did the nation weep in unison and those cries still revolve in thin air, it is these cries that inspire us and give us the courage to stand like a mountain against the injustice. Ghalib said, life is short like a spark but it is the effect that remains. The ripple lasts for a nanosecond but it expands to eternity same way did He attain eternity through his numbered days that enfolded infinity.
A broad vision of Wordsworths’ verse is all that explains the life of ‘The Man Who Cant Die’
For martyrs may come and martyrs may go
But Burhaan Saeb goes on forever.
Author is English Literature student at Delhi University and can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.
Disclaimer: Views expressed are exclusively personal and do not necessarily reflect the position or editorial policy of Oracle Opinions.