The weathered hay stacks tremble ever so slightly. Night stirs and the day’s first light breaks through like the fingers of a lover, running his hands through the dark locks of his beloved.
It's 2009. I am Kashmiri but I've never heard of Dr Allama Iqbal. I've been taught daughters are lesser than sons, that choice in marriage is rebellion, and honour upheld solely through submission. But things that would've built my character, intellect or faith were not deemed important...so, I've never heard of Iqbal. Being the product… Continue reading Finding resonance in Iqbal’s poetry