Asrar-e-Khudi post 1

Link to the poem: https://ganjoor.net/iqbal/asrar-khodi/sh2
Total couplets: 93
Total completion: 10.6%

Asrar-e-Khudi’s first part begins with three couplets by Maulana Jalal ud-Din Rumi. A wizened man laments how his companions—no better than feral animals—are feeble-minded and indolent, and longs for someone like the Lion of God or Rustam. The city is void of such strong-minded folk, he is told, to which the man replies that this exact unattainable goal is the very ordeal he craves. The next section of the Masnavi begins immediately after.

Iqbal next cites Nazeeri Nishapuri's couplet in his preface, reinforcing the notion that everything has been created for a reason and nothing is superfluous—if a plank of wood cannot be shaped into a pulpit, it shall be made into the gallows. The actual poem begins here. Iqbal opens his preface dramatically, in the style of any classical Masnavi. As the moon rises, the ever-wailing poet starts to weep. His wailing and clamour erupt into chaos; his sown verses grow into a sword; he becomes the knower of unborn secrets, the hunter of the deer of non-existence, the gardener of the latent flower, the disruptor of jamborees, and so on. He pontificates extensively on how his new idea has rendered him enlightened and judicious, bewailing his contemporaries for remaining oblivious to this undisclosed truth. Iqbal cleverly utilises grandiloquence to ensnare his readers' attention. The chords of his heart may snap under the weight of the plectrum, but he remains unconcerned, for this gift was granted to him by a heavenly realm. A single drop of his essence is more tumultuous than his contemporaries' raging oceans. Iqbal avows to be the confidant of the sagacious heavens, harboring a secret nobody has expounded hitherto. It is the key to eternal bliss—both worldly and otherworldly—elevating dust to the stars, foxes to lions, blades of grass to mountains, and silence to an uproar.

In verse 48, he mentions "the sage of Rome" for the first time, through whose grace he reopens the compendium of unknown secrets. He briefly extols Rumi's power to create an elixir from mud and strengthen specks of sand to catch sunbeams. One night, while deep in meditation and zikr, Iqbal dozes off into a slumber. In his dream, he beholds Rumi—the rightly guided author of a book famously called "the Quran in Persian"—who offers him the wine of 'ishq. Rumi enters into a prolonged discourse, instructing Iqbal to drink it, become one with the spiritual wineglass, and unfurl his lofty ideas before the public. He further advises him to bloom like a flower, spreading its fragrance freely, unlike a shut, silent bud. His heart should palpitate like a rue seed (like popcorn popping in a microwave), reviving and kindling the lamps of others through his fiery speech.

At last, Rumi's dialogue ends and Iqbal wakes up impassioned. It is only in verse 85 that the poet first mentions 'Khudi', lifting the veil. He declares that his midnight weeping and the gift of 'ishq ennobled him to behold the secrets and chronology of life itself. He concludes the preface by stating this Masnavi is not intended to be mere poetry—acknowledging he is not from Isfahan, the land of poets—and accepts Farsi's superiority over Hindi. He chose to compose in Farsi because his lofty idea accorded well with it, and he became entranced by its efficacy. The final line implores the reader not to be pedantic, but rather to focus on the essence of his message.

Personally, I found this poem fun to read. The imagery is vivid and colourful. He does repeatsthe same incessant tropes verse after verse, which becomes mildly inconvenient to read, but I suppose it serves to reinforce the grandeur of the idea in the readers' minds. I did trip up reading a few couplets. Specifically, couplets 12, 55, 69 and 89.

Couplet number 12: not sure if رم دیدن is a common idiom in poetry, seems very awkward, but it is poetical imagination.
Couplet number 55: he says یا رَبَم without the tashdeed on rabb. Poets have a 'poetic license' which allows them to change the pronunciation of standard Arabic phrases in poetry, but this particular sounds repugnant to me.
Couplets 69 and 89: he uses انداز in the meaning of 'style', but I couldn't find this meaning in Dehkhoda. The closest is ادای دلپذیر. I presume the general meaning of انداز as 'style' is still embryonic in Iranian Farsi.