Asrar-e-Khudi post 3

Link to the poem: https://ganjoor.net/iqbal/asrar-khodi/sh4
https://ganjoor.net/iqbal/asrar-khodi/sh5
Total couplets: 28+56
Total completion: 24.8% (217/874 couplets)

 This blog discusses both parts 4 and 5. In the fourth part of this journey, Iqbal says Khudi only survives and prospers by sustaining meaningful desires in our lives. Our lives should have purposeful goals. From this very passion, a fire is born inside our hearts, warming us and giving us energy. Without it, we would freeze to death. This fire clears out any false deities residing in our hearts and only allows the Truth to live. From this warmth, this lively, colourful world of ours also thrives. This passion organises our actions, allowing us to attain our goals.
 Passion has existed before existence- or at least that's what I understand, though it's not explicitly stated. Passion's Khudi was powerful enough that it shaped itself to achieve its goals. The passion to see and sense was so great that it formed discerning eyes and the other four basic senses; we have seen this argument before in chapter 3:
حلقه ای زد نور تا گردید چشم
از تلاش جلوه ها جنبید چشم.
 Iqbal then implores us to contemplate why our intellect endeavours so hard to reach the skies, because it's not for knowledge. In fact, it's our passion that incites us to be curious and seek knowledge. The reason why our passion incites us is that knowledge will help us persist through tough times and rectify our Khudi. Passion is the main driving force which supports life.
 Lastly, Iqbal instructs us to drink the wine of desire, intoxicating ourselves while inflaming the world with our passion and to captivate the hearts of others, leading to a mighty change.

 "A speck of light which is called Khudi: a spark under our earthly bodies", begins part 5 of the poem. From love, Khudi is made more lively, more permanent, more passionate and brilliant. Khudi harnesses warmth and energy from love, and in return is world-illuming and opens the doors of possibilities. Love both provokes and pacifies; it is fearless and immaterialistic. In one couplet, Iqbal says that by immersing yourself in the love of Truth, you ultimately become one with the Truth. It's very Sufistic of him to say that, and obviously one's mind goes to Mansoor Hallaj's tale. He instructs to find a perfect man (insan-e-kamil) and kiss his threshold, to make that saint your guide and let him fill you with love and passion, like how Shams was to Rumi.

 "There is a beloved hidden within thine heart," says Iqbal, "I will show him to thee, if thou hast eyes to see." His admirers are fairer than the fairest, comelier than the comeliest. By loving him, even dust can rub shoulders with the highest of stars. "In the heart of the Muslim is Muhammad's abode." From here, the Prophet is exalted reverently by Iqbal, such as his being existing even before time, him changing the world's precepts, him being mighty in battle yet soft in prayer, and so on. He considered everyone, rich or poor, equals and ate from the same tablecloth as them.
 Iqbal narrates that once a woman was taken captive and brought in front of the Prophet without a chadar. The Prophet covered her with his own cloak. "In front of the world, we are more undressed," Iqbal juxtaposes. If Muslims have any respect at the moment, then it is because the Prophet has covered them as well, and will certainly intercede for them on the Day of Judgement.
 The Prophet broke all norms of status and caste, and made everyone equal brothers. Whether the Muslims are Chinese, Arab, or Persians, they're all dew from the same dawn. They're the same fragrance from a hundred-petal rose, Iqbal restates. The Muslims are the secret hidden in his heart.   After a bit more exalting, Iqbal wraps up his discussion and edifies the believers to strengthen themselves by following the Prophet's footsteps. They should dive in their selves, reflect and meditate there and seek proximity to the Truth. Perhaps God may even present the Kaaba to you, and so perhaps you may understand the meaning of the famous verse: "إِنِّى جَاعِلٌۭ فِى ٱلْأَرْضِ خَلِيفَةًۭ ۖ"      (2:30)

 This is the synopsis. Personally, I found it slightly boring and bland at times. I don't disagree with the content, but I couldn't feel the weight of his argument upon me. One peculiar thing I find extreme is that Iqbal recommends following the Prophet like Bayazeed Bastami did. That saint did not eat watermelons because he was unaware whether the Prophet ever tasted them or not. This is love, and I understand it, but my respected sir, the Prophet did not eat a lot of things other than watermelons. Should we stop eating Biryani too...?
 I am further bewildered. Iqbal presents his concept of Khudi, and one by one, explains the characteristics of Khudi, as he did here by saying Khudi is based and reinvigorated by love. There's no real proof or backing up. He's just informing us about this and that. I think I'm understanding it all wrong. I thought this was going to be proven step by step, rather, the poet keeps on expounding and wants us to accept it willingly. I suppose all philosophies and theories are like this. It is up to the reader whether these reverberate with him or not, and whether he wants to believe in them or not.