poetry power 038

Poetry, Power & Humanity—V  Waris Shah: Wh…

Our discussion of Bulleh Shah in Part IV concluded with a question: Who are we when power can no longer name us? Bulleh Shah dismantled the identities imposed upon the human person by lineage, orthodoxy and social hierarchy. Waris Shah takes the inquiry into the institutions governing everyday life. He shows what happens when two human beings attempt to live according to the freedom Bulleh imagined.

Heer is celebrated as Punjab’s greatest love story. To describe it merely as a romance, however, is to conceal its intellectual achievement. Earlier poets narrated the sufferings of Heer and Ranjha; Waris Shah’s classic poetic work Heeer (1766) placed an entire social order on trial. Shafqat Tanvir Mirza rightly observed that Waris treated the story through the “politics, economy and cultural values” lived by the people of his period. His poem contains a devastating criticism of poor governance, institutional corruption, religious exploitation, arrogance of the wealthy and misery of those without power.

Love provides the narrative, but power determines its outcome. Waris Shah wrote against the background of eighteenth-century political disintegration. Invasions, weakening imperial authority, struggles among local forces and economic insecurity had destabilised Punjab.

Waris Shah was not attached to a royal court capable of insulating him from ordinary suffering. His Heer therefore became more than a reconstruction of an old legend. It preserved Punjab’s speech, customs and collective memory while exposing the institutions through which privilege protected itself.

Heer is central to this achievement because she is not a passive beloved. She recognises Ranjha, brings him into her father’s household as a herdsman, arranges opportunities to meet him and openly asserts her choice when the relationship is discovered. She possesses intelligence, desire and moral agency. Her freedom is tolerated only while it remains invisible and does not threaten the authority of the family.

The moment Heer chooses her own future, affection turns into surveillance. Her body becomes the bearer of family honour, and marriage becomes the means through which that honour is restored.

Heer does not ask permission to feel. She declares a commitment already formed through conscience and love. Her language is especially significant. She does not present Ranjha as an object she wishes to acquire. She has offered her own life and accepted responsibility for that choice. In a society where marriage joins families, properties and status groups, such self-determination is revolutionary.

The dispute is not simply between one prospective husband and another. Ranjha represents Heer’s autonomous choice; the Kheras represent the settlement arranged for her by others. Her family treats marriage as a transaction carrying consequences for lineage, reputation and power. Heer insists upon treating it as a union requiring the will of the persons whose lives it determines.

میں تاں منگ رنجھیٹے دی ہو چکی
اساں منگ درگاہ تھیں لیا رانجھا
Main tāṅ mang Ranjheṭe dī ho chukkī
Asāṅ mang dargāh thīṅ liyā Rānjhā
I have already been pledged to Ranjha;
from the divine court itself I received him.
اساں جان رانجھیٹے دے پیش کیتی
لکھ کھیڑیاں نوں چا گھولدی ہے
Asāṅ jān Ranjheṭe de pesh kītī
Lakkh Kheṛiāṅ nūṅ chā gholdī hai
I have laid my life before Ranjha;
I would sacrifice a hundred thousand Kheras for him.

This is the political economy hidden within the romance. Property is not limited to land, cattle and wealth. Patriarchal authority extends the idea of ownership to women. A daughter may be cherished as long as she accepts the future selected for her. Once she claims ownership of her own will, love within the family becomes conditional. Research on Heer similarly identifies the family, property, mosque, qazi, feudal hierarchy and ruling elite as interconnected institutions shaped by economic interest.

Kaido is the most visible agent of this system, though he should not be dismissed as a solitary villain. He represents social surveillance: the resentful custodian of conformity who observes, reports and converts private happiness into public scandal. Power does not survive through rulers alone. It recruits relatives, neighbours and self-appointed guardians of morality who internalise its prohibitions and enforce them upon others.

Kaido’s triumph begins when Heer and Ranjha’s love is no longer treated as a human relationship but as an offence against collective honour. The family then requires an institution capable of turning its demand into a lawful and religious command. The qazi enters at precisely this point.

Waris Shah does not attack faith. He exposes the appropriation of faith by those serving property and patriarchy. The qazi is called because parental pressure has failed to secure Heer’s consent. Religious vocabulary is employed to present submission as virtue and resistance as sin.

Heer answers him from within the moral tradition he claims to represent. She insists that genuine faith cannot be separated from truth, and that her union with Ranjha possesses a reality no ceremonial decree can erase. The surviving text presents an extended confrontation in which the qazi invokes authority while Heer asserts conscience and consent. Unable to persuade her, institutional power reveals its coercive core. The qazi threatens punishment and demands that she accept the Khera marriage.

قاضی بنھ نکاح تے گھت ڈولی
نال کھیڑیاں دے دِتی تور میاں
Qāzī bannh nikāh te ghat ḍolī
Nāl Kheṛiāṅ de dittī tor miyāṅ
The qazi bound the marriage and placed her in the palanquin;
she was sent away with the Kheras.
ہیر کھیڑیاں نال نہ تُرے مولے پیا
پِنڈ دے وچ ہے شور میاں
Hīr Kheṛiāṅ nāl na ture, maulā piyā
Piṇḍ de vich hai shor miyāṅ
Heer would not willingly go with the Kheras;
an uproar filled the village.
کھیڑے گھن کے ہیر نوں رواں ہوئے
جویں مال نوں لے وَگے چور میاں
Kheṛe ghin ke Hīr nūṅ ravāṅ hoe
Jiveṅ māl nūṅ lai vagge chor miyāṅ
The Kheras took Heer and moved away,
like thieves driving stolen cattle.

The comparison is Waris Shah’s own and is among the most revealing images in the poem. The final line strips the ceremony of its respectable appearance. There has been a qazi, a marriage procession, jewellery, property and public ritual. Waris nevertheless compares the removal of Heer to thieves taking away cattle. Religious form cannot transform coercion into justice. Ceremony cannot manufacture consent.

The description also reveals the economic imagination underlying patriarchy. Heer is transported like property from one household to another. Wealth, ornaments, livestock and the bride appear within the same ceremonial transaction. Her refusal does not stop the procession because the institutions surrounding her recognise the claims of families more readily than the will of a woman.

Erich Fromm’s distinction between having and being again becomes relevant. Heer’s family operates within the mode of having: having status, having honour, having alliances and having authority over a daughter. Heer and Ranjha seek the mode of being, in which relationship arises from recognition rather than possession. Their love becomes intolerable because it refuses to function as property.

The tragedy is completed when every major institution fails them. The family protects honour rather than the child. The community protects conformity rather than truth. The qazi validates power rather than consent. Kinship becomes surveillance, marriage becomes transfer and religion becomes enforcement.

Heer’s eventual poisoning is thus not an accidental ending added to create emotional intensity. It is the final response of an order that cannot accommodate autonomous choice. When shame, persuasion, forced separation, arranged marriage and religious sanction fail to extinguish her commitment, physical elimination restores collective control. The victory is hollow.

The families survive, but their moral world is condemned. Kaido succeeds within the plot, while history remembers him only as the embodiment of envy and coercion. The Kheras obtain the marriage ceremony, but not Heer’s consent. The qazi pronounces the required words, but cannot make falsehood true. Heer and Ranjha die, though Punjab grants them the immortality denied to those who destroyed them.

The continuing thread of our inquiry is now clearer. Shah Hussain crossed the narrow passage from attachment towards freedom. Bulleh Shah removed the labels through which society imprisons the self. Waris Shah shows what organised society does when that liberated self claims the right to choose.

The institutions portrayed in Heer have not disappeared. Forced marriages, denial of women’s inheritance, biradari (clan) restrictions, honour crimes, clerical legitimisation of patriarchy and the use of family reputation to silence consent remain part of our social reality. Their language has changed; their central claim remains that family, property and status possess rights superior to the human person.

Bulleh Shah asked what remains when inherited identities fall away. Waris Shah explains why society fears the answer. Heer ceases to be property when she names her own beloved. Ranjha ceases to be obedient when he rejects the future assigned to him. Their love becomes political because it asserts that a human being belongs first to herself or himself—not to lineage, wealth, clergy or collective honour.

The lovers are killed, but power does not secure the final word. Punjab remembers Heer and Ranjha. It remembers their destroyers only as instruments of injustice.

[To be continued]

________________________________________________________________

Dr. Ikramul Haq, Advocate Supreme Court, writer, literary critic, Adjunct Faculty at Lahore University of Management Sciences (LUMS), member Advisory Board and Visiting Senior Fellow of Pakistan Institute of Development Economics (PIDE), holds an LLD in tax laws. He was full-time journalist from 1979 to 1984 with Viewpoint and Dawn. He also served Civil Services of Pakistan from 1984 to 1996.

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An owner permits another person to use an asset while retaining the liabilities associated with ownership. Rent represents consideration for the use of the asset. The arrangement becomes questionable when the supposed owner bears no meaningful ownership risk and the entire structure is merely a cash loan disguised through documents. Partnership profit has another character. Partners combine capital, work, expertise or enterprise. Profit is divided according to an agreed formula permitted by the applicable juristic principles, while financial loss follows the capital placed at risk. A partner cannot lawfully guarantee himself a fixed return upon capital and compel the other partner to bear every commercial loss. These distinctions are recognised, with variations, across the major Muslim schools. They differ on matters such as the permissible relationship between capital contribution and profit-sharing ratios, conditions attached to contracts, possession, agency and the allocation of particular risks. They do not treat every profit as riba. Nor do they permit a partner to convert genuine risk participation into a guaranteed return on money. A modern Prohibition of Riba law must preserve these distinctions. The difficulty is that contemporary finance has developed techniques through which a loan can be divided into several formally separate contracts. An institution may purchase an asset for a few moments, sell it to the customer at a marked-up price, obtain comprehensive security, transfer every economic risk to the customer and calculate its return by reference to the prevailing interest rate. The transaction may satisfy documentary requirements while reproducing the economic substance of conventional lending. The institution receives a predetermined return; the customer bears the commercial risk; and the institution’s temporary ownership exists mainly to legitimise the financing charge. This does not mean that murabaha, ijarah or diminishing musharakah are inherently invalid. Each can serve a legitimate commercial purpose. Murabaha can facilitate an actual purchase where the financier genuinely acquires and assumes responsibility for the asset before selling it. Ijarah can finance the use of an asset where the lessor retains real ownership obligations. Diminishing musharakah can support home ownership where the parties genuinely share ownership and the customer gradually acquires the financier’s units. The problem arises when these contracts are treated as legal devices for guaranteeing the same return that would have been received under an interest-bearing loan. A workable definition must therefore contain both a formal and a substantive test. The formal test will examine the legal category of the contract. The substantive test will determine whether the financier has provided an asset, service or productive participation and whether it has assumed a genuine risk corresponding to its return. This test should not be misunderstood as hostility towards fixed prices. A lawful sale price may be fixed. Rent may be determined in advance. A service fee may be agreed. The existence of a fixed amount does not by itself establish riba. The decisive question is what the payment represents. A fee charged for maintaining an account, transferring funds, valuing property, arranging documentation or providing an identifiable professional service may be legitimate. A “service fee” calculated as a percentage of a loan, increasing with time and unrelated to the actual cost or nature of the service may be interest under another name. The same care is required in relation to delayed payment. A seller, who supplies goods on deferred payment, may charge a price higher than the immediate cash price, provided one price is finally agreed when the contract is concluded. Once the debt has been created, however, an additional amount cannot ordinarily be imposed merely because the debtor requires more time. This is where many modern systems institutionalise exploitation. A

  • Young People Are Not the Future, They Are the Pres…

    The United Nations General Assembly settled 12 August as International Youth Day in 1999, following a recommendation of the World Conference of Ministers Responsible for Youth. The first International Youth Day was observed in 2000. Since then, every year on 12 August, the world observes International Youth Day. This day recognizes the contribution of young people and brings the challenges they face into public and policy discussions. Young people must have meaningful opportunities to participate in decisions that affect their education, employment, communities and future. The United Nations defines youth, for statistical purposes, as persons between 15 and 24 years of age. There are around 1.2 billion young people in this age group worldwide, representing approximately 16 percent of the global population. By 2030, their number is projected to reach nearly 1.3 billion. These figures tell an important story. The success of our development policies will depend significantly on whether this generation has access to quality education, decent employment, skills, justice, equality and meaningful participation. Young people are entering adulthood at a time of extraordinary change. Artificial intelligence and digital technologies are transforming education and employment. Climate change is reshaping economies and communities. Conflicts and displacement continue to affect millions. At the same time, young people themselves are developing new ideas, businesses, technologies and social movements to respond to these challenges. The question is not what governments can do for youth, but what governments and institutions can achieve with youth. The international approach towards youth has gradually evolved. Participation, development and peace have been central themes of the UN’s work on youth for decades. In 2015, the UN Security Council unanimously adopted Resolution 2250 on Youth, Peace and Security, recognizing the important role young people can play in preventing violence and building peace. This recognition is significant because youth participation should go beyond inviting young people to conferences, consultations or ceremonial events. Meaningful participation means providing them with a genuine opportunity to influence policies and institutions. One of the strongest messages emerging from recent International Youth Day discussions is the importance of local youth action. The UN’s 2025 theme, “Local Youth Actions for the SDGs and Beyond,” emphasized that global development commitments ultimately have to produce results in communities. The UN noted that more than 65 percent of Sustainable Development Goal targets are linked to local governance, making youth participation at the local level particularly important. The Sustainable Development Goals may be global, but many of the problems they address are experienced locally. A young person experiences unemployment in a household, not in an international conference. A girl experiences barriers to education in her community. Climate change may appear in the form of floods, drought, extreme heat or disappearing livelihoods. Discrimination, violence and exclusion are similarly experienced in everyday life. This is why youth participation must reach local government, educational institutions, community organizations and development programmes. Young people should have opportunities not only to identify problems but also to help design and implement solutions. The theme of International Youth Day 2026 is “Different Contexts, Common Aspirations,”. The theme explains that though young people live in very different social, economic, and geographic circumstances, they share common hopes for dignity, quality education, decent work, meaningful participation, equal opportunity, and a sustainable future. These aspirations are particularly important for youth in Least Developed Countries, Landlocked Developing Countries, and Small Island Developing States, where poverty, climate change, geographic isolation, digital inequality, and limited opportunities often create additional barriers. Yet young people are not simply recipients of development; they are leaders, innovators, and co-creators of change. Equipping them with future-ready skills can enable them to turn shared challenges into shared solutions. Education systems therefore cannot remain focused only on degrees and examinations. Young people need critical thinking, communication, creativity, digital literacy, problem-solving and the ability to continuously learn. At the same time, access must remain central. Opportunities created by technology mean little if large numbers of young people lack quality education, internet access, training or pathways into decent employment. Young people’s role is equally important in strengthening justice and peaceful societies. When young people feel excluded from institutions and decision-making, the distance between citizens and the State can increase. Conversely, meaningful civic participation can strengthen trust, social cohesion and accountability. Young people should therefore have space in discussions about the rule of law, access to justice, gender equality, climate justice, human rights and peacebuilding. Their participation should extend from community initiatives to national policymaking. The scale of Pakistan’s youth population makes these challenges even more significant. The 2023 census recorded 67 percent of Pakistan’s population as below the age of 30, while around 63 million people, or 26 percent of the population, were between 15 and 29. Yet demographic strength contrasts sharply with socioeconomic reality: around 27 percent of young people are illiterate, while World Bank estimates indicate that 37 percent of those aged 15-24 are not in employment, education or training. At the same time, this is an increasingly connected generation that uses digital technology and social media to express its opinions, aspirations and frustrations. Young Pakistanis want to be heard and to have a meaningful role in policymaking, but many perceive traditional political structures as disconnected from their concerns. Their disengagement from conventional politics should therefore not necessarily be interpreted as political apathy; it may instead reflect disillusionment with institutions that they believe do not adequately represent them. A particularly serious challenge is the growing sense of frustration among Pakistan’s young people. When young people see limited space for participation in political decision-making, few opportunities for economic advancement, and an education system that does not sufficiently encourage critical and independent thinking, frustration can gradually turn into hopelessness. 829,000 Pakistanis registered for employment abroad in 2022 as an indication of the desire to seek opportunities elsewhere. The larger lesson is that Pakistan cannot treat its youth merely as a population statistic; young people need meaningful inclusion in political, economic and intellectual life. International Youth Day should encourage governments, universities, civil society, development organizations

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