Who Hali? And why he should be read today

EACH year, International Women's Day brings a wave of tributes, speeches and solemn promises about gender equality. Yet the deeper question remains unchanged. How seriously do societies measure their progress by the dignity, education and status of women?

Nearly a century and a half ago, an Urdu poet from Panipat in present-day Haryana asked precisely that question.

Before recalling his words on women, it is worth remembering the intensity with which he loved his homeland. In one of his verses, Khwaja Altaf Hussain Hali (1837-1914) wrote: ‘Teri ek musht-e-khaak ke badle loon na hargiz, agar bahisht mile’ (For a single handful of your soil, I would never barter, even if heaven itself were offered in return).

Few lines capture devotion to the motherland with such emotional clarity. Yet patriotism was only one dimension of Hali's legacy. What makes him strikingly relevant today is that nearly 150 years ago, he spoke with unusual clarity about the status, dignity and education of women, long before such concerns became a part of the public discourse in the form we recognise today.

Hali is remembered as a disciple of Mirza Ghalib and the author of 'Muqaddama-e-Sher-o-Shairi', often regarded as the first modern work of literary criticism in Urdu. But far less attention is given to another aspect of his thought: his sustained concern for women and the moral health of society.

My awareness of this goes back to 1972, when I was posted as assistant commissioner (under training) in Karnal, with Panipat being a part of the administrative landscape. It struck me even then that the town remembered primarily for its historic battles had also produced a poet whose reflections on society, especially on women, were remarkably ahead of his time. Yet outside literary circles, that dimension of Hali's work seemed curiously neglected.

When I compiled a commemorative volume on Hali, bringing together essays by some of the most eminent scholars and writers of the time on different facets of his personality as poet, critic, prose writer and social reformer, I requested celebrated artist MF Husain to contribute a portrait of the great poet. He graciously obliged with a striking sketch of Hali. That portrait, reproduced with this article, is a reminder that Hali's legacy continues to inspire not only scholars but artists as well.

Nothing illustrates Hali's thinking more clearly than the famous lines: 'Ae maon, behno, betiyon, duniya ki izzat tum se hai; Mulkon ki basti ho tumhi, quamon ki izzat tum se hai' (O mothers, sisters, daughters, the honour of the world rests with you. The life of nations and the dignity of communities depend on you).

These lines are often quoted for their lyrical beauty, but their deeper meaning is far more serious. Hali was making a civilisational argument. The standing of a nation can be judged by the standing of its women. A society that denies women education, dignity and agency cannot claim to be progressive, no matter how loudly it celebrates its achievements.

Hali's concern for women was not confined to poetic praise. It found expression in two remarkable works, 'Majalis-un-Nisa' (Assemblies of Women) and 'Munajaat-e-Bewa' (A Widow's Prayer).

In 'Majalis-un-Nisa', written in 1874, nearly 150 years ago, Hali addressed women's lives with striking directness. Through engaging conversations, he discussed girls' education, moral upbringing, child-rearing, household management and the need to free women from ignorance and harmful social customs. It was practical reform literature. Hali argued that genuine social progress required women to be educated, respected and intellectually engaged members of society.

More than a century later, the relevance of that argument is unmistakable. Female literacy in India, though greatly improved, still lags behind male literacy. Millions of women still face barriers in access to education and opportunity. Hali's plea for women's education, thus, reads less like a historical curiosity and more like a continuing reminder of unfinished work.

If 'Majalis-un-Nisa' addressed women's condition through reformist prose, 'Munajaat-e-Bewa' did so through the poetry of deep empathy. In that poem, Hali gives voice to the sorrow and vulnerability of a widow. The poem reveals not only her grief but also her social isolation and insecurity. For a nineteenth-century poet to imagine the inner world of a widow with such sensitivity was extraordinary. Hali did not treat the widow merely as an object of sympathy. He allowed her voice to emerge with dignity and humanity.

Even today, many women continue to face economic and social insecurity after widowhood or marital breakdown. Circumstances may have changed, but the underlying concern, the vulnerability of women within social structures, has not entirely disappeared.

Hali's ideas acquire even sharper relevance when viewed from the vantage point of his own region. Haryana, the state that proudly claims Panipat as Hali's hometown, has long struggled with one of the lowest gender ratios in the country. The 2011 Census recorded only 879 women for every 1,000 men, far below the national average of 943.

The paradox is striking. The same soil that produced a poet who nearly a century and a half ago insisted that women are the bearers of a nation’s honour still grapples with the social attitudes that diminish them. Taken together, Hali's writings show that his concern for women was both moral and practical. He spoke of their dignity and addressed the everyday conditions that diminished them: lack of education, social neglect and unequal standing within the family.

Hali's words remind us that the real question lies beyond ceremony. If that principle still guides our conscience, then the task before us is clear. The dignity, education and security of women must become not merely ideals in verse but also realities in everyday life.