“Ye jo khoon hai, sirf qatl ka matam nahi karta — ye insaaf mangta hai.”
Raise Imrohvi didn't write marsiyas to mourn history. He wrote them to indict the present.
In his verse, Karbala was never 1400 years ago. It was in Karachi. In Hyderabad. In every mohajir heart that had been called a traitor in their own country.
His genius wasn't just literary. It was strategic. He transformed a religious form into political firepower.
Karbala as Karachi: The Emotional Bridge
Marsiyas are elegies, yes. But in the hands of Raise Imrohvi, they became political instruction manuals .
Hussain wasn't just a martyr; he was a metaphor for every oppressed migrant.
Yazid wasn't just a tyrant; he was the bureaucracy, the feudal state, the police checkpoint.
Karbala wasn't the desert of Iraq; it was Qasba Colony, Aligarh, Liaquatabad.
This was coded resistance .
And because Marsiyas were protected as "religious speech," they flew under the censor's radar.
Case Study: "Karachi Ka Karbala"
One of his lesser-known poems, often recited at private majalis in Nazimabad, drew direct parallels between the siege of Hussain and the siege of Karachi's neighborhoods in the 1990s.
"Na paani mila, na izzat mili — aur hum se kaha gaya, chup raho..."
Translation: "No water, no dignity — and we were told to stay silent."
These weren't metaphors anymore. They were grievances masked as devotion .
Why This Still Matters
Today, Raise Imrohvi is rarely mentioned in MQM histories. His books are out of print. His name comes up only in Shia literary circles. But his ideas? They shaped a generation.
His language of righteous resistance was adopted wholesale by MQM speeches.
His aesthetic of mourning became part of MQM's visual politics (martyr posters, funeral chants).
His moral clarity — that Zulm must be named and confronted — still echoes in Karachi's protest culture.
He never ran for office. He never threw a stone. But he wrote the script that many others followed.
Closing Thought
We keep saying MQM became violent because it was angry.
But where did that anger learn to speak? Who taught it grief? Who gave it a mirror?
Maybe the first cry wasn't a slogan. Maybe it was a marsiya.
And maybe, just maybe, Raise Imrohvi was its quiet auth
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