Ballad of the Reshmi Roomal by A. Asad

Preface Ballad of the Reshmi Roomal is not just a poem — it is a remembrance. It revives the silenced voices of those scholars, freedom fighters, and spiritual leaders who chose gallows over silence and silk threads over swords. In an era when the British Empire ruled with cruelty and fear, a quiet revolution began — in the mosques, in the madrassas, and in the hearts of the brave Maulanas and Hafizes who dreamt of a free Hindustan. This ballad brings forth forgotten names and sacred sacrifices — from the Fatwa of Jihad issued at Darul Uloom Deoband, to the secret message of the Reshmi Roomal Tehreek, and finally, to the hanging trees of Delhi that bore the weight of both bodies and belief. “It is a poetic tribute to the fearless freedom fighters who gave their all for a nation unborn and a future unseen. Here, history and poetry unite to sing India’s struggle.” About the Poet Abdul Asad is a poet whose words echo from the soil of sacrifice and the silence of history. Known for his deeply nationalistic and soulful poetry, he explores themes of identity, truth, loss, and the unheard voices that shaped the nation. Rooted in the traditions of classical Urdu-Hindi poetry and inspired by India’s long and painful freedom struggle, Asad brings the past to life — not just as a historian of emotion, but as a guardian of forgotten names. His verses often bridge the personal and the political, the sacred and the revolutionary, making him one of the rising literary voices of contemporary patriotic poetry. Poet’s Reflection When I wrote Ballad of the Reshmi Roomal, I did not hold a pen — I held my breath. I was walking among ghosts, beneath the tamarind trees of Delhi where Maulanas were hung without trial, and beside the silk cloths that carried freedom in every secret word. This poem is not mine alone — it belongs to Maulana Mahmood Hasan, to Ubaidullah Sindhi, to Hafiz Karim, and to every unnamed soul who sacrificed their lives so that we may breathe freely. As I wrote, I realized that ink can carry pain, but verse can carry legacy. This ballad is my nazrana, a humble offering at the feet of those who walked to the gallows with a smile and left behind the flame of Hindustan.