by Mir
Na kaheen jahaan mein amaan mili, jo amaan mili to kahaan mili
Mere jurm-e khaanaa kharaab ko, tere afv-e banda-navaaz mein
Na vo ishq mein rahi garmiyaan, na vo husn mein rahin shokhiyaan
Na vo Ghazanavi mein tadap rahi, na vo kham hai zulf-e Ayaaz mein
Jo main sar-ba-sajda hua kabhi to zameen se aane lagi sadaa
Tera dil to hai sanam-aashna, tujhe kya milega namaaz mein
For once, o long-sought truth
For once, O long-sought truth, appear before me, in understood metaphor
For a thousand obeisances wait in my forehead, awaiting consummation
Do not keep your heart so safe, for it is such a mirror
That it increases in value only after it has been shattered
I found no solace in this world, except now, when
My unforgivable sin was housed by your infinite forgiveness
Neither does love have that heat any more, nor beauty the allure
Neither has Ghazni that passion, nor Ayaz the beauty4
When I prostrated my head, a voice arose from the earth
Your heart loves but an idol, what will you find in Allah’s prayer?
2Farman-e khuda (Farishton se)
Uthho meri duniya ke ghareebon ko jagaa do
Kaakh-e umaraa ke dar-o-deevaar hila do
Garmaao ghulaamon ka lahu soz-e yaqin se
Kunjishk-e phiromaayaa ko shaaheen se lada do
Sultaani-e jamhoor ka aata hai zamaana
Jo naqsh-e kuhan tum ko nazar aaye mita do
Jis khet se dah-qaan ko mayassar nahin rozi
Us khet ke har khosha-e gandum ko jala do
Kyon khaaliq-o-makhlooq mein haayal rahen parde
Peeraan-e kaleesa ko kaleesa se hata do
Main naakhush-o-bezaar hoon marmar ke silon se
Mere liye mitti kaa haram aur bana do
Tahzeeb-e naveen kaar-gah-e sheesha-garaan hai
Aadab-e junoon shaayar-e mashriq ko sikha do
God’s bidding to the Angels
Go bid the wretched of my earth to awake
The foundations of elite palaces should quake
Roil the blood of slaves with the pain of belief
Sparrows should challenge eagles, make no mistake
The moment of democracy is at hand
Signs of the old order I bid thee to break
Burn every ear of wheat of that field from which
The farmer is not permitted to partake
Distance between God and humans is futile
Remove the bishops from the church; they are fake
Build me a simple house with sand, for I hate
Those marble edifices. That’s a mistake.
The new world is but a brittle glass palace
Poet of the East, learn madness and heartache.
Brij Narain Chakbast
Chakbast (1882–1926) was one of the foremost lawyers of Lucknow in the early twentieth century. A veteran of the freedom movement, he wrote eloquently in support of ‘home rule’, as independence was termed in those days. His first book, titled Subh-e Watan (Morning in the Homeland), was published in 1931, five years after his death. He wrote in a variety of formats, including the ghazal. The sher from his collection that became most famous was:
Zindagi kya hai anasir mein zahur-e tarteeb
Maut kya hai inhi ajza ka pareshan hona
Life,
When elements become ordered, that’s all
Death,
But a moment when into chaos they fall
Chakbast would, however, achieve immortality for his Ramayan poems. He wrote three, each a masterpiece in the musaddas tradition. They were ‘Ramayan ka Ek Scene’ (‘A Scene from the Ramayana’), ‘Maa ka Javaab’ (‘The Mother’s Response’), and ‘Vanvaas par Ayodhya Nagri ki Haalat’ (‘The State of Ayodhya during the Exile’).1 I have translated an excerpt from ‘Ramayan ka Ek Scene’ that depicts the moment Lord Rama, who has been banished from Ayodhya for fourteen years, takes his final leave of his mother Kausalya.
Ramayan ka ek scene2
Rukhsat hua vo baap se le kar khuda ka naam
Raah-e vafaa ki manzil-e awwal hui tamaam
Manzoor tha jo maa ki ziyaarat ka intezaam
Daaman se ashk pochh ke dil se kiya kalaam
Izhaar-e bekasi se sitam hoga aur bhi
Dekha hamen udaas to gham hoga aur bhi
Dil ko sambhaalta hua aakhir vo nau-nehaal
Khaamosh maa ke paas gaya surat-e khayaal
Dekha to ek dar mein hai baithi vo khasta haal
Sakta sa ho gaya hai, ye hai shiddat-e malaal
Tan mein lahoo ka naam nahin, zard rang hai
Goya bashar nahin, koi tasveer-e sang hai
Kya jaane kis khayaal mein gum thi vo begunaah
Noor-e nazar pe deeda-e hasrat se ki nigaah
Jumbish hui labon ko, bhari ek sard aah
Li gosha haai chashm se ashkon ne rukh ki raah
Chehre ka rang haalat-e dil kholne laga
Har moo-e tan zaban ki tarah bolne laga
Ro kar kaha; khamosh khade kyon ho meri jaan?
Main jaanti hoon, kis liye aaye ho tum yahaan
Sab ki khushi yahi hai tu sahra ko ho rawaan
Lekin main apne moonh se na hargiz kahoongi ‘haan’
Kis tarah ban mein aankh ke taare ko bhej doon?
Jogi bana ke raaj dulaare ko bhej doon?
Duniya ka ho gaya hai ye kaisa lahoo safed?
Andha kiye hue hai zar-o-maal ki ummed
Anjaam kya hai? Koi nahin jaanta ye bhed
Soche bashar, to jism ho larzaan misaal-e baid
Likkhi hai kya hayaat-e abad in ke waaste?
Phaila rahe hain jaal ye kis din ke waaste?
Leti kisi faqeer ke ghar mein agar janam
Hota na meri jaan ko samaan ye baham
Dasta na saanp ban ke mujhe shaukat-o-hasham
Tum mere laal, thhe mujhe kis saltanat se kam?
Main khush hoon, phoonk de koi is takht-o-taaj ko
Tum hi nahin, to aag lagaaoongi raaj ko
Sun kar zaban se maa ki ye faryaad dard khez
Us khasta jaan ke dil pe chali gham ki tegh-e tez
Aalam ye tha qareeb, ke aankhen hon ashk rez
Lekin hazaar zabt se rone se ki gurez
Socha yehi, ke jaan se bekas guzar na jaaye
Nashaad hum ko dekh ke maa aur mar na jaaye
Phir arz ki ye maadar-e nashaad ke huzoor
Mayoos kyon hain aap? Alam ka hai kyon wufoor?
Sadma ye shaaq aalam-e peeri mein hai zaroor
Lekin na dil se keejiye sabr-o-qaraar door
Shayad khizaan se shakl ayaan ho bahaar ki
Kuchh maslahat isi mein ho parwardigaar ki
A scene from the Ramayana
He said goodbye to his father taking the name of God
The first step on fidelity’s tough path his feet had trod
Now for a meeting with his mother he began to plod
Wiping his tears he spoke inward squaring his shoulders broad
‘I dare not let her see my pain; it will cause her more grief
Better I show a smiling face that may give her relief.’
Thus steeling his sad heart, the youth began to move at last
He reached but found her silent, lost in her own thoughts, downcast
Alone in a doorway, though contemplating something vast
He’d braced for tears but was rendered dumbstruck by this contrast
Her body appeared bloodless, her colour yellow and pale
As if she was no human form but a stone statue, frail
Wonder what passed through the mind
of that woman innocent
She cast a glance at her scion, her gaze like a lament
Her lips quivered as if she would give voice to her torment
Finally grief moved from her heart and to her eyes it went
The colour of her face began to portray her heart’s plight
Her grief became a tongue itself, and commenced to recite
With weeping eyes she asked her son, ‘Why don’t you speak your mind?
I know what errand brings you here, what puts you in a bind
“Everyone will be happy if I leave,” you have divined
But I will never permit you to go, let me remind
You that you are my shining star, I’ll never let you go
Like a yogi to the forest, I must say no, no, no.
‘Has this world lost its loyalty, why has our blood turned white?
Has the desire for wealth and fame caused us to lose our sight?
How will this sorry story end? It will only cause blight
I quiver like a reed when I imagine my son’s plight
My question is to those people who are planning this strife
Do they plan to live forever? Don’t they fear the afterlife?
‘Had I been born a beggar’s girl, this would not be my fate
My life wouldn’t have been subject to this deplorable state
The snake of false prestige would not have bitten me with such hate
You are my son, were you to me less than a kingdom great?
I’d be happy were someone to set fire to this throne and crown
If you leave me, watch me if I don’t burn this kingdom down.’
When the brave prince heard all at once his mother’s piteous words
His heart felt as if it had been struck by a sword or worse
The moment was at hand when eyes would feel tears of remorse
But slowly in a level voice he began to converse
For he thought, she may not survive unless he held his peace
‘My emotions will only cause her distress to increase.’
Then slowly he ventured to speak, and said, ‘My mother dear
Please do control yourself, indeed for your well-being, I fear
I understand your sadness at this parting is severe
But do summon some patience, and this thought may bring some cheer
Perhaps this autumn is the way a new spring to instil
Maybe this is an expression of God’s mysterious will.’
Jigar Moradabadi
Jigar, ab maikade mein aa gaye ho to munaasib hai
Agar chupke se tum pee lo, musalmaan kaun dekhega?
Now that you are already in the tavern
It does behove you to indulge, dear Jigar
Quickly have a drink away from gazes stern
Here you are safe from the Muslim naysayer.
Ali Sikandar ‘Jigar’ Moradabadi (1890–1960) was an optician by trade. His work inaugurated the move of Urdu poetry toward the new century, which began as the century of servitude. Jigar’s poetry reflects, perhaps, the initial response of Urdu poets—denial. His poetry retained the conventions of an earlier era, and he is best known for his exuberance in ghazals. The task of imbuing poetry with the sobering realism of its material and historical reality would be left to others, but Jigar continued to showcase his craft alongside them. His remarkable career continued right down to Independence and after. He was awarded the Sahitya Akademi Award by the Government of India in 1958, shortly before his death. He is also known to have mentored Majrooh Sultanpuri in his initial career.
The ghazal I have translated was sung by Abida Parveen, among others, and boasts two of the more popular shers of the twentieth century: the ones that begin ‘Kya husn ne samjha hai’ and ‘Ye ishq nahin aasaan’.
Ek lafz-e mohabbat
Ek lafz-e mohabbat ka, adna sa fasaana hai
Simte to dil-e aashiq, phaile to zamaana hai
Ye kis ka tasavvur hai, ye kis ka fasaana hai?
Jo ashk hai aankhon mein, tasbeeh ka daana hai
Hum ishq ke maaron ka itna hi fasaana hai
Rone ko nahin koi, hansne ko zamaana hai
Vo aur vafaa-dushman? Maanenge na maana hai
Sab dil ki sharaarat hai, aankhon ka bahaana hai
Kya husn ne samjha hai, kya ishq ne jaana hai
Hum khaak-nasheenon ki thokar mein zamaana hai
Vo husn-o-jamaal un ka ye ishq-o-shabaab apna
Jeene ki tamanna hai, marne ka zamaana hai
Ya vo thhe khafaa hum se, ya hum thhe khafaa un se
Kal un ka zamaana thha aaj apna zamaana hai
Ashkon ke tabassum mein, aahon ke tarannum mein
Maasoom mohabbat ka maasoom fasaana hai
Ye ishq nahin aasaan, itnaa to samajh leeje
Ek aag kaa dariya hai, aur doob ke jaana hai
Aansoo to bahut se hain, aankhon mein Jigar lekin
Bundh jaaye so moti hai, beh jaaye so daana hai
One word, love
One word—love; when it shrinks, it can fit in a lover’s heart
If it expands it is the whole and this world just a part
Whose imagination made a fable of this story?
Each teardrop in the eye is a bead of the rosary
We love-afflicted souls are cursed; the world enjoys our smile
This is our plight: if we cry, no one wants to stay awhile
Accuse not my love of infidelity! Not a chance!
Don’t make much of mischievous eyes, and the heart’s flirty glance
What has beauty understood, and what secrets has love known?
That the world is a captive of us dust-dwellers alone
His1 beauty and grace against my love and youth collide
I want to live but truly it were better that I died
Was she unhappy with me, or was I upset with her?
The last time she was ascendant; this time is mine for sure
In the smile of teary eyes and in the rhythm of sighs
An innocent saga of innocent love, here it lies
It is not that easy to love, think before you desire
Do you have the gumption to swim across a sea of fire?
I have many tears in my eyes, what will become of them?
Either they’ll be lost or, Jigar, they’ll become pearls and gems.
Firaaq Gorakhpuri
Raghupati Sahay Firaaq Gorakhpuri (1896–1982) was one of the most prolific poets of his time. A professor of English at Allahabad University, he achieved the status of an organic intellectual, infusing his work with sensuality, and writing spiritedly in support of alternative sexualities in an atmosphere of heteronormativity. His 1936 article in defence of homosexual love and its depiction in the ghazal remains a classic, where he defiantly describes the depiction of homosexuality in poetry across time and cultures in the works of Sappho and Socrates, Saadi and Hafiz, Shakespeare and Whitman.1 His well-known ghazal on forbidden and furtive love begins thus: ‘Zara visaal ke baad aaina to dekh ai dost, / Tere Jamaal ki dosheezagi nazar aayi’ (‘Look in the mirror after our union, friend / How your beauty has acquired a virgin innocence’).
A fierce polemicist and a character who did not need
any assistance in blowing his own trumpet, Firaaq wrote:
‘Aane wali naslein tum par rashk karegi, hum-asro / Jab tum un se kahoge ye, hum ne Firaaq ko dekha thha’ (‘Future generations will envy you, my dear peers / When you say unto them, I had seen Firaaq’). Firaaq was also a member of the Progressive Writers’ Association, a spirited anti-colonialist, and enjoyed the confidence of Nehru and other early Congress functionaries.
His works appear in a number of anthologies, most published in the 1940s (the best known are Shola-e Saaz [The Fire of
Rhythm], 1945, and Shabnamistan [Land of Dew], 1947). His essays were compiled in a book titled Andaze (Hunches). Firaaq won the Jnanpith Award (India’s highest literary honour) in 1969, and remained the only Urdu poet Jnanpith awardee until Ali Sardar Jafri won it in 1997. Newcomers may have first encountered Firaaq’s poetry through Jagjit Singh and Chitra Singh’s rendition of ‘Bahut pehle se un qadmon ki aahat jaan lete hain’ (We recognize those footsteps from a long way off), which they sang in the 1976 album Unforgettables.
I have chosen to translate just one of Firaaq’s ghazals that, I feel, conjures a vivid sense of this remarkable poet.
Shaam-e gham
Shaam-e gham kuchh us nigaah-e naaz ki baaten karo
Bekhudi badhti chali hai, raaz ki baaten karo
Nikhat-e zulf-e pareshaan, daastaan-e shaam-e gham
Subah hone tak isi andaz ki baaten karo
Ye sukoot-e yaas, ye dil ki ragon ka tootna
Khamoshi mein kuchh shikast-e saaz ki baaten karo
Kuchh qafas ki teeliyon se chhan rahaa hai noor sa
Kuchh fazaa kuchh hasrat-e parvaaz ki baatein karo
Jis ki furqat ne palat di ishq ki kaaya, Firaaq
Aaj usi Eesaa-nafas dum-saaz ki baaten karo
Sad evening
On this sad evening let us talk of the beloved’s gaze
Let us talk of secret things for my passion is ablaze
The beauty of those tossed curls and the tale of this sad night
Till morning dawns, let us talk in such melancholic ways
In the silence of yearning, as hearts shatter, let us speak
How does it break, the instrument that such melodies plays?
From the bars of my prison, I feel a faint hint of light
Of my desire to spread my wings, let’s talk about that phase
The one who has transformed the nature of my love, Firaaq
Let’s talk of that Jesus-like lover who lights up my days.
Josh Malihabadi
Shabbir Hasan Khan ‘Josh’ Malihabadi (1898–1982) was the patron saint of the progressives, who conferred upon him the fond honorific Shaayar-e Inquilab—The Poet of the Revolution. He was a freedom-fighter, was close friends with Nehru, and was awarded the Padma Bhushan in 1952. He migrated to Pakistan in 1958, ostensibly to serve Urdu (and to escape the complications that arose from some extramarital affairs with the spouses of powerful people, if his wild autobiography is to be believed), but was generally shunned by the Establishment for his leftist views. He continued to write prolifically; he published seven poetry collections, the most popular being Shola-o-Shabnam (Flame and Dew). Josh was also a skilful exponent of the marsiya: the website http://urdushahkar.org contains five marsiyas of Josh, duly translated, transliterated, annotated and declaimed by S.M. Shahed.