The Taste of Words: An Introduction to Urdu Poetry
Page 14
Place those sharp shards of dreams on your eyelashes, to enjoy
When I look at your wondrous hands, I do strongly believe
To light lamps in temples, they are destined to be employed
Considered one way, the discipline of the flesh is vital
Think differently, and the body’s merely a pleasure-toy
This lofty intellectual demeanour I affect, sir
Is but a vain attempt to forget someone—a mere ploy.
2Aakhri lamha
(Apni beti uneza ke naam)3
Tum meri zindagi mein aayi ho
Mera ek paaon jab rikaab mein hai
Dil ki dhadkan hai doobne ke qareeb
Saans har lahza pech-o-taab mein hai
Toot-te bekharosh taaron ki
Aakhri kapkai rabab mein ha
Koi manzil, na jaada-e manzil
Raasta gum kisi saraab mein hai
Tum ko chaaha kiya khayaalon mein
Tum ko paaya bhi jaise khwaab mein hai
Main sochta thha ke tum aaogi, tumhe paakar
Main is jahaan ke dukh-o-dard bhool jaaoonga
Gale mein daal ke baanhen jo jhool jaaogi
Main aasmaan ke tare bhi tod laaoonga
Tum ek bel ke manind badhti jaaogi
Na chhoo sakengi havaadis ki aandhiyan tum ko
Main apni jaan pe sau aafaten utha loonga
Chhupa ke rakkhoonga baahon ke darmiyan tum ko
Magar main aaj bahut door jaane vaala hoon
Bas aur chand nafas ko tumhare paas hoon main
Tumhe jo paa ke khushi hai, tum is khushi pe na jaao
Tumhe ye ilm nahin kis qadar udaas hoon main
Kya tum ko khabar is duniya ki, kya tum ko pataa is duniya ka
Masoom dilon ko dukh dena, ik sheva hai is duniya ka
Taareeq bataayegi tum ko insaan se kahaan par bhool hui
Sarmaaye ke haathon duniya ki kis tarah mohabbat dhool hui
Jeene ki hara tarah se tamanna haseen hai
Har shar ke bavajood ye duniya haseen hai
Dariya ki tund bhaad bhayaanak sahi magar
Toofan se khelta hua tinka haseen hai
Sehra ka har sukoot daraata rahe to kya
Jangal ko kaat-ta hua rasta haseen hai
Chaman se chand hi kaante main chun saka lekin
Badi hai baat jo tum rang-e gul nikhaar sako
Amal tumhara ye taufeeq de sake tum ko
Ke zindagi ka har ek qarz tum utaar sako
Raushni der se aankhon ki bujhi jaati hai
Theek se kuchh bhi dikhai nahin deta mujh ko
Ek chehra mere chehre pe jhuka jaata hai
Kaun hai ye bhi sujhayi nahin deta mujh ko
Sirf sannate ki awaaz chali aati hai
Aur to kuchh bhi sunaai nahin deta mujh ko
Ye meri nazm mera pyaar hai tumhaare liye
Ye sher tum ko meri rooh ka pata denge
Yehi tumhe mere azm-o-amal ki denge khabar
Yehi tumhe meri majbooriyan bataayenge
Kabhi jo gham ke andhere mein dagmagaaogi
Tumhari raah mein kitne diye jalaayenge
Aao is chaand se maathe ko zara choom to loon
Phir na hoga hamen ye pyaar naseeb aa jaao
Aaakhri lamha hai seene pe mere sar rakh do
Dil ki haalat hui jaati hai ajeeb aa jaao
Na aizza na akhibba na khuda hai na rasool
Koi is waqt nahin mere qareeb, aa jaao
Tum to qareeb aa jaao
The last moment
(For my daughter uneza)
You have come into my life now
When departing, I have one foot on the stirrup
When my heartbeat has begun to get faint
And every breath is a tortured effort
A final sound escapes, as if
From the frayed strings of a harp
Neither a destination, nor a pathway to one
My path is ghostly, like a mirage
I had desired you in my thoughts
And now have found you as if in a dream
I had thought that when you came, your presence
Would help me forget all the woes of this world
That when you swung in my joyous embrace
I would bring you back the stars from the sky
You would grow tall like a sturdy vine
The storms of circumstance would not reach you
A hundred calamities I would take upon myself
Keeping you safely nestled in my arms
But today, I am headed to a place far away
I am your companion for a few short moments
Do not go by the happiness I feel in your presence
You have no idea how sad I am
What do you know of this world, what do you reckon of this world?
To torture innocent hearts is a pastime of this world
History will show us where humanity lost its way
How love was ground to dust by the merciless hand of capital
Every will to live is beautiful
Despite all its flaws, the world is beautiful
The storm of a river in spate is scary, but
That stubborn floater in the maelstrom is beautiful
The stillness of the desert does terrify, so what?
The path that cuts through the forest is beautiful
I was able to remove very few thorns from the garden, but
It would be great if you could bring colour back to the roses
May your effort give you the wisdom
That you may repay every debt that you owe to life
The light in my eyes has begun to dim
I can no longer see anything with clarity
A face bends over mine
But whose is it? I can no longer tell
The only sound is the sound of silence
I can hear nothing else
This poem is an offering of my love
These verses will show you the way to my soul
It is they who will tell you of my struggle, my effort
It is they who will show you my constraints
When you will reel in the darkness of sorrows
It is they who will light so many lamps in your path
Come, that I may kiss that bright moonlike forehead
We may never be destined for such love, come
It is the final moment: rest your head on my chest
My heart has begun to experience strange feelings, come
No friends, no relatives, no God, no prophets
There is no one near me, come
At least you be close, come.
Majrooh Sultanpuri
Majrooh, likh rahe hain vo ahl-e vafaa ke naam
Hum bhi khade hue hain gunahgaar ki tarah
Majrooh, the names of the faithful they write
Like a sinner, I await my name, quiet
Asrar-ul Hassan Khan ‘Majrooh’ (1919–2000) was born in Sultanpur, and studied in relatively conventional settings, becoming a qualified Unani hakim, a career he gave up to become a full-time poet. His high-risk career choice was to pay rich dividends; he became arguably the most successful
poet of the progressive tradition after Sahir, writing extensively for movies.
Majrooh’s leftist leanings were evident from the start, as was his lyricality. He combined both by writing exquisite ghazals in praise of socialist nations (the maqta of one of his ghazals was: ‘Meri nigaah mein hai arz-e Moscow, Majrooh / Vo sarzameen ke sitaare jise salaam karen’; ‘My eyes are fixed on the horizon of Moscow, Majrooh / The land that is saluted even by the stars’). Despite his activism during the independence movement, Majrooh escaped incarceratio
n in the pre-1947 phase. Ironically, he was jailed in 1949 (along with fellow lefty film-wala Balraj Sahni and fellow PWA member Ali Sardar Jafri, among others) by the government of newly independent India, which reflected the troubling reality of how newly independent nations devoured their socialists after decolonization.
The ghazal I have translated below is a tongue-in-cheek look at how lovers and revolutionaries bragged about their misfortune to mark their superiority.1 To do justice to Majrooh’s phenomenal success as a lyricist (he is, after all, the only lyricist to have won the prestigious Dadasaheb Phalke Award), I also include a film song. His most popular songs were ‘Chahoonga main tujhe saanjh savere’ (from the 1946 Dosti), the execrable ‘Angrezi mein kehte hain ke I love you’ (from the 1982 film Khuddar) and ‘Papa kehte hain bada naam karega’ (from the 1988 film Qayamat se Qayamat Tak). I would, in good cricketing tradition, do a ‘well-left’ to all three. I have chosen the song ‘Ek din bik jaayega maati ke mol’ from the 1975 film Dharam Karam, especially since it truly showcases Majrooh’s lyrical ability, and simultaneously demonstrates how a song is different from a traditional poem.
1Tum se ziyaada
Hum ko junoon kya sikhlaate ho, hum thhe pareshan tum se ziyaada
Chaak kiye hain hum ne azeezo, chaar garebaan tum se ziyaada
Chaak-e jigar muhtaaj-e rafoo hai, aaj to daaman sirf lahoo hai
Ek mausam thha, hum ko raha hai shauq-e bahaaran tum se ziyaada
Ahd-e vafaa yaaron se nibhaayen, naaz-e hareefan hans ke uthaayen
Jab hamein armaan tum se siva thha, ab hai pashemaan tum se ziyaada
Jao tum apni baam ki khaatir saari laven sham’on ki katar lo
Zakhmon ke mehr-o-maah salaamat, jashn-e chiraaghan tum se ziyaada
Hum bhi hamesha qatl hue, aur tum ne bhi dekha door se, lekin
Ye na samajhna hum ko hua hai jaan ka nukhsan tum se ziyaada
Zanjeer-o-deevaar hi dekhi tum ne to, Majrooh, magar hum
Koocha koocha dekh rahe hain aalam-e zindaan tum se ziyaada
Way more than you
Do not teach me about passion, I’ve suffered hurt way more than you
I have torn in lost love, my friend, four more good shirts, way more than you
Wounded hearts demand repairing, my garment is red with my blood
Once there was a blighted autumn, when I sought spring way more than you
Faithful was I to well-wishers, and smilingly bore the betrayal of foes
More than you I was passionate; now I’m shamefaced way more than you
Hide behind your darkened secrets, cut the wicks off prying tapers
Yet, my wounds will light up the night: illumination way more than you
Though I was always killed in action, and you always watched from safety
Do not imagine that I suffered annihilation way more than you2
Walls and chains were all you knew, but know this, Majrooh, even then
Every street is like a prison: incarceration way more than you.
2Ek din bik jayega
Ek din bik jayega, maati ke mol
Jag mein reh jayenge pyare tere bol
Dooje ke honthon ko de kar apne geet
Koi nishani chhod, phir duniya se dol
Anhoni path mein kaante lakh bichhaaye
Honi to phir bhi bichhda yaar milaye
Ye birha, ye doori
Do pal ki majboori
Phir koi dilwala kahe ko ghabraye
Taram pam . . .
Dhara jo behti hai milke rehti hai
Behti dhara ban ja, phir duniya se dol
Ek din bik jayega, maati ke mol
Jag mein reh jayenge pyare tere bol
Parde ke peechhe baithi saanval gori
Thaam ke tere mere man ki dori
Ye dori na chhoote, ye bandhan na toote
Bhor hone wali hai ab raina hai thodi
Taram pam . . .
Sar ko jhukaye tu baitha kya hai yaar?
Gori se naina jod, phir duniya se dol
Ek din bik jayega, maati ke mol
Jag mein reh jayenge pyare tere bol
You will be sold one day
A day will come when you will be sold for the price of dust
Remember, all that will be left will be your poems, just
Donate your songs to strangers’ lips and they’ll keep you alive
Leave this eternal gift for them, and then move on you must.
Chance will strew a million thorns on your path till the end
While fortune will unite you with old forgotten friends
This autumn, this parting
A brief pain, a smarting
Why should the brave of heart be scared of fortune then?
Taram pum . . .
Watch when the river flows: many eddies, one thrust
Become the flowing stream, and then move on you must
A day will come when you will be sold for the price of dust
Remember, all that will be left will be your poems, just
Look, behind the curtain sits a brown beauty divine
She holds in her hands a string, controls your mind and mine
Let not that string break; let not that relationship fade
For it will soon be morning, and a harsh light will invade
Taram pum . . .
Don’t sit, bowing your head, my young friend robust
Lock eyes with that beauty, and then move on you must
A day will come when you will be sold for the price of dust
Remember, all that will be left will be your poems, just.
Kaifi Azmi
Hua hai hukm ke Kaifi ko sang-saar karo
Maseeh baithe hain chhup kar kahaan, khuda jaane
Stone Kaifi to death, the rulers cried
The Messiah? We do not know where he hides!
Born Syed Athar Hussain Rizvi (1919–2002), Kaifi Azmi was initially educated in Islamic seminaries, but eventually became a true adherent of Marxism, dedicating his life to the service of the Communist Party of India, and writing his most tortured work, Aavara Sajde (Vagabond Obeisances), when the CPI and CPM split in the 1960s. He is well known for his proclamation: ‘I was born in enslaved India, have lived in independent secular India, and God willing, I will die in socialist India.’ Alas, his last wish was not to come true; indeed, the year he died was especially difficult even for secular India, thanks to the Gujarat pogroms. Kaifi’s death became a moment when people took it upon themselves to rededicate themselves to the idea of secularism.
Kaifi won many awards in his life, but was proudest of his Soviet Land Nehru Award. The Urdu Academy conferred on him the Millennium Award in 2001, and he was awarded the Sahitya Akademi Fellowship in 2002. His presence is well represented on the web1, and translations2 of his work have been well received.
I have translated two poems below. The first, ‘Andeshe’ (‘Premonitions’) is a poignant description of an ending relationship, and was adapted by Chetan Anand in the 1964 film Haqeeqat, picturized on soldiers presumed dead in the Indo-China war imagining their spouses grieving them. In the second poem ‘Makaan’ (‘House’), Kaifi writes about construction workers and their role in the conquest of nature. In its unselfconscious modernism, the poem extols the power of labour in achieving mastery over nature (through the use of walls, and cables of electricity), and is reminiscent of a similar poem by Majaz on the train, also translated in this volume, albeit with a lot more anger on behalf of the dispossessed workers. To me, the poem depicts the ultimate potential failure of modernity from the point of view of the socialist: that it does not automatically ensure a just and egalitarian society. Modernity sometimes fails the very subjects who were promised freedom from the feudal system they had laboured under in earlier eras. Kaifi ends with a call for col
lective action, which is a trope he was to deploy consistently in his work.
1Andeshe
Rooh bechain hai, ek dil ki aziyyat kya hai
Dil hi shola hai to ye soz-e mohabbat kya hai
Vo mujhe bhool gayi iski shikaayat kya hai
Ranj to ye hai ke ro-ro ke bhulaayaa hoga
Jhuk gayi hogi javaan-saal umangon ki jabeen
Mit gayi hogi lalak, doob gaya hoga yaqeen
Chha gaya hoga dhuaan ghoom gayi hogi zameen
Apne pehle hi gharaonde ko jo dhaayaa hoga
Dil ne aise bhi kuchh afsaane sunaaye honge
Ashk aankhon ne piye aur na bahaaye honge
Band kamre mein jo khat mere jalaaye honge
Ek-ik harf jabeen par ubhar aaya hoga
Us ne ghabra ke nazar lakh bachayi hogi
Mit ke ik naqsh ne sau shakl dikhaayi hogi
Mez se jab meri tasveer hataayi hogi
Har taraf mujh ko tadapta hua paaya hoga
Bemahal chhed pe jazbaat ubal aaye honge
Gham pashemaan tabassum mein dhal aaye honge
Naam par mere jab aansoo nikal aaye honge
Sar na kaandhe se saheli ke uthaaya hoga
Zulf zid kar ke kisi ne jo banayi hogi
Roothe jalvon pe khizaan aur bhi chhayi hogi
Barq ashvon ne kayi din na girayi hogi
Rang chehre pe kayi roz na aaya hoga
Premonitions
The soul itself is upset; it’s not merely the heart’s pain
The heart is all afire, agony is a refrain
I’m not sad that she forgot me and scrubbed memory’s stain
But she did it with tears and hurt—that is what I regret.
Resigned, her young expectations must have bowed their forehead
Her certitude must have sunk to resignation with dread
A pall of smoke might have set in, the earth turned on its head
When her first dream-nest she was forced to destroy and forget.
The heart must have narrated to her such a complex tale
That she would have held back her tears composed and calm, but pale
But when she burned my letters in a closed room with a wail
Every word must have floated up and made her eyes more wet.