Hazaron Khawaishen Aisi

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by Anisur Rahman


  Ai qaatilon ke shahr bus itni hi ‘arz hai

  Main hoon na qatl koee tamaasha kiye baghair

  Murshid ke jhoot ki to sazaa behisaab hai

  Tum chhodiyo na shahr ko sehra kiye baghair

  Un aanganon mein kitna sukoon-o suroor tha

  Aaraaish-e nazar teri parwa kiye baghair

  Girya kunan ki fard mein apna naheen hai naam

  Hum girya kun azal ke hain girya kiye baghair

  Aakhir hain kaun log jo bakhshe hi jaaenge

  Taareekh ke haraam se tauba kiye baghair

  1

  I live on, but without ever making a plea

  Without her, without even a desire for her

  The rubbish became its veil of pride, my dear

  Even the wall didn’t fall, without drawing a veil

  Friends, she that is my messiah of love and life

  I dearly love her, without her giving me a cure

  I lie next to her on the grand couch of thoughts

  To the eternal dawn, without making a claim

  What all I have is her’s, only her’s, but I

  I want but only her, without a bargain

  This life! This life calls for a meaning indeed

  I’ll make a promise, without meeting any

  O city of assassins! Let me only urge

  Let me not be killed, without me doing some fun

  The penance for this guide’s lies is infinite indeed

  Don’t you leave the town, without turning it to wild

  How cool and blissful were those inner courtyards

  O ornamented glance, without a care for you

  My name does not figure in the list of mourners

  I’m a timeless mourner, without ever mourning

  Who are those after all to be granted forgiveness

  Without a penitence for sinning against history

  2

  Jaao qaraar-e be dilaan shaam bakhair shab bakhair

  Sehn hua dhuaan dhuaan shaam bakhair shab bakhair

  Sham-e wisaal hai qareeb subh-e kamaal hai qareeb

  Phir na rahenge sargaraan shaam bakhair shab bakhair

  Wajd karegi zindagi jism-ba-jism jaan-ba-jaan

  Jism-ba-jism jaan-ba-jaan shaam bakhair shab bakhair

  Ai mere shauq ki umang mere shabaab ki tarang

  Tujh pe shafaq ka saaibaan shaam bakhair shab bakhair

  Tu meri shaairi main hai rang taraaz gulfishaan

  Teri bahaar be-khazaan shaam bakhair shab bakhair

  Tera khayal khwab khawb khalwat-e jaan ki aab-o taab

  Jism jameel-o naujawaan shaam bakhair shab bakhair

  Hai mera naam arjumand tera hisaar sarbaland

  Banu-i shahr-e jism-o jaan shaam bakhair shab bakhair

  Deed se jaan-e deed tak dil se rukh-e umeed tak

  Koee naheen hai darmiyaan shaam bakhair shab bakhair

  Ho gaee dair jao tum mujh ko gale lagao tum

  Tu meri jaan hai meri jaan shaam bakhair shab bakhair

  Sham bakhair shab bakhair mauj-e shamim-e pairhan

  Teri mehak rahegi yaan shaam bakhair shab bakhair

  2

  Go away, patience of the heartless one; good evening, good night

  The yard is wrapped in smoke all about; good evening, good night

  The dusk of union is here; the dawn of perfection nearby

  No longer would the smoke hang heavy; good evening, good night

  Life will dance an euphoric dance, body by body, breath by breath

  Body by body and breath by breath; good evening, good night

  You, the zeal and zest of life; you, the cadence of my youth

  May you rest in twilight’s tent; good evening, good night

  You enliven my poetry, colour-spread, petal-blown

  Your spring without an autumn; good evening, good night

  Your thoughts, a fair of dazzling dreams, a shine of union

  Body-beautiful, body-blazing; good evening, good night

  My stature so exalted, your fences so head-high

  Lady of soul’s and body’s city; good evening, good night

  From eye to pupil of eye, from heart to brink of hope

  There is none in-between; good evening, good night

  It is late; you must leave now, come close, embrace awhile

  You are my love—my life—my love; good evening, good night

  Swing of her garment’s aroma; good evening, good night

  Your whiff will stay all alive; good evening, good night

  40

  Ahmad Faraz

  Ahmad Faraz (1931–2008) is the nom de plume of Syed Ahmad Shah, who was born at Kohat in Pakistan. He moved to Peshawar and acquired his master’s degrees in Urdu and Persian literatures. He later joined Peshawar University as a faculty member. In the subsequent years, Faraz worked as a radio producer. Along with his professional engagements, he also wrote poems with political leanings, which landed him in trouble during the regime of General Zia-ul-Haq. He spent some years in countries outside Pakistan and his reputation as an extremely popular poet travelled far beyond and reached new spaces. On his return home, he was appointed as the director general of Lok Virsa, the chairman of Pakistan Academy of Letters and also of National Book Foundation. Faraz earned three prestigious awards—Hilaal-e Imtiaaz, Sitaar-i Imtiaaz and finally, Hilaal-e Pakistan from the government of Pakistan.

  Faraz is generally classed as a poet of romance, love and finer human passions, who expressed himself in soft, lyrical and dialogic modes. However, his poetry of protest is no less significant. His poetry has been widely translated and put to music. A prolific poet, he has left behind fourteen collections of his poetry: Tanhaa Tanhaa, Dard Aashob, Naayaaft, Khwaab-e Gul Pareshaan Hai, Bodlak, Shab Khoon, Mere Khwaab Reza Reza, Naabeena Shahr Mein Aaeena, Pus Andaaz Mausam, Jaanaan Jaanaan, Be-Awaaz Gali Kuchon Mein, Sab Aawaazein Meri Hain, Ghazal Bahaana Karoon and Ay Ishq Junoon Pesha. His major works were collected in Shahr-e Sukhan Aaraastaa Hai.

  1

  Jis samt bhi dekhoon nazar aata hai ke tum ho

  Ai jaan-e jahaan ye koee tum sa hai ke tum ho

  Ye khwaab hai khushboo hai ke jhonkaa hai ke pal hai

  Ye dhund hai baadal hai ke saaya hai ke tum ho

  Is deed ki saa’at mein kaee rang hain larzaan

  Main hoon ke koee aur hai dunya hai ke tum ho

  Dekho ye kisee aur ki aankhein hain ke meri

  Dekhoon ye kisee aur ka chehra hai ke tum ho

  Ye ‘umr-e gurezaan kaheen thhehre to ye janoon

  Har saans mein mujh ko yehi lagta hai ke tum ho

  Har bazm mein mauzoo-e sukhan dil zadagaan ka

  Ab kaun hai, Shireen hai ke Laila hai ke tum ho

  Ek dard ka phaila hua sehra hai ke main hoon

  Is mauj main aayaa hua darya hai ke tum ho

  Vo waqt na aai ke dil-e zaar bhi soche

  Is shahr mein tanha koi hum saa hai ke tum ho

  Aabaad hum aashuftaa saron se naheen maqtal

  Ye rasm abhi shahr mein zinda hai ke tum ho

  Ai jan-e Faraz itni bhi taufeeq kise thee

  Hum ko gham-e hasti bhi gawaara hai ke tum ho

  1

  Wherever I look, I see only you

  Love! Is that one like you, or only you

  A dream, a fragrance, a whiff of air, a moment

  Some mist, or cloud, or reflection, or only you

  Many a shade shivers in a moment of your glimpse

  Me, or someone else; this very world, or only you

  See if they are someone else’s eyes, or only mine

  See if this is someone else’s face, or only you

  May this voyage of life stop; may I then surmise—

  Every passing breath whispers: this is only you

  In each assembly, the only words lovers repeat:

  Is that Shireen, is that Laila, or only you?

  Is that the wilderness of pain, or is that me?

  A river in the course of surge, or only you

  May
not the time come for my poor heart to ponder

  Is that lonesome one, one like me, or only you

  The altar isn’t aglow with the wild ones like us

  What remains alive—this custom, or only you

  Dear Faraz! None has the courage to bear but I

  Bear all the pains of life for none, but only you

  2

  Is daur-e be-junoon ki kahaani koee likho

  Jimson ko barf khoon ko paani koee likho

  Koee kaho ke haath qalam kis tarah hue

  Kyun ruk gaee qalam ki rawaani koee likho

  Kyun ahl-e shauq sar-o garebaan hain dosto

  Kyun khoon ba dil hai ahd-e jawaani koee likho

  Kyun surma dar gulu hai har ek taair-e sukhan

  Kyun gulsitaan qafas ka hai saani koee likho

  Haan taazaa sanehon ka kare kaun intezaar

  Haan dil ki waardaat puraani koee likho

  2

  The tale of the tamed times, let someone write

  Body—ice, blood—water, let someone write

  How were those hands chopped off, let someone say!

  Why did the flowing pen stop, let someone write!

  Why have the company keepers drawn apart now?

  Why is the youth blood-smeared, let someone write!

  Why is every bird sad and silent now?

  Why is the garden like a cage, let someone write!

  So, why should one wait for a fresh blow yet?

  Just an old tale of heart, let someone write

  41

  Bani

  Bani (1932–1981) was born Rajinder Manchada in Multan, but as the 1947 Partition pushed families across borders, young Bani too had to migrate and find a home in Delhi. He completed his education with a master’s degree in economics. He spent all his life teaching in a school in Delhi and pursuing the vocation of poetry passionately. He lived a life of disease and suffering, but showed unique perseverance to sustain all odds. He took care of his ill health to sustain his job for a living and pursue his vocation as a poet.

  Bani broke fresh ground in writing his ghazals which had already been liberated from the romantic notions of love, life, and the stereotypes of art. He evolved a diction that was wholly new in its exploitation of the common speech. His metaphors were drawn from the world and the nature around, which he approached with complete clinical detachment. Two of his collections, Harf-e M’utabar and Hisaab-e Rang, were published during his lifetime, while the third one, Shafaq Shajar, was published posthumously. Bani also wrote prose and his works showed his fresh and critical perspective on some of his contemporary Urdu writers.

  1

  Hari sunehri khaak udaane waala main

  Shafaq shajar tasweer banaane waala main

  Khala ke saare rang sametne waali shaam

  Shab ki mizha pe khwaab sajaane waala main

  Fiza ka pehla phool khilaane waali sub’ha

  Hawa ke sur mein geet milaane waala main

  Baahar bheeter fasl ugaane waala too

  Tere khazaane sadaa lutaane waala main

  Chhaton pe baarish, door pahaadi, halki dhoop

  Bheegne waalaa, pankh sukhaane waala main

  Chaar dishaaein jab aapas mein ghul mil jaaein

  Sannate ko dua banaane waala main

  Ghane banon mein shankh bajaane waalaa too

  Teri taraf ghar chhod ke aane waala main

  1

  Who blows the green and golden dust—none else but me

  Who paints the glowing skies and boughs—none else but me

  Who gathers the hues of the horizon—none else but dusk

  Who decks the night’s eyelashes with dreams—none else but me

  Who helps the first blossoms to life—none else but the dawn

  Who sings a song to the wind’s tune—none else but me

  Who fills the entire flora with life—none else but you

  Who squanders all your treasures—none else but me

  Rains on terrace, hills far off, and the sun so mild

  Who soaks in rain, who dries up feathers—none else but me

  When the four directions meet, when they merge in one

  Who turns the frozen hush to prayer—none else but me

  Who blows the conch shell in deep jungles—none else but you

  Who leaves the abode and comes to you—none else but me

  2

  Ali bin Muttaqi roya

  Wahi chup tha wahi roya

  Ajeeb ashob irfaan mein

  Fizaa gum thee ke ji roya

  Yaqeen mismaar mausam ka

  Khandar khud hi tahi roya

  Azaan zeena utar aayi

  Sukoot-e baatini roya

  Khalaa har zaat ke undar

  Sunaa jis ne wahi roya

  Sehar dum kaun rotaa hai

  Ali bin Muttaqi roya

  2

  Ali bin Muttaqi wept

  Only he was silent, he wept

  In painful dawn of wisdom

  Climes were aghast, the heart wept

  So, faith-broken, weather-worn

  For their losses, the ruins wept

  Prayers’ call came downstairs

  Then the inner silence wept

  A void inside every being

  Whoever heard only wept

  Who weeps at the dawn’s break but

  Ali bin Muttaqi wept

  42

  Zafar Iqbal

  Zafar Iqbal (1932–) was born in Bahawalnagar, Pakistan. He was a lawyer by profession but also served in between as the director general of the Urdu Science Board, Lahore. He emerged as one of the most prominent and unusual voices of the Urdu ghazal although his contribution has also been debated upon sometimes.

  Iqbal dislodged the old values of poetry with a bang. One can say that his poetry emerged as an ultra-modernist variation on modernism that took time to be accepted as yet another way of writing. His innovations lay especially in the domain of diction. He developed a new poetic syntax at a time when poetry in Urdu had started making bold experiments with form and language. His experimentations went through phases of extremity and moderation, as he tried to test the limits of language and diction to contain the pressures of experiences that were more mundane than sublime and more rebellious than prescriptive. Iqbal’s first three collections, Aab-e Rawaan, Gulaaftab and Ratb-o Yaabis, earned him a reputation that strengthened further with the subsequent works. A prolific poet, he continued with his vocation, doing and undoing his poetic practices, and always exploring where his language and his material for poetry lay hidden. His works like Ratb-o Yaabis, Ghubaar Aalood Samton ka Safar, Aib-o Hunar, Atraaf and Wahm-o Gumaan bear testimony to the fertility of his imagination and creative talent. His poetry has been collected in four volumes under the title Ab Tak.

  1

  Chalo itnee to aasaani rahegi

  Milenge aur pareshaani rahegi

  Isee se raunaq-e daryaa-i dil hai

  Yehi ek lehar toofaani rahegi

  Kabhi ye shauq naamaanoos hoga

  Kabhi wo shakl anjaani rahegi

  Nikal jaaegi soorat aaeene se

  Hamaare ghar mein hairaani rahegi

  Subuk sar ho ke jeena hai koee din

  Abhi kuchh din giraan jaani rahegi

  Sunoge lafz mein bhi phadphdaahat

  Lahoo mein bhi pur afshaani rahegi

  Hamaari garm guftaari ke baawasf

  Hawaa itni hi barfaani rahegi

  Abhi dil ki siyaahi zor per hai

  Abhi chehre pe taabaani rahegi

  Zafar main shahr mein aa to gayaa hoon

  Meri khaslat bayaabaani rahegi

  1

  Well, this much would be welcome

  We shall meet though remain glum

  This stream would forever flow

  Will keep the heart’s brook in glow

  At times, a craving unknown

  At times, that face will bemoan

  The mirror will have no face to show

  In this house wonders will grow


  Life in disgrace, a while more

  That is what lies in store

  Even in words, a flutter

  Blood’s gurgle would then utter

  In spite of heated words twice

  Winds will blow as cold as ice

  Heart’s gloom grows more gloom still

  Faces don’t show any chill

  I’ve come to city, Zafar, though

  My wild nature will remain so

  2

  Khaamshi achhee naheen inkaar honaa chaahiye

  Ye tamaasha ab sar-e baazaar honaa chaahiye

  Khwaab ki tabeer per israar hai jin ko abhee

  Pehle un ko khwab se bedaar honaa chaahiye

  Doob kar marna bhi asloob-e mohabbat ho to ho

  Wo jo darya hai to usko paar honaa chaahiye

  Ab wahi karne lage deedaar se aage ki baat

  Jo kabhi kehte the bus deedaar honaa chaahiye

  Dosti ke naam per keeje na kyunkar dushmani

  Kuchh na kuchh aakhir tareeq-e kaar honaa chaahiye

  Jhoot bola tha to qayam hi raho us per Zafar

  Aadmi ko sahib-e kirdaar hona honaa chaahiye

  2

  Silence is no good, let there be a negation

  Let this show be shown in an open location

  If you insist to interpret the dreams’ numbers

  You should first get out of your own slumbers

  Dying drowned may be a lover’s cherished dream

  If a river, he should cross over the stream

  They once said that love’s glance would make the day

  They now ask for so much more than they may

  Why not be a foe in the garb of a friend?

  Let there be a way to make an amend

  If you spoke a lie, Zafar, stick to your lie

  Men would do well, if they could only try

  43

  Ahmad Mushtaq

  Ahmad Mushtaq (1933–) was born in Amritsar, India. He received his early education at home before joining school. Soon after he passed his ninth-standard examination, communal riots broke out. A month after the Partition, he migrated to Lahore from where he passed his matriculation examination. He developed a keen association with some of the poets and writers, during his visits to Pakistan Tea House, who later emerged as serious poets and men of letters in Pakistan. Mushtaq migrated to the United States of America at the age of fifty-one. He worked for the Chartered Bank until his retirement, and has continued living there since then.

  Mushtaq’s poetry is a silent escape from traditional poetics. He drew upon commonplace images and feelings and described them in an idiom characteristically ordinary and commonplace. He looked at images and objects as they appeared, but added an element of surprise to them. His air, earth, water and sky, towns, houses, lanes and places, are all real, and he responds to them quite naturally. He makes no deliberate comments; he only narrates a common condition but shocks the reader with his strikingly different perception. His first two collections were entitled Majmua and Gard-e Mehtaab. His collected poems were published in Pakistan as Kulliyaat-e Ahmad Mushtaq after his migration to the US. These, along with his later works, were put into one volume and published in India titled Kulliyaat. Mushtaq has also edited a volume on Nasir Kazmi called Hijr ki Raat Ka Sitaara.

 

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