Khunkhwaar darindon ke faqat naam alag hain
Har shahr bayabaan yahaan bhi hai wahaan bhi
Naaron ka sukoon, waadon ke ghar, khwaabon ki khushiyaan
Baazaar mein saaman yahaan bhi hai wahaan bhi
Ut’thha hai dil-o jaan se dhuaan dono hi jaanib
Ye Mir ka divaan yahaan bhi hai wahaan bhi
1
There is a beast in man—both here and there
While God is so very kind—both here and there
Only the names of bloody beasts differ
All the towns are wild—both here and there
Slogans, promises and happy dreams
All these—market wares—both here and there
Smoke from heart and body on both sides
But Mir’s muse is alive—both here and there
2
Brindaaban ke Krishna Kanhaiyyaa Allahu
Bansi, Radha, Geeta, gaiyya Allahu
Thode tinke, thode daane, thoda jal
Aik hi jaisi har gaurayya Allahu
Jaisa jis ka bartan waisa us ka mun
Ghat’ti badh’ti Ganga maiyyaa Allahu
Aik hi darya neela, peela, laal, haraa
Apni apni sab ki naiyya Allahu
Maulwiyon ka sajdaa, pandit ki pooja
Mazdooron ki hayya hayya Allahu
2
Vrindaban’s Krishna Kanhaiyya—Allahu
Cows, the flute, Geeta, Radha—Allahu
A few straws, a few grains, and some water
All the sparrows, all alike—Allahu
Just as the owner’s ware, so the owner’s heart
Falling, rising, Ganga Maiyya—Allahu
One stream—blue and yellow, red and green
A boat to each one of them—Allahu
Maulavi’s prostratings and pandit’s prayers
And the labourer’s haiyya haiyya—Allahu
52
Irfan Siddiqui
Irfan Siddiqui (1939–2004) was born in Badayun and educated in Bareilly, both towns in Uttar Pradesh. His talent was discovered and celebrated rather late in his literary career. Like Majeed Amjad, he preferred to live a private life and pursue his vocation as a poet and translator in silence and with complete dedication. Siddiqui worked for the Ministry of Information and Broadcasting and kept moving from place to place, and finally chose to settle down in Lucknow where he died, leaving behind a host of admirers, both in India and Pakistan.
Siddiqui can be described as a classicist in the modernist mode—his poetry is a classic site, where the metaphysical and the romantic blend together. Evidently one of the best poets of the contemporary ghazal to reconfigure Persian idiom into Urdu, he engaged with the dichotomies of the perishable-imperishable body and the imperishable-perishable soul. He constructed the dialectics of the physical and the non-physical, the elemental and the mundane, the self and the other—with the help of traditional symbols. He wove a mystical aura of ideas as he dwelt upon the mysteries of the elements, and perceived his material for writing in terms of spirit rather than matter. Siddiqui has left behind six collections—Canvas, Shab-e Darmiyaan, Saat Samaawaat, Ishq Naama, Hawaa-i Dasht-e Maria and Qissa Mukhtasar Karta Hoon. His complete works are collected in a volume called Shahr-e Malaal. Quite in keeping with his interest in things classical, he translated Kalidasa’s play, Malavikagnimitram, into Urdu, apart from publishing books on the theory of communication.
1
Haq fat’hayaab mere Khuda kyun naheen hua
Too ne kaha tha tera kaha kyun naheen hua
Jab hashr is zameen pe uthhaai gaye to phir
Barpa yaheen pe roz-e jaza kyun naheen hua
Wo shola saaz bhi usee basti ke log the
Un ki gali mein raqs-e hawa kyun naheen hua
Kya jazb-e ishq mujh se ziyaada tha ghair mein
Us ka habeeb us se juda kyun naheen hua
Karta raha main tere liye doston se jung
Too mere dushmanon se khafa kyun naheen hua
Jo kuchch hua kaise hua jaanta hoon main
Jo kuchh naheen hua wo bata kyun naheen hua
1
Why did the right not prevail, my God, why?
You made a promise, your promise failed, why?
Why was the doomsday enacted on this earth, why?
Why was the Day of Judgement not enacted, why?
Those fire mongers too had come from that village
Why did the wind not dance through their lanes, why?
Did he have the spirit of love more than me?
Why wasn’t he torn away from his love, why?
I kept on fighting with my friends only for you
Why did you not get angry with my foes, why?
Whatever happened there, I know how that happened
What didn’t happen, tell me why that didn’t happen, why?
2
Bhool jaaoge ke rahte the yahaan doosre log
Kal phir aabaad karenge ye makaan doosre log
Daf bajaati huee sehraaon se aayegi hawa
Aur phir honge yahaan raqs kunaan doosre log
Inheen maujon pe koee aur jalaaega chiragh
Nazar aainge sar-e aab-e rawaan doosre log
Jal bujhenge ke hum is raat ka indhan hi to hain
Khair, daikhenge naee roshniyaan doosre log
Hum ne ye kaar-e junoon kar to diya hai aaghaaz
Tod daalenge ye zanjeer-e garaan doosre log
Ye bhi gum karda zameenon ki zabaan bolte hain
Apne hi log hain ai hamsafaraan doosre log
Teer chalte rahenge, haath badalte rahenge
Hum giraaein to uthha lenge nishaan doosre log
2
You would soon forget this was the abode for some other people
Tomorrow this abode will home other beings, some other people
Winds from the wilderness will blow in, playing tambourines
Then this place will get a new herd of some other people
Some other people shall light new lamps on these waves
On the water’s face will shine bright some other people
We are the fuel of this night; we shall be put out one day
The new lights will then show up for some other people
We have made a move; we have already made a wild move
Some other day they will break the chains, some other people
They too speak the language of the lost earth and soil
They are only us though they look like some other people
Arrows will be shot, only the shooters shall be some others
With our fall, our flags will be held up by some other people
53
Kishwar Naheed
Kishwar Naheed (1940–), born in Bulandshahr, Uttar Pradesh, India, migrated to Lahore, Pakistan in 1949, in the wake of India’s Partition. Because of severe social constraints, she was compelled to receive her education at home to get a high school diploma through correspondence mode. She mustered her innate courage and studied further to acquire a master’s degree in economics from Punjab University, Lahore. She has led a very active life of social and political obligations, apart from attending to her literary commitments. A poet, prose writer, translator, columnist, activist and writer of children’s literature, she also held high positions in the government as the editor of the prestigious journal, Mah-e Nau, chairperson of the Urdu board, and a part of the Pakistan National Council of the Arts. She also founded Hawwa, an organization to aid women to become financially independent through their work in handicrafts and cottage industries.
In literary terms, Naheed may be described best as a fiercely feminist writer, who is concerned especially with impingement of human rights and the politics of citizenship in Pakistan as a newly formed nation state. Her work remains one of the finest examples that illustrate literature as a site of resistance. Through her various kinds of writings, she defined the value of literary text as a testament of courage and faith, which she composed without compromising its aesthetic prin
ciples. She is a prolific poet and eight of her poetry collections are put together in a volume titled Dasht-e Qais Mein Laila. While she continues to write her poems, her other works have contributed towards the formation of socio-cultural discourse in Pakistan. These books include Aurat Khwaab Aur Khaak Ke Darmiyaan, Buri Aurat Ki Katha, a biography of Leila Khalid, and the Urdu translation of Simon de Beauvoir’s The Second Sex.
1
Kuchch din to malaal us ka haq tha
Bichhda to khayaal us ka haq tha
Wo raat bhi din see taazaa rakhta
Shabnam ka jamaal us ka haq tha
Wo tarz-e bayaan mein chaandani tha
Taaron se wisaal us ka haq tha
Tha us ka kharaam mauj-e darya
Lehron ka jalaal us ka haq tha
Baarish ka badan tha us ka hansnaa
Ghunche ka khisaal us ka haq tha
Rakhta tha sambhaal sheesha-i jaan
Tajseem-e kamaal us ka haq tha
Baadal ke misaal us ki khoo thi
Taabeer-e halaal us ka haq tha
Ujlaa tha chambeliyon ke jaisa
Yusuf saa jamaal us ka haq tha
1
My living in grief for a while was only his due
In parting, a thought for him was only his due
He kept his nights as bright as the day but
The beauty of dewdrops was only his due
He was pure moonlight in his eloquence
A while with the stars was only his due
His walk was the majestic move of sea waves
The fury of waves too was only his due
His laughter was a spell of pleasant shower
And the blossom’s way was only his due
He treasured his glass-life with great care
Imagining its fineness was only his due
His nature was only like that of the clouds
The moon’s dream come alive was only his due
As white as the jasmine blossom was he
Beauty, like Yusuf’s, was only his due
2
Dil ko bhi ghum ka saleeqa na tha pehle pehle
Us ko bhi bhoolana achha laga pehle pehle
Dil tha shab zaad use kis se rifaaqat milti
Khwaab taabeer se chhupta raha pehle pehle
Pehle pehle wahi andaaz tha darya jaisa
Paas aa aa ke palat’ta raha pehle pehle
Aankh aaeenon ki hairat naheen jaati ab tak
Hijr ka ghao bhi us ne diya pehle pehle
Khel karne ko bahut the dil-e khwaahish deeda
Kyun hawa dekh jalaaya diya pehle pehle
Umr-e aaindaa ke khwaabon ne pyasa rakhha
Faasla paaon pakadta raha pehle pehle
Naakhun-e bekhabari zakhm banaata hi raha
Koo-e wahshat mein to rasta na tha pehle pehle
Ab to us shakhs ka paikar bhi gul-e khwaab naheen
Jo kabhi mujh mein hee mujh jaisa tha pehle pehle
2
My heart didn’t know how to grieve in the early days
He too didn’t mind forgetting me in the early days
My heart, a kindred soul of the night, kept the bond
But only the dreams kept shy in the early days
In the early days, it was like the surge of rivers
He came closer; he drew apart in the early days
My mirror-eyes stay amazed even till this day—
How he gave the pangs of parting in the early days
Many a sport for the pining heart to make merry!
Why in the winds I lit a lamp in the early days
My cherished dreams of tomorrow kept me crazy ever
But only the distance checked my feet in the early days
My frenzied nails kept scratching, making wounds
There was no other way in frenzied lanes in the early days
No longer is he the dream-image of a bright blossom
One who lived in me, just like me, in the early days
Ab wo pyasa hai to har boond bhi poochhe nisbat
Wo jo daryaaon pe hansta raha pehle pehle
Wo mulaaqaat ka mausam naheen aaya ab ke
Jo sar-e khwaab sanwarta raha pehle pehle
Ghum ka darya meri aankhon mein simat kar poochhe
Kaun ro ro ke bichhadata raha pehle pehle
Ab jo aankhein hueen sehra to khula har manzar
Dil bhi wahshat ko tarasta raha pehle pehle
Main thi deewar to ab kis ka hai saaya mujh per
Aisa sehra zada chehra na tha pehle pehle
He is thirsty now, now each drop asks him: who are you
He was the one who laughed at the waves in the early days
The season of union did not arrive, this time though
But he adorned himself as a dream in the early days
The river of sorrow flows down my eyes and asks
Who was he that wept at parting in the early days
Now, the eyes are all wilderness, now I can see
How this heart craved to go wild in the early days
I’ve been a wall ever; whose shadow falls on me today
I didn’t have such a bewildered face in the early days
54
Sultan Akhtar
Sultan Akhtar (1940–) was born Sultan Ahmed at his native place, Sahsaram, in Bihar, which is also associated with the Afghan emperor Sher Shah Suri. He received his religious education in a madrasa and earned the degree of Maulavi. Later, he went to school and college but left his graduation studies incomplete, as he went to work at the labour department in the industrial city of Jamshedpur, and then took up a position with the prison department of the government of Bihar. Since his superannuation, he has taken permanent residence in Phulwari Sharif, an ancient centre of Sufi saints and Sufi culture in Patna.
Akhtar came to be recognized for his individual worth as a ghazal writer when the literary magazine Funoon (from Lahore) published ten of his compositions in its special issue on the modern Urdu ghazal in 1969. This led to his acceptance in literary circles and subsequent publications of his ghazals in several journals of India and Pakistan in the 1960s. Akhtar earned his identity as a modernist poet without being swayed by the fashionable poetics of the day that considered allusiveness and obscurity as the essential virtues of modernism. Instead, he kept close to the Indo-Persian poetic roots, as he struck a balance between tradition and modernity. His poetry is refined in expression, intimate in tone, and potrays a sympathetic attitude towards life, which he expresses through the metaphors of belonging in a space marked by multiple socio-political crises. His ghazals are collected in Intesaab, Ghazalistan and Pas-e Izhaar-e Hunar. All these collections, along with his new ghazals, have now appeared in Sar-e Shaakh-e Talab.
1
Hum mutma’in hain us ki raza ke baghair bhi
Har kaam chal rahaa hai Khuda ke baghair bhi
Lipti huee hai jism se zanjeer-e maslehat
Be dast-o paa hain log saza ke baghair bhi
Ek kaarobaar-e shauq hi aisa hai jis me ab
Chalta hai kaam makr-o riya ke baghair bhi
Ek lamha apne aap ko yakjaa na kar sake
Hum muntashir hain sail-e bala ke baghair bhi
Ek chup si lag gaee thi mujhe us ke ru-baroo
Main sarnigoon khada tha khata ke baghair bhi
1
I’m so content even without my God’s nod
All goes well even without my God’s nod
Dubious moves enchain the body, all around
We have lost our limbs even without an assault
It’s only the play of passion where all goes well
Even without a trick, even without pretence
I couldn’t collect myself even for a moment
I’m so scattered even without a wild wave
I was all stunned, standing face-to-face with Him
I stood with a bowed head even without doing a wrong
2
Wahi besabab benishaan har taraf
Wahi naqsh-e
sad raaegaan har taraf
Wahi be iraada safar saamne
Wahi manzilon ka gumaan har taraf
Wahi aag raushan hue khoon mein
Wahi khwahishon ka dhuaan har taraf
Wahi sab ke sab dher hote hue
Wahi tez aandhi rawaan har taraf
Wahi beghari har taraf khemazan
Wahi dher sare makaan har taraf
Wahi waqt ki dhoop dhalti huee
Wahi roze-o shab ka ziyaan har taraf
Wahi jalti bujhti huee zindagi
Wahi koshish-e raaegaan har taraf
Wahi be zarar si zameen chaar soo
Wahi sang dil aasmaan har taraf
2
The same absurd signs showing all around
The same marks of woe growing all around
The same aimless journey staring in the face
The same illusion of goals growing all around
The same fire in the blood glowing all about
The same smoke of desire blowing all around
The same sight—people dropping dead in a row
The same storm in rage blowing all around
The same loss of a home growing all over
The same debris now showing all around
The same sun of time, receding all about
The same days and nights shadowing all around
The same life—bright or blinking all about
The same wasted effort showing all around
The same harmless earth spreading all about
The same unkind sky glowing all around
55
Iftikhar Arif
Iftikhar Arif (1943–), a prominent poet from Pakistan, was born Iftikhar Husain Arif in Lucknow. Before migrating to Pakistan in 1965, he received his education at Madrasa Nizamia in Lucknow and at Lucknow University. In Pakistan, he worked in senior positions at the external services of Pakistan Broadcasting Corporation, Pakistan Television Corporation, Pakistan Scholars and Writers Foundation, Pakistan Academy of Letters, National Language Authority and National Book Foundation. Currently, he is the director general of National Language Promotion Department. He also served as the executive incharge of Urdu Markaz, London and president of Economic Cooperation Organization in Tehran. Arif is a highly respected poet with sixteen awards from national and international bodies, the most prominent among them being Hilal-e Imtiaz, Sitara-i Imtiaz and Pride of Performance from the government of Pakistan.
Arif’s poetry constructs myriad conditions of hope and fear, the essence and prowess of divinity as he experienced it, and multiple tropes of migration, in a language close to intellectual ratiocination. His diction is empowered with ironic overtones which expresses a deep empathy for all those around him. His poetry harks back to the established Persian poetics and he revises them to help materialize his own view and vision of contemporary life as a continuum of times immemorial. Mehr-e Do Neem, Harf-e Baaryaab and Jahan-e Maloom are his collections of poems. His other works include Shahr-e ’Ilm Ke Darwaaze Per and Kitab-e Dil-o Dunya.
Hazaron Khawaishen Aisi Page 17