The Taste of Words: An Introduction to Urdu Poetry (11 page)

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 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; 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

His
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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.

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.
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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 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

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.

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.

In his autobiography
Yaadon ki Baraat
(The Procession of Memories—itself a marvel of embellished anecdote), Josh describes a moment in 1939 when he heard a speech on radio delivered by the British governor of Lucknow, which urged Indians to join the Allied effort against the Axis, for that was the only way ‘to save humanity from that barbarian, Hitler.’ An incensed Josh claims that he wrote a poem (translated below), titled ‘
East India Company ke Farzandon se Kalaam
’ (‘Address to the Heirs of the East India Company’) in fifteen minutes. He had to suffer the consequences of his action, but escaped jail because the freedom movement was in full swing and had already stretched the incarcerating capacity of the British rulers. Josh was instead placed under house arrest.

Kis zuban se keh rahe ho aaj ai saudagaro

‘Dahr mein insaniyat ke naam ko ooncha karo

Jis ko sab kahte hain Hitler, bhedia hai bhedia

Bhediye ko mar do goli pa-ye amn-o-baqa

Baghe insani mein chalne hi ko hai baad-e khizan

Aadmiyat le rahi hai hichkiyon pe hichkiyan

Hath Hitlar ka hai rakhsh-e khudsari ki bag par

Tegh ka pani chidak do Germany ki aag par.’

Sakht hairan hoon ke mehfil mein tumhari aur ye zikr

Nau-e insani ke mustaqbil ki ab karte ho fikr!

Jab yahan aaye thhe tum saudagari ke vaaste

Nau-e insani ke mustaqbil se kiya vaqif na thhe?

Hindiyon ke jism mein, kya rooh-e aazadi na thhi?

Sach batao, kya voh insanon ki aabadi na thhi?

Apne zulm-e be-nehayat ka fasaana yaad hai?

Company ka bhi voh daur-e mujrimana yaad hai?

Loot-te phirte thhe tum, jab karvan dar karvan

Sar-barhana phir rahi thhi daulat-e Hindustan

Dast-karon ke angoothey kaat-te phirte thhe tum!

Sard lashon se gadhon ko paat-te phirte thhe tum!

Sanat-e Hindustan par, maut thhi chhayi hui

Maut bhi kaisi? Tumhare haath ki layi hui!

Allah Allah, kis qadar insaaf ke talib ho aaj

Mir Jafar ki qasam, kya dushman-e haq thha Siraj?

Voh Avadh ki begamon ka bhi satana yaad hai?

Yaad hai, Jhansi ki rani ka zamaana yaad hai?

Hijrat-e sultan-e Dilli ka samaa bhi yaad hai?

Sher-dil Tipu ki khooni dastaan bhi yaad hai?

Teesre faaqe mein ek girte hue ko thaam-ne

Kin ke sar laaye thhe tum Shah-Zafar ke saamne?

Yaad to hogi voh Mityaburj ki bhi dastan?

Ab bhi jis ki khaak se reh-reh ke uthta hai dhuan

Tum ne Qaisar Bagh ko dekha to hoga bar-ha?

Aaj bhi aati hai jis se ‘Haay Akhtar’ ki sada

Such kaho kya hafize mein hai voh zulm-e be-panah

Aaj tak Rangoon mein ek qabr jis ki hai gavah

Zehn mein hoga yeh taaza Hindiyon ka Dagh bhi

Yaad to hoga tumhe Jalianwala Bagh bhi?

Poochh lo us se tumhara naam kyon ta-banda hai

Dyer-e garg-e dahan aalood ab bhi zinda hai

Voh Bhagat Singh, ab bhi jis ke gham mein dil nashaad hai

Us ki gardan mein jo dala tha voh phanda yaad ha?

Hind ki rahbar rahaa karte thhe kis sanjaar se

Poochh lo ye qaidkhanon ke dar-o-deevar se

Ab bhi hai mahfooz jis me tantana sarkar ka

Aaj bhi goonji hui hai jin mein kodon ki sada

Aaj kashti, khulq ke amwaj par khetey ho kyun?

Sakht hairan hoon ke ab tum dars-e haq dete ho kyun

Ahl-e quvvat daam-e haq mein to kabhi aate nahin

Aadmiyat ko kabhi khatir hi mein latay nahin?

Lekin aaj akhlaq ki talqeen farmate ho tum

Ho na ho apne mein ab quvvat nahin pate ho tum

‘Ahl-e haq roshan-nazar hain, ahl-e batil kor hain’

Yeh to hain aqwaal un qaumon ke jo kamzor hain

Aaj shayad, manzil-e quvvat me tum rahte nahin

‘Jis ki lathi us ki bhains’ ab kis liye kahte nahin?

Der se baithey ho, nakhl-e rasti ki chaoun mein

Kiya, khuda-na-kardah, kuchh moch aa gayee hai paon mein?

Goonj tapon ki na aabadi, na veerane mein hai

Khair to hai? Asp-e taazi kya shifakhane me hai?

Aaj kal to har nazar mein, rahm ka andaz hai

Kuchh tabiyat kya naseeb-e dushmanan naa-saaz hai?

Sans kiya ukhdi, ke haq ke naam par marne lagey!

Nau-e insan ki hawa khawahi ka dam bharne lagey!

Zulm bhoole, ragini insaf ki gane lagey

Lag gayi hai aag kya ghar mein ke chillane lagey?

Mujrimon ke vaaste zeba nahin yeh shor-o-shain

Kal Yazid-o-Shimr thhe, aur aaj bante ho Husain

Khair, ai saudagaro, ab hai to bus is baat mein

Waqt ke farmaan ke aage jhuka do gardanen

Ek kahani waqt likhega naye mazmoon ki

Jis ki surkhi ko zaroorat hai tumhare khoon ki

Waqt ka farmaan apna rukh badal sakta nahin

Maut tal sakti hai ye farmaan tal sakta nahin.

With what tongues can you say this, dear traders?

‘Do your bit to exalt the name of humanity in this world

The one they call Hitler is a wolf, no more than a wolf

Let us shoot the wolf in the name of peace and sanity

The garden of humanity is now beset by autumn

Humanity languishes in thirst and yearning while

Hitler’s hand grasps the mane of the steed

Throw the water of the sword on Germany’s fire.’

Amazed am I at such talk in your gathering

Now you think of the future of humanity

When you came here as shopkeepers, to ply your trade

Were you not aware of the future of humanity then?

Did the Indians not harbour the soul of freedom in their bodies?

Speak the truth—was it not a congregation of humans?

Do you even remember the story of your unparalleled tyranny

And of the [East India] Company’s reign of terror

When you went about looting caravan after caravan

And the wealth of India scurried about bareheaded?

You used to go about cutting off the hands of weavers

And filling holes in the ground with cold corpses

The industry of India had death all over it

And what a death? One brought about by you!

Allah Allah! Now you seek justice?

Tell us in the name of Mir Jafar, was Siraj
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an enemy of truth?

Remember you, harassing the ladies of Avadh?

Do you remember that Rani of Jhansi?

Can you recall the migration of the King of Delhi

And the bloody history of the lionhearted Tipu?

And to help the person tottering on his third day of fasting

Whose heads did you place in front of King Zafar?
2

Do you remember the story of Metiaburj
3

Even now its dust is redolent with smoke

You must have seen Qaiser Bagh many a time

Where, even now, a dirge to Akhtar echoes

Tell me, does your memory encompass that tyranny

Of which a grave in Rangoon bears witness?

Recall you, that still raw wound in Indian hearts

This is called Jalianwala Bagh, remember?

Ask it why you are so well remembered here

For Dyer, the bloody fanged, is still alive
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That Bhagat Singh, in whose memory the heart is still unhappy

The noose you put around his neck, do you not remember that?

The leaders of India lived in such penury

Ask that of the doors and walls of your dungeons

Where, even now, your governance is remembered

And the sound of the whip still echoes.

Now suddenly, your boat is being docked on the banks of civility

To my amazement, you have begun to preach about truth

The folks in power hardly ever speak of who is right

And bringing humanity into the conversation is not your style

Yet, now you counsel us to be forgiving

Sure enough, you must have lost your strength

‘Those who are on the right are wise, and those who are ignorant are cruel’

This is usually the talk of the defeated!

Perhaps you are no longer in a powerful position

Hence you do not chant, ‘He who owns the stick owns the cow.’

For a while now, you have been sitting in the shade of a different path

Are you okay sir, or is your foot a bit sprained?

There is no sound of hooves here, nor in the wilderness

Is your fleet steed ill, at the hospital; is all well?

Nowadays, every gaze of yours is full of tenderness

Sure all is well, or is the fortune of mine enemy a bit troubled?

Your breath seems laboured, and so you have turned moral

And speak of sojourns into the strange path of humanity

Now you feel tyranny, so you speak of justice

Why do you scream so, is your house on fire today?

It does not behove criminals to be indignant

Till yesterday, you were Yazid and Shimr, and today, you want to be Husain
5
?

Anyway, shopkeepers, this is what needs to be done:

That you bow down before the verdict of destiny

Time will write a new story, with a new title

And this story needs to be reddened with your blood.

The verdict of time cannot be made to change course

Death may wait, but this verdict awaits no one.