The Taste of Words: An Introduction to Urdu Poetry (10 page)

What can I say about Allama Iqbal (1877–1938) that has not been repeated a million times before? A beautiful website devoted to him is maintained by the Iqbal Academy Pakistan
1
, and he has his own YouTube channel as well. V.G. Kiernan’s 1955 book of translations of his poetry has been reissued.
2
A listing of books devoted to him would be far too immense a task to do justice to; indeed, a few bibliographies of books on Iqbal have been published as books in their own right.

But to scratch that formidable surface that is the persona of the ‘Poet of the East’, let us say that he had a doctorate in philosophy from the University of Heidelberg, that he wrote the most amazing poems in a language that was not his mother tongue, and that when he died in 1938, his funeral was attended by 70,000 people, which included colonialists and freedom fighters, the atheists of the PWA and the fundamentalists of the
Ahl-e Hadees
, Indian nationalists and Muslim Leaguers, reflecting his ability to defy categorization. I personally find Iqbal to be much more of a progressive; his engagement with Islam is critical and borderline heretical. His protagonist asserts selfhood against God in
Shikva
, his long musaddas, often mocking the creator. One of my brother’s favourite poems is Iqbal’s ‘
Gibreel aur Iblees
’ (Gabriel and Satan) where Lucifer (Iblees) mocks Gabriel for his blind faith, while proudly asserting that it is his disobedience to God that has imbued the story of creation with life.
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Here, I have translated two poems, the first as free verse and the second more rhythmically. The first is a ghazal, which was sung beautifully by Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan. The second, titled ‘
Farmaan-e Khuda Farishton se
’ (God’s Command to the Angels), is from Iqbal’s book
Baal-e Gibreel
(Gabriel’s Wing), and is a response by God to Lenin. The previous poem in that collection is called ‘
Lenin, Khuda ke Huzoor Mein
’ (Lenin in God’s Presence), where Lenin has complained to God about injustice. Such an imaginary dialogue is vintage Iqbal, in the vein of the aforementioned
Shikva
and ‘
Gibreel aur Iblees’
. Lenin holds his ground, accusing God of being ineffectual, while God is not upset at all with Lenin’s impertinence. Instead, in response to the diatribe, He calls upon His angels to effect a few changes in the organization of the world at large. Wouldn’t you have liked to be a fly on the wall during that exchange? Thanks to Iqbal, you were.

Kabhi ai haqeeqat-e muntazar, nazar aa libaas-e majaz mein

Ke hazaaron sajde tadap rahe hain meri jabeen-e niyaaz mein

Tu bachaa bachaa ke na rakh ise, teraa aaina hai vo aaina

Ke shikasta ho to azeez-tar, hai nigaah-e aaina-saaz mein

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, 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 beauty
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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?

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

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.

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’).
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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
.

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

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.’