The Taste of Words: An Introduction to Urdu Poetry (19 page)

Akhlaq Muhammad Khan Shahryar (1936–2012) is best known in the popular realm for his film songs in the 1981 movie
Umrao Jaan
, which in my opinion is a matter of repute, given their poetic quality. However, he must also be celebrated as an academic and a philosopher, who headed the Urdu Department at the Aligarh Muslim University and edited
Sher-o-Hikmat
(Poetry and Philosophy), a prestigious Urdu journal. He published several books of poetry, and is the only Urdu poet to have won both the Sahitya Akademi Award (1987) and the Jnanpith Award (2008). His death in February 2012 robbed Urdu literature of a classical talent, one whose deep philosophical insights never compromised the poetic quality of his nazms
.
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I have translated two of his poems here, both of which made their way into the film world. The first, ‘
Seene mein jalan
’, is a marvellous poetic rendition of urban anomie, and is featured in the 1978 movie
Gaman
. It was set to music beautifully by Jaidev and sung by Suresh Wadkar. The second ghazal was immortalized in
Umrao Jaan
, wonderfully rendered by Asha Bhonsle and aided by Khayyam’s music.

Seene mein jalan, aankhon mein toofan sa kyon hai

Is shahr mein har shakhs pareshaan sa kyon hai

Dil hai to dhadakne ka bahaana koi dhoonde

Patthar ki tarah behis-o-bejaan sa kyon hai

Tanhaai ki ye kaun si manzil hai rafeeqo

Taa hadd-e nazar ek bayaaban sa kyon hai

Hum ne to koi baat nikaali nahin gham ki

Vo zood pashemaan pashemaan sa kyon hai

Kya koi nayi baat nazar aati hai hum mein

Aaina hamen dekh ke hairaan sa kyon hai

Why is the heart aflame, why do eyes harbour a storm?

Why does everyone in this city appear forlorn?

If there be a heart, it should seek reasons to beat on

Why is it so lifeless and unfeeling like a stone?

What is this stage of empty solitude, my dear friend?

Why do my eyes see naught but a desert end to end?

I hadn’t brought up an issue melancholy or sad

Why does that quick repenter appear to feel bad?

My face reflects something strange, perhaps a hurt
that’s new?

For the mirror appears surprised at my visage too.

In aankhon ki masti ke mastaane hazaaron hain

In aankhon se vaabastaa afasaane hazaaron hain

Ek tum hi nahin tanhaa ulfat mein meri rusvaa

Is shahr mein tum jaise deevane hazaaron hain

Ek sirf hami mai ko aankhon se pilaate hain

Kehne ko to duniyaa mein maikhaane hazaaron hain

Is sham-e farozan ko aandhi se daraate ho

Is sham-e farozan ke parvaane hazaaron hain

These eyes have caught the fancy of dreamers’ dreams a thousand times

Yes, these eyes have been linked with stories and themes a thousand times

It is not you alone who has been destroyed by this lost love

My beauty has foiled many a lover’s schemes a thousand times

I am that unique cupbearer who serves wine by the eyeful

This unique tavern drives drinkers to extremes a thousand times

How dare you try and scare this flame with your talk of the tempest

This flame has won suicidal moths’ last esteems a thousand times.

Chand pe jaa kar raushan raushan patthar lane waale log

Kitne thande thande hain ye aag churaane wale log

They who go to the moon, and bring back bright, shiny stones

How cold indeed are these people of the fire-stealer clan!
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Asif Raza (b. 1942) comes from a family of poets. His father, Manzoor Hussain Shore, was a part of Aligarh’s golden generation, and a respected poet of the progressive tradition. Raza, however, inhabits a different aesthetic, more akin to French symbolists like Baudelaire and the surrealists, and exhibits hints of German existentialist influences, particularly from Friedrich Nietzsche and Karl Jaspers. He taught sociology in the United States; but after the runaway success of his 2008 collection of poems
Bujhe Rangon ki Raunaq
(The Splendour of Faded Colours) and his recent retirement, his poetry has enjoyed a renaissance of sorts and he is at work on a new collection.

The poem I have translated here reflects the strong European and surrealist influence in Raza’s poetry, where on a coral island (a symbol of transcendental beauty rather than a quotidian existence), seven beautiful women live trapped, watching the crashing waves mock their confinement, as they try to lure sailors to the island. But the mystery of the island and the impossible beauty of the seven sisters paradoxically strike terror in the heart of the pusillanimous sailors who hear them, rather than evoking desire, thus accentuating the disjuncture between the two worlds. The non-linear construction of the poem lends itself to multiple interpretations, each one as disquieting as the previous.

Ek marjaani jazeere par, areez

Saat behnen, shabkharaami ki mareez

Subah-dam, khwaab-e shabaana ke ta-aaqub mein davaan

Ek sang-e surkh ko apna banaa kar deedban

Jaaiza pur-shauq leti hain khalaa-e bahr ka

Phailta hai jhaag sahil par palat-ti lehr k

Qad kasheeda saat behnon ke sunehre baal hain

Kapkapaate baakira lab laal hain

Tegh jaisa abruon ka un ke mehraabi hai kham

Mauj-zan seenon mein ek toofan hai na-mukhtatum

Hadd-e faasil khenchti dehleez-e aab

Eestaada dekhti rehti hain khwaab

Kaundti hain in ki aankhon mein jawaahar ki chamak

Shaahraah-e aab lekin be-lachak

Dekhti hain vo ke na aabaad hai, tasveer-e yaas

Door uftaada ufaq par baadbaan ka iltebaas!

Muthiyon se un ke girte hain samandar ke aqeeq

Qa’ar leta hai jinhe vaapas, ameeq

Barbat-e zarreen utha kar haft taar

Chhedti hain vo tilaai shaahkar

Goonjti un ki sawaahil par sada sat-sargami

Neelgoon choti pe apni baad-e khezan hai thami

Sun ke un ka geet istemraar mein

Be-sada aabi jaras hai, ghaar mein

Baaz-gashtaana hai un ke purghina paighaam mein

Aab-e nuqradar ka vaada tilaai jaam mein

Lamha-e Iqbal ka muzhda (bataur-e armaghan

Pesh karta hai sadaf moonh dhaanp kar la’al-e giraan)

Ediyan un ki gulaabi choom kar jal ki tahen

Barhami khote hue apni thamein

Ek zarreen rau ke istefsaar par

Sar-nigoon ho kar chatakti hai chataanon ki kagar

Varta-e majhool ki na-vaqifi

Pech aabi khol ke karta hua apni nafi

Munhamik bizzaat ek itlaaf mein hai mubtela

Subha sath-e aab ko deti hui rang-e tila

Neelgoon gehraaiyon hain un ki aankhon ki attah

Taif ghaltaan jin mein lete hain panaah

Nuqrai shaakhon se zarreen seb seenon par dhare

Dekhti rehti hain kohre ke pare

Sahil-e dahshat se lekin ehteraaz

Aabna-e bahr mein daakhil nahin koi jahaaz

Simt-e manzil hai khamoshi se ravaan

Taajiron ka kaarbardaari se bojhal kaarvaan

Haath mathon par tikaye, raah kosh

Kaalbud mastool par hain, tez chashm-o-tez gosh

Zer-e lab sargoshiyon mein zikr-e bandargaah hai

Pesh been rooh-e amal hai, isteraahat khwah hai

On a vast coral island

Seven sisters, somnambulist,

As the day dawns, pursue their nightly dreams

A red rock becomes their lookout

As they gaze at the wide expanse of the ocean

And espy no more than the foam of returning waves.

Tall of stature, and blond, all seven

Their virgin red lips aquiver

Their eyebrows arched like scimitars

An unending storm rages in their breasts

The threshold of the waterfront marks their limit

All that breaches it is their dream.

Their eyes suddenly sparkle like diamonds

But alas, the highway of water is desolate

Their eyes resume their bleak expression

As the hint of a sail recedes from their view

The rubies they hold fall from their hands

Which return into unquestioning depths.

They pick up their golden lyres, with the seven strings

And sing their golden masterpiece

Their seven-octaved voices reach the shores

On the blue-tipped mountaintops, the wind stops

The watery bell stops ringing in its cave.

Their returning song carries promises of untold riches

Of golden chalices bearing silvery draughts

And intimations of eternal moments

(A seashell shyly promises a priceless pearl)

The waves touch their pink heels

And are rendered silent.

As if responding to a question from an undertow

The craggy cliff bows its head and shatters

A maelstrom announces its ignorance

By unspooling its watery negations;

As if engaged in a ritual of self-ruination

The morning scatters its gold on the surface of the sea.

In the blue depths of their eyes

Only ghosts seek sanctuary

Silver apples pressed to their bosoms

They peer toward the foggy horizon in expectation

But terror-struck sailors

Enter not the bay.

Toward its destination, bears on silently,

A caravan of trading ships, laden with commodities

Hands on foreheads, tracing a straight course

The dark silhouettes sharp of eyes and ears

In whispers speak of a known harbour

And the promise of rest

Before their journey to another harbourage.

Iftikhar Arif (b. 1943) was born in India, and moved to Pakistan in 1965. His first book,
Mehr-e Doneem
(Sliced Moon), was published in 1983, and his most recent book,
Kitab-e Dil-o-Duniya
(The Book of the Heart and the World), in 2009. He has won a variety of literary awards, including the prestigious
Hilal-e Imtiaz
in 2005. He is also a well-known literary critic, whose work on Faiz has garnered praise.

Arif’s work cuts across genres, as my two selections here show.
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In the first, Arif produces a qaseeda in praise of Imam Husain (the figure of the Battle of Karbala), who is very popular among Shias, and among Urdu-lovers. The last sher here is significant, because it conjures up a sense of Husain’s power as one who can intercede on behalf of sinners. In two lines, the poet is able to sketch a complex scenario. We are introduced to a moment during the Day of Judgement, where Ali intercedes on the poet’s behalf to Prophet Mohammed, also known as the
shafa-e mehshar
(one who will heal on Judgement Day), imploring the Prophet to let Arif into heaven, because, despite being a sinner, he belongs to Husain.

In stark contrast, the second selection is a straight-up poem constituting a lover’s wish-list. In it, Arif deftly juxtaposes irony with desire to produce a confessional effect.

Sharaf ke shahr mein har baam-o-dar Husain ka hai

Zamaane bhar ke gharaanon mein ghar Husain ka hai

Kahaan ki jang, kahaan jaa ke sar hui hai ke ab

Tamaam aalam-e khair-o-khabar Husain ka hai

Zameen kha gayi kya kya buland baala darakht

Hara bhara hai jo ab bhi, shajar Husain ka hai

Savaal bayat-e shamsheer par javaaz bahut

Magar jawaab wahi mo’tabar Husain ka hai

Muhabbaton ke havaalon mein zikr aane lagaa

Ye fazl bhi to mere haal par Husain ka hai

‘Huzoor Shaafa-e mehshar,’ Ali kahen ke ye shakhs

‘Gunaahgaar bahut hai magar Husain ka hai
’

In the city of privilege, every roof and wall belongs to Husain

Of all clans, there is none like the house that belongs to Husain

When was this war fought, when was it won? Someone say!

For it appears that all this world of good belongs to Husain

The earth has long since swallowed such big forests but still

The lush and verdant tree is the one that belongs to Husain

The question of obeisance was made legitimate by the sword

But the reply, confident and courageous, belongs to Husain

That my name began to crop up in legends of love

This bestowal on my being also belongs to Husain

On Judgement Day, Ali will speak to Mohammed and say

‘Pardon him; though a great sinner, this one belongs to Husain.’

Dayaar-e noor mein teera-shabon ka saathi ho

Koi to ho jo meri vahshaton ka saathi ho

Main us se jhooth bhi boloon to mujh se sach bole

Mere mizaaj ke sab mausamon ka saathi ho

Vo mere naam ki nisbat se mo’tabar thehre

Gali gali meri rusvaaiyon ka saathi ho

Main us ke haath na aaoon vo mera hoke rahe

Main gir padoon to meri pastiyon ka saathi ho

Vo khvaab dekhe to dekhe mere havaale se

Mere khayaalon ke sab manzaron ka saathi ho

In these moments of light, a friend for darker days I seek

Someone to comfort me during my panicked phase I seek

Even if I lie constantly, he should speak naught but truth

A mate for all my capricious moods and ways, I seek

His fortitude should outlast my golden ‘glory days’

His support, when I lie forlorn in a shamed haze, I seek

I may become elusive but he should remain mine

If I fall to abjection, his arms to raise me, I seek

If he must dream, all his fancies should have me as referent

That my wonder and delight should leave him amazed, I seek.