The Taste of Words: An Introduction to Urdu Poetry (5 page)

Amir Khusrau (1253–1325), the thirteenth-century maestro, is associated with Persian literature as well as the qawwali form of Sufi mystical poetry, but his forays into the Urdu/Hindavi tradition find him at his playful best. His popular qawwalis like ‘
Zehaal-e miskin nakun taghaaful
’ (‘Do not ignore the plight of the poverty-stricken’) are pure Persian, and exhibit immense gravitas. By contrast, one of the best-known Urdu/Hindavi poems, ‘
Chhap tilak sab chheeni re mosay naina milaike
’ (‘You have stolen my looks merely by gazing into my eyes’) is much more lyrically light, and has been performed repeatedly for more than 700 years.

In this anthology, I have chosen to highlight that aspect of Khusrau’s work which not only straddles the spurious Hindi–Urdu divide but also brings out the light-hearted quality of his poetic personality, one that puts him in the company of authors such as Lewis Carroll or Sukumar Ray.
1
I translate below a few of Khusrau’s riddle poems and a qawwali. In contemporary culture, this qawwali (‘
Chhap tilak
’) features often as a song in movies: for instance, in the 1978 film
Main Tulsi Tere Aangan ki
. It has been performed by a variety of singers including Sabri Brothers, Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, Richa Sharma and—my favourite—Abida Parveen. Note how the poet affects a feminine first person, and expresses affection for a male beloved (‘Nijaam’ here refers to Nizamuddin Auliya, the dear companion of Khusrau).

These are specific riddles, where two questions lead to the same answer, made possible by deploying a word in the answer that has two meanings
.

Deevar kyoon tooti?

Rah kyoon luti?

Raj na tha
.

Why did the wall fall, won’t you say?

What made life unsafe on the highway?

There was no mason/There was no governance.

*

Ghar kyon andhiyara?

Faqeer kyon badbadaya?

Diya na tha.

Why does the house languish in the dark?

Why did the beggar angrily bark?

There was no lamp/Nothing was given.

*

Raja pyasa kyoon?

Gadha udasa kyoon?

Lota na tha.

Why was the king thirsty, my lad?

And why did the donkey appear so sad?

There was no tumbler/He had not rolled in the mud.

Many of Khusrau’s riddles are structured so that the answer lies within the text of the riddle itself
.

Beeson ka sir kaat liya,

Na maara na khoon kiya.

Jawaab: Nakhoon

[Author’s Note:
Na+khoon
]

I cut off twenty heads and still,

No blood did I shed, no one did I kill.

Answer: Nail (cutting).

*

E
Ek guni ne ye gun keena

Hariyal pinjrey mein de deena

Dekho jadoogar ka kamaal

Daale hara, nikaale laal.

Jawaab: Paan.

A wise man did perform this feat

I’ll cage this green parrot, he said

Observe the sorcerer; this trick is neat

In went the green and out came red!

Answer: The betel leaf (green before chewing, red after).

*

Ek naari ke sir par hai naar

Pi ki lagan main khadi laachar

Sees chuve aur chale na jor

Ro ro kar woh kare hai bhor

Jawaab: Mombatti

Observe the woman with fire on her head

She burns as she awaits her beloved

Her body melts, her spirit mourns

And thus she suffers till the day dawns

Answer: Candle.

Chhaap tilak, sab cheeni re mo-say naina milai-ke

Prem bhatee ka madhva pilai-ke

Matvali kar leeni re mo-say naina milai-ke

Gori gori baiyyaan, hari hari chudiyan

Baiyyaan pakad dhar leeni re mo-say naina milai-ke

Bal bal jaaoon main torey rang rajwa

Apni si kar leeni re mo-say naina milai-ke

Khusrau Nijaam ke bal bal jayyiye

Mohey suhaagan keeni re mo-say naina milai-ke

My looks, my self, you have stolen them

Merely by locking eyes with me.

That love potion you made me drink

Has me teetering on the brink

Merely by locking eyes with me.

You clasped the fair hands of your queen

Those hands encased in bangles green

Merely by locking eyes with me.

I offer myself to my prince

Let me in your colour rinse

Merely by locking eyes with me.

Khusrau, I give myself up to

My dear Nizaam with such pride

He has turned me with his love

Into a radiant, blushing bride

Merely by locking eyes with me.

Quli Qutub Shah (d. 1612) was one of the more celebrated kings of the Deccan, ascending the throne of Golkonda at a young age, and often credited with founding the city of Hyderabad.
1
He is also known to have composed poems in Telugu, which was consistent with his ecumenical temperament. His language reflects a curious mix of linguistic influences, comprising a bit of Turkish, a bit of the local Pali-oriented dialect, some Arabic words, and a lot of Sanskrit as well.

The ghazal I have chosen to represent his work is relatively simple, but as can be seen, this pioneering work has helped establish the stylistic conventions of the ghazal that endure even today, such as the rhyme schemes and the trope of unattained love. This ghazal has been deployed often in popular culture, most notably in the poignant climax of Shyam Benegal’s 1975 film
Nishant
. The enjoyment of the poem will be enhanced by listening simultaneously to Malika Pukhraaj’s
magical rendition.

Piya baaj pyala piya jaaye na

Piya baaj ek til jiya jaye na

Nahin ishq jis vo bada kood hai

Kadhi us se mil besiya jaye na

Kahe the piya bin saboori karoon

Kahaa jaaye lekin kiya jaye na

Qutub Shah na de mujh deevane ko pand

Deevane ko kuchh pand diya jaye naa

I cannot quaff the goblet without my love.

Nor can I live a moment without my love.

Crude is the one who does not feel

Love’s power

I just cannot stand such a heel

He’s no lover.

‘Be patient without your love, this moment too will pass’

Such counsel to follow is impossible, alas!

Qutub Shah, your guidance to the madman, although wise

Has no effect, for his love is beyond your advice.

Wali Ahmed Khan (1667–1707) was associated with Aurangabad and Hyderabad, but died in Gujarat. He practised his craft in the late seventeenth century, and was acknowledged as the master of the ghazal format and of the proto-Urdu poetic tradition by stalwarts such as Mir and Ghalib. Many see Wali as the point of origin of Urdu poetry, perhaps because he was the first to publish a deevan
.
Mohammad Husain Azad, the author of
Aab-e Hayaat
, seems to have thought so as well. Wali will always be remembered for his optimistic poetry—exemplified by the couplet ‘
Raah-e mazmoon-e taaza band nahin / Ta-qayaamat khula ha baab-e sukhan
’ (‘The road to new ideas is not closed / The door of poetry will remain open forever’)—which presaged the emergence of a long-standing literary tradition. Unfortunately, his name has now become associated with tragedy; in March 2002, his tomb, which had been a prominent landmark in the city of Ahmedabad, was demolished, razed and paved over by the mobs that ravaged Gujarat in the post-Godhra conflagration.

The ghazal I have chosen here exemplifies his clean rhymes, his ability to move from the Dakkani idiom to the North Indian Rekhti, and his allegiance to the ghazal as poetic form. This ghazal has been performed by many singers, most notably by Iqbal Bano.

Jise ishq ka teer kaari lage

Use zindagi kyon na bhaari lage

Na chhode mohabbat dam-e marg lag

Jise yaar jaani so yaari lage

Na hoye use jag mein hargiz qaraar

Jise ishq ki beqaraari lage

Har ek waqt mujh aashiq-e paak ko

Pyaare teri baat pyaari lage

Wali ko kahe tu agar ek bachan

Raqibaan ke dil mein kataari lage

Once you are struck by Cupid’s deadly dart

You’ll find life a heavy burden, dear heart

Those who have felt their lover’s fragrant breath

Won’t cease in the ways of love until their death

Solace will never dilute my passion

Love’s impatient heat has left me ashen

My love’s transparent, unblemished and clear

Each word of yours I find lovely, my dear

With your Wali, if you share but a word

His rivals writhe as if pierced by a sword!

The eighteenth century marked the beginning of a prolonged renaissance in Urdu poetry, and was kicked off by the triumvirate of Sauda, Dard and Mir. Mirza Sauda (1713–81) was Mir Taqi Mir’s contemporary, and one of the early exponents of what came to be called the ‘Delhi School’ of poetry. Mir’s senior in age, he tends to be eclipsed by his more illustrious counterpart even though he made an invaluable contribution to the decentring of the hegemony of Farsi as sole crucible of classical poetry. His language tended to be more decorous than Mir’s, still imbued with Persian rhetoric. He did write—in the fashion of poets of his time—a volume of Persian poetry, but was known principally for his Rekhti work, and also for his mischievous satires. His satires were often composed on the spot, derided those in power, and sometimes led to financial losses. One story goes thus: A rich man’s son once approached Sauda in public to become a tutor. Sauda asked him to recite some of his verses. The expectant pupil recited some verses of high quality, which Sauda immediately recognized as plagiarized fare. Sauda asked the man, ‘What is your takhallus?’ Replied the young man, ‘
Ummeedwaar
’ (hopeful). On the spot, Sauda declaimed:
‘
Hai faiz se kisi ke shajar unka baardaar
/
 Is vaaste kiya hai takhallus “ummeedwaar
”’ (‘With another’s labour, his tree is fruitful, / Perhaps this is why his nom de plume is “hopeful”’). The shamefaced youngster exited hastily; Sauda had won bragging rights, but lost a potential patron.

I have chosen a single haunting ghazal that, to my mind, exemplifies Sauda’s serious work.
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Unlike Mir’s accessible rhythms, Sauda affected a style of verbal flourish, perhaps owing to his felicity in writing
qasida
s (panegyrics).

Jo guzri mujh pe mat us se kaho hua so hua

Balaa-kashaan-e mohabbat mein jo hua so hua

Mubaadaa ho koi zaalim tera gireban-geer

Mere lahu ko to daaman se dho, hua so hua

Pahunch chukaa hai sar-e zakhm dil talak yaaro

Koi siyo, koi marham karo hua so hua

Kahe hai sun ke meri sar-guzasht vo be-rehm

Ye kaun zikr hai, jaane bhi do, hua so hua

Ye kaun haal hai ahvaal-e dil pe ai aankhon

Na phoot phoot ke itna baho, hua so hua

Diya use dil-o-zeest ab ye jaan hai ‘Sauda’

Phir aage dekhiye jo ho so ho, hua so hua

Share not my fate with that heartless one, this too will pass

How the love-afflicted were undone, this too will pass

My tormentor, lest someone espy your stained garments

Wash off my blood from your red shirt-front, this too will pass

The wound has lanced my body; its pain has reached my heart

Call the surgeon to stitch it, someone! This too will pass

On hearing of my sorry fate, my heartless love said:

Don’t harp on this tale, don’t spoil the fun, this too will pass

Do not trouble your eyes on seeing my poor fortune

Why do those tears so copiously run? This too will pass

I sacrificed my love, my heart, my will—just life remains

Who can divine poor Sauda’s fate? None, this too will pass.