برصغیر کا عاشق اور مستقل مزاجی

Let me think!

( The following is my modest attempt to translate some of Faiz Ahmed Faiz’s epic writing and poetry)

You say that our philosophy is flawed in that ill-meaning people can twist it to suit their agenda, thus leading to turmoil. You are quite right. If such people were capable of reasoning, they would not behave unreasonably in the first place. In that case, there would also be no point in trying to make them understand and see things either. But the fact is that they lack reason. Does this mean that we should give up on them? Does this mean that if in their blindness they chose to step into fire, we should let them? Though I agree with you that most sane men, for their peace of mind and comfort, would say yes to these questions. This is what most intelligent people do. But there is a minuscule percentage of people who feel obliged to interfere–for the benefit of other humans. Usually, this attitude gains nothing–which begs the question; why do they go out of their way then to help people who don’t want to be helped? Well, I can only speak for myself. I believe that there are very few people who are born evil. (Remember, we are talking about individuals, not political parties!). Good and evil exist in different proportions in all of us humans. The composition of these elements undergoes several changes during one’s formative years. Eventually, when maturity dawns, a nearly stable composition is achieved which is rather difficult to alter. Yet, I believe one can cause *some* alteration in this ratio, even if it’s temporary. I believe this can only be achieved through love and friendship–not by force and compulsion. But again, does taking these pains guarantee any gains? Usually not, but sometimes yes…sometimes!

There is a point to ponder,
Let me think for a while!
In this garden (which is worse than a desert now)
Which branch was the first to beget flowers?
And which one lost its color even before woe struck?
And when did the blood draught hit this place last,
causing the flowers to lose their color?

There is a point to ponder,
Let me think for a while
In this city full of life (which is worse than wilderness now)
When did the fire break first?
Through which of its now closed windows
did the sun rays shimmer?
And where did the candles lit up?

There is a point to ponder,
You ask me about a land
of which I remember neither history nor geography,
And what’s left to remember,
I try to avoid, like forsaken love.
If by any chance I do indulge in its memories,
It’s nothing more than a mindless love affair.

I have reached a state of mind where
I treat my own heart with such aloofness;
My heart and I, but rarely, run into each other.
And yet you ask me about my heart!
There is a point to ponder,
Let me think for a while!

(Faiz Ahmed Faiz)

Come Spring…

I have been doing one too many posts about poetry of late. But with Spring tip toeing in with all its splendor, can you blame me? Spring has been an inspiration for poets from nearly all languages. Who hasn’t heard of “If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?” (P.B. Shelley). Urdu poetry too is rich with ideas inspired by Spring. However, its treatment of the topic is very peculiar, but interesting nevertheless.

Urdu poetry is very metaphoric. Nightingale (bulbul) represents a lover while the beloved takes form of a flower (gul). The heart (dil) is seat of tenderness and impatience while the liver (jigar) stands for pain and perseverance. Shirt collar ( garebaan ) represents ego which is always assumed to be torn in the case of lovers (aashiq ka chaak garebaan). The lover and beloved (refered to as aashiq and mehboob respectively) have a very special place in Urdu poetry. Restricting it to the conventional boy-meets-girl type of love would be unfair. Infact, anyone who seeks a purpose with heart and soul is a true blue aashiq.

Now Spring is a very significant occasion for our Urdu aashiqs (the actual plural is usshaaq) as per poetry. While the world celebrates the opulence of color and fragrance as the flora turns into its full bloom, the aashiq grows melancholic. The beauty of Spring brings to mind the lost mehboob. As flowers of bright red color blossom, the wounds in aashiq’s heart start to bleed. The masses join in Spring celebrations, but the aashiq’s pain augments as he laments the loss of his mehboob.

The following is a collection of verses (ashaar) that convey the same meaning. I have made a modest attempt to translate it into English. Translation of poetry from its original language is the same as looking at the shadow of fire or the reflection of moon in water. Nevertheless, it is better than nothing.

Finally, how can we skip Faiz’s classic poem “Bahaar aai”. Have a happy spring!

Faiz meets Meer

In my second semester of BS, a teacher recited a ‘misra’ of Faiz. In regular Urdu poetry, a poem consists of couplets, and each line of a couplet is called ‘misra’. The misra in question was “Hum aa gaye to garmi-e-bazaar dekhna”. The situation that led the teacher in question, Mr. Alvi, to recite poetry impromptu is very interesting. A group of students in our class never took Mr. Alvi’s class, much to his infuriation. One lucky day, the abovementioned group entered the class when Mr. Alvi was halfway through his lecture. A sarcastic smile played on his lips when he noticed the ‘notorious’ students joining his class. He just read the above misra and continued his lecture. Literally translated, it means “The bazaar lights up the moment I enter”.

The lecture had been and gone, but I couldn’t get the misra out of my head. The next day, I asked Mr. Alvi to share the other misra with me. To my utter disappointment, he neither remembered the poet of the poem, nor the other misra. When I went home, I googled it up but to no avail. On a whim, I sifted through the contents of “Kuliyaat-e-Faiz” (Complete works of Faiz) from my personal library. After an hour or so, I found it. Sheer joy!

Fast forward 6 years. Today I was reading Meer Taqi Meer’s poetry and I came across a poem that instantly reminded me of Faiz’s “garmi-e-bazaar” poem. This time, I was fortunate enough to find the poem online. There is a very interesting link between these two poems. I can’t believe it’s a coincidence that the poems match in ‘bahr’, ‘qafia’ and ‘radeef’ (different aspects of poetic metre). Clearly, Faiz got his inspiration from Meer. I can imagine how it feels breaking the Da Vinci code. Granted, we can scale it down a bit in my case . Here are the poems I’ve been talking about.

Present

You sit by the sea all day long

Sifting heaps of sand,

Through a broken sieve.

You shuffle through the heavens,

And dig down to the earth’s heart,

searching for your own shadow.

You look for what is not,

And that which is,

To you means naught.

Year after year,

Your barren pursuit continues

As I look on with detached amusement.

I am your present;

The future that would never be,

The past that died before it was born.

The blind merchant

In the dark recesses of this city,

dwell dreams, tired and stranded;

I walk through these streets

to collect dreams,

Dreams, that I bake in the furnace of my heart,

till the dust of time crumbles down their rusty form

and they are rekindled like the passion in lovers’ hearts.

With the first rays of dawn,

I set up a stall of dreams, and chant:

“Dreams for sale, dreams for sale”!

“Real or fake?”, Like seasoned appraisers,

customers ask.

Not that I created these dreams,

I merely revive them, and trade in them.

Dusk sets in;

Exhausted, I chant one last time:

“Dreams of gold, for free”;

Customers stop, dazed;

Among themselves they whisper,

“Must be a scheme, and the dreams he sells, all flawed,

Down with the dreams of a blind merchant”!

A day of futile bargaining draws to an end;

Lugging a heavy heart and a load of dreams,

I return to my abode,

Muttering through the night

“ Dreams for sale,

Dreams along with their worth,

My dreams,

D-r-eam-ssssssssssss”.

(Translated from an Urdu poem ‘Andha Kabari’ by Noon Meem Rashid)