The Taste of Words: An Introduction to Urdu Poetry (9 page)

Ask not how I am doing in your absence

Instead, watch your colour in my presence.
15

Faith compels me to stop, while infidelity pulls me forward

I vacillate thus, between the Kaaba and the church.

Admittedly, my hands have ceased to move, but my eyes still have strength

Keep the cask and the wine glass in front of me.
16

He shares my profession, my wine, and also my secrets

And you dare denounce ‘Ghalib’ in front of me!

It is reported that when Ghalib heard Momin Khan Momin’s (1800–51) sher that went ‘
Tum mere paas hote ho goya / Jab koi doosra nahi hota
’ (‘It is as if you are close to me / When there is nobody else’), he offered an extraordinary trade: his entire deevan for that one couplet. I hope Ghalib was not serious, but if he was, I’d recommend Momin run, not walk, to accept the trade! Nevertheless, it is good to be appreciated thus by the master. Many of Momin’s verses have been elevated to the status of metaphor in standard Urdu usage. For example, on the persisitence of habit: ‘
Umr saari to kati ishq-e butaan mein, Momin, / Aakhri waqt mein kya khaak musalmaan honge
’ (‘I have spent my life loving idols, Momin, / On my deathbed, I am loath to accept Islam’).

A hakim
by profession, Momin also dabbled in mathematics, was a musician, and was known to have played a mean game of chess. His epicurean life unfortunately ended in an ultra-religious phase, which must have made some of his naughtier verses very sad.

I include here what is perhaps the best-known ghazal by Momin: ‘
Vo jo hum mein tum mein qaraar thha
’
.
1

Vo jo hum mein tum mein qaraar thha, tumhe yaad ho ke na yaad ho

Vahi yaani vaada nibaah ka tumhe yaad ho ke na yaad ho

Vo naye gile vo shikaayaten, vo maze maze ki hikaayaten

Vo har ek baat pe roothna tumhe yaad ho ke na yaad ho

Koi baat aisi agar hui jo tumhaare ji ko buri lagi

To bayan se pahle hi bhoolna tumhe yaad ho ke na yaad ho

Suno zikr hai kai saal kaa, koi vaadaa mujh se tha aap ka

Vo nibaahne kaa to zikr kya, tumhe yaad ho ke na yaad ho

Kabhi hum mein tum mein bhi chaah thi, kabhi hum se tum se bhi raah thi

Kabhi hum bhi tum bhi thhe aashna, tumhe yaad ho ke na yaad ho

Vo bigadnaa vasl ki raat kaa, vo na maan-na kisi baat ka

Vo nahin nahin ki har-aan adaa, tumhe yaad ho ki na yaad ho

Jise aap ginte thhe aashnaa, jise aap kehte thhe baavafaa

Main vahi hoon Momin-e mubtalaa tumhe yaad ho ke na yaad ho

That familiarity between us

You may remember perhaps, perhaps not

Those days we made each other promises

You may remember perhaps, perhaps not.

Your annoyed reproach at matters minor

They led me to label you a whiner

At every moment, your feigned distress

You may remember perhaps, perhaps not.

Perchance if something had really hurt you

You would forget in an instant, I knew

Your wonderful forgiving affections thus

You may remember perhaps, perhaps not.

I recall a promise you made years ago

It remains unfulfilled, don’t you know?

Is this matter unfit for us to discuss?

You may remember perhaps, perhaps not.

Your anger at me on our union right

When you perceived my actions as a slight

The words ‘no, no’ the way I saw you stress

You may remember perhaps, perhaps not.

The one you found trustworthy to the end

The one you always counted a friend

I remain that Momin, I do profess

You may remember perhaps, perhaps not.

Nawab Mirza Khan is hardly a household name among Urdu enthusiasts, but the
Urdu-daan
s of Delhi and Hyderabad bare their fangs when they dispute the affiliations of Dagh (1831–1905), who lived much of his life in Delhi but chose to move south after the 1857 upheaval and its aftermath. Dagh wrote many of his famous ghazals after he moved southward
1
, and his grave near the Yusufain Dargah is still a site of pilgrimage to Hyderabadis. He is most notably invoked by oldies when they quote the first line of the following sher as they sit down: ‘
Hazrat-e Dagh jahaan baith gaye, baith gaye / Aur honge teri mehfil se nikalne vale
’ (‘Where Sir Dagh sits, he stays seated / There may be others who choose to exit your presence’).

The two ghazals I have chosen to translate are among his more popular ones.
2

Lutf vo ishq mein paaye hain ke ji jaanta hai

Ranj bhi, taane uthaaye hain ke ji jaanta hai

Jo zamaane ke sitam hain vo zamaana jaane

Tu ne dil itne dukhaaye hain ke ji jaanta hai

Tum nahin jaante ab tak ye tumhaare andaz

Vo mere dil mein samaaye hain ke ji jaanta hai

Inhin qadmon ne tumhaare, inhin qadamon ki qasam

Khaak mein itne milaaye hain ke ji jaanta hai

Dosti mein teri dar-parda hamaare dushman

Is qadar apne paraaye hain ke ji jaanta hai

Such pleasure in love I have found, only the heart knows

Sometimes taunts, sometimes grief profound, only the heart knows.

Let us leave time alone to deal with its tyrannies

Of the souls that you have drowned, only the heart knows.

You do not know this yet but your careless flirtations

In my earnest mind, abound; only the heart knows.

Your feckless feet, I swear on your cavalier feet

Many they have into dust ground, only the heart knows.

The distinction between friend and foe is no longer clear

Such taxonomies do confound, only the heart knows.

Sabaq aisa padha diya tune

Dil se sab kuchh bhula diya tu ne

Hum nikamme hue zamaane mein

Kaam aisa sikha diya tu ne

Laakh dene ka ek dena hai

Dil-e be-mudda diya tu ne

Be-talab jo mila mila mujhko

Be gharaz jo diya diya tu ne

Kahin mushtaq se hijab hua

Kahin parda utha diya tu ne

Mit gaye dil se naqsh-e baatil sab

Naqsha apna jama diya tu ne

Dagh ko kaun dene waala thha?

Jo diya, ai khuda diya tu ne.

Indeed, such a lesson you have taught

All previous knowledge my heart forgot.

I’ve been rendered useless to the world

Such fruits your feckless labours have wrought.

Priceless is the gift that you gave me

A content heart that no longer sought.

I received without seeking bounties

You gave me with future motives, naught.

Sometimes you gave, veiled and secretly

Sometimes you were obvious, a lot.

Your visage became so clear, that I

Forgot that your face was with evil fraught

Who else will give with such great elan?

Who else but God, that’s what ‘Dagh’ thought.

When he was a young poet, Maulana Altaf Husain Hali (1837–1914) recited his work in front of Ghalib, who is said to have approved. But 1857 intervened, and he returned from Delhi to Panipat. Eventually, he made the acquaintance of Sayyid Ahmad Khan and, at his behest, went about composing an epic poem
Musaddas-e Madd-o Jazr-e Islam
(A Musaddas on the Ebb and Flow of Islam). The poem was published in 1879, and is now known simply as
Musaddas-e Hali
. It critiques the Muslims of Hali’s era as decadent when compared to the glory of Islamic history; however, despite this self-reflexivity, it is not difficult to see how such narratives presented a defensive posture, given the ascendency of the West and the ‘victory’ of the colonists (Ashis Nandy reflects about similar tendencies in Swami Vivekananda’s thought in his book
The Intimate Enemy
). Depending on one’s perspective, it is ironic or fitting to see these ideas being expressed by a poet with the takhallus ‘Hali’ (meaning ‘of the present’). One may mention in passing that Hali wrote perhaps the first biography of Ghalib, titled
Yaadgaar-e Ghalib.
His
Muqaddama-e Sher-o-Shairi
(Exegesis on Poems and Poetry) remains one of the earliest works of literary criticism in Urdu.

In this collection, I am translating one of his more famous ghazals.

Hai justaju ke khoob se hai khoobtar kahaan

Ab dekhiye thaharti hai jaa kar nazar kahaan

Yaarab is ikhtilaat ka anjaam ho ba-khair

Tha us ko hum se rabt, magar is qadar kahaan

Ek umr chaahiye ke gawaaraa ho naish-e ishq

Rakhhi hai aaj lazzat-e zakhm-e jigar kahaan

Hum jis pe mar rahe hain vo hai baat hi kuchh aur

Aalam mein tujh se laakh sahi, tu magar kahaan

Hoti nahin qubool dua tark-e ishq ki

Dil chaahta na ho to zuban mein asar kahaan

Hali, nishaat-e naghma-o-mai dhoondte ho ab

Aaye ho waqt-e subh, rahe raat bhar kahaan

To be better than the best, that is my ambition

Let us see where my sight rests, ends its exploration

O God, I pray this intimacy ends happily

Love was warm before, but this is fiery ignition

Verily, it takes an age to get used to love’s pain

The wounded heart slowly makes friends with its condition

Thus far I had been taken in by a strange visage

I want you, not someone like you, an apparition

My prayer that love should vanish remains unanswered

For the heart does not back up the tongue’s composition

Hali arrives in the morn seeking wine and song

Whose company caused you to miss the night’s edition?

Syed Akbar Husain, aka Akbar Allahabadi (1846–1921), was a great satirist who unfortunately sobered down and became serious, mystical and religious (in other words, boring) in his later days. I enjoy his earlier poems; they are elaborate jokes set to verse. His later poetry exhibits a more classical mindset, which, while competent, is not as delightful. He was part of a lively debate among the Urduwalas of the late nineteenth century, and opposed his peers like Sir Sayyid for their allegiance to Western mores. Even his conservatism was imbued with wit; opposing the practice of women renouncing the veil, he composed the following qataa:

Be-parda kal jo aayi nazar chand beebiyaan

Akbar zameen mein ghairat-e qaumi se gadh gaya

Poochha jo main ne aap ka parda, vo kya hua?

Kehne lageen ke aql pe mardon ke padh gaya.

Yesterday, as some bareheaded ladies walked down the lane

Akbar bemoaned his culture with a sense of shame and pain

I asked politely, ‘Ladies, how come you have lost your veil?’

Said they, ‘That opaque cloth resides now on our menfolk’s brain.’

I have translated two poems below. The first is a classical ghazal
that was sung by the maestro K.L. Saigal, while the second is a comic poem about an imaginary dialogue between Majnu and Laila’s mother. The social criticism of indolent Indians, especially Muslims, is difficult to miss. Muslim culture of a certain social class tended to devalue labour and trade, and Akbar provides an ironic critique of this. I have translated the second verse in jaunty language to preserve its affect.

Duniya mein hoon duniya ka talabgaar nahin hoon

Bazaar se guzra hoon, kharidaar nahin hoon

Zindaa hoon magar zeest ki lazzat nahin baaqi

Har-chand ke hoon hosh mein, hoshiyaar nahin hoon

Is khaanaa-e hasti se guzar jaaoonga be-laus

Saayaa hoon faqat naqsh-ba deevaar nahin hoon

Afsurda hoon ibrat se dava ki nahin haajat

Gham ka mujhe ye zof hai beemar nahin hoon

Vo gul hoon khizaan ne jise barbaad kiya hai

Uljhoon kisi daaman se main vo khaar nahin hoon

Yaarab mujhe mahfooz rakh us but ke sitam se

Main us ki inaayat ka talab-gaar nahin hoon

Afsurdagi-o-zauf ki kuchh had nahin, Akbar

Kaafir ke muqaabil mein bhi deen-daar nahin hoon

I’m in this world but I’m not consumed by its desire

I did pass by the market, but I am no customer

I am alive, but life to me is bereft of pleasure

I am smart but don’t call me devious. That is a slur

From this house that represents life I will exit unspoiled

I am no imprint on the wall, but a shadow, a blur

My conscience is enough for me, I need no sage advice

I’m sick with grief but I’m not ill, no potions for me, sir

I am the flower that has been done in by autumn’s blight

To be the thorn that rends clothes, such a life I don’t prefer

O God, keep me safe from the tyranny of that idol

I am not desirous of the largesse that it might confer

My sadness and self-abasement have no limits, Akbar

I’ve less faith than the infidel, with this you must concur

Khudahafiz musalmanon ka Akbar

Mujhe to un ki khush-haali se hai yaas

Yeh ashiq shahid-e maqsood ki hein

Na jaayenge, wa lekin sayi ke paas

Sunaoon tum ko ek farzi lateefa

Kiya hai jis ko main ne zeb-e qirtaas

Kaha Majnu se ye Laila ki maa ne

Ke ‘Beta, tu agar kar le MA pass

‘To fauran byaah doon Laila ko tujh se

Bila diqqat main ban jaaoon teri saas’

Kaha Majnun ne ‘Ye achhi sunaai!

Kuja aashiq, kuja college ki bakvaas

‘Badi bee, aap ko kya ho gaya hai

Hiran pe laadi jaati hai kahin ghaas?

‘Ye achhi qadr-daani aap ne ki

Mujhe samjha hai koi Harcharan Das?

‘Yehi thhehri jo shart-e vasl-e Laila

To istefa mera ba hasrat-o-yaas.’

May Allah keep all Muslims in his shelter, O Akbar

I pray for their happiness and their well-being as a rule

They love their Prophet who bore witness to his Creator

They will go to their happy fate, and drink from heaven’s pool

I will share with you an imagined tale for your pleasure

That I have composed, I’m sure you’ll find it cool

Said Laila’s mother to Majnu, the suffering paramour

‘Dear son, all you have to do is to go to graduate school

‘Then I will immediately accept you as my son-in-law

And be your mom-in-law and stop treating you like a ghoul’

Majnu started: ‘Hey wait a sec, I don’t think I heard right

A Romeo and higher studies? Don’t take me for a fool

‘You’ve got it all wrong, old lady, why don’t you watch your mouth

A deer is no beast of burden, don’t load me like a mule

‘This is a strange way to treat guests, have you no manners, ma’am?

I am no Harcharan Das, your proposal’s rather cruel

‘If this is the condition of union with your daughter

Please accept my resignation, I’m sad, but I’m no tool.’