Hazaron Khawaishen Aisi Read online

  The poetry of this age, characterized by a move towards the age of enlightenment, expressed a sense of acute emotional and physical dislocations which was borne by the poets in their bid to reconcile with their times. Their discontent was born out of the conditions that contemporary history brought forth in terms of conflicts, invasions, battles and acquisition of political power ever since the death of Aurangzeb in 1707. The poets lamented in metaphoric and symbolic ways the fallout of what in physical terms may be identified as the invasion of Nadir Shah (1738–39), the seven expeditions of Ahmad Shah Abdali (1748–67), the Maratha expansionist activities following the death of Aurangzeb in 1707, the arrival of Warren Hastings as the first Governor-General of India (1773), and the attack by Rohilla chieftain Ghulam Qadir (1788), all of which have stayed on as the terms of reference of eighteenth-century India.

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  Mirza Mohammad Rafi Sauda

  Mirza Mohammad Rafi Sauda (1713?–1781), son of an aristocrat father who had migrated from Kabul to India for trade, was born in Delhi. He was well provided for to meet the needs of a decent life and lived in comfort. Not attracted by the mercantile interests of his family, Sauda nursed his passion as a poet under the patronage of poet Shah Hatim. Although he received patronage at the Mughal court, he took umbrage against the royal whims. He chose to leave Delhi when the city fell prey to Maratha attacks after the death of Aurangzeb and went to several places in Uttar Pradesh. At the ripe age of sixty, he arrived in Lucknow where Nawab Asifuddaulah patronized and rewarded him with an annual stipend of rupees six thousand.

  Sauda wrote in Persian before coming to Urdu and expressed his maturity of thought and linguistic finesse in both languages. John Borthwick Gilchrist (1759–1841), the famous linguist and Indologist, acknowledged rather profusely that he learnt his Urdu from Sauda’s divaan. The Persian literary tradition helped him acquire a tone and tenor which he adopted to his benefit for his poetry in Urdu. He looked at life sportingly, enjoyed his vigour and optimism and relished the pleasures of life in full measure. His ghazals hold close to the tone and tenor of panegyric which he brought to its height. Marked for his vitality of imagination, precise turns of phrases and compact expressions, he practised various forms of poetry like panegyric, satire and elegy, and emerged as one of the canonical poets in Urdu. His works have been put together in several divaans and kulliyaat.

  1

  Naseem hai tere kuche main aur sabaa bhi hai

  Hamaari khaak se tuk dekh kuchh rahaa bhi hai

  Tera ghuroor mera ijz taa kuja zaalim

  Har ek baat ki aakhir kuchh intihaa bhi hai

  Jale hai shamma se parwaana aur main tujh se

  Kaheen hai mehr bhi jag mein kaheen wafaa bhi hai

  Khayaal apne mein go hoon taraana sanjaan mast

  Karaahne ke dilon ko kabhi sunaa bhi hai

  Zabaan-e shikwa siwaa ab zamaana mein haihaat

  Koee kiso se baham deegar aashnaa bhi hai

  Sitam rawaa hai aseeron pe is qadar sayyaad

  Chaman chaman kaheen bulbul ki ab nawaa bhi hai

  Sambhal ke rakhyo qadam dasht-e khaar mein majnoon

  Ke is nawaah mein Sauda barahna paa bhi hai

  1

  A fine breeze blows there, gentle draughts glide too

  But does your lane bear my ashes’ pride too?

  How long your pride, how long my modesty!

  Isn’t there, my love, an end to your pride too?

  The flame burns the moth; I burn in your flame

  Why doesn’t the world look at the lover’s side too?

  Engrossed in my thoughts, I sing my own song

  Did you ever hear how my heart cried too?

  Why complain, why bother, it’s all long gone

  Is there someone to get in love’s stride too?

  Why this caging of free birds, O hunter!

  Can’t you hear the bulbul’s note, can that hide too?

  Take care, wild lover, in this desert of thorns

  Sauda, barefoot stands by the wayside too

  2

  Jo guzri mujh pe mat us se kaho hua so hua

  Balaa kashaan-e-mohabbat pe jo hua so hua

  Mubaada ho koee zaalim tera garebaan geer

  Mere lahoo ko to daaman se dho hua so hua

  Pahunch chukaa hai sir-e zakhm dil talak yaaro

  Koee siyo koee maraham dharo hua so hua

  Kahe hai sun ke meri sarguzasht wo berahm

  Ye kaun zikr hai jaane bhi do hua so hua

  Khuda ke waaste aa darguzar gunah se mere

  Na hoga phir kabho ai tund khoo hua so hua

  Ye kaun haal hai ahvaal-e dil pe ai aankho

  Na phoot phoot ke itnaa baho hua so hua

  Diyaa use dil-o deen ab ye jaan hai Sauda

  Phir aage dekhiye jo ho so ho, hua so hua

  2

  Don’t mention what befell me; whatever happened, happened

  To the love-stricken one; whatever happened, happened

  Lest a tyrant hold you guilty for not a fault, my friend

  Just wash my blood from your garb; whatever happened, happened

  My wound has found a way, has reached the heart, my friends, at last

  Sew up the wound, put a balm; whatever happened, happened

  That heartless one tells me on hearing my tale of woe

  What a story to bring up now; whatever happened, happened

  For God’s sake, just pardon me my sins, O fretful one!

  It won’t ever happen again; whatever happened, happened

  What is this, why do you cry on the demise of dear heart

  Don’t shed tears; whatever happened, happened

  I gave my heart and faith to her, now I give my life Sauda

  Just see what happens now; forget whatever happened, happened

  5

  Siraj Aurangabadi

  Siraj Aurangabadi (1715-1763) is the popular name of Syed Sirajuddin. He was born in Aurangabad, Maharashtra, a place named after the Mughal Emperor Aurangzeb. An embodiment of uncontrollable passion and impatience with the world around him from the very early years of his life, Siraj turned into a dervish. He abandoned home, wandered in the wilderness, wrote verse, and had to be brought back home in a tattered condition. He had to be kept under strict watch for several years until he achieved a semblance of normalcy and transformed into a Sufi, acquiring a high status in the realm of mysticism.

  In the early years, Siraj, the impetuous soul, began by writing verse in Persian during his frequent bouts of deviation from the normal ways of life. He also wrote in Urdu with equal felicity. He composed his verse feverishly and lost much of it, as one overpowered by the raptures of imagination would often do. He would soon complete his divaan of over five thousand shers. Apart from the ghazal, Siraj also practised other forms of poetry, including the long narrative forms like mathnawi and qasida. After the decline of the Deccan kingdoms, when Aurangabad became the literary centre, Siraj emerged as a major link between the old and the new styles of the Deccan school of poetry. Divine love is the central concern of his poetry and he spent all his life trying to unravel the mysteries of divinity in direct and metaphorical terms. His divaan represents his metaphysical concerns and mystical preoccupations that arose from his awareness of the physical and the transcendental, the secular and the religious. His poetry is a way of primeval engagement with the self, executed with rare lyric grace.

  1

  Tumhaari zulf ka har taar Mohan

  Hua mere gale ka haar Mohan

  Tasawwur kar tera husn-e araq naak

  Meri aankhein hain gauhar baar Mohan

  Dam-e aakhir talak hoon kaafir-e ishq

  Hua taar-e nafas zunnaar Mohan

  Birah ka jaan kundan hai nimat sakht

  Dikha us waqt per deedaar Mohan

  Hamaare mushaf-e dil ki qasam kha

  Kiyaa hai zulm ka inkaar Mohan

  Gul-e aariz koon tere yaad kar kar

  Hua hai dil mera gulzaar Mohan

  Siraj a
atish mein hai tere firaaqon

  Bujha sa mehr seen ek baar Mohan

  1

  Of your lock, each hair, O Mohan

  Like a garland, I wear, O Mohan

  I think of your fluid beauty

  Teardrops roll to sear, O Mohan

  Till my end, I’m a lover, no less

  My breath a Brahmin’s thread-wear, O Mohan

  Parting is pure gold, hard to grip

  Just come, I’m in despair, O Mohan

  I swear by the book of my heart

  When worries ensnare, O Mohan

  Remembering your blossom-cheeks

  My heart sees spring fair, O Mohan

  Siraj is all aflame in parting

  Be kind, hear his prayer, O Mohan

  2

  Jaan-o dil seen main giraftaar hoon kin ka un ka

  Banda-i-be zar-o deenaar hoon kin ka un ka

  Sabr ke bagh ke mandwe se jhadaa jiun phool

  Ab to laachaar gale haar hoon kin ka un ka

  Hauz-e kausar ki naheen chaah zakhandaan ki qasam

  Tashna-i sharbat-e deedaar hoon kin ka un ka

  Lab-o rukhsaar ke gul qand seen laazim hai ilaaj

  Dil ke aazaar mein beemaar hoon kin ka un ka

  Muudatein huin ke hua khaana-i zanjeer kharaab

  Basta-i zulf-e girah daar hoon kin ka un ka

  Tashna-i-marg koon hai aab-e suraahi dam-e tegh

  Bismil-e abru-i khamdaar hoon kin ka un ka

  Naahaq us sang dilee mein mujhe dete hain shikast

  Main toh aaeena-i sarkaar hoon kin ka un ka

  Gulshan-e wasl main rahtaa hoon ghazal khwan-e firaaq

  Andaleeb-e gul-e rukhsaar hoon kin ka un ka

  Main kahaa rahm patangon pe kar ai jaan-e Siraj

  Tab kaha shamm-e shab-e taar hoon kin ka un ka

  2

  I’m a prisoner by heart and soul—of whom? Only him

  A worthless being of no riches—of whom? Only him

  Like a flower fallen from the bower of patience

  Now I’m a helpless garland—for whom? Only him

  I don’t wish for the river of paradise, I swear

  I only crave for a kind look—of whom? Only him

  Only a fare of a fair face may bring me cure

  I’m sick of heart, O my heart—for whom? Only him

  Ages have gone by since the house of chains was ruined

  I’m chained to the locks of love—of whom? Only him

  For one close to death, a wine drop is a dagger’s slash

  I’m slain by the eyebrows—of whom? Only him

  What’s defeat, I don’t compete with the hard-hearted

  I’m only the mirror of love—of whom? Only him

  In the grove of union, I sing a dirge of our parting

  I’m a bird of the blossom-cheeks—of whom? Only him

  I said, be kind to the helpless moths, O Siraj

  Then said: I’m a lamp in night’s gloom—of whom? Only him

  6

  Khwaja Mir Dard

  Khwaja Mir Dard (1721–1785), a descendant of respected Sufi migrants from Bukhara to India, was born in Delhi where he spent all his life, despite the invasions of Nadir Shah and Ahmed Shah Abdali, as also the Maratha conquest of north-west India. Keenly interested in music, both vocal and instrumental, he mastered his art to perfection and also hosted soirees of music. As a Sufi, he was respected equally by the royalty and the nobility, but bothered little about their praise and plaudits. This Sufi poet and theologian of eighteenth-century Delhi is an important representative of the Naqshbandi-Mujaddidi lineage of Sufism. He also became the leader and theoretician of the Muhammadi path and fashioned himself in the image of the Prophet Muhammad, appointed by God as His messenger on the earth.

  Dard had mastery over the Arabic, Persian and Urdu languages. His close reading of the Holy Qur’an, Traditions of the Prophet, jurisprudence, and religious literature defined the nature of his poetry. His expertise in music further defined his assured tone and tenor in poetic expression. Effortless in his expression and direct in his addresses, he emerged as a renowned mystic poet, both in Persian and Urdu. He is, by turn, an impassioned advocate for poetry and humble apologist for art. He considered poetry as a gift among the many other gifts of God to mankind. Poetry, to him, was an inspired speech addressed both to the human and the divine. He differentiated between two types of speech, or kalaam: one of them being internal, or nafsi, and the other being verbal, or lafzi. He believed that a poet negotiates between two types of speech: the external, or zaahiri; and internal, or baatini. This reflection on language, speech and expression underlines the modes of Dard’s poetic apprehension and expression. He has to his credit a collection of Urdu ghazals, a Persian divaan, a prose discourse called Ilm-ul Kitaab, a collection of mystical sayings called Chahaar Risaala, and a book on the Muhammadi path of Sufism.

  1

  Tohmatein chand apne zimme dhar chale

  Jis liye aai the so ham kar chale

  Zindagi hai ya koee toofan hai

  Hum to is jeene ke haathon mar chale

  Kya hamein kaam in gulon se ai sabaa

  Aik dum aai idhar, oodhar chale

  Dosto dekha tamaasha yaan ka sab

  Tum raho khush hum to apne ghar chale

  Shamma ki maanind hum is bazm mein

  Chashm-e tar aai the, daaman tar chale

  Dhoondte hain aap se us ko pare

  Sheikh sahib chhod ghar, baahar chale

  Hum na jaane paai baahar aap se

  Wo hi aage aa gaya jeedhar chale

  Hum jahaan mein aai the tanhaa wale

  Saath apne ab use le kar chale

  Saaqiyaa yaan lag rahaa hai chal chalaao

  Jab talak bus chal sake saaghar chale

  Dard kuchh maloom hai ye log sub

  Kis taraf se aai the keedhar chale

  1

  I put on myself many a blame, before I left

  I only did for what I came, before I left

  Is this a life, or a rough storm I suffer?

  In life’s term, I was life’s claim, before I left

  Gentle breeze! What’s my business with blossoms?

  I left in a flash, as I came, before I left

  I watched all the games of this place, dear friends

  Let me bless you all the same, before I left

  I lived here like a lamp, as long as I lived

  With tears I came but earned shame, before I left

  Poor priest looks for him beyond himself

  He left his home for a new aim, before I left

  I couldn’t ever go beyond you, but only you

  Crossed my path only to claim, before I left

  I had come to this world alone, nothing in hand

  I carried the world, all the same, before I left

  Saqi! This is the time to leave, hurry up please

  Fill my cup, let me drink, be aflame, before I left

  Dard! Can you tell me, who we are—you and me?

  From where I came, what’s my aim, before I left?

  2

  Jam’a mein afraad-e aalam ek hain

  Gul ke sab auraaq-e barham ek hain

  Howe kab wahdat mein kasrat se khalal

  Jism-o jaan go do hain per hum ek hain

  Nau-e insaan ki buzurgi se tuk ek

  Hazarat-e Jibreel mahram ek hain

  Daal hai us per hi Qur’an ka nuzool

  Baat ki fehmeed main hum ek hain

  Muttafiq aapas main hain ahl-e shuhood

  Dard aankhein dekh baaham ek hain

  2

  In all, all the beings of the world are really one

  Petals are so many, but the flower is really one

  How can this medley ever disrupt unity

  Body and soul are two, the two are really one

  Of mankind’s supremacy over all others

  That’s a truth Gabriel knows; the truth is really one

  Qur’an’s revelation is a sure proof of this:

&nb
sp; In getting the truth, we all are really one

  All the believers surely agree with each other

  Dard, the eyes are two but the two are really one

  7

  Mir Taqi Mir

  Mir Taqi Mir (1723–1810) is the nom de plume of Mohammad Taqi, who was born in Agra of a Sufi father. Mir’s father advised him to adopt the way of ishq, or love as a way of life. Mir migrated to Delhi, already ravaged by chaotic events, for a living after his father’s death, where he would meet his ends with difficulty even though he received some patronage from the nobility. Trying to find his patronage and source of sustenance, a proud Mir kept moving from one court or nobility to another for twenty-five years. It was at the ripe age of sixty that he reached Nawab Asifuddaulah in Lucknow; where he lived till his death with the memories of Delhi as a lost home. Mir lived in a period of great political crisis. Both the literary centres had failed him and he spent his life wondering if there would ever be a resolution for him. It is reported that his grave in Lucknow is untraceable as a rail line has been laid over the spot.