31
Ada Jafarey
Ada Jafarey (1924–2015) is the nom de plume of Aziz Jahan, the first woman poet from Pakistan, who was widely read and recognized. She received six prestigious awards from literary organizations and the government of Pakistan. She was born in Badayun in Uttar Pradesh, India, to a family of traditional values. The sheer need to express herself took her spontaneously to writing poetry. This turned out to be a way of finding an individual voice and making a permanent place for herself in the emerging literary circles of Pakistan.
Jafarey blended the personal and the social, and created a complex dynamics that negotiated the self with the other. Being essentially romantic in its make-up, her poetry is sensitive in its apprehension of internal and external realities. Her first collection, Main Saaz Dhoondti Rahi, was followed by Shahr-e Dard, Ghazalaan Tum to Waaqif Ho, Saaz-e Sukhan Bahaana Hai, Harf-e Shanaasaayi, Safar Baaqi Hai and Mausam Mausam.
1
Hoton pe kabhi un ke tera naam hi aai
Aai to sahi barsar-e ilzaam hi aai
Hairaan hain, lab basta hain, dilgeer hain ghunche
Khushbu ki zabaani tera paighaam hi aai
Lamhaat-e musarrat hain tassawur se gurezaan
Yaad aai hain jab bhi gham-o aalaam hi aai
Kya raah badalne ka gila humsafaron se
Jis rah se chale tere dar-o baam hi aai
Thak haar ke baithhe hain sar-e koo-e tamanna
Kaam aai to phir jazba-i naakaam hi aai
Baaqi na rahe saakh Ada dasht-e junoon ki
Dil mein agar andesha-i anjaam hi aai
1
Let your name touch her lips, let that happen
Let that be yet for a blame, let that happen
Blossoms wonder; they are sad and silent too
May the fragrance bring your word, let that happen
The moments of pleasure are shy of my thoughts
Let me recall pains and pangs, let that happen
Why grudge the fellow travellers the change of path?
The path I choose may reach you, let that happen
I’m tired; I sit forlorn by the lane of desire
Let the failed emotions matter, let that happen
This wilderness, Ada, will surely prove worth its name
Let the fear of end crop in mind, let that happen
2
Na ghubaar mein na gulaab mein mujhe dekhnaa
Mere dard ke tab-o taab mein mujhe dekhnaa
Kisee waqt shaam-e malaal mein mujhe sochnaa
Kabhi apne dil ki kitaab mein mujhe dekhnaa
Kisee raat maah-o nujoom se mujhe poochhna
Kabhi apni chashm-e pur aab mein mujhe dekhnaa
Main na mil sakoon bhi to kya hua ke fasaana hoon
Nayi daastaan naye baab mein mujhe dekhnaa
Main jo raat bhar gham-e aftaab-e sehar mein thee
Usee shola roo ke ‘ataab mein mujhe dekhnaa
Isee dil se ho ke guzar gaye kaee karwaan
Kaee hijraton ke nesaab mein mujhe dekhnaa
Mere khaar khaar sawaal mein mujhe dhoondnaa
Mere geet mein mere khwaab mein mujhe dekhnaa
Mere aansuon ne bujhaaee thee meri tashnagi
Usi barguzeeda shabaab mein mujhe dekhnaa
Wahi ek lamha-i deed tha ke ruka rahaa
Mere roz-o shab ke hisaab mein mujhe dekhnaa
Jo tadap tujhe kisee aaeene mein na mil sake
To phir aaeene ke jawaab mein mujhe dekhnaa
2
Not in dust, not in roses, look for me
Only in my glowing pains, look for me
Think of me in a sad and gloomy dusk
Someday, in my heart’s tome, look for me
Ask the moon, the stars for me one night
Someday, in your tearful eyes, look for me
A lost story, what if I am not found
In a new tale, a new part, look for me
All night I mourned the morning sun’s demise
In the rage of its blazing face, look for me
Many caravans crossed this heart’s horizon
In the course of those migrations, look for me
Look for me in all my thorny questions
In my songs, in my dreams, look for me
My tears alone had slaked my thirst one day
In my own glorious youth, look for me
That moment froze in time, when I saw you
In my nights’ and days’ accounts, look for me
If you can’t see the pain’s throb in mirror
Then in the mirror’s reply, look for me
32
Nasir Kazmi
Nasir Kazmi (1925–1972), born Syed Nasir Raza Kazmi in Ambala, Punjab, is one of the most celebrated poets of Pakistan. As he moved from place to place, he received his education in different places like Ambala, Peshawar, Simla and Lahore. In his professional life, he worked as a staff editor with Radio Pakistan, a journalist with Auraq-e Nau and as the editor-in-chief of Humayoon.
Kazmi began writing ghazals in a typical romantic mode. However, he soon matured into a poet who could contest stereotypical romanticism by developing a complex dialogue with the self and the natural elements, and by speaking in a language that was both personal and impersonal. Poetry, for him, became a way of transforming the perishable into imperishable, and the imperishable into immortal, by turns. Nature, fine arts and finer human emotions emerged as language personified in his shers, as he moved from one condition of being to another. This master of metaphors and the short-metre shers has four collections to his credit: Barg-e Nai, Deewan, Pehli Baarish and Nishaat-e Khwaab, apart from a poetic play, Sur ki Chchaayaa, an anthology of miscellaneous prose writings titled Khushk Chashme ke Kinaare and a diary titled Nasir Kazmi ki Diary. He also edited and compiled selections from the master poets like Vali Deccani, Mir Taqi Mir, Syed Inshaallah Khan Insha and Nazeer Akbarabadi.
1
Rahnaward-e bayaabaan-e gham, sabr kar sabr kar
Kaarwaan phir milenge baham, sabr kar sabr kar
Benishaan hai safar, raat saari padi hai magar
Aa rahi hai sadaa dum ba dum, sabr kar sabr kar
Teri faryaad goonjegi dharti se aakaash tak
Koee din aur sah le sitam, sabr kar sabr kar
Shahr ujde to kya, hai kushaada zameen-e Khuda
Ek naya ghar banaaenge hum, sabr kar sabr kar
Bastiyon mein andhera sahi, ghum ka dera sahi
Phir naee sub’ha legi janam, sabr kar sabr kar
Ye mahallat-e shaahi tabaahi ke hain muntazir
Girne waale hain un ke ‘alam, sabr kar sabr kar
Lehlahaaengi phir khetiyaan, kaarwaan kaarwaan
Khul ke barsega abr-e karam, sabr kar sabr kar
Duf bajaaenge barg-o-shajar, saf-ba-saf, har taraf
Khushk mitti se phootegaa num, sabr kar sabr kar
1
Passers-by in pain’s wilderness; have patience, a little patience
The caravans will join again; have patience, a little patience
The long journey knows no aim; the lingering night knows no end
I hear a voice time and again; have patience, a little patience
Your imploring will resound from the earth to skies afar
Bear the pain a few days again; have patience, a little patience
What if the towns are ravaged, my God’s country is so immense?
We shall build our abodes again; have patience, a little patience
No matter if hamlets gloomy, no worry if worries swarm
We shall surely meet at dawn; have patience, a little patience
The royal palaces will thrive for sure till they perish one day
The crowns will surely fall apart; have patience, a little patience
All the farms would bear fruit; caravans too would make a move
Again, the clouds will bring the rains; have patience, a little patience
Fruits and foliage shall play the drums in rows, all around
Arid soil shall be moist again; have patience, a little patience
Kyun pataktaa hai sar sung se, jee jalaa dhang se
Dil hi bun jaaega khud sanam, sabr kar sabr kar
Pahle khil jaai dil ka kanwal, phir likhenge ghazal
Koee dum ai sareer-e qalam, sabr kar sabr kar
Dard ke taar milne to de, hont hilne to de
Saari baatein karenge raqam, sabr kar sabr kar
Dekh Nasir zamaane mein koee kisee ka naheen
Bhool ja us ke qaul-o qasam, sabr kar sabr kar
Why beat your head against the rock, why burn in pain, why suffer?
The hearts will themselves bear love; have patience, a little patience
Let the heart’s lotus bloom first, I will write my verse later
Wait a while my pen’s lyre; have patience, a little patience
Let the tunes of pain come together, let the lips shake too
We shall pen them all together; have patience, a little patience
Look here, Nasir, no one cares for anyone in this selfish world
You must forget all those vows and have patience, a little patience
2
Apni dhun mein rehta hoon
Main bhee tere jaisa hoon
O pichhli rut ke saathi
Ab ke baras main tanha hoon
Teri gali mein saaraa din
Dukh ke kankar chunta hoon
Mujh se aankh milaai kaun
Main tera aaeena hoon
Mera diya jalaai kaun
Main tera khaali kamra hoon
Tu jeewan ki bhari gali
Main jungle ka rasta hoon
Apni lehar hai apna rog
Darya hoon aur pyasa hoon
Aati rut mujhe roegi
Jaati rut ka jhonka hoon
2
I too am lost to myself
I too am only like you
O my friend of last season!
This season I am in blue
All day long in your lane
Pain’s pebbles I pick anew
Who can see me in my eyes?
I am but your image true
Who would light my silent lamp?
I’m your empty rendezvous
You, a busy lane of life
Me, a path in jungle’s queue
It’s my pleasure, it’s my pain
I’m a brook but thirsty too
The next spring shall mourn me
A dying dirge of season’s blue!
33
Ibn-e Insha
Ibn-e Insha (1927–1978) is the nom de plume of Sher Mohammad Khan who was born in Phillaur tehsil of Jalandhar district in the Punjab of British India. He received his BA from Punjab University and MA from the University of Karachi. He worked in various capacities in the government that included positions at Radio Pakistan, the Ministry of Culture and the National Book Centre of Pakistan. His stint at the United Nations provided him with an opportunity to travel throughout the world and write his inimitable travelogues.
A poet, humourist, travelogue writer and columnist, Insha wrote like none else before him, nor did anyone after him. The most remarkable features of his poetry and prose lay in his use of language and the tone and tenor that he employed to represent a mood, a situation or a condition. He is direct in his address, intimate in his tone, witty in apprehension and completely unassuming in approach. He evolved a language for his purpose with a mix of Urdu and Hindi, and created a narrative of intimacy. His collections of poems are Is Basti ke Ek Kooche Mein, Chaand Nagar and Dil-e Wahshi. He also wrote five travelogues and four books of humorous writing.
1
Kuchh kahne ka waqt naheen ye kuchh na kaho khaamosh raho
Ai logo khaamosh raho haan ai logo khaamosh raho
Such achha per us ki jadon mein zehr ka hai ek pyala bhi
Paagal ho kyun naahaq ko Suqraat bano khaamosh raho
Haq achha per us ke liye koee aur mare to aur achha
Tum bhi koee Mansoor ho jo sooli pe chadho khaamosh raho
Un ka ye kehna sooraj hi dharti ke phere kartaa hai
Sar aankhon sooraj hi ko ghoomne do khaamosh raho
Majlis mein kuchh habs hai aur zanjeer ka aahan chubhta hai
Phir socho haan phir socho haan phir socho khaamosh raho
Garm aansoon aur thandi aanhein man mein kya kya mausam hain
Is bagiya ke bhed na kholo, sair karo, khaamosh raho
Aankhein moond kinaare baithhoon mun ke rakhhoon bund kiwaad
Insha ji lo dhaaga lo aur lub see lo khaamosh raho
1
Not the time to speak up, don’t speak, just keep shut
Keep shut my friends, yes, my friends, just keep shut
Truth is fine but their roots keep a poison bowl too
Are you mad? Are you Socrates? Just keep shut
Truth is virtue but let someone else die for truth
Are you Mansoor? Why at the altar? Just keep shut
He says it’s the sun that keeps moving around the earth
Accept all that, let the sun move, just keep shut
It’s suffocating all around, the iron chains pinch too
Think again, then think again, yes think again, just keep shut
Hot tears and cold sighs—strange seasons my heart has known
Don’t reveal the garden’s secret, just keep walking, just keep shut
Let me shut my eyes, sit aside, keep the doors of heart closed
Insha-ji! Here’s the thread, just sew up your lips, just keep shut
2
Kaisi bhi ho us shakhs ki auqaat azizo
Insha ki ghaneemat hai abhi zaat azizo
Is shahr-e khirad mein kahaan milte hain diwane
Paida to karo us se mulaaqaat azizo
Paaband-e-salaasil hai pa zindaan-e-jahaan mein
Rindaan-e-jahaan ki see kare baat azizo
Hai muflis-o muhtaaj pa hum ne to na dekha
Paaya hai magar khaak basar ahl-e talab mein
Utri ho jahaan husn ki baaraat azizo
Is shakhs ne yoon kaun saa maidaan naheen maara
Bas ishq ki baazi mein hui maat azizo
Us mein bhi rahaa haath ye sheeraaza sukhan ka
Usshaq ke matlab ki ghazaleeyaat azizo
2
Whatever be the rank of that being, my dear friends
Insha is even now a precious being, my dear friends
A frenzied one in the city of the wise! No chance
Go and make friends with that very being, my dear friends
He is in chains but in this world’s prison house
He talks just like the drunken ones, my dear friends
He’s poor, he’s needy, but I haven’t seen him ever
At the door of the obliging Lords, my dear friends
I’ve found him on the ground in the seekers’ company
Where the beauteous beings descend, my dear friends
Has he left a space unconquered; he hasn’t indeed
He lost only on the love’s ground, my dear friends
Even there, he had his hand in rolling out verses
Such verses that appealed to lovers, my dear friends
34
Khalilur Rehman Azmi
Khalilur Rehman Azmi (1927–1978) was born in village Seda Sultanpur in the district of Azamgarh, India. He received his early education in Azamgarh before he joined Aligarh Muslim University to acquire higher degrees. He ultimately became an Urdu faculty in the university, and came to distinguish himself as a poet and critic who underlined the contours of modernism in Urdu literature.
As an academic and an acknowledged critic of the Progressive Writers Movement, Azmi had the unique advantage of defining his own role as a poet. He began writing poetry, like many others, under the impact of romanticism, but matured into someone who could think of the evolution of metaphor in his poetry, and assess the new poetics in relation to his own practice. Perceptions of time and ironic overt
ones in expression distinguished his poetry in his collections, Naya ’Ahd Naamah, Kaaghazi Pairahan and Zindagi Ay Zindagi. Selections from these collections were later put together in Aasman Ay Aasman. He also published a critical work on the Progressive Writers Movement, apart from editing the first comprehensive anthology of modern Urdu poetry entitled Naee Nazm Ka Safar with another well-known poet and colleague, Munibur Rehman.
1
Wo rang-e rukh wo aatish-e khoon kaun le gaya
Ai dil tera wo raqs-e junoon kaun le gaya
Zanjir aansuon ki kahaan toot kar giri
Wo intihaa-i gham ka sukoon kaun le gaya
Dard-e nihaan ke chheen liye kis ne aaeene
Nok-e mizha se qatra-i khoon kaun le gaya
Jo mujh se bolti theen wo raatein kahaan gaeen
Jo jaagta tha soz-e duroon kaun le gaya
Kis mode pe bichhad gaye khwabon ke qaafile
Wo manzil-e tarab ka fusoon kaun le gaya
Jo shama itni raat jali kyun wo bujh gaee
Jo shauq ho chalaa tha fuzoon kaun le gaya
1
That glamour, that gurgle of blood—who took them all away?
Who robbed the heart of the wild dance—who took them all away?
Where did the chains of tears break, where did they break at last?
Where are my tranquil sorrows—who took them all away?
Who robbed me of the mirror that showed me my hidden pains?
Those drops of blood from eyelashes—who took them all away?
Where have the nights gone, the nights that spoke to me once?
The silent ache that kept throbbing—who took them all away?
At what turn the caravan of dreams lost their track with me?
The magic of the blissful goal—who took them all away?
Why did the lamp go to sleep, the lamp that burnt all night?
The desires that soared high—who took them all away?
2
Main kahaan hoon kuchh bata de zindagi ai zindagi
Phir sadaa apni suna de zindagi ai zindagi
So gaye ek ek kar ke khaana-i dil ke chiraagh
Un chiraagon ko jaga de zindagi ai zindagi
Wo bisaat-e sher-o naghma, rat-jage, wo chahchahe
Phir wahi mehfil saja de zindagi ai zindagi
Jis ke har qatre se rug rug mein machalta tha lahu
Phir wahi ek shai pila de zindagi ai zindagi
Ab to yaad aataa naheen kaisaa tha apnaa rang roop
Phir meri surat dikha de zindagi ai zindagi
Ek muddat ho gaee roothha hoon apne aap se
Phir mujhe mujh se mila de zindagi ai zindagi