Mir’s philosophical reflections on his personal despair and disappointments imparted a unique strength to his poetry. He expressed himself in a language which was still in the early stages of its growth and development and had not been strengthened by a studied literary tradition. His poetry makes immense promises for the representation of the broader manifestations of life and the world. Generally supposed to be a poet of pain and of pining, Mir initiated the reader to an understanding of the larger realities of life. He expressed himself best in the ghazal form but he has also left behind narrative poems and panegyrics of remarkable merit. Using his inimitable resourcefulness with words and literary devices, he manoeuvered the ways of expression and mixed the simple with the complex to evolve a poetic language and style that then became his signature. His compositions speak softly to us; they are expostulations, at one time, and music and dialogues with the self about objective realities, at the other. His poetry is the embodiment of grace and dignity in times of decadence; it is marked by the imaginative awareness of cosmic reality and clear denial of orthodoxy. His complete Urdu poetry consists of six divaans, apart from his other works that include a biographical dictionary of Urdu poets, Nukaatus Shu’araa, a collection of five stories about sufis, Faiz-e Mir, an autobiography, Zikr-e Mir, and a collection of poems in Persian, Kulliyaat-e Farsi. Mir has been a model for succeeding generations of poets, and has been widely acknowledged by critics as an ustad, or master figure, in Urdu poetry. Many of them consider him a greater poet than Ghalib.
1
Raftagaan mein jahaan ke hum bhi hain
Saath us karwaan ke hum bhi hain
Shamma hi sar na de gaee barbaad
Kushta apni zabaan ke hum bhi hain
Hum ko Majnoon ko ishq mein mat poochh
Nang us khandaan ke hum bhi hain
Jis chamanzaar ka hai tu gul-e tar
Bulbul us gulsitaan ke hum bhi hain
Naheen Majoon se dil qawi lekin
Yaar us natawaan ke hum bhi hain
Bosa mat de kiso ke dar pe naseem
Khaak is aastaan ke hum bhi hain
Mar gaye mar gaye naheen to naheen
Khaak se munh ko dhaanke hum bhi hain
Apna shewa naheen kajee yoon to
Yaar ji tedhe baanke hum bhi hain
Wajh-e begaanagi naheen maloom
Tum jahaan ke ho waan ke hum bhi hain
Us sire ki hai parsaayi Mir
Motaqid us jawaan ke hum bhi hain
1
Of those who left the world behind, I too am one
Of that very passing caravan, I too am one
Not only has the burning lamp burnt my being
Scalded by my own tongue, I too am one
Don’t ask how me and Majnoon lived in love
A sheer disgrace to that tribe, I too am one
Of the cherished garden, you are a proud blossom
A bulbul of that very garden, I too am one
Majnoon does not embolden me although
A friend of that feeble being, I too am one
Don’t kiss anyone’s door, take care, gentle breeze!
The soil of this threshold, I too am one
If I die, I die; if I don’t, I don’t
A face covered with soil, I too am one
It’s not in me to act crooked, although
A turned and twisted one, I too am one
I do not know the cause for this indifference
That very place you come from, I too am one
My piety touches the highest peaks, Mir
But fervent for that youth, I too am one
2
Yaaro mujhe muaaf rakho main nashe mein hoon
Ab do to jaam khaali hi do main nashe mein hoon
Ek ek qart daur mein yoon hi mujhe bhi do
Jaam-e sharab pur na karo main nashe main hoon
Masti se darhami hai meri guftugu ke beech
Jo chaaho tum bhi mujh se kaho main nashe mein hoon
Ya haathon haath lo mujhe maanind-e jaam-e mai
Ya thodi door saath chalo main nashe mein hoon
Maazoor hoon jo paaon mera betarah pade
Tum sargaraan to mujh se na ho main nashe mein hoon
Bhaagi namaaz-e jum’a to jaati naheen hai kuchh
Chalta hoon main bhi tuk to raho main nashe main hoon
Nazuk mezaaj aap qayaamat hain Mir-ji
Joon sheesha mere munh na lago main nashe mein hoon
2
Forgive me, forgive me my friends, I’m so very drunk
If you must, give an empty cup, I’m so very drunk
In each round, please pour only a drop in my cup
Don’t fill it please to the brim, I’m so very drunk
I’m so very drunk, I can’t talk sense, I’ve gone berserk
Say what you wish, I can’t care less, I’m so very drunk
Hold me my friend, just as you hold a cup of wine
Or just be in step with me, I’m so very drunk
I can’t help it; I trip if I take a step
Don’t be so upset with me, I’m so very drunk
The time for Juma prayers is not flying out yet
I too will come, just wait a bit, I’m so very drunk
Too delicate, Mir-ji, you are too fragile indeed
Don’t tease me, as the wine glass does, I’m so very drunk
ROMANCE OF REALISM
The golden period of Urdu poetry that began with Mirza Mohammad Rafi Sauda and Mir Taqi Mir in the eighteenth century continued through the late eighteenth and mid-nineteenth centuries with a greater number of poets joining in to develop a larger and greater tradition of poetic excellence. There was a tendency in the poets to discover the elements of romance as also of realism, and to blend them together to mark the complex phenomenon of life and times. This period also saw the emergence of two dabistaan or literary schools—Lucknow and Delhi—and their distinct literary cultures that configured life and art in two distinct ways. The two schools also mark the two major aspects of the literary and social histories of Muslims. While the Lucknow school of poetry was represented by Sheikh Ghulam Ali Hamadani Mus’hafi, Syed Inshaallah Khan Insha, Qalandar Bakhsh Jur’at, Sheikh Imam Bakhsh Nasikh, and Khwaja Haider Ali Atish, the Delhi school was represented by Bahadur Shah Zafar, Asadullah Khan Ghalib, Momin Khan Momin, Nawab Mirza Khan Dagh Dehlavi, apart from Sheikh Ibrahim Zauq and Mohammad Mustafa Khan Shefta. The Lucknow poets treated language as an exquisite material and played upon its splendour to versify delicate human passions. In their bid to sound novel and appear distinct from the Delhi school, they resorted to exaggeration, drew far-fetched images, and discovered new turns of phrases by depending heavily on Persian. This new literary culture also found a space in the public imagination with the rising popularity of mushairas and the emergence of poets as social icons, having their association with the courts and nawabs. Even while poetry progressed in Lucknow underscoring the experiences of life in a new language of delicacy, it also showed a certain decline of literary taste in some of the poets. This was reflected in their subservience to their masters and their adherence to a stereotypical perception of what could be treated as poetic and non-poetic in life and literature. As opposed to these strains, the Delhi school poets showed remarkable imaginative vitality, evolved a direct idiom, spoke naturally, and carved space in their poetry for a larger variety of experiences. Their poetry addressed issues that were plebeian and patrician on the one hand, and philosophical and spiritual on the other. They spoke in a secular language shining bright with rare wit and humour. Delhi that had been ravaged and rehabilitated again and again, both in the past and in the present, with the first war of independence (1857) and the first Delhi Durbar (1877), was lamented over and celebrated by its poets now, as it was done before.
8
Sheikh Ghulam Ali Hamadani Mus’hafi
Sheikh Ghulam Ali Hamdani Mus’hafi (1750–1824), who was born in Ballamgarh near Delhi, spent his early life in Amroha, before moving to Delhi and finally se
ttling down in Lucknow, where he lived until his death. He could not gain access to the Mughal court like several other poets who aspired for the same. As he was not well off, he even sold his verses for a living. It is said that Mus’hafi’s divaan was stolen in Delhi, which added to his misery. This misery was doubled further with the constant literary rivalry he had with his contemporary, Inshaallah Khan Insha.
Mus’hafi was spontaneous in his rendition of verses which made him a prolific poet. Even though a substantial part of his poetic output deserves little attention, he also wrote verses that deserve serious critical attention. He approached his material with remarkable linguistic ease and combined the best traditions of the Delhi and Lucknow schools of poetry. This helped him take the Urdu language to new heights. Mus’hafi is marked for blending sensuality with mysticism, and taking his readers from the internal to the external world. His poetry is characterized by his keen sense of diction, his lyric grace, and his ability to apprehend the expected emotional response from the readers. Mus’hafi foreshadowed the modernist writers in that he broadened the frontiers of writing by connecting it to the writer’s economic sustenance, rather than reiterating that a writer writes merely for the sake of writing and personal satisfaction. Mus’hafi has left behind two tazkiraas of Urdu poets, one of Persian poets, three divaans in Persian, eight in Urdu, and a book called Majma-ul Fawaayid about his life, love and sexuality.
1
Hai maah ke aftaab kya hai
Dekho to tah-e niqaab kya hai
Main ne tujhe tu ne mujh ko dekha
Ab mujh se tujhe hijaab kya hai
Aai ho to koee dam to baithho
Ai qibla ye izteraab kya hai
Us bin hamein jaagte hi guzri
Janaa na yehi ke khwaab kya hai
Mujhko bhi gine wo aashiqon mein
Is baat ka so hisaab kya hai
Seepara-i dil ko dekh us ne
poochha bhi na ye kitaab kya hai
Is maikada-i jahaan mein yaaro
Mujh saa bhi koee kharaab kya hai
Qismat mein hamaare Mus’hafi haai
Kya jaane sawaab azaab kya hai
1
The moon or the sun, what is there indeed?
Under the veil, look what is there indeed?
I have seen you, my love, you too have seen me
Then why a veil, in between, to share indeed?
If you have come, sit a while, don’t hurry up
What’s this impatience, what’s that care indeed?
I’ve been awake in parting, ever awake
I don’t know what a dream is, I swear indeed
She may count me too for her lover now—
How do I know, if she does care indeed?
She looked at the testament of heart but didn’t ask
In the tavern of this world, my dear friends
Is there one as bad as me, anyone there indeed?
My destiny Mus’hafi—Alas! Alas!
I do not know what sin is, what prayer is indeed!
2
Khwaab tha ya khayaal tha kya tha
Hijr tha ya wisaal tha kya tha
Chamki bijlee see per na samjhe hum
Husn tha ya jamaal tha kya tha
Mere pehlu main raat jaa kar wo
Maah tha ya hilaal tha kya tha
Shab jo do do haath uchhalta tha
Wajd tha ya wo haal tha kya tha
Jisko hum roz-e hijr samjhe the
Maah tha wo ke saal tha kya tha
Mus’hafi kal jo chup saa baithha tha
Kya tujhe kuchh malaal tha kya tha
2
A dream or a thought? What was that?
Parting or meeting? What was that?
Was that lightning? I could not guess
Beauty or splendour? What was that?
What lay by my side last night?
A moon, a crescent, what was that?
Last night he jumped in leaps and bounds
Rapture, frenzy, what was that?
What I thought was a separation
But a month or year? What was that?
Mus’hafi! What made you sit silent?
Some worry? Some care? What was that?
9
Syed Inshaallah Khan Insha
Syed Inshaallah Khan Insha (1757–1817) was born in Murshidabad, where his father, a royal physician, had shifted from Delhi when the city was passing through a period of chaos. Insha came to Delhi, and being a man of wit and novelty, got admittance in the court of Shah Alam II. Despairing at the failing powers of the Mughal court, he left for Lucknow, where he gained employment with Nawab Saadat Ali Khan as a poet-companion. Later, he resented the growing demands of the nawab who wanted him to write more and more verses while remaining in constant attendance. Relinquishing his job with the nawab, he spent the rest of his life in misery, penury and silence. His bitterness was further deepened with the ongoing literary brawls he had with his contemporary, Sheikh Ghulam Ali Hamadani Mus’hafi.
Insha was a sound scholar, a talented poet, an innovative prose writer and an extraordinary polyglot, who had a command over Arabic, Persian, Braj, Turkish, Pushto, Kashmiri, Punjabi, Marwari and Rekhti. This helped him towards developing an idiom for the ghazal, which had been growing and maturing continuously at the hands of other poets. He evolved the image of a protagonist in his ghazals, who represented the spirit of Lucknow as a centre of literature and culture. Interestingly, he also brought the Hindi idiom to bear upon his Urdu, which added yet another dimension to his urge for innovating language and broadening its frontiers. Insha has left behind a diverse literary capital that comprise his divaan, a major exemplar of literary, cultural and linguistic nuances in poetry, as well as prose works like Silk-e Gohar, a work of elegant Urdu fictional prose, Raani Ketaki ki Kahaani, a tale told without dependence on the Persian idiom, and Daryaa-i Lataafat, a discourse on language and rhetoric.
1
Kamar baandhe hue chalne ko yaan sab yaar baithhe hain
Bahut aage gaye baaqi jo hain taiyyaar baithhe hain
Na chhed ai nikhat-e baad-e bahaari raah lag apni
Tujhe atkheliyaan soojhi hain hum bezaar baithhe hain
Khayaal un ka pare hai arsh-e aazam se kaheen Saqi
Gharaz kuchh aur dhun mein is ghadi maikhwaar baithhe hain
Basaane naqsh-e paa-e rahrawaan kue tamanna mein
Naheen uthhne ki taaqat kya karein laachaar baithhe hain
Kahain hain sabr kis ko aah nang-o naam hai kya shai
Gharaz ro peet kar in sab ko hum ek baar baithhe hain
Najeebon ka ajab kuchh haal hai is daur mein yaaro
Jise poochho yehi kehta hai hum bekaar baithhe hain
Naee ye waz’a sharmaane ki sheekhi aaj hai tum ne
Hamaare paas saahab warna yoon sau baar baithhe hain
Kahaan gardish falak ki chayn deti hai hamein Insha
Ghaneemat hai ke hum soorat yahaan do chaar baithhe hain
1
Set to leave, all the fellows here are set to leave
Don’t tease me, the fragrant breeze of spring! Don’t!
You are toying with me; I’m tired now, set to leave
Their thoughts soar beyond the empyrean heights, Saqi
Sure of their own thoughts, the drunken ones are set to leave
They wish to leave their footprints in the lanes of desire
But the travellers lack the strength; they are set to leave
What is patience, or name, or fame, or shame, my friend!
We have lamented them all; we are now set to leave
The noble ones live a strange life now, my friends
They say it’s all futile, so we are now set to leave
What’s this coyness you have learnt of late, my love?
You loved my company then, but now I’m set to leave
The skies don’t spare me a moment to th
ink, Insha
Now, it’s enough for us to sit apart and set to leave
2
Achha to khafaa hum se ho tum ai sanam achha
Lo hum bhi na bolenge Khuda ki qasam achha
Mashghool kiya chaahiye is dil ko kisee taur
Le levenge dhoond aur koee yaar hum achha
Garmi ne kuchh aag aur hi seene mein lagaa dee
Har taur gharaz aap se milna hai kam achha
Aghyaar se karte ho mere saamne baatein
Mujh per ye lage karne naya tum sitam achha
Hum motakif-e khilwat-e but khaana hain ai sheikh
Jaataa hai jaa tu pa-i su-e haram achha
Jo shakhsh muqeem-e rah-e dildaar hain zaahid
Firdaus lage un ko na baagh-e iram achha
Keh kar gaye aataa hoon koee dam mein main tum paas
Phir de chale kal ki see tarha mujh ko dum achha
Is hasti-i mauhoom se main tung hoon Insha
Wallah ke ab is se ba maraatib adam achha
2
Okay, you are angry with me my love, okay
I swear I too wouldn’t speak to you, it’s okay
I’ve to keep my heart busy, this or that way
I too will find myself a friend, it’s okay
There is a heat in my breast; the breast burns in heat now
It’s fine, I will meet you less and less, it’s okay
You talk to others, while I look on helplessly
Okay, this is how you treat me now, it’s okay
I’m retired to the idol house’s seclusion, Sheikh
If you are going to the harem, go, it’s okay
Those at the love’s door and domain, dear devotee
Don’t like heavens, or its gardens, it’s okay
You leave saying you will be back in a while now
So, you plan to do what you did then, it’s okay
I’m dead weary of this imagined life, Insha
Sure, the Eden is better by degrees, it’s okay
10
Bahadur Shah Zafar
Bahadur Shah Zafar (1775–1862) is the nom de plume of Mirza Abu Zafar Sirajuddin Mohammad Bahadur Shah Zafar. History remembers this last Mughal emperor as Bahadur Shah II and literature as Bahadur Shah Zafar. After the first battle of Independence in 1857, he was arrested, his three sons killed and their heads hung on the gate in Delhi, now known as Delhi Gate. He was later tried in Calcutta and exiled in Rangoon, now Yangon in Myanmar, where he died and was buried with no trace of his grave for a long time, as he had predicted. There stands a shrine now at the supposed site.