देखे हैं हमने हौसले परवरदिगार के
Fursat-e-gunah
Ik fursat-e-gunaah milee vo bhee chaar din
Dekhey hain humney hausley parvardigaar key
Good Riddance
With the preacher of morality I had no truck
I did not waste my life, I had good luck.
Little Time to Sin
I got but one chance to indulge myself in sin
But only for a brief four days or so;
I have seen how niggardly is the world’s Protector
His patience with sinners is very thin.
GHULAM RABBANI TABAN
(1914–1993)
Ghulam Rabbani Taban was born on 15 February 1914 in Qaimganj tehsil in Uttar Pradesh’s Farrukhabad. Rabbani took the intermediate examination at Aligarh and graduated from St John’s College, Agra. While in college, he wrote under the pseudonym ‘Farchat’. He was a great mimic, and his verse was often light and funny. After college, Rabbani began writing more serious verse and adopted the pseudonym ‘Taban.’ A lawyer by training, he became involved in Marxist politics and was even sent to jail by the British. Rabbani later joined the Maktab-i-Jamia in Delhi, and was its general manager till his retirement in 1975.
बीमारी
देखा जो मेरी नब्ज़ को
कहने लगा तबीब
मजनूं मारा था जिससे
आज़ार है वही
Beemaree
Dekha jo meree nabz ko
Kehney lagaa tabeeb
Majnoon maraa thha jissey
Aazaar hai vahee
सफ़र
जुस्तजू हो तो सफ़र ख़त्म कहां होता है
यूं तो हर मोड़ पे मंज़िल का गुमां होता है
Safar
Justajoo ho to safar khatm kahaan hotaa hai
Yoon to har mor pey manzil ka gumaan hota hai
The Disease
The doctor felt my pulse
And on my asking him, replied:
Symptoms show it’s the same disease of which Majnoon the
lover died.’
Journey
For the seeker the journey will never end
Though he may delude himself at every bend.
एक सवाल
कोई कुछ तो बतलाओ क्या जवाब दूं आख़िर
एक सवाल करता है रोज़ मुझसे घर मेरा
Ek savaal
Koi kuchh to batlaao kya javaab doon aakhir
Ek savaal karta hai roz mujhsey ghar mera
मेरा सफ़र
मंज़िलों से बेगाना आज भी सफ़र मेरा
रात बेसहर मेरी दर्द बेअसर मेरा
Mera safar
Manzilon sey begana aaj bhee safar mera
Raat besahar meree dard beasar mera
A Question
Somebody please tell me what I should say
My home asks me a question every day.
My Journey
Without destination my journey is in vain
My night never ends, nor does my pain.
HABIB JALIB
(1928–1993)
Habib Jalib was born in Hoshiarpur, East Punjab, in 1928. He was educated at the Anglo-Arabic School, Delhi, and migrated to Pakistan when India was partitioned in 1947. He threw in his lot with progressive leftist parties against dictatorial regimes and involved himself in women’s rights movements. He was frequently imprisoned for preaching sedition and had his collection of poems Sar-i-Maqtal confiscated.
Jalib had something in common with Faiz and Sahir Ludhianvi. Their poetry is bitter and sweet; imbued with love for the common man and exhortations to revolt against systems that deny human rights and freedom of speech. Jalib’s poetry was particularly popular in the sixties and seventies. He also wrote songs for a number of films.
Jalib spent most of his life in Lahore in abject poverty and died in 1993. He is best known for his poem ‘Dastoor’ (Rules).
खुदाई का भरम
तुझ से पहले जो इक शख़्स यहां तख़्त नशीं था
उसको भी अपने खुदा होने का इतना ही यक़ीं था
Khudai ka bharam
Tujh sey pehley jo ik shakhs yahaan takht nasheen thha
Usko bhee apney khudaa honey ka itna hee yaqeen thha
जुर्म
क़त्ल क्यों हो गया हम पे इल्ज़ाम है
क़त्ल जिसने किया है वही मुद्दई
वकीलों में अब ये बहस छिड़ गयी
ये जो क़ातिल को थोड़ी सी ज़हमत हुई
ये जो ख़ंजर में हल्का सा ख़म आ गया
इसका तावान किससे लिया जायेगा
Jurm
Qatl kyon ho gaya hum pey ilzaam hai
Qatl jisney kiya hai vahee muddaee
Vakeelon mein ab ye bahas chhir gayee
Ye jo qaatil ko thhoree see zehmat huee
Ye jo khanjar mein halka sa kham aa gayaa
Iska taavaan kissey liya jaayega?
The Illusion of Being God
The one before you who sat on this very throne
He was equally convinced that he was God.
Crime
Why did you allow yourself to be killed??
Is the charge for which I am billed.
Now lawyers are arguing amongst themselves:
?This small trouble that the killer had to take,
This little dent that his dagger suffered,
Who should be made to compensate??
KISHWAR NAHEED
(1940––)
Kishwar Naheed was born in Bulandshahr, Uttar Pradesh, and migrated to Pakistan after Partition, settling in Lahore. She studied at home and went on to receive a master’s degree in economics from Punjab University.
Nahid’s first collection of poetry, Lab-i-goya, published in 1968, won the prestigious Adamjee Prize of Literature. She has also written for children, for the daily newspaper Jang, and published her autobiography in 1994. In 2001 her collected works Dasht-e-Qais mein Laila was published. Kishwar’s poetry has been translated into English and Spanish.
Kishwar was Director General of Pakistan National Council of the Arts before she retired, and has founded Hawwa (Eve), an organization whose goal is to help housebound women become financially independent through cottage industries and the marketing of handicrafts.
ये हम गुनहगार औरतें हैं
ये हम गुनहगार औरतें हैं
जो अहले जुब्बा की तमकनत से
न रौब खाएं न जाने बेचें
न सर झुकाएं न हाथ जोडें
ये हम गुनहगार औरतें हैं
कि जानके जिस्मों की फ़स्ल बेचें
जो लोग वो सरफ़राज ठहरें
नयाबाते इम्तियाज़ ठहरें
वो दावर-ए-अहल-ए-साज़ ठहरें
ये हम गुनहगार औरतें हैं
कि सच का परचम उठा के निकलें
तो झूट से शाहराहें अटी मिले हैं
Ye hum gunahgaar auratein hain
Ye hum gunahgaar auratein hain
Jo ahley jubba kee tamkanat sey
Na raub khaaein na jaan bechein
Na sar jhukaayen na haath jorein
Ye hum gunahgaar auratein hain
Ki jinkey jismon kee fasl bechein
Jo log vo sarfaraaz tthehrein
Nayaabat-e-imtiyaaz tthehrein
Vo daavar-e-ahl-e-saaz tthehrein
Ye hum gunahgaar auratein hain
Ki sach ka parcham utha key niklein
To jhooth sey shaahrahein sari atee miley hain
We Sinful Women
Here we are known as women who sin
Because we are not awed by women who display fineries,
Or feel snubbed by their superior ways.
We do not sell our souls as they
We bow our heads before none, nor join our hands as if to pray.
Here we are known as women who sin
While those who reap the harvest of our bodies
Are exalted worthies
Men of good sense and distinction
The wise upholders of culture and propriety
Here we are known as women who sin
And when we march with the banner of truth
They place roadblocks of falsehood in our way;
जो बोल सकती थीं वो ज़बानें कटी मिले हैं
हर एक दहलीज पे सज़ाओं की दास्तानें राखी मिले हैं
ये हम गुनहगार औरतें हैं
कि अब तआक़ुब में रात भी आए
तो ये आंखें नहीं बुझेंगी
कि अब जो दीवार गिर चुकी है
इसे उठाने की ज़िद न करना
Jo bol saktee thheen vo zabaanein katee miley hain
Har ek dehleez pey sazaaon kee daastaanein rakhee miley hain
Ye hum gunahgaar auratein hain
Ki ab ta-aaqub mein raat bhee aaye
To ye aankhein naheen bujhengee
Ki ab jo deevaar gir chukee hai
Isey uthaaney kee zid na karna
The tongues that could speak are sliced off, they’ve nothing to say Of the savaged lives lived behind every threshold.
Here we are known as women who sin Even if pursued by the ignorant darkness of night Our eyes will never lose their sight; The wall of ignorance has not fallen in vain Don’t ever try to put it up again.
ZEHRA NIGAH
Zehra Nigah has broken the past tradition of writing in Persianized Urdu on hackneyed themes of maikhana, saqis, bulbul, roses, moths and flames. She uses a new vocabulary closer to our times and deals with harsh realities of present-day life. The story of Gul Badshah, of which just half has been translated for this anthology, is typical of her work. It explores the mind of a mujahid (holy warrior).
कहानी गुल बादशाह की
नाम मेरा है गुल बादशाह
उम्र मेरी है तेरह बरस
और कहानी मेरी उम्र की तरह से
मुंतशर मुंतशर मख़्तसर मख़्तसर
मेरी बेनाम बे चेहरा मां
बे-दावा मर गयी
बाप ने उसको बुर्क़े में दफ़ना दिया
उसको डर था कि मुन्कर नकीर उसका चेहरा न देखें
वैसे ज़िंदा थी जब भी वो मुदफ़ून थी
बाप का नाम ज़रताज गुल
उम्र बत्तीस बरस
वो मुजाहिद शहादत का तालिब
राहे हक का मुसाफ़िर हुआ
और जां-ए-शहादत भी उसने
Kahaanee Gul Badshah kee
Naam mera hai Gul Badshah
Umr meree hai terah baras
Aur kahaani meree umr kee tarah sey
Muntashir muntashir mukhtasar mukhtasar
Meree benaam bey chehra maan
Be-davaa mar gayee
Baap ney usko burqey mein dafnaa diya
Usko dar thha ki munkar nakeer uska chehra na dekhen
Vaisey zinda thhee jab bhee madfoon thee
Baap ka naam Zartaaj Gul
Umr battees baras
Vo mujahid shahaadat ka taalib
Raah-e-haq ka musaafir hua
Aur jaam-e-shahaadat bhee usney
The Story of Gul Badshah
Gul Badshah is my name
I am thirteen years of age
My story like my age, you’ll see
Is in bits and pieces and as short as it can be:
Nor money to buy medicines,
One day she simply faded away.
My father buried her in burqa in case
The Angels of Death ogle at her face—
Anyway, even when alive she was like one dead One could say.
My father’s name was Zartaj Gul
He was thirty-two
He had just one ambition to fulfil
He was a holy warrior and wanted to die a martyr
So he took the path of righteousness.
अपने भाई के हाथों पिया
जो शिमाली मुजाहिद था
और पंज वक्ता नमाज़ी भी था
मस अला इस शहादत का पेचीदा है
इसको बेहतर यही है यहीं छोड़ दें
अब बहरहाल बाबा तो जन्नत में है
उसके हाथों में जाम-ए-तहूर
उसकी बाहों में हूर-ओ-क़सूर
Apney bhaaee key haathhon piya
Jo shimaalee mujahid thha
Aur panj-vaqta namaazee bhee thha
Mas alaa is shahaadat ka pecheeda hai
Isko behtar yahee hai yaheen chhor dein
Ab baharhaal baba to jannat mein hai
Uskey haathhon mein jaam-e-tahoor
Uskee baahon mein hoor-o-qusoor
He got the love for martyrdom from the hands of my uncle
My uncle, for what it is worth, was a holy warrior up north
And prayed five times a day.
Since martyrdom is a complex question
It is wiser to put it away for another day
However, my father is now in paradise:
In his hand he holds a goblet of sparkling wine
In his arms a lovely beauty and a pretty boy.
THE BEGINNING
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PENGUIN BOOKS
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Penguin Books is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com.
This collection published 2007
First published in Viking by Penguin Books India 2007
Published in Penguin Books 2011
Copyright © Khushwant Singh and Kamna Prasad 2007
Translation copyright © Khushwant Singh and Kamna Prasad 2007
The moral right of the author has been asserted
Jacket images © Saurav Das
ISBN: 978-0-143-41751-4
This digital edition published in 2016.
e-ISBN: 978-938-6-05733-4
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.