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Archive for the ‘Urdu Literature’ Category
Sahir Ludhianvi’s Taj Mahal
Sahir Ludhianvi’s immortal poem Taj Mahal has always fascinated me. It takes a most unconventional take at this beautiful monument where the poet protests at the choice of an romantic rendezvous.
Today, I found a lovely translation of this poem. I am reproducing it below - but first a few lines from Urdu:
Yeh chaman zar yeh jamna ka kinara yeh mahal
Yeh munaqqash dar-o-deevar yeh mehrab yeh taaq
Aik shahanshah nay daulat ka sahara lay ker
Hum ghareebon kee mohabbat ka uraya hai mazaaqÂ
 Taj Mahal
The Taj, mayhap, to you may seem, a mark of love supreme
You may hold this beauteous vale in great esteem;
Yet, my love, meet me hence at some other place!
How odd for the poor folk to frequent royal resorts;
‘Tis strange that the amorous souls should tread the regal paths
Trodden once by mighty kings and their proud consorts.
Behind the facade of love my dear, you had better seen,
The marks of imperial might that herein lie screen’d
You who take delight in tombs of kings deceased,
Should have seen the hutments dark where you and I did wean.
Countless men in this world must have loved and gone,
Who would say their loves weren’t truthful or strong?
But in the name of their loves, no memorial is raised
For they too, like you and me, belonged to the common throng.
These structures and sepulchres, these ramparts and forts,
These relics of the mighty dead are, in fact, no more
Than the cancerous tumours on the face of earth,
Fattened on our ancestor’s very blood and bones.
They too must have loved, my love, whose hands had made,
This marble monument, nicely chiselled and shaped
But their dear ones lived and died, unhonoured, unknown,
None burnt even a taper on their lowly graves.
This bank of Jamuna, this edifice, these groves and lawns,
These carved walls and doors, arches and alcoves,
An emperor on the strength of wealth, Has played with us a cruel joke.
Meet me hence, my love, at some other place.
Translation by K.C. Kanda, appeared in “Masterpieces of Urdu Nazmâ€, published by Sterling Publishers Pvt. Ltd. - found here
Qurratulain Hyder talking to BBC on the first South Asian novel
SG has sent me this old audio recording of Qurratulain Hyder when she visited London in the 1990s [?] and was interviewed by the BBC.
This is a great interview, with Ainee Apa at her best: quick witted, sharp and entertaining. During the interview she makes fun of the light weight journalism and then remarks on how a writer or an artist gets stuck by an image. She talks of an image from the Iraq war - a 15 second long clip - where a woman is questioning as to why is she a victim of a war.
About getting the highest national awards, she is a little reticent to say much, perhaps finding it ’boring’ in her usual style. In fact she is even a little mocking but then corrects herself immediately.
Another great feature of this recording is that she reads a portion of her (then) latest novel Chandni Begum. (This is one of her later novels and brings forth the evolution of post-colonial India, the confidence of the new generations and the replacement of the old order with the new complex Indian reality. This is also a curious novel, where the protaganist -Chandni - dies at an early stage of the plot and life moves on…Only Ainee could have handled such a story and narrative).
In her reading, Ainee impersonates the characters - street performers or nautankee wallahs- and the passage invokes an entire mood, sociology and politics of how the performing troupe[s] function and finds their stars. There is reference to an artiste who in her greed has renounced her art and has moved to Dubai as an ayah (a domestic helper or a nanny).
The ultimate historical value of this audio-clip is the background to her translation of a 1790 novel authored by a junior official of the East India Company called Hasan Shah.
This novel entitled Nashtar and written in a mix of Hindi and Persian was discovered by Ainee from the Aligarh library. She translated it as “The Dancing Girl” (there is a version called The Nautch Girl as well) and published it in the late 1990s.
The novel, claims Ainee, is the first (South Asian) novel in a modern sense.  The author was a contemporary of Jane Austen. Ainee also mentions the book’s contemporary style of writing, fascinating characterisation and the historical value with respect to the narration of the English Officers’ lifestyle and their immersion in local culture and manners. This changed, as Ainee reminds in this clip, during the reign of Lord Cornwallis when the English officials were asked to develop and maintain a distance from the natives.
(Hasan Shah’s novel was translated in 1890, prior to the publication of Umrao Jan, and therefore Ainee strongly maintaned this to be the first novel. Later some critics disagreed but Ainee held to her point of view based on irrefutable evidence she had painstakingly gathered.)
Listening to this voice in its full force was a pleasure. What a little gem -Â and I cannot thank my friend more for sending this link.
Picture credit
Postscript: Today, Pakistan’s Geo TV also ran a programme on Ainee in its popular talk show ‘50 minutes’. Tributes were paid and senior writers (including Abdullah Husain who was accused by Ainee of plagirising her in his novel Udaas Naslain! - the gentleman was quite incoherent) held forth on her ’stature’. Some of the discussion was good though a few comments were pretty prosaic (Ainee Apa would not have liked that stuff). But then she must be smiling at Abdullah Hussain declaring on national television that she was the greatest of Urdu novelists!
The tributes continue - remembering Qurratalain Hyder
The literati in India and Pakistan are grappling with the larger question of Qurratulain Hyder’s stature in Urdu, and some would say, World literature.  The Daily Times, Pakistan has published an appropriately titled editorial, Quratulain Hyder, Urdu’s greatest novelist. This paragraph struck me:
…her view of culture was intensely pluralistic, explaining Muslim culture too in a “transmigratory†technique in her big novel Aag Ka Darya. The Pakistani public paid her a back-handed compliment by making her books bestsellers in Pakistan; but most of them were pirated, meaning that someone other than her got rich selling them. She was always a chronicler, a kind of Tolstoy in Urdu that our critics have ignored. When someone asked her in Bombay to write about the Iran-Iraq war she naturally began with the Arab conquest at Qadissiya.
Outlook India had to say this:
Only a few days back, to mark the 60 years of Independence, when we asked an eminent jury to pick out 60 Great Indians in 60 years of our Republic, the name of Qurratulain Hyder was introduced prominently as Urdu’s Marquez.”Through her novels and short stories, this prolific writer gave Urdu fiction a brave and endlessly inventive new voice,” we wrote, and quoted the London Times: “Her magnum opus, Aag Ka Darya (River of Fire), is to Urdu fiction what A Hundred Years of Solitude is to Hispanic literatureÂ
In C M Naim’s piece, published in the Outlook:
What counts, for her, is the human spirit and the relationships it generates and nurtures. That is where the linearity of time seems to curve into a spiral, urging us to recognize a past that never quite disappears…..What, then, is our choice as individuals? Here it may be worthwhile to recall the characteristically modest, even self-mocking, remarks that Hyder made in 1991 in her acceptance speech at the Jnanpith Award function: “My concern for civililzational values about which I continue writing may sound naive, wooly-headed and simplistic. But then, perhaps, I am like that little bird which foolishly puts up its claws, hoping that it will stop the sky from falling.“
and he concludes with this superb analysis:
…what Hyder tacitly offers us is nothing but that wise Candidean response: even in the best of all possible worlds, it is best not to neglect to tend our garden. Certainly, through the several thousand pages of her writings, she has shown herself to be an eloquent witness to that truth.
(photo left- Gauri Gill 2005)Â Â The Indian Prime Minister Manmohan Singh also expressed the sense of loss: “..In her unfortunate passing away the country especially Urdu literature has lost a towering literary figure. She will be truly missed in literary circles in the country.’
Read Jawed Naqvi’s piece in the DAWN; and reactions of various writers in the daily NEWS . Rediff has published an article entitled, She was one of a Kind. Javed Akhtar, the eminent Indian lyricist has paid this grand tribute and held that she was a true genius and rightly said that he felt sorry for those people who read fiction but had not read Hyder:
“When I say that it is a great loss, it’s not only to Urdu literature, not only to Indian literature, but to the word literature. I am not exaggerating at all.. the years to come, Haider’s novels will reach everywhere.”
“The kind of work she has done… its only because she was born in a third world country and wrote in a language that is not of the imperialistic powers, her novels have not reached everywhere. I am sure the time will come when they will reach..”.Â
The blogosphere is also remembering Ainee Apa with great respect. Desicritics published An Enigmatic Icon, Adnan wrote a lovely piece on Ainee Apa and her books entitled A legend passes away and 3 Quarks Daily also remembered her. Urdu India has a brilliant post here and another tribute can be found here. Pakistaniat carried my post - click here to see the comments. And the best was from Delhi Walla, who went to the Jamia graveyard and took some great photos.
This will continue given the sad traditions of our literature - the literary and civilizational merits of authors and poets have often been discovered after they left this world. Having said that Ainee had established herself given her powerful voice and unique style of writing. But her real stature as Javed Akhtar says is yet to be discovered.
About the photo (top left): Gauri Gill in the Outlook writes:Â
Qurratulain Hyder was first photographed by Prashant Panjiar in what was a coup of sorts, everyone talked of how elusive and difficult she could be. When I met her last week to persuade her, she said, ‘Tell the magazine I’m a difficult woman.’ I told her that was her reputation anyway. For the first time that afternoon she cracked a grin. She seemed flattered.
Lahore - that was
Intizar Hussain, the eminent writer of Urdu, recently mused on the Lahore of yesteryears and the literary and intellectual atmosphere. I am posting a few excerpts from his heart-felt piece:
Not far from the coffeehouse there was the Pak Tea House which closed down recently. Even those who never cared to visit it were seen shocked at this cultural catastrophe. How earnestly they struggled for its restoration, but frankly speaking, even if restored it could no longer be the kind of teahouse that it once was. Times have changed; the city has lost its cultural character and opened its arms to commercialisation.
It was a different world when coffeehouses and teahouses flourished. They flourished in the background of a rich restaurant culture, which distinguished the Mall from other cultural spots of the city. Those sitting there were never seen in a hurry. They could afford to sit for long hours discussing ideas and ideologies over a cup of tea. Each literary theory had its protagonists, who when engaged in a discussion gave the impression of being the defender of a noble cause most dear to them. And it was not simply an intellectual exercise with them. What they discovered as truth in the process of their literary or intellectual thinking stayed as an article of faith with them.
Such were the devoted souls for whom ideas and ideologies meant more than worldly benefits. It was because of them that certain restaurants gained a cultural status. Now we are living in a different world. This world cannot afford to have such souls and such haunts within its fold. The age of coffeehouses and teahouses is gone. Food streets are now the hallmark of life in Lahore.
Yet there is hope - such as this intent by a well meaning intellectual on Pakistaniat.
picture credit
A voice that shall remain
A body shall disappear into dust but a voice shall remain.
 Here is an audio recording of Qurratulain Hyder reading “Daalan vala” in her characteristic style. This recording was found on this site.Â
Qurratulain Hyder is dead!
I have been upset the entire day. Perhaps it does not matter in the larger scheme of things. But this is a sad, sad day. Qurratulain Hyder, the literary giant of our times is no more. At a personal level it is not just the death of another literary figure but it is far greater and deeper than that. Ainee inspired generations of Urdu readers and there is not a single Urdu writer of post-independence era who has not been influenced by her.
Ainee had a civilizational consciousness that took us beyond the nation-state identities that we are so familiar with in our everyday lives. And, of course there was romance - the notion of eastern and Indic romance - that touched our lives. As I wrote earlier, that the way I have understood the world and perhaps parts of myself were deeply influenced by Ainee.
And now her death is a blow that this source of inspiration is not there anymore; as it is we are living in barren times where literature is about marketing and packaging and catering to consumers.
Ainee primarily wrote for herself but reached out and made her mark - and in the process she connected with millions of readers. And I am just one of them. My friends and I have talked today and we recounted how she shaped our inner lives.
I have at least avoided a regret - I met her after years of longing. Met her twice at her house in her frail state and enjoyed the hours. The impressions were indelible. Of course, the ambitious self had planned a meeting later this year.
But there will be nobody in that Noida house. That little temple opposite her house will remain and the sound of Azaan from a neighbouring mosque will also heard. But the hearty laughter, quick witted lines and inimitable writings will not be there.
However, as a friend said - writers die, their stories don’t -makes me a little content.
Farewell, Ainee Apa. May God keep you happy wherever you are..
Black and white photo is by Prashant Panjiar - the others were taken by me
Du’aa (Prayer) on the Independence Day
This moving poem by Faiz was written forty years ago and still sounds so fresh and relevant…
Du’aa (Prayer) — A nazm for Pakistan’s Independence Day, 1967
Come, let us join our hands in prayer.
We, who can not remember the exact ritual
We, who, except the passion and fire of Love,
do not recall any god, remember no idol.
Let us beseech, that may the Divine Sketcher
mix a sweet future in the present’s poison
For those who can’t bear the burden of time,
the rolling of days on their souls, may He lighten
Those, whose eyes don’t have in their fate, the rosy cheek of dawn
may He set for them some flame alight.
For those, whose steps know no path
may He show their eyes some way in the night.
May those whose faith is following falsehood and pomp
have the courage to deny, the boldness to discover.
May those whose heads wait for the oppressors sword
have the ability to push off the hand of the executioner.
This secret of Love, which has put the soul on fire,
may we express it today and the burning be gone.
This word of Truth that pricks in the core of the heart,
may we say it today and the itching be gone.
(Faiz translated by Agha Shahid Ali)
Here’s the Urdu version -
aayeh hath uthein hum bhi
hum jinhein rusm-e du’aa yaad nahin
hum jinhein soz-e muhabat ke siwa
koi buth, koi khuda yaad nahinaayeh urz guzarein keh nigar-e hustee
zehar-e imroz mein shirenya furda bhar de
wo jinhein taab-e garaan bary-a iyaam nahin
un ki pulkoon peh shaub-e roz ko hulka ker dejin ki aankhoon ko roz-e subh ka yaara bhi nahin
un ki raatoon mein koi shuma munawar ker de
jin ke kadumoon ko kisi reh ka sahara bhi nahin
un nazroon peh koi raah ujagar ker dejin ka deeN pariw-e kizb-o riya hai un ko
himet-e kufr mile, jurat-e tehqiq mile
jin ke sir muntazar-e tegh-e jafa hein un ko
dust-e qatil ko jatuk deenay ki taufiq mileishq ka sir-e nihaaN jaan tapaaN hai jis se
aaj iqrar karein aur tapish mit jaa’e
hurf-e haq dil mein khatakta hai jo kante ki turhaaN
aaj izhar karein aur khalish mit jaa’e
Another favourite of mine is Ustad Daman’s immortal poem in Punjabi about the sorrows of partition that we often forget while celebrating this day. Millions had to leave their homes, were killed or hurt - and this bloodline still continues to haunt us…
A poem by Harris Khalique
She and I
She and I would talk of wonder and dread,
of desires and disasters,
boys and girls pacing up and down
the sidewalk beside us,
milk she forgot to put back in the fridge,
writing tables, bookshelves, table lamps, kitchens,
plumbers and fixers.
She and I would talk of families, spouses and
siblings,
pets in the neighbourhood
who have the same faith as their keepers,
of lying to loved ones about sex and night outs,
travels,
friends found when travelling,
hat racks in aircrafts with defective latches,
unkempt interiors of slow moving trains,
rivers, mountains, forests, deserts,
oceans and dreams.
She and I would talk of our country,
dust can hold it together for so long,
of Gog and Magog
licking up the walls of sanity,
of people and their struggle,
wounds unhealed and seasons we fear.
The sibilance of sorrow creeping behind us,
we wished we chat till the world ends
and the world always ended.
Â
From: between You & Your Love. Selected and New Poems Fazleesons. Preface by Dr Tariq Rahman. Compiled by Adnan Sattar, Karachi 2004
About Harris read here
New translations of Parveen Shakir
The translations can be accessed here.
A Little poem
Ominous shadows
 Raunaqe bazaar-o- mehfil kam nahin hai aj bhee
Saneha is sheher mein koi magar honay ko hai
Qurratulain Hyder
Sometimes a little discovery can be so delightful. The other day I was shown an old book authored by Qurratulain Hyder. The book called “The Exiles” is author’s translation of her novelette in Urdu. The book was presented to Agha Bashir Ahmad, another forgotten cultural icon from Lahore. Full article here >>
Fresh translations of Faiz
A recent Book on Faiz Ahmed Faiz
The monthly Herald has published my review of Khalid Hasan’s book - “O City of Lights” in its June issue. It is a comprehensive selection with some gems such as translated versions of Faiz’sinterviews and conversations. Khalid Hasan is a well known Pakistani writer and journalist now based in the US. He was a close friend of Faiz and has this particular advantage as a biographer and a translator. He has translated more poetry and this is a welcome step to introduce and popularize Urdu poetry to non-urdu readers.
Jal gaya – tha ik roshniyon ka shaher
Aggrieved by the recent sinister, senseless violence and brutal murders in Pakistan, this is my feeble attempt at poetic expression. I have also trans-created this Urdu poem below titled Adrift.Â
Jal gaya – tha ik roshniyon ka shaher
Bujh gaye kitnay jaltay aur adh-jalay chiragh
Magar kotwaal-i-shaher ne mur kar na dekha
Jism kis ka, khoon kahan aur maut kaisee?
Yeh qatl na tha dosto
Yeh qatl hai ik ehad ka
Yeh nohaa hai insaniyat ka
Insaniyat ka khatma karnay walay jantay nahee
Insaan marta hai - bhujta nahee
Ahle-hawas aur ahle-dil
Huay sab ke sab, aseer-i-shab-i-siyah
aur ham
roshniyon ke muntazir
bhujtey jugnoo-on ko dhoondtay
thakay haray
gharon ka rasta bhool gaye
Adrift
Once a city of lights, stands ruined
Lamps - lit and half-lit, all extinguished
And the guardians of the city, unmoved
Which body, what blood and whose death?
This was not a murder my friends
This was the murder of our times
A prolonged elegy of humanity
Those hell-bent on erasing humanity, are, unaware
Man dies but cannot be lost
The bleeding hearts and the hearts with no remorse
All trapped in the darkness of the night
And we the forlorn
Wait for the light
Attempting to seek dying fireflies
Tired, exhausted
Lost on our way home…
Karachi - some lines from Ibne Insha
I am grateful to my long lost friend Zaman for sharing these remorseful lines from Ibn-e-Insha, the great Urdu poet and writer.
I am posting the original version in Urdu along with a maladroit translation (attempted by this author).
Meri Hasratoon ka Roma
Meri Wehshatoon ka Deli
Mera Baldia Karachi
Mujhey Aur Kon Janey
Yehi dey to dey Gawahi
Key Haseen Sooratoon say
Yahan her gali bharee thee.
Â
Translation
The Rome of my unfulfilled desires
The Delhi of my wildernesses
My city Karachi
Who else knows me?
Only Karachi can testify
Beautiful faces, once,
lived here on every street
Image above is from here
Halaku, when you will come to Baghdad this time..
I feel privileged these days. There are such interesting and thoughtful friends in the blogosphere who are adding more poetry to my life. Mystic sent me Hasan Abidi’s poem in Urdu along with a competent translation.
Halaku ab jo tum Baghdad aaoge (Halaku, when you will come to Baghdad this time) is a powerful poem that invokes the historical characters of Halaku, Arabian nights and other tales to tell a sad story of present day Iraq.
The reference here is the invasion of Baghdad by Halaku Khan in 1258 that resulted in the death of over a million people and the destruction of this great city. History will treat the recent plunder of Baghdad in the same manner!
Read the poem and its translation here.
 Adnan has also posted this poem and written some powerful words in the introduction.
The Story of Gul Badshah - Z. Nigah
Zehra Nigah’s beautiful poem for an Afghan boy, a victim of the war that was waged in the name of world peace but that has brought more anguish and suffering for the ordinary people. This poem makes no overt political statement and yet is one of the best anti-war poems I have read in recent years. The erudite translation posted below is from The Little Magazine.
Another poem by Zehra Nigah
Another well known poem from Zehra Nigah (again) with a translation by Rakshanda Jalil:
Three poems by a leading Pakistani poet
Zehra Nigah is a prominent poet from Pakistan with a distinct style and voice. A modernist who is also inspired by the classical traditions of Urdu poetry. Full story >>