pō’ĭ-trē

Bismil Azimabadi

Listen

सरफ़रोशी की तमन्ना अब हमारे दिल में है
देखना है ज़ोर कितना बाज़ुए कातिल में है

करता नहीं क्यूँ दूसरा कुछ बातचीत,
देखता हूँ मैं जिसे वो चुप तेरी महफ़िल में है
ए शहीद-ए-मुल्क-ओ-मिल्लत मैं तेरे ऊपर निसार,
अब तेरी हिम्मत का चरचा गैर की महफ़िल में है
सरफ़रोशी की तमन्ना अब हमारे दिल में है

वक्त आने दे बता देंगे तुझे ए आसमान,
हम अभी से क्या बतायें क्या हमारे दिल में है
खैंच कर लायी है सब को कत्ल होने की उम्मीद,
आशिकों का आज जमघट कूच-ए-कातिल में है
सरफ़रोशी की तमन्ना अब हमारे दिल में है

है लिये हथियार दुशमन ताक में बैठा उधर,
और हम तैय्यार हैं सीना लिये अपना इधर.
खून से खेलेंगे होली गर वतन मुश्किल में है,
सरफ़रोशी की तमन्ना अब हमारे दिल में है

हाथ जिन में हो जुनून कटते नही तलवार से,
सर जो उठ जाते हैं वो झुकते नहीं ललकार से.
और भड़केगा जो शोला-सा हमारे दिल में है,
सरफ़रोशी की तमन्ना अब हमारे दिल में है

हम तो घर से निकले ही थे बाँधकर सर पे कफ़न,
जान हथेली पर लिये लो बढ चले हैं ये कदम.
जिन्दगी तो अपनी मेहमान मौत की महफ़िल में है,
सरफ़रोशी की तमन्ना अब हमारे दिल में है

यूँ खड़ा मौकतल में कातिल कह रहा है बार-बार,
क्या तमन्ना-ए-शहादत भी किसि के दिल में है.
दिल में तूफ़ानों कि टोली और नसों में इन्कलाब,
होश दुश्मन के उड़ा देंगे हमें रोको ना आज.
दूर रह पाये जो हमसे दम कहाँ मंज़िल में है,

वो जिस्म भी क्या जिस्म है जिसमें ना हो खून-ए-जुनून
तूफ़ानों से क्या लड़े जो कश्ती-ए-साहिल में है,
सरफ़रोशी की तमन्ना अब हमारे दिल में है
देखना है ज़ोर कितना बाज़ुए कातिल में है

Transliterated in English,

Sarfaroshi ki tamanna ab hamaare dil mein hai.
Dekhna hai zor kitna baazuay qaatil mein hai

Karta nahin kyun doosra kuch baat cheet,
Dekhta hun main jise voh chup teri mehfil mein hai
Aye shaheed-e-mulk-o-millat main tere oopar nisaar,
Ab teri himmat ka charcha ghair ki mehfil mein hai
Sarfaroshi ki tamanna ab hamaare dil mein hai.

Waqt aanay pey bata denge tujhe aye aasman,
Hum abhi se kya batayen kya hamare dil mein hai
Khainch kar layee hai sab ko qatl hone ki ummeed,
Aashiqon ka aaj jumghat koocha-e-qaatil mein hai
Sarfaroshi ki tamanna ab hamaare dil mein hai.

Hai liye hathiyaar dushman taak mein baitha udhar,
Aur hum taiyyaar hain seena liye apna idhar.
Khoon se khelenge holi gar vatan muskhil mein hai,
Sarfaroshi ki tamanna ab hamaare dil mein hai.

Haath jin mein ho junoon katt te nahi talvaar se,
Sar jo uth jaate hain voh jhukte nahi lalkaar se.
Haath jin mein ho junoon katt te nahi talvaar se,
Sar jo uth jaate hain voh jhukte nahi lalkaar se.
Aur bhadkega jo shola-sa humaare dil mein hai,
Sarfaroshi ki tamanna ab hamaare dil mein hai.

Hum to ghar se nikle hi the baandhkar sar pe qafan,
Chaahatein liin bhar liye lo bhar chale hain ye qadam.
Zindagi to apni mehmaan maut ki mehfil mein hai,
Sarfaroshi ki tamanna ab hamaare dil mein hai.

Dil mein tuufaanon ki toli aur nason mein inquilaab,
Hosh dushman ke udaa denge humein roko na aaj.
Duur reh paaye jo humse dam kahaan manzil mein hai,
Sarfaroshi ki tamanna ab hamaare dil mein hai.
Dekhna hai zor kitna baazuay qaatil mein hai.

 
There are few things that kindle such patriotism in my heart. One that seems to work - hearing an impromptu chorus (of 300 odd Indians)sing Jana Gana Mana in a public park in California, on a hot sunday afternoon.

Notes:

[1] This was a gathering organized (in 2 days) by a couple of friends, so Bay Area Indians could voice their opinion on the ongoing Reservation Policy circus in India.

 We hoped about a 100 would show up. But the response was amazing. There were close to 350 people, including toddlers and their grandparents in the gathering. Many people who just saw our banners while driving by, cancelled their sunday afternoon plans and turned, stopped their cars and walked right in.

[2] It was a bit surreal to see so many people sing the Indian national anthem, in this setting,  a basketball game to the left, a baseball game to the right, a church gathering to the back and a BBQ in the front.  :)

[3] The poem seems familar? Aye, you have heard parts in Rang De Basanti. 

[4] More on Ram Prasad Bismil. And the a bit about the poet here in an article by Ali Sardar Jafri on the Progressive Movement and Urdu Poetry.

Thanks Dipanjan! fixed the credits and added the Devnagiri version.

[blackmamba]

Kaifi Azmi

Listen (to the poet read)

kabhii jumuud kabhii sirf intishaar saa hai
jahaaN ko apnii tabaahii ka intizaar saa hai

Manu ki macchlii na kashtii-e-Nooh aur ye fizaa
ke qatre qatre meN tuufaaN be-qaraar saa hai

maiN kisko apne gariibaaN ke chaak dikhlaaooN
ke aaj daaman-e-yazdaaN bhii taar-taar saa hai

sajaa-saNvaar ke jisko hazaar naaz kiye
usii par Khaaliq-e-Kaunain sharm-saar saa hai

sab apne paaNv pe rakh-rakh ke paaNv chalte haiN
Khud apne kaaNdhe per har aadmii savaar saa hai

jise pukaariye miltaa hai Khandar se javaab
jise bhii dekhiye maazii ke ishtehaar saa hai

hu’ii to kaise bayaabaaN meN aa ke shaam hu’ii
ke jo mazaar yahaaN hai, meraa mazaar saa hai

ko’ii to suud chukaaye, ko’ii to zimmaa le
us inqilaab kaa, jo aaj tak udhaar saa hai

A translation (by Falstaff)

Sometimes aroused, sometimes indifferent,
The world awaits its own destruction.

No warning, no ark will save us now;
Every drop of this air is restless with storms.

To whom shall I speak of the fraying of my collars,
When even the Creator is dressed in rags?

He whom we were proud of, celebrated -
It is he who stands ashamed, in the eyes of God.

Each man walks in his own footsteps now
Each man carries his weight on his own shoulders.

No matter whom you call the ruins will answer
No matter where you look the past is advertised.

How did we come to this? In the twilight
Of this wilderness, every grave is as my grave.

Let someone pay the price, let someone lay claim
To the debt of this revolt, that still lies heavy upon us.

Kaifi Azmi (yes, that is right, Shabana Azmi’s father). One of the major Urdu poets from India. Read is biography from the LoC link above.

The apathy, indifference, the underlying restlessness and finally a cry to revolt.

The one line that struck me was,

jise bhii dekhiye maazii ke ishtehaar saa hai

To me this meant, people are now just ghosts of what they were.

To kick start people and hustle up a revolution is what Kaifi was about. Hope to see more of him poems soon.

[blackmamba] 

Faiz Ahmed Faiz

Listen

Dono jahaan teri muhabbat main haar ke
Voh jaa rahaa hai koi shab-e-gam guzaar ke

Veeran hai maykada, khum-o-saagar udaas hai
Tum kyaa gaye ke rooth gaye din bahaar ke

Ek phursat-e-gunah milee, voh bhi chaar din
Dekhe hain humne housle parvardigaar ke

Duniya ne teri yaad se begaana kar diyaa
Tujshe bhi dil-fareb hai, gam rozgaar ke

Bhoole se muskara to diye the voh aaj “faiz”
Mat poocho valvale dil-e-nakardaa kaar ke

Translation (by Agha Shahid Ali):

He bet both this life and the next
and gambled all night for your love
he first lost earth then eternity
Now he departs from his night of grief
defeat visible in his eyes

Oh what a desolation
the taverns deserted each glass disconsolate
Love when you left
even springtime forsook me
you left and that season disowned this world

You made it so brief our time on earth
its exquisite sins this sensation Oh Almighty
of forgetting you
We know how vulnerable you are
we know you are a coward God

This rapture of simple routines life’s common struggles
have surpassed my memory of your love
It’s proved more enticing just to survive
even more than you
my love

Today she forgot herself her usual ways
her face broke as if by chance
into a smile
Don’t ask what happened to the defeated heart
Oh Faiz how it broke once again
into hopeless longing.

Translation (mine):

Craving your love, he gambled away
both this world and the next.
Look - he is leaving now -
having spent the night in grief.

And the taverns are deserted,
and the wine glasses are upset;
hurt by your departure
even the Spring has turned away.

Forgetting you was a reprieve,
but it did not last.
Now we have seen how far
even God can be trusted.

The world seduced us,
made us exiles from your memory;
day by day, the business of living
proved more deceptive than your love.

And then, today, she smiled,
forgetting herself,
and the heart, so long unused,
began to beat with a new urgency.

One of my favourite Faiz ghazals. Such a wonderful and passionate description of the utter abandonment of unrequited love. Such an overwhelming sense of despair, of defeat, of resignation. And then, just when the world seems ruined beyond measure, that one casual smile of a line that revives everything, sets the pulse racing again.

Tennyson writes: “The world were not so bitter / But a smile could make it sweet” (Maud, I. VI). Faiz’s ghazal shows us how desperate a redemption this is. How desperately the heart must long to hope, must long to believe, that it will stake all its happiness on something as fickle as a smile. “Dono jahan teri mohabbat mein har ke” indeed - the game of love is played on precisely so fragile a wager.

Faiz Ahmed Faiz

Listen (to Falstaff read)

Sunne ko bheed hai sar-e-mahshar lagi hui
Tohmat tumhare ishq ki hum par lagi hui

Rindon ke dam se aatish-e-may ke bagair bhi
Hai maykade mein aag barabar lagi hui

Aabad karke shahar-e-khamoshan harek soo
Kis khoj mein hai teg-e-sitamgar lagi hui

Jeete the yon to pahle bhi hum jaan pe khelkar
Baazi hai ab ke jaan se badhkar lagi hui

"Lao to katlnama mera, mein bhi dekh loon
Kis kis hi muhar hai sar-e-mahzar lagi hui

Aakhir ko aaj apne lahoo par hui tamaam
Baazi miyan-e-kaatil-o-khanjar lagi hui.

That bet has now been placed on me
Translation by Agha Shahid Ali

The Day of Judgement is here.
A restless crowd has gathered all around the field.
This is the accusation: that I have loved you.

No wine is left in the taverns of this earth.
But those who swear by rapture,
this is their vigil:

they've made sure,
simply with a witnessing thirst,
that intoxication is not put out today.

In whose search is the swordsman now?
His blade red, he's just come from the City of Silence,
its people exiled or finished to the last.

The suspense that lasts between killers and weapons
as they gamble: who will die and whose turn is next?
That bet has now been placed on me.

So bring the order for my execution.
I must see with whose seals the margins are stamped,
recognize the signatures on the scrolls.

More than my life is at stake
Translation by Falstaff

The day of judgement has arrived.
A crowd has gathered to hear them proclaim:
I am accused of having loved you.

There is no wine left now;
But the thirst of the drunkards
Has kept the taverns burning.

Who is the tyrant's sword searching for?
Now that it has filled every graveyard,
Populated every silence?

I have lived this way before, it is true,
Playing games with death;
But this time more than my life is at stake.

So bring the order for my execution
Let me see who accuses me
Who signs his name to my death.

In the end,
This is all my life turns out to be:
A gamble between a killer and his sword
With my blood as the prize.

More Faiz on pō'ĭ-trē ,

[1] Raat Yun Dil Mein Teri
[2] Paon se Lahoo Ko Dho Dalo
[3] Aur Bhi Gham Hain Zamaane Mein
[4] Jinhe Zurm-e-ishq Pe Naaz Tha

[blackmamba]

Faiz Ahmed Faiz

Listen (to Falstaff read)

Tere gum ko jaan ki taalash thi, tere jaan nisaar chale gaye
Teri rah mein karte the sar talab, sar-e-rehguzaar chale gaye

Teri kaj-adai se haar ke shab-e-intezar chali gayi
Mere zabt-e-haal se rooth kar mere gumgusar chale gaye

Na saval-e-vasl na arz-a-gum, na hikaytein, na shikaytein
Tere ahad mein dil-e-zaar ke sabhi ikhtiyar chale gaye.

Yeh humi the jinke libaas par sar-e-ru siyahi likhi gayi
Yahi daag the jo saja ke hum sar-e-bazm-e-yaar chale gaye.

Na raha junoon-e-rukh-e-vafa, ye rasan, yeh dar, karoge kya
Jinhei zurm-e-ishq pe naaz tha, voh gunehgaar chale gaye.

Faiz broke away from the idea of the Beloved, the archangel of urdu poetry. Yes, he puts her on the pedestal too, as tradition seems to demand. Only to build another pedestal (/tradition), equally exquisite, for all things just as precious.

“aur bhii dukh hai.n zamaane me.n mohabbat ke sivaa
raahate.n aur bhii hai.n vasl kii raahat ke sivaa
mujh se pahalii sii mohabbat merii mahabuub na maa.Ng”

“There are other sorrows in this world,
comforts other than love.
Don’t ask me, my love, for that love again.”

Posting poems by Faiz without the translation by Shahid Ali has always sparked interesting discussions on translation( [1], [2], unlike [3]). So here, we have two translations. One by Shahid Ali and the other by Falstaff. Compare, contrast, critique, appreciate…

Those once proud to be accused of love
(tr. by Agha Shahid Ali)

Your sorrow in search of someone
willing to spill his blood
but they who once lined the roads

ready to give up this life
at a moment’s notice
for you

have left
no longer to be found

Beloved
the night waited with me for you
at dawn it admitted defeat and left

my consolers also departed
hurt to find my eyes
without tears

let down that I held back my grief

Nothing’s left now
no possibility of the night of love
and no way to show even a glimpse of pain

there’s no room for complaints
no margins allowed for suggestions

Tyrant
it’s your era
the restless heart’s lost its every right

It was me
it was my shirt
that was printed

with blood on the streets
darkened there with inks of accusation

I declared these stains a new fashion
and went to mingle with the guests
at my lover’s home

Nowhere anymore
that abandon of passion

no one wear’s fidelity’s raw fabrics

Hangman
what will you do with that rope?
who’s asked you to build the scaffold?

those once proud to be accused of love
they all have vanished.

And the other,

Those who were proud to be accused of love
(tr. by Falstaff)

Your sorrow came, searching for life,
But those who would have died for you are gone,
Those who would have bowed their heads when you passed
Have all gone their own ways.

And the night is gone too,
Annoyed with you for keeping it waiting;
And those who came to console me have left,
Angry with me because I would not cry.

There is no question of love now,
I cannot complain, cannot say what grieves me,
I have no suggestions to make
In the tyranny of your love
My heart has lost all its rights.

I was the one
Whose shirt turned red with the blood from the streets;
These are the stains that I wore proudly
All the way to my beloved’s house.

But passion is out of style now,
And this rope, these gallows, are no longer needed;
Those who were proud to be accused of love
Have all vanished like criminals.

[blackmamba]

Ali Sardar Jafri

Listen (to Jafri read)

raat Khuubsurat hai niind kyuN nahiiN aatii

roz raat ko yuNhii niind meri aankhon se
bewafaaii kartii hai
mujhko chhoR kar tanhaa jail se nikaltii hai
Bambayii kii bastii meN mere ghar ka darvaaza jaa kar KhatKhataati hai
ek nanhe bacche kii ankhRioN ke bachpan meN
miithe miithe KhwaboN ka shahed Ghol detii hai
ik hansiiN parii ban kar paalnaa hilaati hai loriaaN sunaatii hai

To think Jafri wrote this from a dingy prison cell to his son, as a gift for his first birthday. Jafri was deeply involved in the Indian freedom movement and was in prison, quiet a few times, as a result.

How does one write to one’s infant child? When trapped in a prison cell, so far away.

He starts off by making a quick casual mention of his present setting - a dingy prison, rude jailors, the loneliness, the repression and quickly moves on to more beautiful, happy things - which are in fact, so far away.

Describing the beauty and joy of watching a sunset, flowers, the deep dark woods makes great poetry. But to be able to find beauty in the most common, everyday things, especially so when even they are inaccessible, is simply a class apart. To live in a prison-cell and be reminded of lullabies when you hear a train, far far away, thumping on its tracks …

The recording is from here. The Aligarians has a large online collection of some very fine Urdu poetry. A treat for anyone interested in poetry, Urdu and of course, Urdu poetry.

[blackmamba]

Faiz Ahmed Faiz

Listen (to Falstaff read)

Hum kya karte kis reh chalte
Har raah mein kaante bikhre the
Un rishton ke jo choot gaye
Un sadiyon ke yaranon key
Jo ik-ik karke toot gaye.

Jis raah chale jist simt gaye
Yun paon lahoo-luhan hue
Sab dekhne vaale kahte the
Ye kaisi reet rachai hai
Ye mehndi kyon lagvai hai
Vo kehte the, kyon kahat-e-vapha
Ka nahak charcha karte ho
Paon se lahoo ko dho dalo

Ye raatein jab at jayengi
Sow raste in se phootenge
Tum dil ko sambholo jismein abhi
Sow tarah ke nashtar tootenge.

And an excellent translation by Falstaff.

Wash the blood from your feet

Where should we go and what should we do
When every road is scattered
With the thorns of our fallen loves?
When the friendships of centuries
Have broken, one by one?

Whatever path we take, whatever direction we choose
Our feet come away bathed in blood.

And the onlookers say:
What is this ritual you have devised?
Why have you tattooed yourself with these wounds?
Who are you to question
The barrenness of faith?

Wash the blood from your feet.

When the night has passed
A hundred new roads will blossom.
You must steady your heart,
For it has to break many, many times.

Faiz is one of my favourite poets. Rarely do you get poetry, which takes a real hard look at things in such excellent lyrical fashion. I like true honest writing in any form and I love ghazals for their form. With Faiz, you get them beautifully intertwined.

Salman Rushdie on Faiz.

[blackmamba]

Faiz Ahmed Faiz

Listen

Raat yun dil mein teri, khoyi hui yaad aayi
Jaise viraane mein chupke se bahaar aa jaye
Jaise sahraon mein haule se chale baad-ae-naseem
Jaise bimaar ko be-wajaah quraar aa jaaye

Here is a translation by Vikram Seth> (courtesy Aditya Johri)

Last night your faded memory came to me
As in the wilderness spring comes quietly,
As, slowly, in the desert, moves the breeze,
As, to a sick man, without cause, comes peace.

(da black mamba reads the poem)

[blackmamba]

Faiz Ahmed Faiz

Listen (to Faiz read)

(from DesiConnection.com)

Mujh Se Pheli Si Muhabbat
Faiz Ahmed Faiz

mujh se pahalii sii mohabbat merii mahabuub na maa.Ng

mai.n ne samajhaa thaa ki tuu hai to daraKhshaa.N hai hayaat
teraa Gam hai to Gam-e-dahar kaa jhaga.Daa kyaa hai
terii suurat se hai aalam me.n bahaaro.n ko sabaat
terii aa.Nkho.n ke sivaa duniyaa me.n rakkhaa kyaa hai (*)
tuu jo mil jaaye to taqadiir niguu.N ho jaaye
yuu.N na thaa mai.n ne faqat chaahaa thaa yuu.N ho jaaye
aur bhii dukh hai.n zamaane me.n mohabbat ke sivaa
raahate.n aur bhii hai.n vasl kii raahat ke sivaa

mujh se pahalii sii mohabbat merii mahabuub na maa.Ng

anaginat sadiyo.n ke taariik bahimaanaa talism
resham-o-atalas-o-kam_Khvaab me.n bunavaaye huye
jaa-ba-jaa bikate huye kuuchaa-o-baazaar me.n jism
Khaak me.n litha.De huye Khuun me.n nahalaaye huye
jism nikale huye amaraaz ke tannuuro.n se
piip bahatii hu_ii galate huye naasuuro.n se
lauT jaatii hai udhar ko bhii nazar kyaa kiije
ab bhii dil_kash hai teraa husn maGar kyaa kiije
aur bhii dukh hai.n zamaane me.n mohabbat ke sivaa
raahate.n aur bhii hai.n vasl kii raahat ke sivaa

mujh se pahalii sii mohabbat merii mahabuub na maa.Ng

(from PakistaniMusic.com, courtesy: Wakas Khan)

Don’t Ask Me for That Love Again
Faiz Ahmad Faiz

That which then was ours, my love,
don’t ask me for that love again.
The world then was gold, burnished with light –
and only because of you. That’s what I had believed.
How could one weep for sorrows other than yours?
How could one have any sorrow but the one you gave?
So what were these protests, these rumors of injustice?
A glimpse of your face was evidence of springtime.
The sky, wherever I looked, was nothing but your eyes.
If You’d fall into my arms, Fate would be helpless.

All this I’d thought, all this I’d believed.
But there were other sorrows, comforts other than love.
The rich had cast their spell on history:
dark centuries had been embroidered on brocades and silks.
Bitter threads began to unravel before me
as I went into alleys and in open markets
saw bodies plastered with ash, bathed in blood.
I saw them sold and bought, again and again.
This too deserves attention. I can’t help but look back
when I return from those alleys –what should one do?
And you still are so ravishing –what should I do?
There are other sorrows in this world,
comforts other than love.
Don’t ask me, my love, for that love again.

Translation By Agha Shahid Ali
Copyright 1991, 1995 by Agha Shahid Ali
(from DesiConnection.com)

And, Noor Jehan renders the same here.

[blackmamba]

Mirza Ghalib

Listen

HazaaroN KHwahishaiN ‘eisee ke har KHwahish pe dam nikle
bohot nikle mere armaaN lekin fir bhee kam nikle

nikalna KHuld se aadam ka sunte aayaiN haiN lekin
bohot be_aabru hokar tere kooche se ham nikle

magar likhwaaye koee usko KHat, to hamse likhawaaye
huee subah aur ghar se kaan par rakhkar qalam nikle

mohabbat meiN naheeN hai farq jeene aur marne kaa
usee ko dekh kar jeete haiN jis kaafir pe dam nikle

KHuda ke waaste parda na kaabe se uThaa zaalim
kaheeN ‘eisa na ho yaaN bhee wohee kaafir sanam nikle

kahaaN maiKHaane ka darwaaza ‘GHalib’ aur kahaaN waaiz
par itana jaante haiN kal wo jaata tha ke ham nikle

(da black mamba reads the poem)

Translation from here

A thousand desires such as these,that each takes a lifetime (an eternity)
I found many desires and yet they aren’t enough

I have heard of Adam coming from Heaven
Disgraced a lot I came from your street (home)

If someone wants to write (her) a letter, let me write it
It is morning and I have started from home with a pen on my ear

There is no difference between living and dying in love
I live by the sight of that unfaithful (infidel) taking whose name I die

For God’s sake don’t remove the curtain from Kaaba tyrant
Lest that unfaithful (infidel) sweetheart appear from there too

Where a door to the tavern ‘Ghalib,’ and where the preacher
All I know is yesterday he was going (in) when I stepped out

The complete version can be found here . (Thanks Anubhav!)

[blackmamba]