Tag Archives: Faiz

What I can not find…

پارسا تو ملتے بہت، انساں نہیں ملتا

اس جیسے ملتے بہت، عثماں نہیں ملتا

 

روسیاہ ہی ہو گے راکھ کرید کے

جلتے ہوے گھر سے ساماں نہیں ملتا

 

جب ملا ہم کو سات پردوں میں ملا

رازِ حیات ہمیں، عریاں نہیں ملتا

 

وضو کیا تو کیا؟ سجدہ کیا تو کیا؟

یوں سر پٹخنے سے، ایماں نہیں ملتا

 

بہت دنوں سے ہے تلاطم کی جستجو

ہر طرف سکوت ہے، طوفاں نہیں ملتا

 

منفرد ہیں میر، غالب، فیض و فراز

ایک سے دوسرے کا، دیواں نہیں ملتا

 

ایک اور سبکی استاد نے برداشت کی

تیری طرح ضبط کا خواہاں نہیں ملتا

Pious people are everywhere

Yet I can not find a man

I find many like him

But not him

 

This search

This inquisitiveness is useless

You can not find your belongings

In a house that burnt down

 

And whenever I discovered the secret

It was shrouded in many layers

I could not find

The naked truth

 

I performed the rituals

Abulutions

Slammed my head against the floor

And could not find faith

 

I seek the tumult

Been searching for it

Stillness everywhere

Not a storm in sight

 

The poets and the thinkers

The guides

All have their uniqueness

Unquestioned

 

And so he suffers

Another insult

I find none like him

Who preach patience

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The complaint

Mirza Asadullah Khan Ghalib was one of the greatest poets who ever lived in the Mughal Empire. More than his poetry, it is his life and love for life that I find quite inspiring. Undoubtedly, his words have inspired generations of poets that followed him and I still find his diwan (collection of poetic writings) to be quite delightful. The first couplet of the diwan is reproduced below:

نقشِ فریادی  ہے  کس کی  شوخیِ تحریر  کا

کاغذی    ہے   پیرہن    ہر  پیکرِ  تصویر  کا

Naqsh-e-faryaadi hai kis ki shaukhi-e tehreer ka

Kagazi hai pairahan har paikar-e tasveer ka

A rather simplified meaning of this couplet is:

This sign made by the one who complaints

Is it a mischief through writing?

Every image worthy of being admired

Wears paper thin clothes

Obviously, different thinkers and critics have applied their own meanings to the words and a very powerful as well as detailed explanation (along with criticism) can be found at the Ghalib index maintained by Columbia University. I suggest you read it if you’re so inclined. It does explain a lot of the difficulty in translating poetic thought, particularly from languages such as Persian and Urdu. As I reflected on Ghalib’s words, a rather dismal ghazal formed in my mind, of which the hasil-e-ghazal (primary meaningful verse) is the second couplet.

ان مناظر  پے  اب  دھیان کون کرے

ترے سامنے تعریفِ جہاں کون کرے

These vistas

Are immaterial

Am I to waste time praising the world?

Or should I admire your beauty?

j

شوخیِ تحریر تو جرم  ٹھہری یاروں

فریادی  موجود پر، نشان کون کرے

And it is a crime to write

Or to make a mark

The injured party is there

Who registers the complaint?

j

دیوانگی میں افسردگی؟  ہنسی اتی ہے

ہم ہنسے  رقیب ہنسے،  فغاں کون کرے

A sense of sadness

With a hint of insanity

It makes me and him laugh

But who cries?

j

کیوں  صدائیں  اپنی جدا  ہو گئیں

آج تجھ کو میرا،  ہمنوا کون کرے

And for some reason

We now have different beliefs

Who today

Will make us sing in harmony

j

فیضی ضبطِ حالی، اقبالی کم نصیبی

اب  تیرے  در کو،  آستان  کون  کرے

Faiz like patience

Poor timing as Iqbal

Now who shall make your house

A dwelling

j

کوئی تو  ہے یہاں,  جو من میں  آتا ہے

یوں میری جان کو، جانِ جان کون کرے

You are creeping further

Right into my heart

Turning my life

Into the life of your life

j

رنگے مرے ہاتھ اسی کے لہو سے

اب مرے ہاتھوں کو، حنا کون کرے

And my hands are soaked

In her blood

Who shall now

Put henna on my hands?

j

یہ  شہر  تو تیرے  اسیروں کا ہے

جو  قید توں کرے، رہا  کون کرے

This city belongs to those

Who have been ensnared by your tresses

And who can free

Whom you have captured

j

عجب بے دلی سی ہے سرِ شام

جفا  ہوتی نہیں،  وفا کون کرے

Without her

The evening feels sad

I am accused of being faithless

Who can be faithful?

j

بس   کر یہ فتوے   بازی   او قاضی

جنہے  رب اک  کرے، جدا کون کرے

Please stop

Passing judgements and sentences

Individuals who are made to think alike

Are alike in action

j

کچھ سبب تو ہے، کے خاموشی ہے

اک  راز پنہاں ہے،  آیاں کون کرے

There must be a reason

For this silence

A secret, hidden

Who makes it obvious?

j

ہے تو استادِ بے باک جو سچا ہے

جراتِ گناہ اسکے سوا کون کرے

And it is only I

Who says the truth

This courage to sin

Belongs to none other

j

اَلصَّلاَةُ خَيْرٌ مِّنَ النَّوْمِ سنا صبحِ ازل

ایسی  پر  سوز  اذان  کون  کرے؟

With first light I heard

Worship is better than sleeping

Who said

Those beautiful words?

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Silence in the sunlight…

Silence in the sunlight…

 

As the days get shorter, I find less and less of the precious sunlight that I found an abundance of in the summer. Interestingly, I often find the silence of sunlight quite comforting and a friend on mine recently used the words ‘silence in sunlight’ in one of the random conversations we engage in. For some odd reason, this phrase got stuck in my head. Minutes later the phrase had translated itself into several different languages and an Urdu ghazal formed in my mind which I present for you below:

 

کہاں  سے  سیکھی  تیری آواز نے ہوابردوشی

چھاؤں سی سرگوشی، کڑی دھوپ سی خامشی

Where did you learn?

To use your words?

A shaded whisper

A burning silence

 

دونوں  کی  دسترس  سے  ہے باہر یہ راز

عشق کیا شے ہے؟ عقل و دل کی کشاکشی

Both can not fathom

This ethereal secret

What is love?

A struggle between heart and mind

 

تیرے حکم کی تعمیل میں ہی تو زندہ ہیں

مر  ہی  جاتے  ہم،  پر  حرام  خودکشی

In obedience to you

I stay alive

I would have killed myself

But you forbid it

 

بڑی    نزاکت   سے    دستِ   یار  تھامنا

دل کا کھیل ہے یاروں، نہی کوئی بزکشی

And be gentle

When you hold your lovers hand

It’s good to be gentle

The name of the game is not buzkushi

 

مثلِ فیض جو ہم بھی کونے یار سے نکلیں

تو  سوِ دار  ہم چلیں،  بڑے خوشی خوشی

And if I left the lover’s house

Satisfied like Faiz

I’d happily go

To the gallows like him

 

حسینوں کے جھرمٹ میں استاد رہتے ہیں

پھر کیوں عادتِ دل ہے؟ مسلسل نا خوشی

He is surrounded by beauty

And yet

The state of his soul

Is continuous sorrow?

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Filed under Ghazal, Poetry