Poetry

The verse of freedom

7 February 2015

In a powerful exploration of resistance poetry in indigenous languages, I discovered marginalized poets challenging mainstream Pakistani identity in moving verse.

 PoetsFaiz Ahmad Faiz

Much has been said about the literary and artistic revolution of Pakistan. Undoubtedly Pakistani writers, artists and musicians are now recognised globally for their work which engages with the world and brings forth perspectives which alter the unidimensional image of the country. At home, the new wave of literary and creative output is celebrated each year at the Karachi and Lahore literature festivals which have emerged as major venues for conversation and showcasing of what is being produced in the mainstream.

Away from the spotlight of international media and TV channels, Pakistan’s regional poets and writers are waging a far more perilous battle by engaging with their subaltern, marginalised audiences in the local idiom, thereby putting themselves at risk. The days of Faiz and Jalib are not over as we often moan. Instead they have deepened and regionalised. Our region has had a rich, ongoing folk tradition and it continues in myriad forms and expressions now. In India, Bangladesh and Pakistan poets and artists continue to challenge power and injustice. More so in Pakistan where instability, extremism and uncertainty have impacted people in a profound manner for the past few decades.

(more…)

Blank Canvas

21 January 2015

I am not a task
To be accomplished
In a timely fashion.
Nor a note
To be played
For the melody.
I’d rather be
A blank canvas
With no lines;
Than a tale
Of Un-lived moments

Kal bhi woh darte the

11 December 2014

A few lines I wrote after Malala’s
Nobel and some of the reactions of Pakistanis on social media

MalalaKailash

(English translit. below)

کل بھی وہ ڈرتے تھے
نہتی لڑکیوں سے
آج بھی نالاں ہیں
وہی مذہب کے بیوپاری
اہک ننھی ملالہ سے!
وہ جھوٹے دعوے کرنے والے
وہ بے ایمانی کے سوداگر
دہشت کے پجاری
کیا تم جانتے نہیں؟
یہ ننھی بچیاں
تم کو ہر بار شکست دیں گی!
یہ بھی سچ ہے کہ
ابھی دور ہے حق کی جیت
اس میں بھی مات تمھاری
تم گولیاں برسا کر بھی
بازی ہار گۓ

ابھی بہت سے موسمِ بارود گزرنے ہيں
ابھی ملالہ کو جلا وطن رہنا ہے
اور کوۓ ملامت کو سنبھلنا ہے
لمبا ، کٹھن سفر ہے باقی
اور کچھ ہو نہ ہو
تمہاری شکست کی آواز
تمھاری بزدلی کے چرچے
سارے جہاں میں عام ہو گۓ
ایک نہتی لڑکی نے
پھر سے ہرا دیا

سب بندوق والوں کو
بندوق دینے والوں کو
بندوقیں ماننے والوں کو

Kal bhi woh darte theMalalaKailash2
Nihati laRkiyoN se
Aaj bhi nalaaN haiN
Aik nanhi Malala se!
Wohi Mazhab ke beopari
Woh Jhoote daawe karne wale
Woh be-aimani ke saudagar
Dashat ke pujari
Kiya tum jante nahiN?
Yeh nanhi bachiaN
Tum ko har baar shikast deiN gi!
Yeh bhi sach hai keh
Abhi door hai haq ki Jeet
Is meiN bhi maat tumhari
Tum goliyaan barsa kar bhi
Baazi haar gaye
Abhe bohot se mausam-e barood guzarne haiN
Abhe Malala ko jilaawatan rehna hai
Aur koo-e malamat ko sanmbhalna hai
Lamba, kathan safar hai baaqi
Aur kuch ho nah ho
Tumhari shikast ki awaz
Tumhari buzdali ke charche
Saare jahaN meiN aam ho gaye
Ik nihati laRki ne
phir se Hara diya
Sab bandooq waloN ko
Bandooq dene waloN ko
Bandoqen manane waloN ko

‘Hum Bhatak bhi Gaye au Kia Hoga’

12 November 2014

After a long time, I attempted to write a poem. Here it is – pretty raw and unpolished. Will translate it later for readers who may not understand the language. It is entitled —
(so what if I went astray..)

Tum apni dunya kay baasi

Hum apni chah kay aseer
Milay jo ik din
Anjani rah per
Dekhna yeh hai keh
Who rah jis peh safar
Dushwar hi nahin
Shayad namumkin ho
Kis moR peh ja niklay
Ya phir
Kaun pehlay rastah badal day
Yeh hua bhi to
Koi ‘Nai’ baat nah hogi
Sun rakha hai
Muhabbat baad mein hogi
Jo mil nah saken
In ki yaad mein hogi
Hum Musafir-e-Dil
Bhtakna Jantay hain
Dil gariftah, Dil Nawaz
Hawadis aashna
Yeh bhi jantay hain
Muhabbat na bhi mile to
Hijr kay phool
Sanbhalna jantay hain

تم اپنی دنیا کے باسی
ہم اپنی چاہ کے اسیر
ملے جو اک دن
انجانی راہ پر
دیکھنا یہ ہے کہ
وہ راہ جس پہ سفر
دشوار ہی نہيں
شاید نا ممکن ہو
کس موڑ پہ جا نکلے
یا پھر
کون پہلے رستہ بدل دے
یہ ہوا بھی تو
کوئی ‘نئی’ بات نہ ہو گی
سن رکھا ہے
محبت بعد ميں ہوگی
جو مل نہ سکیں
ان کی یاد ميں ہوگی
ہم مسافرِِ دل
بھٹکنا جانتے ہیں
دل گرفتہ، دل نواز
حوادث آشنا
یہ بھی جانتے ہيں
محبت نہ بھی ملے تو
ہجر کے پھول
سنبھالنا جانتے ہيں

(A poem in Urdu – written casually – comments & criticism is welcome)

The day I’m killed

22 August 2014

Dr Azra Raza – a fearless and sensitive soul – sent me this poem via email.

Travel Tickets

The day I’m killed,
my killer, rifling through my pockets,
will find travel tickets:
One to peace,
one to the fields and the rain,
and one to the conscience of humankind.

Dear killer of mine, I beg you:
Do not stay and waste them.
Take them, use them.
I beg you to travel.

Palestinian Poet, Samih Al Qasim, Translated by A.Z. Foreman

Mustafa

The image is of slain Mustafa – my colleague & a member of my family- who was killed by terrorists while they attacked me in Lahore.

(more…)

‘You turned out to be just like us’ –

20 August 2014

By Pakistani poet Fahmida Riaz.

The inimitable Fahmida Riaz, who is a favourite of mine, was disappointed during her stay in India (during the 1980s) with the growing trends of exclusion – an anathema to the plurality of India. The poem is also included in my book.

Naya Bharat (New India)

Tum bilkul hum jaisey nikley
Voh moorkhta, voh ghaamarpan
Aakhir pahunchi dwaar tumhaarey

You turned out to be just like us;
Similarly stupid, wallowing in the past,
You’ve reached the same doorstep at last.

Preyt dharma ka naach rahaa hai
Saarey ultey karya karogay
Tum bhee baithey karogey sochaa
Kaun hai Hindu, kaun naheen hai
Ek jaap saa kartey jao
Kitna veer mahaan tha Bharat

Your demon [of] religion dances like a clown,
Whatever you do will be upside down.
You too will sit deep in thought,
Who is Hindu, who is not.
Keep repeating the mantra like a parrot,
Bharat was like the land of the brave

(translated by Khushwant Singh)

Countless walls that divide the hearts – by Majeed Amjad

6 June 2014

I had written about Majeed Amjad, a forgotten but outstanding Urdu poet of twentieth century. Today, a friend tagged me (on facebook) with another of his wistful poems. There is a translation along with the poem. I am posting both for readers here. Majeed Amjad’s style is difficult to render in any other language; however, the effort by Yasmeen Hameed (below) is quite competent. Once again this is a powerful, stark poem leaving you immensely moved. The hallmark of great poetry is that it has a unique impact on the reader/listener. Majeed Amjad leaves the reader standing in the ruins of the heart, he often writes about. I also found an audio archive of Amjad reciting his poems in a deep, soulful voice with a slight Punjabi accent.

Its a shame that Pakistan has not acknowledged this great poet. He died in oblivion and the literary establishment is divided about him. Amjad lived and died as an individual in a society that functions along groups, camps and clans. This is why he is so different from most of Urdu poets of his age.

Here is the poem:

These neighborhood dwellings, these little homes, these casements, these courtyards, even before us were as tranquil, as resplendent. 

Those who left did not deny the homes their love, were not so eager to leave. Who could have held them back, though, the stooping arches had no arms. 

Hordes, bound by the chain of fate, could have taken them along, but for the walls which had no feet. 

Their spirits now wail and sob, one with the echoing, dusty winds. To them belong these dwellings: biers burning on the debris of fallen eras. 

Moulded of a hot mixture of ashy bones and tears, only these bricks can recount the magnitude of our defeat. 

It changed us all: the distress of the fractured bricks; our own suffering we dismissed, entrapped in the mesh of stone and hay; we clashed with each other. 

These neighborhood dwellings, their edged roof-tops, the palatial houses, the tent-homes, but for the countless walls that divide the hearts. 


— Majeed Amjad (translated from Urdu by Yasmeen Hameed)

(more…)

Next Page »