Woh bulaayein tou kia tamasha ho
Hum na jaayein tou kia tamasha ho
Ye kinaaron se khelnay walay
Doob jaayein tou kia tamasha ho
Banda-parvar jo hum pe guzri hai
Hum batayein tou kia tamasha ho
Aaj hum bhi teri wafaaon par
Muskurayein tou kia tamasha ho
Teri soorat jo ittefaaq se hum
Bhool jaayein tou kia tamasha ho
Waqt ki chand sa’atein Saghar
Laut aayein tou kia tamasha ho
A rare photograph of Saghar Siddiqui squatting at a street corner of Lahore and about to set fire to a bunch of his poems. After 15 years of morphine addiction, depression and living on the streets, in 1974 he was found dead on one such street of Lahore. Exposed to the cold winter of Lahore, he passed away in his sleep. He was just 46.
مجھے خوشی ہوتی ہے جب مجھے بھیک ملتی ہے- اس بات کی خوشی کہ حسب توفیق کوئی اپنی ذاتی زندگی کا کچھ حصّہ ہمیشہ کے لئے مجھے دے رہا ہے- مجھے کسی چیز سے کوئی خاص سروکار نہیں ہوتا- میں ہاتھ نہیں پھیلاتا مگر شاید میری شکل سے ہی سب اندازہ لگا لیتے ہوں-
مجھے پڑھنے کا بہت شوق ہے- باقی سب کی طرح کبھی افسری اور نوکری کے خواب تو نہیں دیکھے اسی لئے کالج بھی چھوڑ دیا- بس خود ہی کچھ نہ کچھ سیکھتا رہتا ہوں- پارک کےتنہا کونے میں کچرے کے بڑے ڈ بے کے ساتھ اس ٹوٹے بینچ پرکوئی کتاب پکڑے بیٹھ کرکبھی سوچتا ہوں اور باقی وقت سوتا ہوں- یوں اکیلے ہوتے ہوئے بھی میری زندگی میں تنہائی کا تصّورنہیں ہے- شاید شروع سے ہی الگ تھلگ رہنے سے اپنے آپ کو کوئی سورج چاند جیسی چیز سمجھتا ہوں-
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میں لوگوں کی طرف اتنا دیکھا ہی نہیں کرتا- وہ سب ایک ہی جیسے رنگ برنگ سے ہوتے ہیں- یہ نہیں معلوم کہ وہ کیا کیا سوچتے ہیں مگر ایسا ضرور لگتا ہے کہ وہ بہت کچھ جانتے ہیں- کبھی کبھی ایسا محسوس ہوتا ہے کہ جو بھی مجھ پر نگاہ ڈالتا ہے وہ میرا سب احوال جان لیتا ہے- بھیک دینے والوں کا چہرہ ضرور دیکھتا ہوں- یہی چند انسان ہوتے ہیں جو کچھ لمحے میری زندگی کا حصہ بنتے ہیں- اس سے زندگی میں کچھ ہلچل مچ جاتی اور یہ کائنات اور وسیع ہوتی جاتی ہے-
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میرا ماضی، حال، اور مستقبل سب ایک ہی دن ہے- یہی آج کا دن جس میں میں جی رہا ہوں- میرے پاس ماضی کے کوئی کارنامے ہیں اور نہ ہی مستقبل کے کوئی خواب- میں تو خود وہ خواب ہوں جو اس وقت دیکھا جا رہا ہے- اسی خواب میں وہ چہرہ میرے پاس آیا، باقی سب پاس آنے والوں کی طرح- ناجانے کیوں میں نے اس کی آنکھوں کی چمک کو دیکھا اور اس میں مجھے اپنا عکس نظر آیا- زندگی میں پہلی بار یوں اپنے آپ کو دیکھا اور دیکھتا ہی رہ گیا ہوں- کیا مجھے اس عکس میں اپنا وجود مل گیا ہے؟
Here’s a very famous Urdu ghazal written by Mirza Ghalib: “Koi umeed bar nahi aati
Koi soorat nazar nahi aati”
This version is sung by the young Pakistani signer AliZafar, in a TV show “Dil se”. This track is also included in his latest Album titled “Jhoom”. It is composed by Yousaf Salah Uddin. This version is so soft and easy-listening. I’m sure you’ll love it.
Rahat Fateh Ali Khan has also performed this Ghazal in his typical Qawwali style, in the same composition.
On the death anniversary of the renowned Urdu/Persian poet Mirza Assad Ullah Khan Ghalib, today, i.e. 15th February, I’m displaying the scanned images of the hand-made artworks I did few years back using the poetry verses of Ghalib.
[Click images to open larger version in a pop-up light-box]
Dr. Allama Muhammad Iqbal(1877-1938) is the greatest Poet-Philosopher of the Indian Subcontinent. Most of his poetry work is written in Persian [Farsi] and Urdu. Being a philosopher poet, his verses hold very deep meanings and are not very easy to comprehend.
DISNA [Dr. Iqbal's Society of North America] has developed a website offering a treat for Iqbal lovers and those who want to know about Iqbal and his works. You can visit the link image below to view the Urdu Poetry section of Iqbal, where you can find his Urdu books that can be read online in Urdu script.
“Nami danam che manzil bood shab jaaye ke man boodam;
Baharsu raqs-e bismil bood shab jaaye ke man boodam.
Pari paikar nigaar-e sarw qadde, laala rukhsare;
Sarapa aafat-e dil bood shab jaaye ke man boodam.
Khuda khud meer-e majlis bood andar laamakan Khusrau;
Muhammad shamm-e mehfil bood shab jaaye ke man boodam.”
– Ameer Khusrau [Persian]
English Translation
I wonder what was the place where I was last night,
All around me were half-slaughtered victims of love, tossing about in agony.
There was a nymph-like beloved with cypress-like form and tulip-like face,
Ruthlessly playing havoc with the hearts of the lovers.
God himself was the master of ceremonies in that heavenly court, oh Khusrau,
Where (the face of) the Prophet [Muhammad] too was shedding light like a candle.
— Translated by S.A.H.Abidi.
Urdu Translation
Mujhay maloom nahi ke wo kia jagah thi jahan mein raat ko moujood tha
Har taraf ghaayil ishq ke maaron ka raqs jaari tha, jahan mein raat ko moujood tha.
Wahan aik pari jesa Mehboob, jis ka sarv jesa qad, aur gul-e-lala jesay rukhsar thay
Apnay jalwon se un sab pe Aafat dhaa raha tha, jahan mein raat ko moujood tha.
Iss Khudayi Majlis ka Ameer [chief guest] khud Khuda tha, ay Khusrau,
Aur shamma-e-mehfil Muhammad [Rusool-ulllah S.A.W] thay, jahan mein raat ko moujood tha.
A very famous poem [Nazm] titled “Ambri” [Punjabi: امبڑی. English: Mother] written by a very renowned Poet from Pakistan Anwar Masood. Although, he is widely known because of his humorous poetry, but he has also written some very serious pieces. This poem is probably among one of the most serious works by him.
I’m sharing a video of Anwar Masood reciting his famous poem “Ambri“, with a short description in the start, taken from a TV program. I have attempted to translate this entire video, including the poem in English for those who don’t understand Punjabi. Please note that this translation is not literal.
[Anwar Masood speaks]
“You have said something really nice in the start about this topic [i.e. Mother], and it surely is very hard to talk about it.
It took Ten Years to write me this poem. I was in Pindi Gheb that time, and one night this poem asked me to write it. And then I attempted to pen it down. I realized it afterwards that this poem was sort of revealed entirely upon me in this complete form and composition.
This poem is a true story, and the names of two student in this poem are real as well.
One boy is named Bashir, while his other class-fellow is Akram. Bashir was late in the class, and the schoolmaster, called “Munshi“, asked for the explanation why he was late.
Here, I’m telling it in front of all the audience that I was the schoolmaster in this poem.”
[Schoolmaster asks Bashir]
You are so late today, Bashir!
Even when your village is quite nearby.
You’ll surely get some severe beating as punishment,
As you have almost missed two periods.
[The student, Bashir, replies]
Dear Sir, please listen to my reason first. Akram has really did the worst today.
He beats his mother, and beats real harsh
And this rascal has crossed the limits today.
He thrashed her till that butter-churning-staff broke.
But when some people gathered from nearby
He picked up his books and ran to school.
Sir, his mother then came to our home
Her face was full of bruises, her hands were swollen much
Her eyes were wet with tears, and lips were bleeding too.
She asked me “O sweet Bashir!
Please do me a favor today, dear!
Take this lunch to my son Akram
As he was cross with me and went without it”
She has cooked these special “Paratha” [bread] for him
And egg-pudding prepared with such care.
She has carefully wrapped his lunch
And handed over to me.
She was repeatedly saying this to me
“Please hurry up dear
Please don’t be late.
My son must be fainting with hunger.
That poor soul went to school without eating”
She handed me the lunch
And I headed towards this school.
This Akram has really did the worst today…
