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Urdu & Hindi Poetry

Muhammad Akhtar 1928-1974 (pseudonym) Saghar Siddiqui was an Urdu poet, in spite of his ruined and homeless alone life, he remained famous and successful till and after his death. when he died, he left nothing but a pet, his dog, who also died on the same foot path where Saghar died a year later.

Saghar Siddiqui was born in 1928 in Ambala (British India) to a well-to-do middle-class family. There are few historic records of Saghar's personal life. He rarely spoke to any one in this regard and most of what is known of him tends to be from witness accounts. Siddiqui was the only child of his parents and spent the early years of his life in Ambala and Saharanpur.

He was home tutored and received his early education from Habib Hassan a family friend. Young Akhtar was much impressed by Habib Hassan, and he got interested in Urdu poetry because of him. Siddiqui started writing poetry as a child. He moved to Amritsar(Punjab), in search of work and used to make wooden combs while writing Urdu poetry. For some time he used Nasir Hijazi as his pen name, but later he switched to Saghar Siddiqui. When 16 years old, he regularly started attending mushairas (poerty recitals) in Jalandhar, Ludhiana and Gurdaspur. In 1947, when he was 19, he migrated to Pakistan during the independence and settled in Lahore. In those days with his slim appearance, wearing pants and boski (yellow silky cloth) shirts, with curly hair, and reciting beautiful ghazals in a melodious voice, he became a huge success. He had some tragic turns in his life. Siddiqui continued to write poetry for the film industry and moved on to publish a literary magazine. The magazine was a critical success but a commercial flop. Disappointed, Saghar shut down the magazine. In his later life, he fell into depression, financially ruined and addicted to drugs.

Siddiqui chose to stay in cheap hotels, rather than settle into a house given by the government to refugees. He would pay the rent with meager amounts earnt by selling his poems to magazines. Sometimes he would have to sell his poetry to other poets for a few rupees. He would use the waste paper spread around to light fires to stay warm during winter nights. Some of these poems were re-sold by these people as their own work.

Within a decade of coming to Pakistan, he became disillusioned as he saw corruption and nepotism being rewarded at the expense of genuine talent. In despair, he turned to morphine, buying it from janitors of hospitals in Lahore. As friends and strangers continued to exploit him, Siddiqui fell further into despair and was soon turned out of hotels and had to live on the street as a beggar. He was often seen along Circular Road of Lahore, and in Anarkali Bazar, Akhbaar Market, Aibak Road, Shah Alami, and around the Data Darbar area. He would often hold mushairas on the footpaths, in candle light. He continued to write poems, though most of them are lost and unpublished.

In early 1974, Siddiqui was found dead on a street corner of Lahore. On 19 July 1974, he was found dead on a roadside in Lahore near alfalah building the mall, at the age of 46. His dead body was found one early morning outside one of the shops. He was buried at the Miani Sahib graveyard. His dog also died a year later, reportedly at the same spot. Despite his shattered life, some of his verses are among the best in Urdu poetry.

The sensitive and gifted teenager was excited by the prospect of becoming a citizen of a newly created country and at once got down to writing a national anthem for it.

موت کہتے ہیں جس کو اے ساغرؔ
زندگی کی کوئی کڑی ہوگی

 
دھوپ نفرت کی جان لیوا ہے...
آپ چھاؤں میں کیوں نہیں آتے...؟؟؟

اب تو سڑکیں بھی صاف ستھری ہیں...
آپ گاؤں میں کیوں نہیں آتے...؟؟؟؟


Sunshine is killing the life of hatred...
Why don't you come in the shade...???

Now the roads are also clean...
Why don't you come to the village...????


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July 23rd marked the death anniversary of Baba Zaheen Shah Taji Sahib

Hazrat Baba Zaheen Shah Taji with Josh Malihabadi


تُو نے دیوانہ بنایا تو میں دیوانہ بنا
اب مجھے ہوش کی دنیا میں تماشا نہ بنا


 
ناز و انداز و ادا ہونٹوں پہ ہلکی سی ہنسی
تیری تصویر میں سب کچھ ہے تکلم تو نہیں


قمر جلالوی ............................
 
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قمرؔ اللہ ساتھ ایمان کے منزل پہ پہنچا دے
حرم کی راہ میں سنتے ہیں بت خانے بہت سے ہیں

قمر جلالوی ............................
 
وقار عشق یوں بھی شمع کی نظروں میں کچھ کم ہے
پتنگے خود چلے آتے ہیں بلوائے نہیں جاتے

قمر جلالوی ............................
 
شام غم کی سحر نہیں ہوتی

ابن انشا

  • شام غم کی سحر نہیں ہوتی

    یا ہمیں کو خبر نہیں ہوتی

    ہم نے سب دکھ جہاں کے دیکھے ہیں

    بیکلی اس قدر نہیں ہوتی

    نالہ یوں نارسا نہیں رہتا

    آہ یوں بے اثر نہیں ہوتی

    چاند ہے کہکشاں ہے تارے ہیں

    کوئی شے نامہ بر نہیں ہوتی

    ایک جاں سوز و نامراد خلش

    اس طرف ہے ادھر نہیں ہوتی

    دوستو عشق ہے خطا لیکن

    کیا خطا درگزر نہیں ہوتی

    رات آ کر گزر بھی جاتی ہے

    اک ہماری سحر نہیں ہوتی

    بے قراری سہی نہیں جاتی

    زندگی مختصر نہیں ہوتی

    ایک دن دیکھنے کو آ جاتے

    یہ ہوس عمر بھر نہیں ہوتی

    حسن سب کو خدا نہیں دیتا

    ہر کسی کی نظر نہیں ہوتی

    دل پیالہ نہیں گدائی کا

    عاشقی در بہ در نہیں ہوتی

 
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Reading Himayat Ali Shair’s ‘Lament for the Motherland’ on his first death anniversary

Remembering Ali Sardar Jafri,

Jafri began his career as a fiction writer, but later moved to poetry

Raza Naeem
August 01, 2020


Har cheez bhula di jaayegi

Yadon ke haseen butkhane se

Har cheez utha di jaayegi

Phir koi nahin yah poochhega

Sardar kahan hai mehfil mein

(Every memory will be erased from the beautiful temple of memories

Every single thing will have gone

Then, no one will ask:

Where is Sardar in the soiree?)

For some reason, Ali Sardar Jafri, who passed away in Mumbai twenty years ago today never received his due as a poet, perhaps due to his programmatic verses and his overt association with the Communist Party of India. In his later years, he experienced some recognition as a poet who wrote optimistically about Indo-Pak relations. When Indian Prime Minister Atal Bihari Vajpayee took a bus journey to Pakistan in 1999, the following four-liner by Jafri was played on its PA system, and became quite the rage for a while:

Tum aao Gulshan-e-Lahore se chaman bardosh

Hum aayen subh-e-Banaras ki raushni le kar

Himalaya ki havaaon ki taazgi le kar

Aur us ke baad yeh poochenge kaun dushman hai?

(Come bearing the fragrant garden of Lahore

And we will bring the light of a Banaras morning

And the fresh breeze from the Himalayas

And then let us ask: who is the enemy?)

Jafri began his career as a fiction writer, but later moved to poetry. He also wrote a few plays for the Indian People’s Theatre Association. He was subjected to periodic incarceration twice: first, by the British in 1939. And then – in a moment that reminds us of Frantz Fanon’s account of the betrayal of the moment of decolonization by local elites – Jafri was arrested by the government of independent India in 1949 for espousing the cause of socialism, joining his colleagues like Faiz and Sajjad Zaheer who had suffered similar incarceration in Pakistan. Like a good communist, he also aroused the ire of religious fundamentalists, and was subjected to death threats in the 1980s when he came out against the treatment of divorced women under the Muslim Personal Law.

His opposition to the infamous Muslim Women’s Protection Act in 1986 earned him the ire of Muslim communalists; college students of that period still remember watching him being shouted at, slapped and garlanded with chappals by goons – a moment that further politicized some of those young witnesses against the atmosphere of rapidly increasing communalism in India. However, in the end, we must remember that Jafri led a celebrated life, having had the Jnanpith award bestowed on him in 1993. In 2013, on the occasion of his birth centenary, a website was inaugurated in his honour.

Jafri’s long poem Karbala – recited by him – is available in the public domain. I have chosen to translate one of his poems called Guftagu Band Na Ho (Let Not the Conversation Cease), speaking of the possibilities of more harmonious Indo-Pak relations.

Before sharing my translation of this poem, just to give readers a taste of the Urdu idiom, I want to share the opening stanza of the poem, which is also how the poem closes:

Guftagu band na ho

Baat se baat chale

Subh tak shaam-e-mulaaqaat chale

Hum pe hansti hui ye taaron bhari raat chale



Let Not the Conversation Cease by Ali Sardar Jafri

“Let not the conversation cease

Let one word lead to another

And let our evening tryst go on till dawn

While the starry night-sky smiles down on us

Though we have hurled the stones of bitter words at each other

We have swirled poison in our goblets in the form of sarcastic jibes

Our brows furrowed, our gazes venomous

But be that as it may, let hearts awaken in chests

Let not despair imprison our words

Whoever the murderers are, let them not kill dialogue



If that is done, a word of faith may escape at dawn

Love will arrive on trembling legs

Eyes downcast, hearts aflutter, lips atremble

Silence will then be fragrant like a kiss on the lips

And the only sound left will be that of buds flowering



And then there will be need for neither word nor talk

In the movement of the gaze, an emotion will sprout

Tenderness will be our guest, hate will be asked to leave



Hand in hand, accompanied by the whole world

Bearing the gift of pain, and the bounty of fondness

We will cross the deserts of animus

And find ourselves on the other side of oceans of blood



Let not the conversation cease

Let one word lead to another

And let our evening tryst go on till dawn

While the starry night-sky smiles down on us.”


WRITTEN BY:
Raza Naeem
The author is president of the Progressive Writers Association in Lahore.
 
منزل پہ پہنچنے کا مجھے شوق ہوا تیز
صبا اکبرآبادی


saba-akbarabadi.png





صبا اکبرآبادی


منزل پہ پہنچنے کا مجھے شوق ہوا تیز

رستہ ملا دشوار تو میں اور چلا تیز

ہاتھوں کو ڈبو آئے ہو تم کس کے لہو میں

پہلے تو کبھی اتنا نہ تھا رنگ حنا تیز

مجھ کو یہ ندامت ہے کہ میں سخت گلو تھا

تجھ سے یہ شکایت ہے کہ خنجر نہ کیا تیز

چل میں تجھے رفتار کا انداز سکھا دوں

ہمراہ مرے سست قدم مجھ سے جدا تیز

افسردگئ گل پہ بھریں کس نے یہ آہیں

چلتی ہے سر صحن چمن آج ہوا تیز

اب مجھ کو نظر پھیر کے اک جام دے ساقی

پھر کون سنبھالے گا اگر نشہ ہوا تیز

انسان کے ہر غم پہ صباؔ چوٹ لگی ہے

شیشے کے چٹخنے کی بھی تھی کتنی صدا تیز
 
Death anniversary of Maulvi Abdul Haq "Baba e Urdu"
Photo Courtesy : Rashid Ashraf / Tariq Khwaja A R

Father of Urdu Maulvi Abdul Haq * on August 16, 1961, the great Mohsin father of Urdu, Urdu Maulvi Abdul Haq died. Maulvi Abdul Haq has been an active academic to the party as the secretary and president of the ′′ Anjuman Development Made an institution. Under this association, more than two hundred books were published on linguistics and modern sciences.
After the establishment of Pakistan, he organized the same association like Urdu Arts College, Urdu Science College, Urdu Commerce College and Urdu Law College. Institutions established. In 1935, a student of Ottoman University, Muhammad Yousuf gave him the address of ′′ Baba Urdu after which the speech became so popular that it became part of his name. Maulvi Abdul Haq in Federal Karachi The premises of Abdul Haq campus of Urdu University are rich.


 
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