Wrote a gazal after a long while. Hope you like it:
मेरी करवटों में बसी जो तबाही है,
वही तेरी आँखों में आज छाई है।
जो नागँवाराँ है अहल-ए-हुक्म को आज,
वही धुन हमने कई बार गाई है।
इक उम्र से ये आस थी आसमाँ से,
आखिर इस शहर मे भी बाढ़ आई है।
हमने माना की फूलों की सेज नहीं है,
पर ये राह बड़ी फ़ुरसत से बनाई है।
इक ज़माने मे जिसको राख़ कहते थे,
आज वही मेरे कलम की स्याही है।
इस गज़ल मे जो ख़नक है सच की,
बड़ी मेहनत से ज़माने से बचाई है।
Hyderabad is not a city. It’s a plastic jar. With flowers. without the handle. With water. Without the lid.
It had not grown out of nature, like a Banyan tree does. It has been planted, like a wheat plant is. It feeds well, but has shallow roots. It has many indistinguishable cousins, but has short life. Next year, a new hyderabad would be born. It’s seasonal, it’s stale.
There are some people who think that they are living. There claim of life, is almost as real as Kapil Sibal’s credibility. Most of them live in Hyderabad. In fact, on the outskirts of it. Almost all of them write code. At least, most of them think that they do so. Very few of them really do. They get paid well. They remind me of seagulls.
Then there is some water, in the lid-less jar, evaporating quickly in the dry Hyderabadi heat. Most of it full of life, like most water is. And it lives in the old town – near the Charminar – fast evaporating. But still not leaving its leisurely-ness.
And then there is Secunderabad – the colonial hangover. It is not bad. They started making plastic there. When they had enough of it, they built a jar – on the outskirts – but forgot the lid – without which the water, and with it the life, evaporates.
आओ कि ख़्वाब बुनें, कल के वास्ते
वरना ये रात, आज के संगीन दौर की
ड़स लेगी जान-ओ-दिल को कुछ ऐसे कि जान-ओ-दिल
ता-उम्र फिर न कोई हसीन ख़्वाब बुन सके
[ संगीन दौर == difficult time ]
[ ता-उम्र == till the end of life ]
गो हमसे भागती रही ये तेज़-ग़ाम उम्र
ख़्वाबों के आसरे पे कटी है तमाम उम्र
[ तेज़-ग़ाम == fast ]
ज़ुल्फ़ों के ख़्वाब, होटों के ख़्वाब, और बदन के ख़्वाब,
मैराज-ए-फ़न के ख़्वाब, कमाल-ए-सुखन के ख़्वाब,
तहज़ीब-ए-ज़िन्दगी के, फ़रोघ-ए-वतन के ख़्वाब,
ज़िन्दा के ख़्वाब, कूचा-ए-दार-ओ-रसन के ख़्वाब
[ मैराज-ए-फ़न == proficiency in an art form ]
[ कमाल-ए-सुखन == excellence in expression/poetry ]
[ तहज़ीब-ए-ज़िन्दगी == good and civilized life ]
[ फ़रोघ-ए-वतन == nation's progress ]
[ ज़िन्दा == prison cell ]
[ कूचा-ए-दार-ओ-रसन == the path leading to gallows]
ये ख़्वाब ही तो अपनी जवानी के पास थे
ये ख़्वाब ही तो अपने अमल की असास थे
ये ख़्वाब मर गए हैं तो बेरंग है हयात
यूँ है कि जैसे दस्त-ए-तह-ए-संग है हयात
[ असास == basis ]
[ दस्त-ए-तह-ए-संग == hand pressed under the force of a rock ]
आओ कि ख़्वाब बुनें, कल के वास्ते
वरना ये रात, आज के संगीन दौर की
ड़स लेगी जान-ओ-दिल को कुछ ऐसे कि जान-ओ-दिल
ता-उम्र फिर न कोई हसीन ख़्वाब बुन सके
After the previous post, I did substantial research on Iqbal. And read a few of his works available on the net. I am surely going to buy a book now. But here’s one more great nazm by him:
लब पे आती है दुआ बन के तमन्ना मेरी
ज़िन्दगी शम्मा की सुरत हो खुदाया मेरी
हो मेरे दम से यूँ ही मेरे वतन की ज़ीनत
जिस तरह फूल से होती है चमन की ज़ीनत
ज़िन्दगी हो मेरी परवाने की सूरत या रब
इल्म की शम्मा से हो मुझको मुहब्बत या रब
हो मेरा काम गरीबों की हिमायत करना
दर्दमदों से ज़इफों से मुहब्बत करना
मेरे अल्लाह बुराई से बचाना मुझको
नेक जो राह हो उस रह पे चलाना मुझको
[ ज़ीनत == beauty/decoration ] [ इल्म == knowledge/education ] [ ज़इफों == old and weak ]
I never really got into reading much of Allama Iqbal. I knew that he’s the one who gave us the legendary “Saare jahaan se accha” and “ab tak magar hai baki naam-o-nishaan hamara“. My blog will tell you that I love Faiz, and almost any musical thing remotely Pakistani … but Iqbal somehow never appealed to me. Untill the day before yesterday, when I heard “Kabhi ai haqeeqat-e-muntazar…”. By far the best modern “Sufi” composition, that I’ve read. The God is referred and not referred. It is a prayer and not a prayer. It is about love, and not about love. It is well, out-standing.
As Faiz would have said – “Jo Gayab Bhi Hai, Hazir Bhi. Jo Manzar Bhi Hai, Nazir Bhi”.
Here it goes:
कभी ऐ हक़िक़त-ए-मुन्तज़र, नज़र आ लिबास-ए-मजाज़ में
कि हज़ारों सजदे तड़प रहे हैं, मेरी जबीन-ए-नयाज़ में
ना वो इश्क़ मे रही गर्मियाँ, ना वो हुस्न मे रही शोख़ियाँ
ना वो गज़नवी मे तड़प रही, ना वो ख़म है ज़ुल्फ़-ए-अयाज़ में
[ गज़नवी == Mahmud Ghaznavi, a dominant ambitious ruler ] [ ज़ुल्फ़-ए-अयाज़ == hair-locks of Ayaz, Ayaz means slave - but her it refers to Malik Ayaz ]
जो मैं सर-बा-सजदा हुआ कभी, तो ज़मीन से आने लगी सदा
तेरा दिल तो है सनम आशना, तुझे क्या मिलेगा नमाज़ में
[ सर-बा-सजदा == head held is prostration ] [ सदा == voice / call / echo ] [ आशना == lover ]
… and I have four different renditions, in four different compositions to share. Here they are:
In the town, where i was born, lived a man, who sailed to sea…
and he told us of his life, in the land of submarines…
No, this has nothing to do with The Beatles. I was born in Sewagram. This is where Gandhi (the original one) lived for a substantial part of his life. And he did sail to sea, albeit not as a sailor; but as a student once and as a guru later. And he did tell us of his life in the land … well not of submarines, but of just marines. More interestingly, he told us of what he did on those trips. In the first one, he experimented… With truth. The most elusive substance on earth, and may be beyond. And somehow, we Indians, and especially the ancient Indians have been obsessed with this thing called truth.
Recently, i have been introduced to a new paradigm of experimenting with truth. It says that truth is not a substance, its a method, or may be an act… Like sex. It says that, don’t seek the truth, rather “do” the truth. Though grammatically awkward, it seems to work – while interacting with clients, co-workers, families and friends – “doing” the truth works. So how do you do it?
by just responding to the tiniest reality in front of you.
Here’s an example. One of your coworkers lied to you, yesterday, on an email. By the time you reach office today, you can conjure up a huge conspiracy theory of why he has lied to you, and who else might be involved in the conspiracy, on how this is going to affect your promotion to the post of CEO in 2029, and how the next increment may be affected and your wife might feel bad about not buying the second car you could have bought with the increased EMI capacity, and if you are not married how silly you would look to the blue-eyed girl CCed on that untruthful email.
OR,
you don’t think about the lie at all. You just go to the office – read what has been written – and respond to that line – just that line. And forget about it after you press send. If he replies with another lie (chances are, he wont; but in case he does), its a new experiment to respond then, tackle it afresh. Each response to the tiniest reality in front – is an experiment with truth.
I was advised to do something like this by a colleague recently. And he helped me do it – it was nice. Hope it works.
And, if we lack the temperament it takes to stick to this practice, consult the Buddha.
