Majnu Ka Laila ki Maa ko Jawaab- Akbar Allahabadi

I was told by a friend that perhaps I should revive this blog. I am always a sucker for advice, good or bad. Hence here this goes

About the Poet: Akbar Hussain 'Akbar Allahabadi' (1846-1921) is Urdu's pre-eminent humorous poet- what mushaira goers would call a 'mazaahiya shayar'. However humour for Akbar was not about mere ribaldry and semi obscene jokes. His biting satire castigated one and all and nothing ever escaped his attention. Exceedingly unorthodox in his poetry, he stands almost alone in using popular English words in his works. 

In his professional life he served as a District Sessions Judge before retiring for health reasons. Personal tragedies blighted much of his later life and reduced his output substantially. Akbar's brilliant use of metaphor is on display in this poem. While superficially the poem resembles a limerick, it actually laments the regrettable distaste that Indian Muslims displayed for modern Western education. The language used is simple and easily understandable. I shall therefore restrict myself to translating a few words here and there.

Kaha Majnu se ye Laila ki Maa ne,

Ki Beta tu agar kar le M.A pass,

To fauran byaah doon Laila ko tujh se,

Bila diqqat main ban jaaun teri saas (bila diqqat- without any issues)

Kaha Majnu ne: Yeh achchi sunaai!!

Kuja aashiq, kuja college ki bakwaas? (kuja-where/kahaan)

Kuja ye fitrati josh-e-tabiyat (Love is by nature spontaneous and unrestrained!)

Kuja thaunsi hui cheezon ka ehsaas! (Where do you bring in this stuffed learning by rote?)

Bari bee, aapko kya ho gaya hai?

Hiran pe laadi jaati hai kahin ghaas?

Ye achchi qadardaani aapne ki! (qadardaani- (here) well judged worth)

Mujhe samjha hai koi Harcharan Dass?! 

Dil apna khoon karne ko hoon maujood (The blood of my heart can be readily shed!)

Nahin manzoor maghaz-e-sar ka aamas (This cudgelling of the brain is sadly too much to ask!)

Yeh thahri jo shart-e-wasal-e-Laila (If this be the condition for the consummation of my love)

To istifaa mera ba hasrat-o-yaas! (Here's my resignation-regretfully and with a sense of loss!)

Shikwa-----The Complaint (Allama Iqbal)

About the nazm: Widely believed to be Iqbal's magnum-opus, Shikwa is the complaint of a broken and conquered Muslim race towards their Lord and Master. Written during the darkest period of Islam's existence till now, Shikwa, along with it's sequel Jawab-e-Shikwa, firmly established Iqbal as the greatest Islamic thinker of the Twentieth century.

Why should I suffer loss, why should i shun interest
Why should'nt I think of the future and lament over the past
Why should i hear these cries of agony and remain mute
Friend, am I inanimate that I remain unmoved?

My speech is my power and indeed I'll say...
It's you, Oh Allah, against whom a complaint I shall make!

(Knows not all the world, our nature is to praise (you)
Yet, feeling constrained for once,
for one small complaint to make,
here we are at Your door, repressed,
like an unstruck lute!)

It was a different scene till the Ummah came
The people worshipped stones, trees and men alive,
How then could God they recognise,
till the Sword of the Muslim made them wise!)

In this world, they dwelled, the Seljuks and the Turanis
The Chinese, the Sassanids, the Greeks and the Nasraanis (Christians)

But who was it who picked up the sword in your cause?
Who set things right and announced your name to the world?

It was we indeed who were the only warriors,
we fought over the deserts, we battled past rivers,
we proclaimed the A'dhan from the churches of Europe
and from the deserts of the Sahel,

The pomp of the Emperors was never what we sought
The Shade of the Swords was where our world lay

We werent moved if we stopped to fight,
even the Lions of the field sought an escape from our sight
If the ka'fir stood against you, we were there to set him right,
What are swords, even the cannons held for us no fright!

The unity of Godhead was what we all proclaimed,
Never mind whether we did it through swords or debates

Who indeed had torn the door of Khaybar?
Conquered the City of the Caesar?
Destroyed the worshippers of mortals?
Decimated the Armies of the Kuffars?

Who then had extinguished the flames of the Zoroastrians?
And re-established the name of the true God..

If the Adha'an was sounded during the tumult of war,
we stopped, and bowed towards Mecca afar,
in one row stood the Ruler and the slave,
All were equal in front of Your Grace

We lived to fight for you, we died to make you great
desired not power or pelf, wielded the sword for Yourself,
Had we wanted gold or riches, we would've sold; not broken the idols' face..

Who banished untruth from the world? Ended man's bondage?
Embraced the Holy word? To the Ka'baa paid homage?
And yet You dub as Godless?
If we are Godless, (then) You too are heartless!!

What justice is this then?
The Ka'fir gets all--wealth, women and wine.
And the Muslim sweet words, privations and piety!
Gone are the days indeed,
when sweet with us were your ways!

There are Nations galore,
People of sin, humility and fame,
slothful, forgetful and learned,
some even resentful of Your name,
Your blessings they all command,
Lightning strikes the hapless Musalman!

The idols laugh and say:
"Muslims have deserted;
Ka'baa's watchmen on camels gone;
with Qur'an under the arm they bolted."
Know You not how infidels scoff,
and make us the world's laughing stock?

The world is now for others:
for us its, but only a memory,
We leave it, but tell us not,
"The People are no more godly."
We wanted your name to revive,
but without the wine server can the cup survive?



(Abridged)


The late Ustad Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan had sung the whole nazm in a single sitting. The first part is given below. The other parts can be seen from the links provided alongside the main video

Patta Patta Boota Boota (The leaves and the buds)----Mir Taqi "Mir"

About the Poet: Mir Taqi "Mir" (d:1820) was born in Agra. He migrated to the Mughal capital of Delhi (Shahjahanabad) in his childhood and remained there till the depredations of Nadir Shah and Ahmed Shah Abdaali forced him to flee to Lucknow, where he spent the rest of his days. Like Ghalib, who followed him some decades later, Mir too had a deep love for Delhi. The separation from this beloved city of his, coupled with the deaths of his wife, son and daughter in quick succession, was responsible for the hauntingly sad poetry of Mir. Indeed, he is even today widely acknowledged to be the author of some of the finest verses of pathos.

Mir was the creator of Urdu poetry as we know it today. Remarkable for his use of simple Urdu words, his works are easily understood and retain their freshness even today. He was held in deep reverence by later shaayars and Ghalib himself commented that Mir was the original master of verse.

Patta patta boota boota (The buds and the leaves...)
haal hamara jaane hai (know of my misery!)

Jane na jane gul hi na jaane (Alas! Its only the flower that professes ignorance...)
baagh to saara jaane hai (while the whole garden is agog with tales of my pain)

Chaaragari bimaar ye dil ki (A remedy for this weak heart...)
Rasm-e-shahr-e-husn nahi (is not to be found in the city of beauty..)

Warna dilbar-e-nadaan bhi (Had it been so, even my ignorant dearest...)
is dard ka chaara jaane hai (could have calmed this agony of my self...)

The Doordarshan serial, Mirza Ghalib, had a charming rendition of this by Vinod Sehgal:

Naya Shivaala (A New Temple)---Allama Iqbal

About the poet: Poet, Philosopher, Educationist, Patriot and probably the greatest Islamic thinker of the Twentieth Century, Allama Hazrat Sir Sheikh Muhammad Iqbal, better known as Iqbal, was born in Sialkot, West Punjab in 1877 in a family of Kashmiri Brahmin ancestry. He secured a degree in philosophy from Cambridge and a Ph.D from Munich University. He was also a qualified lawyer. Initially starting with a teaching job, Iqbal ultimately moved on to politics and participated in the 2nd and 3rd Round Table Conferences held in London to resolve the Indian question. He was knighted in 1922 by the British Govt. Widely respected during his lifetime as the greatest poet-thinker of the age, Iqbal died in Lahore in 1938 and was buried beside the Badshahi Masjid.

Iqbal's poetry has a deep philosophical undertone and in the depth of meaning is perhaps unsurpassed. Along with Mir and Ghalib he is widely regarded as the Greatest Urdu Shayaar ever. Breaking apart from traditional romanticism, Iqbal for the first time wrote on issues like Islamic backwardness, hatred, poverty and the likes. His "Shikwa" and "Jawaab-e-Shikwa" are considered classics of Urdu poetry on par with Milton's "Paradise Lost". His "Taraana-e-Hind" is held to be the National Song of India. Iqbal is also very popular in Pakistan where he is looked upon as a sort of Father of the Nation.

Naya Shivaala is as much a protest against mindless religious orthodoxy as it is a plea for universal brotherhood and love. Even today it remains one of Iqbal's most popular poems.

Sach keh doon aey Birehman! Gar tu bura na maane,
(Shall I tell the truth O Brahmin? But dont feel slighted....)
Tere sanam-qadon ke but ho gaye puraane...
(These idols of your temples are mighty outdated....)

Apnon se bair rakhna toone buton se sikha...
(These are the very things that taught you to despise a fellow man...)
Jang-o-jadal sikhaaya Vaaiz ko bhi khuda ney..
(The Mullah too claims God asked him to wage war on the kaafirs...)

Tang aake maine aakhir dair-o-haram ko chhoda...
(Fed up of this I have given up on the mosque and the temple...)
Vaaiz ka vaaz chhoda, chhode tere fasaane..
(I have given up on the Mullah's sermons and your blighted stories!!)

Patthar ki moorti mein samjha hai tu khuda hai?
(You think these motionless stones contain Gods?)
Qhaak-e-watan ka mujhko har zarra devta hai!
(Nay! Even the miserly dust of my beloved country is a God to me!)

Aa ghairyat ke parde ek baar phir uthaaden...
(Let us remove these dark curtains of exclusiveness..)
Bicchdon ko phir milaaden, naksh-e-durr mitaaden
(Let's embrace our long lost brothers...let's remove these damned differences)

Sooni padi hui hai muddat se dil ki basti...
(The temple of our hearts has been vacant for long...)
Aa ek naya shivaala is des mein banaaden
(Let's install a new god here..let's do it soon mate!)

Duniya ke teerthon se uncha ho apna tirath
(Let our temple be so different..like no other!)
Daaman-e-Aasman se iska kalas milaaden
(Let it's spire reach the veil of the sky! My brother!)

Har subah uth ke gaayen mantar woh meethe-meethe
(Every morning, the songs of love shall play here)
Saare pujaariyon ko may peet ki pilaaden...
(Let's get intoxicated on this wine of love)

Shakti bhi, shanti bhi..bhakton ke geet me hai
(Strength and peace lie in the songs of devotees..)
Dharti ke waasiyon ki mukti preet me hai..
(But salvation, my friend, lies only in Love!)

Dil hi to hai (It's my heart after all!)---Mirza Ghalib

About the poet: Mirza Asadullah Khan 'Ghalib' (b:1797 d:1869) is arguably the widest read Urdu shaayar of all times. He lived almost the whole of his life in Delhi and his love for the city is amply demonstrated in many of his works. He was the tutor of the last Mughal Emperor, Bahadur Shah Zafar and as such was very popular among the late Mughal aristocracy. A large part of his work is in Persian but it is for the relatively small collection of Urdu verse that he is universally acclaimed and loved. Ghalib was an original and innovative poet and his proud and independent spirit is reflected in his verse. His elegant Urdu letters to friends and contemporaries, many of them describing the British pillage of Delhi after 1857, are now regarded as masterpieces of early Urdu prose.

Dil hi to hai, na sang-o-khisht (It's my heart after all and not brick or stone)
Dard se bhar na aaye kyon? (Why should'nt then it well up with pain?)

Royenge hum hazaar baar (We'll weep a thousand times..)
Koi hamein sataaye kyon? (why should anybody torment us?)

Daeir nahin, Haram nahin (No temple, nor the Kaaba)
dar nahin, aastaan nahin (no shelter, not even the threshold of the house)

Baithen hain reh-guzar pe hum (we sit by the roadside)
Ghair hamein uthaaye kyon (half-expecting a stranger to help us)

Haan wo nahi khudaparast (He may be an unbeliever)
Jaao ke bewafa sahi (he may as well be unfaithful)

Jisko ho deeno-dil azeez (A person who holds faith and heart dear..)
Uski gali se jaaye kyon? (why should we venture past (such a man's) lane?)

Ghaalib-e-qhasta ke beghair (Without Ghalib-the wretched)
kaun se kaam band hain? (what work cant be completed and what tasks are unfulfilled?)

Roiye zaar zaar kya (what then for is all this weeping?)
kijiye haai-haai kyon (and all this beating of the chest?)


Chitra Singh's beautiful rendition of this ghazal can be found here:

Sansaar se bhaage phirte ho (Ye, the renouncers of the world!)---Sahir

About the Poet: "Sahir" Ludhianvi (real name Abdul Hayee) (1921-1977) was born in Ludhiana, Punjab in a wealthy landlord family. However his mother's desertion of his father meant that Sahir had to live in extreme poverty throughout his childhood. He moved to Bombay in his youth where he composed songs for Indian movies, many of which became classics and spread his fame as a lyricist par excellence far and wide. A member of the Progressive Writers' Association, Sahir, much like his contemporary Faiz, looks at both the romantic as well as depressing aspects of his scoiety, but it is for his tender love poetry that he is best known. The novelist, Amrita Pritam was one of Sahir's most ardent admirers and freely admitted to his influence both on her private as well as literary life.

"Sansaar se bhaage phirte ho" was written by Sahir as a song for the movie, Chitralekha, in 1963. Sung by Lata Mangeshkar, the song was widely popular. It reflects Sahir's contempt for ascetecism and his inherent atheism.

Sansaar se bhaage phirte ho (O ye, renouncers of the world!)
Bhagwaan ko tum kya paaoge (How do you seek to reach God?)

Is lok ko bhi apna na sake (You never could enjoy this world)
Us lok me bhi pacchtaaoge! (And you are going to repent it in the hereafter too)

Ye paap hai kya, ye punya hai kya? (What is sin and what's virtue?)
Reeton par dharm ki muhren hain (But the sanctions of religion on deeds!)

Har yug mein badalte dharmon ko (How will you follow the (sanctions of a) religion?)
Kaise adarsh banaoge? (That takes on a new shape in every age?)

Ye bhog bhi ek tapasya hai (Even this materialism is a form of worship!)
Tum tyaag ke maare kya jaano? (How would you folks, crazy after renunciation, know that?)

Apmaan rachyita ka hoga (Wouldnt you insult the creator,)
Rachna ko agar thukraaoge! (by renouncing his creation?)

Hum kahte hain yeh jag apna hai (We say this world is true)
Tum kahte ho jhoota sapna hai (You say, "Nay! It's but an illusion!")

Hum janm bitaakar jaayenge (We'll die happy and content)
Tum janm ganwaakar jaaoge (And you, unhappy at having wasted this life)


The full video of the song can be found here

Baghee (The Revolutionary)----Makhdum

About the Poet: Makhdum Mohiuddin (d:1977) was another famous poet whose work primarily deals with Socialist and revolutionary ideals. He was born in and lived much of his life in Hyderabad (Deccan). An avid admirer of the Soviet Union and a lifelong member of the Communist Party of India, he adapted Russian eulogies of Stalin to Urdu. Some of his most touching works describe the landscape and the peasant women of his native Telangana.

A poem filled with incitement and provocation, Baghee asks the exploited masses to wake and unleash their strength on their oppressors. The Naxal influence is crystal clear in this poem.

Raad hoon, barq hoon, bechain hoon, paara hoon main.
(I am thunder. I am lightning. I am restless mercury, never still)

Khud Parastar, khud aagah, khud aara hoon main.
(Self respecting, self appraising, bending others to my will)

Gardane zulm kate jis se woh aara hoon main.
(I am the sword that cuts the throat of the Tyrant)

Khirmane Jaur jalade, woh sharara hoon main
(I am the spark that will burn down his wheat stock)

Meri faryaad pe ahle-dawil angusht baagosh
(The rich hear my cry and thrust their fingers in their ears)

Laa tabar khoon ke dariya mein nahane de mujhe.
(Bring the sword and I shall bathe in the streams of their blood)

Sare pur nakhuwate arbaabe zamaan todunga
(I shall crack the heads of those who take pride in their estate)

Shore naala se dare arzo saman todunga
(My shout of lamentation shall brook no barrier)

Zulm parwar rawishe ahle jahaan todunga
(The fame of tyrants shall lie in tatters)

Ishrat abaad imaarat ka makaan todunga
(The Lords of opulent palaces shall bow to me)

Tod daalunga mein zanjeere aseerane kafas
dahar ko panjye usrat se chudane de mujhe
(I shall break down the prison chains and free the birds,
I will release my world from grief and infamy)

Barq bankar but-e-maazi ko giraane de mujhe
(I shall be the lightning that will strike down the graven idols of the past)

Rasm-e-kuhna ko tahe khaaq milaane de mujhe
(I shall inter caste, creed and traditions in the lowly dust)

Tafrike mazhab-o-millat ke mitaane de mujhe
(I shall erase the false barriers of religion)

Khwaabe farda ko bas ab haal banane de mujhe
(All that I have dreamt of, I want to accomplish it now!)

Aag hoon aag hoon haan ek dahakti hui aag
Aag hoon aag hoon bas ab aag lagaane de mujhe
(Yes, I am blazing, burning and scorching with my belief
Let my kindled fire burn you all without relief)