Archive for urdu

Faraz

Day 10,207 – Monday – 03 Bhadra 1930 – 22 Shaban 1429 – 25 August 2008

Today, a great light has been lost forever. Ahmed Faraz. A great poet of Urdu. A great man.

Urdu, our society, our culture, our civilization and our people have lost a great presence. The loss can not be described in words.

The ever resounding noise in the background, Keht ur Rijaal, intensifies.

apnay maghmoom kivaron ko muqaffal kar lo

ab yahan koi naheen, koi naheen, aaye ga

But most of all, it was our love for him that will be lost, the love based on his contribution,

aur faraz chahiyen kitnee muhabbatain tujhe

maaon nay teray naam par bachon kay naam rakh diyay

We have lost a great man today, it is very unfortunate that in our day and age no others take the place of the ones lost.

We hope, we hope to see another Faraz, another Faiz, another great poet. We hope.

رات

Day 10,066 – Sunday – 17 Chaitra 1930 – 28 Rabi ul Awwal 1429 – 06 April 2008

Although not upto the standards of Urdu poetry, prosody or grammar; it is special to me, and it is mine.

البتہ اردو نظم کے اصولوں پر پوری نہیں اترتی؛ لیکن، میری ہے، اور میرے بہت قریب ہے۔

اب یاد کی نیلی چھائوں میں
اس رات کی ہر اک بات رہے
جس رات کو دل بھی دھڑکا تھا
جس رات کو آنکھیں مہکیں تھیں
اک خوف تھا ہر اک بات میں جب
اک جیت تھی ساری رات میں جب
جب چاک گریباں کر بیٹھے
جب حال اور ماضی کر بیٹھے
اب یاد کی نیلی چھائوں میں
اس رات کی ہر اک بات رہے

سوال

Tuesday – 21 Zilhaj 1428 – 12 Pausa 1929 – 01 January 2008

اس دنیا کو، میں جو بھی ہوں، جیسا بھی ہوں، مجھے اب یقین ہو گیا ہے کہ، قبول نہیں ہوں۔ میں کہ جو اپنی ہی ایک دنیا میں بسنا چاہتا ہوں۔ میں کہ جو اس دنیا کے چند قوانین قبول تو کر لوں لیکن سب قبول نہیں کر سکتا۔ میں ہر وہ قانون قبول کر سکتا ہوں کہ جس سے انسان اپبی زندگی خوبصورت بنا سکتے ہیں۔ لیکن میں وہ قوانین قبول نہیں کروں گا جو کہ صرف اس لئے را‏ئج ہیں کہ انسانوں نے ابھی تک مختلف چیزوں کو قبول کرنا نہاں سیکھا۔ میں کہ جس کو سب سے زیادہ محبت انسانیت سے ہے اس ہی کے لئے قابل قبول نہیں ہوں۔ تو پھر شاید دنیا کو میں قبول نہیں۔ اور پھر شاید یہ دنیا مجھے قبول نہیں۔

ایک عجیب پریشانی ہے کہ مجھے گھن کی طرح کھائے چلے جا رہی ہے۔ میری جسمانی صحت آہستہ آہستہ اب بہت خراب ہو گئی ہے۔ میری ذہنی صحت آہستہ آسہتہ بہت کمزور ہو گئی ہے۔ میں چڑچڑا ہو گیا ہوں۔ میں صرف تکلیفدہ باتیں کرتا ہوں اور ان ہی سے مجھے سکون ملتا ہے۔ اپبی خواہش کے خلاف اپنے گھر والوں کو خوش رکھنے کے لئے میں نے جو زندگی پچھلے چار سال گزاری وہ اب ضایع کئے گئے وقت کی طرح مجھے دق کر رہی ہے۔

اپبی مرضی کی زندگی گزاریں اور گھر والوں کو اتنا بڑا دکھ دیں کہ وہ میری بے رحم آنکھوں کے سامنے جیتے جی مر جا‏ئیں۔ یا اپنے گھرانے کی مرضی کی زندگی گزاریں اور زندگی کا ہر لمحہ قید اور بندش کے عزاب میں بسر کر دیں۔ دو راستے۔ دونوں ایک انتہائی تکلیف اور اذیت سے بھری ہوئی زندگی کے راستے۔ اور صرف دو راستے۔

اردو زبان کا سب سے گہرا اور اذیت ناک لفظ۔ کاش۔ کاش کہ یہ دنیا مجھے قبول کر لیتی اور مجھے بھی زندگی میں خوشی مل جاتی۔

زندگی جا، چھوڑ دے، پیچھا میرا۔

Reverberations

Tuesday – 21 Zilhaj 1428 – 12 Pausa 1929 – 01 January 2008

The period of depression that started here is still in full swing. Too many questions have been playing in my mind.

Do I lead the life of my own choice and in doing so break away from my family? I believe if I choose my own life my family will eventually break away from me. And I can not loose my family.

Do I lead the life chosen by my family and in doing so spend a life incomplete? Over the past couple of years I have tried this and have realized that I can not keep myself happy if I do not get to live a life of my own desires and choosing.

There is no answer. And I continue to repeat the same thing over and over again. Like the overly cliched broken record. The past couple of months of my blogging about the same thing. Two options, and I can not decide which one. Each leading to pain and suffering. How futile everything is.

I have noticed that recently, over the past couple of months I have stopped making contact with other people. I dont like to go out with friends, or family. I like to keep alone. Life is becoming so miserably painful.

Please, for the love all that is good and beautiful, never force people to lead the lives that you want them to lead because it seems that they have accepted that but they are being eaten alive from inside.

I have stopped talking to friends about this because they feel sorry about it and I dont want them to feel bad or worry about things. I dont like sadness, I want them to be happy. I have stopped talking about this to people who I think are my friends because baring my soul to people who really dont care about what I am going through is pathetic. I can not talk to anyone in my family because they think that my wanting a life at odds with how people live here is extremely selfish and hurtful to them, I do not want to be dubbed any of those things. I have no one to talk to. I think I will eventually need to go to a shrink, if only so I can just go there and cry my heart out with someone who will pay attention but not get hurt.

I hate this. Life has become an increasingly painful experience. What I might love to call a تلخ جام in Urdu. A goblet of unbearably bitter wine. One must drink it, but it is unpleasant to the core.

And in the middle of this, I just want to go away, far far away. Just take my car and go to some far away land where I can live my life again. Alas, if only. And leading the life I am. I know I will be sad each and every moment of existence. And I will sad in retrospect at what I have been living. I hate this. Absolutely hate this.

موت جب زندگی سے بہتر تھی

ہم نے وہ وقت بھی گزارا ہے

And I just hate talking to my family about any of my problems now. I hate it. They always say the same thing. That I am being selfish and that I am being self centered and that they love me and want the best for me and I should do what they want. But I am not selfish and I dont hate them, I just want to be happy.

The ineffectual pursuit of my happiness. What a farce that is life.

Trajedy

Friday – 06 Shawwal 1428 – 27 Asvina 1929 – 19 October 2007

Two powerful bomb blasts have hit the procession of Benazir Bhutto. More than 120 have died as I sit here and write this. With trembling hands and wet eyes. Such loss of life, again and again and again. And it gnaws at your very soul and sanity. Like waves weathering away the cliffs. Cliffs of resolve and honour and dignity and humanity. Senseless violence tearing apart the fabric of our very lives. One after another a trickle of news and violence in our great cities. Murder, destruction and mayhem.

خون کے دھبے دھلیں گے کتنی برساتوں کے بعد

Poetry

Sunday – 01 Shawwal 1428 – 22 Asvina 1929 – 14 October 2007

 جوش ملیح آبادی

سنو اے ساکنان بزم ہستی، ندا کیا آ رہی ہے آسماں سے
آزادی کا ہر اک لمحہ ہے بہتر، غلامی کی حیات جاوداں سے

Josh Maleehabadi 

Listen, o denizens of life, to the sound emanating from the heavens,
Every moment of freedom is better than eternal life of slavery

محمد ابراہیم ذوق

زندگی ہے یا کوئی توفان ہے
ہم تو اس جینے کی ہاتھوں مر چلے

Muhammad Ibrahim Zauq 

Is it life? Or is it a tempest?
This life is my undoing

Nasir Kazmi

 منگل – 19 رمضان 1428 – 10 اسوج 1929 – 02 اکتوبر 2007

شاعری کی دنیا میں ناصر کاظمی ایک ایسا نام ہے کہ جس سے شدت احساس منسلک یہں۔  ایک بہت واضع احساس محرومی۔ زندگی کی تلخیوں کا اس طرح ذکر کہ ان سے مانوسی کا شائبہ۔ افسوس، بہت افسوس۔ اور ایک ملال جو کہ ہر طرف چھایا ہوتا ہے۔ جیسے کہ سردی کی صبح اکیلے گزاری جائے اور بالکل سکوت میں دل ڈوب رہا ہو۔

جب ذرا تیز ہوا ہوتی ہے
کیسی سنسان فضا ہوتی ہے
ہم نے دیکھے ہیں وہ سناٹے بھی
جب ہر اک سانس صدا ہوتی ہے
دل کا یہ ہال ہوا تیرے بعد
جیسے ویران سرا ہوتی ہے
رونا آتا ہے ہمیں بھی لیکن
اس میں توہین وفا ہوتی ہے
منہ اندھیرے کبھی اٹھ کر دیکھو
کیا تر و تازہ ہوا ہوتی ہے
اجنبی دھیان کی ہر موج کے ساتھ
کس قدر تیز ہوا ہوتی ہے
غم کی بے نور گزرکاہوں میں
اک کرن ذوق فزا ہوتی ہے
غمگسار سفر راہ وفا
مژہ آبلہ پا ہوتی ہے
گلشن فکر کی منہ بند کلی
شب ماہتاب میں وا ہوتی ہے
جب نکلتی ہے نگار شب گل
منہ پہ شبنم کی روا ہوتی ہے
حادثہ ہے کہ خزاں سے پہلے
بوئے گل گل سے جدا ہوتی ہے
اک نیا دور جنم لیتا ہے
ایک تہزیب فنا ہوتی ہے
جب کوئی غم نہیں ہوتا ناصر
بے کلی دل کے سوا ہوتی ہے

Fareeda Khanum

Tuesday – 11 Rajab 1424 – 18 Bhadra 1925 – 09 September 2003  

well here i am. i must tell everyone this. anyone interested in listening to ghazals. please listen to “chaand nikle kisi janib teri zebai ka” sung by fareeda khanum. it is wonderful to the extent of being orgasmically esctatic. it is wonderful.

well today wasnt as interesting as yerterday. but i have noticed one thing. when my computer is working. the electricity is on. and the internet is on. i blog a LOT. i mean i dont notice this but you people who actually have to read all this crap must realize it. LARGE posts full of crap. well what can i do. you are all stuck now.

AHAHHAHAHAHH !!!! AAHAHHAAHAHAHHAH !!!! MMMMUUUUUUAHAHAHAHAHHAHA !!!!

and now that my usual hysterics and dramatics are out of the way.

i would like to share a shaer (couplet) with you.

chaand nikle kisi janib teri zebai ka

rang badle kisi soorat shab e tanhai ka

may the moon rise anywhere of your allure

may the colour of this lonely evening change

another shaer (couplet)

daim para hua teray dar par naheen hoon main

khaak aisi zindagi par keh patthar naheen hoon main

i am not lying on your doorstep for ever

what use is this life if i am not that stone

now i will enter the world of the ghazal and leave you all to enjoy what you enjoy.

Roohi

Sunday – 09 Rajab 1424 – 16 Bhadra 1925 – 07 September 2003 

i saw a drama today. “roohi” casting ‘talat hussain’. well lets just say that anyone who can understand urdu. who likes beautiful things. who can appreciate a drama. has to watch it. if you dont watch it you will lose something. you will lose something. watch it. please. i beg of you. watch it.

the acting. oh dear dear lord. the acting. talat hussain and the girl. it is wonderful . the subtle subtle hints. the hints that i can understand as a pakistani. the ghazal being played at a certain point and the wording telling you what is going on. the music being played to heighten or dampen the mood. the way the actors had small … minute eye movements and worlds of meanings that they held in them.

the subtle subtle things. and the big big meanings. barefoot in the library showing casual as opposed to formal. the way talat is shown and the very very subtle things in which i can see a man who has the morals of a pakistani from a well educated background and who grew up in 1950s and 1960s. oh it is a wonderful drama. you have to watch it. have to.

i am in a wonderous mood right now because of that. it was like i was touched by a ray from heaven. the beauty. the aesthetic. the touch. the feel. the desire. the passion. the ‘haya’. the ‘hijab’. the aura. the whole feeling of the art of drama touching the epitome of sublime beauty and me watching it. and the ability to share it with someone else, in this case my cousin. it was wonderful. i hope all of you as wonderous evenings as i had today.

pakistan has a very rich tradition of tv dramas. until the late 80s pakistan saw only one tv channel. pakistan television ptv. and they used to show a drama every night between 8 pm and 9 pm. there used to be 4 quarters in a year and 13 episodes in every quarter. there were times when between 8 pm and 9 pm the streets of karachi used to be deserted. throughfares and main roads were emptyish. everyone used to watch the dramas.

and they were excellent. in the script. in the acting. in the directing. in the sets. in the expression. in the settings. everything. they used to be excellent. the art was carried to new heights in pakistan. tv drama. called “drama” lovingly by millions of pakistanis. it was our art. we mastered it. we took it to its zenith. the drama reached its peak in the 80s. tanhaaiyan, waris … well known pieces of art.

unfortunately the art of the drama has gone down now. maybe itll resurrect some day later. but by god it was a marvellous time while it lasted. i hope comes back.

Anthem

Thursday – 15 Jamadi us Sani 1424 – 23 Sravana 1925 – 14 August 2003 

the national anthem of the islamic republic of pakistan

pakistan paindabad