You are my hidden treasure... my cross, my dampened pain...

This post is inspired by, and therefore, dedicated to my old friend and soul-sister Ranjani. Our shared love of Urdu poetry goes back to the time when we were teenagers. At that time, as students in Srinagar (Kashmir) we would scribble our favourite lines on the last pages of each other's notebooks.

Last evening Ranjani called me, frantic, because a fragment of a ghazal she's loved for long was stuck in a corner of her mind. She couldn't remember all its words and wanted me to look it up for her, for she knew that the poet is someone very close to my heart: Ahmed Faraz. It was with the greatest of pleasure that I pulled out a pile of books from my poetry shelf...
Serendipity!
This ghazal had been published as a part of Faraz's collection of ghazals and nazms called "Khanabadosh".

Read it and revel as I do in the felicity of Faraz's pen.
Thank you, Ranjani.

Kya aise kam-sukhan se koii guftagoo karey
jo mustakqil suuqoot se dil ko lahuu karey

Ab to humein bhi tarq-e-maraasim ka dukh nahi.n
par dil yeh chaahta hai ki aagaaz tuu karey

Tere baghair bhi to ganeemat hai zindagi
khud ko gawaa.n ke kaun teri justajuu karey

Ab to yeh arzoo hai ke wok zakhm khaiiye
taa-zindagi yeh dil na koii arzoo karey

Tujhko bhulaa ke dil hai woh sharmind-e-nazar
ab koii hadsaa hi tere rubaroo karey

Chupchaap apni aag mein jalte raho 'Faraz'
duniya to arz-e-haal se be-aabroo karey

Aankh se door na ho, dil se utar jaayegaa...

said Ahmed Faraz one day. Not likely, beloved poet.

On your birthday yesterday, 14th January, I raised a toast to your memory which lives on in my heart, and in the hearts of all those who love your work.

Jis simt bhii dekhoon nazar aataa hai ke tum ho
ai jaan-e-jahaan ye ko_ii tum sa hai ke tum ho

ye khvaab hai khushboo hai ke jhonkaa hai ke pal hai
ye dhundh hai baadal hai ke sayaa hai ke tum ho

is diid kii sa_aat mein ka_ii rang hain larazaan
main hoon ke ko_ii aur hai duniyaa hai ke tum ho

dekho ye kisii aur kii aankhein hain ke merii
dekhoon ye kisii aur kaa chehraa hai ke tum ho

ye umr-e-gurezaan kahiin thahare to ye jaanoon
har saans mein mujh ko ye lagtaa hai ke tum ho

har bazm me.n mauzuu-e-sukhan dil zad_gaan kaa
ab kaun hai shiiriin hai ke lailaa hai ke tum ho

ik dard kaa phailaa huaa saharaa hai ke main huun
ik mauj mein ayaa huaa dariya hai ke tum ho

vo vaqt na aaye ke dil-e-zaar bhii soche
is shahar mein tanhaa ko_ii ham sa hai ke tum ho

aabaad ham aashuftaa saron se nahiin maqtal
ye rasm abhii shahar mein zindaa hai ke tum ho

ai jaan-e-'Faraz' itnii bhii taufiiq kise thii
ham ko gham-e-hastii bhii gavaaraa hai ke tum ho

And then, as though on cue, my other favourite, Gulzar mentions you in his poem today!



Aankhon ko visa nahin lagta
sapnon ki sarhad nahin hoti
band aakhon se roz main sarhad paar chalaa jataa hoon
milne "Mehdi Hasaan" se!

sunta hoon unki awaaz ko chote lagi hai
aur ghazal khamosh hai saamne baithi huyi
kaanp rahe hain honth ghazal ke
phir bhi un aankhon ka lehzaa badlaa nahin ---
jab kehte hain
sookh gaye hai phool kitaabon mein
yaar ''Faraaz'' bhi bichhad gaye, shaayad milein woh khwaabon mein!
band aakhon se aksar sarhad paar chalaa jataa hoon main!

aankhon ko visa nahin lagta,
sapnon ki sarhad, koi nahin!


This is a snivelling attitude, but it is impossible not to feel a strange delight, a strange gratitude when reading your poesy..... A perpetual sort of te deum in being given, in you, a source of so much pure and unmixed happiness!

They Came Only To Speak Of You

The morning paper brought unhappy news. “Famous poet Ahmed Faraz passes away”, it said.

What is it that attracts so many people to Faraz’s poetry? His poems are loved for their sheer lyrical beauty. A perplexed romanticism which cries out for empathy in hard times.

Faraz was a deep romantic who wrote “ranjish hi sahi, dil hi dukhane ke liye aa” (let there be antipathy between us, but come, come (back) to break my heart). Sentimental, without being maudlin, it was his poesy as much as his brooding good looks that would draw dozens, nay hundreds of fans to his doorstep. His success as a poet can be measured by the fact that his female fans in particular would accord him the adulation normally reserved on the Sub-continent for cricketers and film actors!

At the same time, his poems bear a kind of stoic optimism as seen in his nazm “Khwaab Marte Nahin”:

ख्वाब मरते नहीं

ख्वाब दिल हैं न आँखें हैं ना साँसें के जो

रेजा-रेजा हुए तो बिखर जायेंगे

जिस्म की मौत से ये भी मर जायेंगे

ख्वाब मरते नहीं

ख्वाब तो रौशनी हैं, नवा हैं, हवा हैं

जो काले पहाडों से रुकते नहीं

ज़ुल्म के दोज़खों से भी फूकते नहीं

रौशनी और नवा और हवा के आलम

मक़्तलोन में पहुँच कर भी झुकते नहीं

ख्वाब तो हर्फ़ हैं

ख्वाब तो नूर हैं

ख्वाब तो सुकरात हैं

ख्वाब तो मंसूर हैं

Khvaab marate nahin

Khvaab dil hain na aankhen na saansen ke jo

rezaa-rezaa hue to bikhar jaayenge

jism kii maut se ye bhi mar jaayenge

Khwaab marate nahiin

Khvaab to raushani hain, navaa hain, havaa hain

jo kaale pahaadon se rukate nahin 

zulm ke dozakhok.n se bhi phukate nahin

raushani aur navaa aur havaa ke aalam 

maqtalon men pahunch kar bhii jhukate nahin

Khvaab to harf hain

Khvaab to noor hain

Khvaab to Suqraat hain

Khvaab Mansoor hain

Dreams do not die.

Dreams are not hearts, nor eyes nor breath
Which once shattered, will scatter (or)
Die with the death of the body.

Dreams do not die.
Dreams are light, life, wind,
Which cannot be stopped by mountains black,
Which do not burn in the hells of cruelty,
Like light and life and wind, they
Do not bow down even in graveyards.

Dreams are letters,
Dreams are illumination,
Dreams are Socrates!

Dreams are Mansoor!

This poem comes from a man who, upholding the best traditions of Faiz, consistently spoke out against the tyranny of military dictatorship in his country. Like Faiz, he too was to pay a heavy price for his outspoken opposition to prevailing ideas. He was sent to jail, and even exiled from his beloved homeland. Forever a proponent of freedom and equality, his poem “Mahasra” (The Siege) is a scathing indictment of Pakistan’s military rule. Faraz has travelled beyond petty concerns of minor poets of whether his words would get published. His far greater concern was to ensure that the voice he had raised against repression not be stilled.

In the words of Siegfried Sassoon, in the days to come, his name shall be as music that ascends.

Requiescat in pacem, Ahmed Faraz.