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!

Autumn song

Know'st thou not at the fall of the leaf
How the heart feels a languid grief
Laid on it for a covering,
And how sleep seems a goodly thing
In Autumn at the fall of the leaf?

And how the swift beat of the brain
Falters because it is in vain,
In Autumn at the fall of the leaf
Knowest thou not? and how the chief
Of joys seems--not to suffer pain?

Know'st thou not at the fall of the leaf
How the soul feels like a dried sheaf
Bound up at length for harvesting,
And how death seems a comely thing
In Autumn at the fall of the leaf?

~ Dante Gabriel Rossetti ~

पतझड़ में कुछ पत्तों के गिरने की आहट
कानों में इक बार पेहें के लौटाई थी
पतझड़ की वो शाख अभी तक काँप रही है
वो शाख गिरा दो,
मेरा वो सामान लौटा दो
~गुलज़ार ~

A divine ecstasy, an inexpressible delirium of joy.

That is how I would describe the evening that went by yesterday. Yesterday, I heard my favourite poet in person, in a building I love (though I often say rude things about it!

उठाये फिरते थे एहसान दिल का सीने पर
ले तेरे कदमों पे ये क़र्ज़ भी उतार चले

This morning, a friend asked me: "So, how did it go? Did you get his autograph? Did you click a picture of yourself with him? What did you say to him?" I told her "The answer is: it was wonderful. No and no and nothing!"


I ask you. What do you do when you suddenly find yourself in the same room as someone whose words you cherish beyond life.
Whose poetry courses through you like that other red substance.
Whose songs are.... in his own words... "तेरे बगैर दिन न जला, तेरे बगैर शब् न बुझे"!
Do you tell him,"I love your poetry. It has lightened many a dark moment in my life". Can you reveal to him that all that he's written about feels as though it has really happened to you and that when you finished reading what he wrote, it belongs to you and to you alone: the good, the bad, the rapture, the torment, the bliss?
Do you ask him: "What inspires you?"
Do you inquire if he had lunch and whether it was to his liking?
Do you demand to know how he met and became friends with Meena Kumari and how did he chance upon her poetry?
How do you pry into his politics?
Do you implore him to share the true nature of his relationship with Raakhee, his former wife, friend, permanent muse? Do you quiz him on how love dies, and yet friendship remains?
Do you beseech him to explain his love for "mojris"?
Do you probe into his signature quirky phrases which push the frontier of language, which hop and skip from Urdu to Punjabi to Hindustani to English, much as dragon-flies skip on the surface of a still lake?
Do you grill him on who this new young person in his life is, to whom he so laughingly refers in his poems?



With Gulzar, every question seems an intrusion. The man wears an aura every bit as shiny white as his trademark crisp white kurtas. To pose questions would be, in some way, to sully this purity. The peace that he carries within cannot but percolate to the lovers of his poetry. Each one seems struck as silent by his presence as I am!!!

नज़्म उलझी हुई है सीने में
मिसरे अटके हुए हैं होठों पर
उड़ते फिरते हैं तितलियों की तरह
लफ्ज़ कागज़ पे बैठते ही नहीं
कब से बैठा हूँ मैं, जानम
सादे कागज़ पे लिखके नाम तेरा

बस तेरा नाम ही मुकम्मल है
इससे बेहतर भी नज़्म क्या होगी...

A contemplation upon mist...

शाम से आँख में नमी सी है
आज फिर आपकी कमी सी है

दफ़्न कर दो हमें के साँस मिले
नब्ज़ कुछ देर से थमी सी है

वक़्त रहता नहीं कहीं टिक कर
इसकी आदत भी आदमी सी है

कोई रिश्ता नहीं रहा फिर भी
एक तस्लीम लाज़मी सी है

Dusk

Dreams in the dusk,
Only dreams closing the day
And with the day’s close going back
To the gray things, the dark things,
The far, deep things of dreamland...

Dreams, only dreams in the dusk,
Only the old remembered pictures
Of lost days when the day’s loss
Wrote in tears the heart's loss.

Tears and loss and broken dreams
May find your heart at dusk...

यूँ भी कभी हुआ है, अकेली-सी शाम में
धुंधले-से इक चिराग के चेहरे के पास-पास
सरगोशियाँ-से ढूँढती हैं जब तुम्हारे होंठ

आंखों में यूँ बिलक के मचलती है एक बूँद
जैसे यतीम होटों पे मचले तुम्हारा नाम....

चाँद

रोज़ आता है ये बहरूपिया, इक रूप बदलकर,
रात के वक़्त दिखाता है, 'कलाएं' अपनी,
और लुभा लेता है मासूम से लोगों को अदा से!

पूरा हरजाई है, गलियों से गुज़रता है, कभी

छत से, बजाता हुआ सीटी ---
रोज़ आता है जगाता है, बहुत लोगों को शब्-भर!
आज की रात उफुक से कोई,
चाँद निकले तो गिरफ्तार ही कर लो!

Because he is beyond any Oscar....

A song he wrote, certainly not his best, won a prize in an alien land, in a country where few speak his language and fewer yet would understand his idiom. He is beyond awards and rewards and accolades. To read his poetry is to love him, because his words resonate within you....

वादा
मुझको इक नज़्म का वादा है, मिलेगी मुझको
डूबती नब्जों में जब दर्द को नींद आने लगे
ज़र्द-सा चेहरा लिए चाँद उफक पर पहुँचे
दिन अभी पानी में हो, रात किनारे के करीब
न अँधेरा, न उजाला हो, न ये रात न दिन

जिस्म जब ख़त्म हो और रूह को जब सांस आये
मुझसे इक नज़्म का वादा है, मिलेगी मुझको....

A humble offering from an old fan, Gulzar-saab:

Gulzar.

No paeans. No praise. No panegyrics. No homage. No hurrahs. Just two poems....

बे यारो मददगार ही काटा था सारा दिन
कुछ ख़ुद से अजनबी-सा, कुछ तनहा उदास सा
साहिल पे दिन बुझा के मैं लौटा था फिर वहीँ
सुनसान सी सड़क के इस खाली मकान में

दरवाजा खोलते ही मेज़ पर किताब ने
हलके से फडफडा के कहा -
''देर कर दी, दोस्त!''

--------------

रिश्ते बस रिश्ते होते हैं
कुछ एक पल के
कुछ दो पल के


कुछ परों से हलके होते हैं
बरसों के तले चलते चलते
भारी भरकम हो जाते हैं

कुछ भारी भरकम बर्फ के से
बरसों के तले गलते गलते
हलके फुल्के हो जाते हैं

नाम होते हैं कुछ रिश्तों के
कुछ रिश्ते नाम के होते हैं
रिश्ता अगर वो मर जाए भी
बस नाम से जीना होता है.....