so aap kare hain, humko abas badnaam kiya
Sarzad hum se be-adabi to wahshat mein bhi kum hi
hui
Koson us ki ore gaye par sajda har har gaam kiya
Mir ke deen-o-mazhab ko ab poochhte kya ho? Un
ne to
Qashqaa khencha, dair mein baithaa, kab ka tark
Islam kiya
All those efforts came to naught
All those efforts came to naught, my wound no salve could mend
See! This affliction of the heart beat me in the end.
I squandered youth in grief. Came age, I shut my weary eye
I’d stayed awake all night—at dawn, I rested with a sigh.
Prisoners of fate are termed players of the free-will game
How ironic, victims of caprice shoulder the blame.
I went mad but never broke devotion’s protocol
Miles I walked toward you, bowed at each step, I recall.
Ask not of Mir’s faith, he’s smeared ash-marks on his forehead
He lives in temples, and from Islam’s call, has long fled.
Nazeer Akbarabadi
Widely credited with popularizing the nazm tradition in the ghazal-dominated canon of eighteenth-century Urdu poetry, Nazeer Akbarabadi, whose real name was Sheikh Wali Muhammad (1735–1830), chose to write in relatively accessible language. Like many who choose to experiment with simplicity, he paid a price when the elite saw his experiment as an aesthetic failure, i.e. an inability (rather than a refusal) to affect the florid rhythms that constituted the canon of his time. History, of course, has been kinder to Nazeer; he is now acknowledged as a true ‘poet of the people’ and his nazms hark back to a tradition where great poetry was sung in streets instead of being imprisoned unread in texts. The noted theatre artist Habib Tanvir based his famous play
Agra Bazaar
on Nazeer’s life.
Nazeer’s poetic reflection on mortality,
Banjaara Nama
(Gypsy Tale), has assumed the status of metaphor, with its refrain ‘
Sab thaath pada reh jaayega, jab laad chalega banjara
’ (‘All your pomp will stay behind when the gypsy loads up and walks off’) now an acknowledged proverb in spoken Hindustani. He wrote plays on festivals like Diwali and Eid-ul Fitr, but chose to focus on their role as celebratory events rather than spiritual ones.
I have chosen to translate here a small part of his long poem titled ‘
Aadmi-Nama
’ (‘The Human Story’). Note that each verse has five lines; such a stanza is known as the mukhammas (‘fiver’). The fifth lines form a refrain across verses (in this case, with
‘
. . . hai so hai woh bhi hai aadmi
’). The simplicity of the verses likens the poem to a street ballad.
Aadmi-nama
Duniya mein badshah hai so hai woh bhi aadmi
Aur muflis-o-gada hai so hai woh bhi aadmi
Zar-dar be-nawa hai so hai woh bhi aadmi
Ne’mat jo kha raha hai so hai woh bhi aadmi
Tukde jo mangta hai so hai woh bhi aadmi
Abdaal-o-qutb-o-ghaus-o-wali aadmi hue
Munkir bhi aadmi hue aur kufr se bhare
Kya kya karishme kashf-o-karamaat ke kiye
Hatta ke apne zor-o-riazat ke zor pe
Khaliq se ja mila hai so hai woh bhi aadmi
Fir’aun ne kiya tha jo daawa khudai ka
Shaddad bhi bahisht bana kar hua khuda
Namrud bhi khuda hi kahaataa thha bar mala
Yeh baat hai samajhne ki aage kahoon main kya
Yan tak jo ja chuka hai so hai woh bhi aadmi
Yaan aadmi hi naar hai aur aadmi hi noor
Yaan aadmi hi paas hai aur aadmi hi door
Kul aadmi ka husn-o-qaba mein hai yaan zahoor
Shaitaan bhi aadmi hai jo karta hai makr-o-zor
Aur haadi, rehnuma hai so hai woh bhi aadmi
Masjid bhi aadmi ne banaayi hai yaan miyaan
Bante hain aadmi hi imaam aur khutba-khwaan
Padhte hain aadmi hi namaaz aur quran yaan
Aur aadmi hi un ki churaate hain jootiyaan
Unko jo taad-ta hai so hai woh bhi aadmi
Yaan aadmi pe jaan ko ware hai aadmi
Aur aadmi hi tegh se maare hai aadmi
Pagdi bhi aadmi ki utaare hai aadmi
Chilla ke aadmi ko pukare hai aadmi
Aur sun ke daudhta hai so hai woh bhi aadmi!
The human story
The king of this vast domain is also a man
And the beggar mendicant is also a man
The wealthy or the poorest is also a man
The one who eats
Sarzad hum se be-adabi to wahshat mein bhi kum hi
hui
Koson us ki ore gaye par sajda har har gaam kiya
Mir ke deen-o-mazhab ko ab poochhte kya ho? Un
ne to
Qashqaa khencha, dair mein baithaa, kab ka tark
Islam kiya
All those efforts came to naught
All those efforts came to naught, my wound no salve could mend
See! This affliction of the heart beat me in the end.
I squandered youth in grief. Came age, I shut my weary eye
I’d stayed awake all night—at dawn, I rested with a sigh.
Prisoners of fate are termed players of the free-will game
How ironic, victims of caprice shoulder the blame.
I went mad but never broke devotion’s protocol
Miles I walked toward you, bowed at each step, I recall.
Ask not of Mir’s faith, he’s smeared ash-marks on his forehead
He lives in temples, and from Islam’s call, has long fled.
Nazeer Akbarabadi
Widely credited with popularizing the nazm tradition in the ghazal-dominated canon of eighteenth-century Urdu poetry, Nazeer Akbarabadi, whose real name was Sheikh Wali Muhammad (1735–1830), chose to write in relatively accessible language. Like many who choose to experiment with simplicity, he paid a price when the elite saw his experiment as an aesthetic failure, i.e. an inability (rather than a refusal) to affect the florid rhythms that constituted the canon of his time. History, of course, has been kinder to Nazeer; he is now acknowledged as a true ‘poet of the people’ and his nazms hark back to a tradition where great poetry was sung in streets instead of being imprisoned unread in texts. The noted theatre artist Habib Tanvir based his famous play
Agra Bazaar
on Nazeer’s life.
Nazeer’s poetic reflection on mortality,
Banjaara Nama
(Gypsy Tale), has assumed the status of metaphor, with its refrain ‘
Sab thaath pada reh jaayega, jab laad chalega banjara
’ (‘All your pomp will stay behind when the gypsy loads up and walks off’) now an acknowledged proverb in spoken Hindustani. He wrote plays on festivals like Diwali and Eid-ul Fitr, but chose to focus on their role as celebratory events rather than spiritual ones.
I have chosen to translate here a small part of his long poem titled ‘
Aadmi-Nama
’ (‘The Human Story’). Note that each verse has five lines; such a stanza is known as the mukhammas (‘fiver’). The fifth lines form a refrain across verses (in this case, with
‘
. . . hai so hai woh bhi hai aadmi
’). The simplicity of the verses likens the poem to a street ballad.
Aadmi-nama
Duniya mein badshah hai so hai woh bhi aadmi
Aur muflis-o-gada hai so hai woh bhi aadmi
Zar-dar be-nawa hai so hai woh bhi aadmi
Ne’mat jo kha raha hai so hai woh bhi aadmi
Tukde jo mangta hai so hai woh bhi aadmi
Abdaal-o-qutb-o-ghaus-o-wali aadmi hue
Munkir bhi aadmi hue aur kufr se bhare
Kya kya karishme kashf-o-karamaat ke kiye
Hatta ke apne zor-o-riazat ke zor pe
Khaliq se ja mila hai so hai woh bhi aadmi
Fir’aun ne kiya tha jo daawa khudai ka
Shaddad bhi bahisht bana kar hua khuda
Namrud bhi khuda hi kahaataa thha bar mala
Yeh baat hai samajhne ki aage kahoon main kya
Yan tak jo ja chuka hai so hai woh bhi aadmi
Yaan aadmi hi naar hai aur aadmi hi noor
Yaan aadmi hi paas hai aur aadmi hi door
Kul aadmi ka husn-o-qaba mein hai yaan zahoor
Shaitaan bhi aadmi hai jo karta hai makr-o-zor
Aur haadi, rehnuma hai so hai woh bhi aadmi
Masjid bhi aadmi ne banaayi hai yaan miyaan
Bante hain aadmi hi imaam aur khutba-khwaan
Padhte hain aadmi hi namaaz aur quran yaan
Aur aadmi hi un ki churaate hain jootiyaan
Unko jo taad-ta hai so hai woh bhi aadmi
Yaan aadmi pe jaan ko ware hai aadmi
Aur aadmi hi tegh se maare hai aadmi
Pagdi bhi aadmi ki utaare hai aadmi
Chilla ke aadmi ko pukare hai aadmi
Aur sun ke daudhta hai so hai woh bhi aadmi!
The human story
The king of this vast domain is also a man
And the beggar mendicant is also a man
The wealthy or the poorest is also a man
The one who eats
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