Monday, 2 April 2012

Mohsin Naqvi's Awaragi - An Interface With Solitude

The music lovers who follow the ghazal singer Ghulam Ali know that ‘Awaragi’ is one of the best and most popular ghazals sung by the maestro. This ghazal owes its popularity primarily to the singer and probably people recognize it more as Ghulam Ali’s ghazal than Mohsin Naqvi’s. The poet’s name, however, finds a mention in most of the albums where the singer, before singing, tells that he would be singing a ghazal by Mohsin Naqvi. Besides, the maqta (the last couplet) too has the poet’s name. Mohsin Naqvi (1955-1996) was an immensely popular Pakistani poet, who made a mark in spite of a relatively short span of life during which he got around a dozen collections published.

Mohsin Naqvi has personified awaragi and the gzazal has been set in the tone of a monologue addressed to awaragi. The literal meaning of 'awaragi' would be 'wandering' or 'vagabondage' i.e. an aimless movement, a journey without a destination. However, here the term 'awaragi' appears to be inclusive of both loneliness and aimless wandering. Besides, this wandering is not consciously self-driven; it is a product of an oblivious state of mind, the ignorance or oblivion being inherent in the ‘nature’ of the wanderer. The poet seems to be likening the awaragi, the lonely wandering, to the perennial journey in solitude of the human soul in an unknown quest. I am reminded of the following from FitzGerald’s translation of Omar Khayyam:
Into this Universe, and Why not knowing
Nor Whence, like Water willy-nilly flowing;
And out of it, as Wind along the Waste,
I know not Whither, willy-nilly blowing.

Here is the ghazal (in Roman script) with paraphrase (as best as I can) and explanatory notes, based on an un-aided interpretation, as best as I could understand the ghazal. I cannot claim that it is the interpretation and, I am sure, people can have differing views on every word, every phrase, and every verse. But that is the beauty of literature. Is there one, only or the interpretation of Shakespeare?

ye dil ye pagal dil mera kyon bujha gaya awaragi
is dasht main ik shahar tha wo kya hua awaragi
Tell me, my lonely wanderings, why the heart’s glitter is gone;
A brimming city once, is an uninhabited jungle anon. 
The poets asks his solitude why the heart is filled with melancholy; the heart that was once like a city full of inhabitants is now like a jungle, desolate and void. The matla (the opening couplet) sets the tone for the ghazal, telling that the journey of human life is akin to an aimless wandering, devoid of hope.

kal shab mujhe be-shakl si awaz ne chaunka diya
main ne kaha tu kaun hai us ne kaha awaragi
Startled by a voice unknown yester-night, I asked its identity;
Your wandering loneliness, did the faceless voice reply.
The loneliness becomes so pervasive that it echoes and startles the individual, who soon realizes that his state of aimless wandering is a lonely journey.  

ik tu ki sadiyon se mere hamrah bhi hamraz bhi
ik main ke tere nam se na-ashna awaragi
For ages, thou have been my shadowing companion, my friend;
Here I am, unaware, I could not thy being comprehend. 
Here the poet makes it clear, and the use of the term ‘sadiyon’ (centuries) leaves no doubt, that the ‘awaragi’ is not the lonely wandering of an individual, but the universal loneliness of the human soul. It is a surprise, though, that the individual is not aware (na-ashna) of the loneliness.

ye dard ki tanhaiyan ye dasht ka viran safar
ham log to ukta gaye apni suna awaragi
Amidst the haunting loneliness, this journey through pain
Has drained our endurance, can you your vigor retain?
Here we observe a transition to the plural first person – ham log – from the individual main. The poets says that the life is like suffering in solitude (dard ki tanhaiyan), a stressful journey through a desolate terrain, which tests the ability to endure. The ‘awaragi’ though continues unfazed.
 
ik ajnabi jhonke ne jab pucha mere gam ka sabab
sahara ki bhigi ret par main ne likha awaragi
The cause of my agony, asked a breeze unknown;
My lonely wandering, on the wet sand I wrote.
The use of oxymoron is puzzling. How can there be sahara ki bhigi ret (the wet sand of the desert)? Is it a mirage? Or, does the poet want to convey that the awaragi keeps the mind so fettered and vision so blurred that they fail to recognise the symbols of hope and happiness, like the wetness of the sand? This interpretation seems to fit into the overall texture of the ghazal.

le ab to dasht-e-shab ki sari vus-atein sone lagin
ab jagna hoga hamain kab tak bata awaragi
The tired vacuum of the long night did evaporate;
Till when shall I be wakeful, my wanderings, narrate?
The poet points towards the imminent end of a sleepless night, a night which brought no comfort to the restlessness. The night, without the comforting sleep, is like a jungle (dasht) with enormous expansion (vus-atein). Then there a question: how long will the agony continue? It is more like a rhetorical question.

kal rat tanha chand ko dekha tha main ne khwab main
'Mohsin' mujhe ras ayegi shayad sada awaragi
Even the moon in my dreams, last night, was sad and lonely;
The lonely wanderings, it seems, is Mohsin’s destiny.
The awaragi has entrenched itself in the psyche in such a way that the restless wanderer cannot see beyond it. The use of the image of the lonely moon (tanha chand) is very fascinating. There can be a sky with stars without the moon, but the moon without the stars? Only a mind conditioned to solitude can imagine a tanha chand 






Thursday, 29 March 2012

'Na Junoon Raha Na Pari Rahi' by Siraj Aurangabadi

Siraj Aurangabadi (سراج اورنگ آبادی) (1763-1712), born at Aurangabad Maharashtra, was an Urdu poet who came after Wali Dakhani (वली दक्खनी or ولی دکنی) . His full name was Siraj-ud-Din Aurangabadi Influenced by famous Persian poets like Hafiz, Siraj gave ghazal a new orchestration of mystical experience. Hence his ghazals have two-dimensional meanings - the mystical and metaphysical at one level, and the secular and physical at another.

Khabar-e-tahayyur-e-ishq is one of the best know ghazals of Siraj. I believe that explaining or paraphrasing a piece of poetry from one language in another is such an arduous task. More so if a poem of an Indian language is to be explained in English.  Besides, a ghazal is like a beautiful and fragrant flower, which gives you pleasure but you cannot pass the sublime experience on to another person on a vehicle of words. I am trying this difficult task for the benefit of my friends and, in doing so, am fully aware that my effort is most likely to be inadequate.

The text of the ghazal (in Roman script), followed by a paraphrase and the explanatory notes (as best as I can explain) follow:

Khabar-e-tahayyur-e-ishq sunn, na junoon raha na pari rahi
Na toh tu raha na toh mein raha, jo rahi so be-khabari rahi
On learning the amazing saga of love, neither the frenzy (junoon) was left, nor did the sweetheart (pari) remain. I was ‘me’ no more, you were ‘thee’ no more; only a state of oblivion remained.
This she'r reminds me of the lines from Rumi:

I always thought that
I was me — but no,
I was you
and never knew it.

The consciousness of self is obstructive and it is only the removal of 'knowledge' and 'thought' (Rumi has used the words ‘thought’ and ‘knew’) that leads to the state of self-unconsciousness where the lover and the beloved become one.

Shah-e-bekhudi ne ataa kia, mujhay ab libas-e-barahanagi

Na khirad ki bakhiyagari rahi, na junoon ki pardadari rahi

The gift of the ‘Lord of Ecstasy’ to me was a garb of nakedness. All that the wisdom had stitched was gone; the veil of madness no longer remained.
At the spiritual level the couplet can be interpreted like this: My beloved, the shah-e-bekhudi has ripped naked my heart and soul, ridding them of the layers of stitching by the misguided intellect, which is nothing more than a veil of madness. The extreme of love endows the heart with divine purity. Reason and intellect have been viewed as hindrances, and the perceived sanity as madness. 
Chali simt-e-ghaib se aik hava, ke chaman zahoor ka jal gaya
Magar aik shakh-e-nihal-e-gham, jise dil kahe so hari rahi
A sweeping wind, which came from beyond the visible world, consumed the visible garden with fire; just one branch on the tree of grief, which they call heart, despite the blaze retained its green.
The reference here is to the lost Paradise, and the perennial quest to re-unite with it. The Divine breeze would burn the worldly existence leaving behind the hope for reunion. The worldly existence (chaman) has been likened to a tree of sorrow and suffering, and the Divine breeze as the liberator. Nothing grows on that tree except sadness, caused by the separation from his beloved. Now that entire existence is gone, only the abode of the beloved (heart) has survived.

Nazar-e-taghaful-e-yaar ka, gila kis zuban se bayan karoon
Ke sharab-e-sad-qadaah aarzu, khum-e-dil mein thi so bhari rahi
I am speechless to complain about the indifferent and uncaring glances (nazar-e-taghaful-e-yaar) of my beloved; the wine of desire that filled the heart remained suppressed, concealed.
At the temporal level, these lines would simply suggest that there is a heart overflowing with desires which one is unable to express due to the indifferent looks of the beloved. At the metaphysical level it would suggest that the worldly desires are often out of sync with the Divine commandments.

Woh ajab ghari thi mein jis ghari, liya dars nuskha-e-ishq ka
Ke kitab aql ki taaq main, jyun dhari thi tyun hi dhari rahi
It was at a moment strange that I read a book of love; the book of reason, brushed aside, remained shelved and sheathed.
Reason (aql-o-khirad), the product of mind is considered a detriment, hindering the spontaneity of heart. A person guided by logic and reason is too calculative to be able to devote to pure love; whereas selfless love is motivated by heart and not mind. For that reason love and brain are just incompatible. Mind is deceitful, untrustworthy, selfish and devious whereas heart is pure, untainted and selfless. As Iqbal said: bekhatar kuud para aatishe-namrood mein ishq/aql thi mehvi-tamasha-e-lab-baam abhi


Tere josh-e-hairat-e-husn ka, asar iss qadar so yahan hua
Ke na aayine main jila rahi, na pari kuun jalva gari rahi
Your bewitching beauty, love, such a spell did cast; the mirror stood bereft of gloss and beauty seemed to freeze.
Bewildered by your beauty (Josh-e-hairat-e-husn), I had such a mark on my heart (yahan is a pointer towards the heart) that the heart (aayina , the mirror of heart) has lost all its shine (the basic quality of a mirror) and angel (pari is used as simile to refer profound beauty) had no beauty left to reveal (‘kuun’means ko).

Kiya khak aatish-e-ishq ne dil-e-benava-e-Siraj ko
Na khatar raha na hazar raha, magar aik be-khatari rahi
The fire of love reduced to ashes Siraj’s voiceless heart; fears and cares got consumed, intrepid courage held the field.
The fire of love (aatish-e-ishq) has burnt the voiceless heart (dil-e-benava) of Siraj to ashes. The heart is so liberated from fears (be-khatari) that there is no feeling of vulnerability or threat left. (As Iqbal has used the word bekhatar: bekhatar kood para aatish-e-namrood mein ishq).


If you liked the blog and want to read more, here is the link to another blog:
http://kashikeya.blogspot.com/2019/10/aaj-bazar-men-pa-ba-jaulan-chalo.html?m=1