NAWAB MIRZA KHAN DAGH DEHLVI
NAWAB MIRZA KHAN DAGH DEHLVI (1831-1905)
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| Daagh Dehlvi Biography | Poetry | Ghazal | Shayari |
Daghwas born in Chandni Chowk, Delhi, on May 25, 1831. He was the poetic disciple of Sheikh Ibrahim Zauq, and the mentor, through the correspondence of Dr. Mohammed Iqbal.
He spent his life mostly in Delhi, Rampur, and Hyderabad. After the death of the Nawab of Rampur in 1887, Dagh was left to fend for himself.
For several years he wandered from pillar to post in search of livelihood. At last, fortune smiled on him and the Nizam of Hyderabad appointed him as the poet of his court, and as his poetic mentor on a handsome salary of Rs 450/ per mensem, which was later raised to Rs 10001.
The Nawab also conferred on him several literary titles, such as Bulbul-e-Hindustan, Dabir-ul-Daula, Fasih-Ul-Malik.
Allama Iqbal also calls him Bulbul-e-hind, in his commemorative poem. Mirza Dagh This title refers particularly to the simplicity, musicality, and felicity of his poetic style, The poem, Marsia-e-Delhi, (Dirge for Delhi) included in this anthology falls in the tradition of the Shahr Ashobs of Mir and Sauda.
He spent his life mostly in Delhi, Rampur, and Hyderabad. After the death of the Nawab of Rampur in 1887, Dagh was left to fend for himself.
For several years he wandered from pillar to post in search of livelihood. At last, fortune smiled on him and the Nizam of Hyderabad appointed him as the poet of his court, and as his poetic mentor on a handsome salary of Rs 450/ per mensem, which was later raised to Rs 10001.
The Nawab also conferred on him several literary titles, such as Bulbul-e-Hindustan, Dabir-ul-Daula, Fasih-Ul-Malik.
Allama Iqbal also calls him Bulbul-e-hind, in his commemorative poem. Mirza Dagh This title refers particularly to the simplicity, musicality, and felicity of his poetic style, The poem, Marsia-e-Delhi, (Dirge for Delhi) included in this anthology falls in the tradition of the Shahr Ashobs of Mir and Sauda.
Mirza Dagh
💖Dirge for Delhi (Marsia-e-Delhi)💖
Celestial was the soil of Delhi, angel-like its citizenry,
Even the heavens greedily eyed Delhi’s prized territory.
Non-pareil, without a peer was this city supreme,
When we gave a second thought, Delhi seemed a dream.
Before my eyes swims the spot where narcissus once did smile,
Whose evil eye, O flower, has robbed you of your sight?
How terrible! the cruel sky has undone us complete,
And our veil of honour has been blown apiece.
It has ruined a whole world with a sudden sweep,
And turned a happy home into a dusty heap.
In the blazing sun they burn, faces moon-bright,
Tender petals of the rose are dragged through thorny wilds.
Eyes overflowing with tears are founts of blood in spate,
The broken skulls suggest bubbles floating on the waves.
Houses, like the broken hearts, have been run to waste,
Even the awesome sights of doom before this havoc pale.
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Falak zanteen-o-mulaaik janab thi Dilli,
Bahisht-o-khuld mein bhi intekhab thi Dilli.
Jawab kaahe ko tha, lajawab thi Dilli,
Magar khayaal se dekha, tau khwab thi Dilli.
Pari hain aankhen wahan jo jagah thi nargis ki,
Khabar nahin ki ise kha gai nazar kiski.
Falak ne qahr-o-ghazab taak taak kar daala,
Tamaam parda-o-naamoos chaak kar daala.
Yakayak ik jahan ko halaak kar daala,
Gharz ke laakh ka ghar is ne khaak kar daala.
Jalen hain dhoop mein shaklen jo mahtaab ki thein,
Khinchein hain kaanton pe jo pattian gulab ki thein.
Lahu ke chasme hain chashm-e-pur aab ki soorat,
Shikasta kaasa-e-sar hain habaab ki soorat.
Lute hain ghar, dil-e-khana kharaab ki soorat,
Kahan yeh hashar mein, tauba! itaab ki soorat!
Mirza Dagh
💖Dirge for Delhi💖
The suppliants’ call is answered by the sharp tongues of swords
The rope and noose strangulate the poor, innocent throats.
The sky is shedding tears over the earth’s state,
Every house mourns the death of its late inmates.
Women, children, young and old, all lament their fate,
The whole world, to cut it short, our tragic fate bewails.
The surging force of the flood beyond expression lies,
Even Noah’s fabled ark would have here capsized.
Mole-black have become, faces moon-bright,
Like bent-bow have they slumped, the budding youth upright.
Loud wails alternate with heart-breaking sighs,
Delhi folks are lying trapped in a dismal plight.
What a hard luck we have, what a fate we own,
The gems, emeralds, at our touch, turn to bits of stone,
The stores of wheat turn to sparks, when we look for grains,
When we ask for water, the river becomes a plain.
Even nectar turns to poison, by our lips drained,
The grace of God becomes His wrath, while we pray in vain.
Zabaan-e-tegh se pursish hai daad khwahon ki,
Rasan hai, tauq hai, gardan hai begunahon ki,
Zamin ke haal pe ab aasmaan rota hai,
Har ik firaq-e-makeen mein makaan rota hail
Ke tifl-o-aurat-o-pir-o-jawan rota hai,
Gharz yahan ke lieye ik jahaan rota hai.
Jo kaheiye joshish-e-toofaan kahi nahin jaati,
Yahan tau Noah ki kishti bhi doob hi jaati.
Bana hai khaal-e-seah rang mah-jamaalon ka,
Doota hua hai qad-e-raast naunihaalon ka;
Jo zor aahon ka lab par, tau shor aahon ka,
Ajeeb haal-e-digargoon hai, Dilli waalon ka,
Ghazab hai bakht bad aise hamare ho jaaen,
Ke hain jo laal-o-guhar, sang paare ho jaaen,
Jo daanen chaahen tau khirman sharaare ho jaaen,
Jo panni maangen tau darya kinaare ho jaaen.
Pieyen jo aab-e-baqa bhi tau zahr ho jaae,
Jo chaahen rahmat-e-baari, tau qahr ho jaae.
