Bahadur Shah Zafar Poetry
BAHADUR SHAH ZAFAR (1775-1862)
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| Bahadur Shah Zafar Poetry |
Poet, patriot, and the last Moghul emperor of Delhi, Bahadur Shah Zafar had to suffer persecution for his alleged complicity in the Revolt of 1857.
He was deported to Rangoon where he died in 1862. His best poetry is built around his personal experience of loss, defeat, and despair. His famous lines:
He was deported to Rangoon where he died in 1862. His best poetry is built around his personal experience of loss, defeat, and despair. His famous lines:
Lagta Nahin hai Ji Mira ujre dayaar mein,
Kis ki bani hai, Aalam-e-napaaedaar main —
I feel ill-at-ease on this wasted heath,
Who in this ephemeral world has ever been at peace?
sum up the central theme and mood of the poet, which incidentally, was also the mood of the times in which he lived.
Zafar was a patriot to the core. Among the other important themes of Zafar may be mentioned his impressive handling of didactic and ethical subjects, and his sensitive concern for the universal process of change and decay constantly operative in the world.
It is worth remembering that while the age of Zafar was a time of social and political holocaust, it was also the golden age of Urdu poetry.
The court of Zafar was the hub of poetic activity, adorned by a galaxy of famous poets such as Azurda, Shefta, Ghalib, Momin, and Zauq, — the last one also enjoyed the enviable position of the king’s mentor, which position passed on to Ghalib after Zauq’s death in 1855.
Zafar was thus not only a patriot and a poet but also a patron of poetry and fine arts.
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The court of Zafar was the hub of poetic activity, adorned by a galaxy of famous poets such as Azurda, Shefta, Ghalib, Momin, and Zauq, — the last one also enjoyed the enviable position of the king’s mentor, which position passed on to Ghalib after Zauq’s death in 1855.
Zafar was thus not only a patriot and a poet but also a patron of poetry and fine arts.
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Bahadur Shah Zafar
I feel ill-at-ease (Lagta nahin hai Ji mera)
I feel ill-at-ease on this wasted heath,
Who in this ephemeral world has ever found relief?
The nightingale has no complaint against the hunter or the watch,
It is her fate to lie in cage, and spring in every mead!
My desires were better advised to find a new resort,
Where in my scalded heart is space enough to breathe?
We had borrowed this long life on a four-day lease,
Two were spent in yearnings vain, two by waiting seized.
The day of life is nearly done, the shades of night approach,
We shall sleep in the grave, stretching both our feet.
How unlucky is Zafar, alas! for his burial place,
He couldn’t find two yards of ground in his love’s street.
Lagta nahin hai ji mira ujre dyaar mein,
Kis ki bani hai aalam-e-na-paidar mein?
Bulbul ko paasbaan se na sayyaad se gila,
Qismat mein qaid likhi thi fasl-e-bahaar mein.
Kah do yeh hasraton se kahin aur ja basen,
Itni jagah kahan hi dil-e-daghdaar mein.
Umr-e-daraaz maang ke laae the chaar din,
Do aarzoo mein kat gaye, do intezaar mein.
Din zindngi ke khatam hue, shaam ho gai,
Phaila ke paaon soeynge kunj-e-mazaar mein,
Kitna hai bad naseeb, Zafar, dafan ke lieye,
Bahadur Shah Zafar
Plaintive Cry (Dard Bhari Pukar)
I ani not the apple of anyone’s eye, nor the joy of any heart,
A handful of useless dust, no purpose I discharge.
I’ve lost my strength and shape, I’m severed from my friend,
I’m the spring of the garden, laid waste by fall.
I’m a friend to no one, nor a foe to aught,
I’m the star-crossed fate, I’m the ruined resort.
Why should someone sing my dirge, or come to lay a wreath?
I’m the tomb of helplessness, better left in dark.
I’m not a lilting song, which others may hear or heed,
I’m the wail by severance caused, a cry of anguished heart.
Na kisi ki aankh ka nur hun, na kisi ke dil ka qarar hun,
Jo kisi ke kang na aa sake, ek musht-e-ghubar httn.
Mera rang roop bigar gaya, mera yaar mujh se bichhar gaya,
Jo chaman khazann se ujar gaya, mein usi ki fasl-e-bahar hun.
Na tau main kisi ka habib hun, tau main kisi ka raqib hun,
Paie feeteha koi aae kyaon, koi chaar phool charhaae kyon,
Koi aake Shama jalnay kyon, main who be-kasi ka mazaar hun,
Main nahin hun naghmaa-e-jaanfaza, mujhe sun ke koi karega kya,
Bahadur Shah Zafar
Wail of Grief (Shahr Ashob)
Ask us not how it whirls, the willful wheel of sky,
This despot is used to oppress and terrorize,
Pulling down the mighty is his chief delight,
What an acrimonious streak in his nature hides!
The crow feeds itself on meat, the phoenix on bones survives,
To rank the crow above the phoenix, is it justified?
The trees that are fruitful cannot raise their neck,
But trees bleak and barren, heaven-wards stretch.
The morning breeze is blowing dust over the garden trees,
In disgust rub their hands, the vineyards, and leaves.
Heart-depressed hang the buds, lacerated lie the blooms,
loudly wail the nightingales, wrapped in leafy gloom
The thorns and thistles multiply, flowers wither and fade,
The garden becomes a thorny wild, brambles proliferate.
_____________
Hindi Ghazal
Kya poochhte ho kaj ravi-e-charkh-e-chambri,
Hai is sitam shiaar ka Shewa sitam gari,
Karta hai khwar tar unhen jin ko hai bartari,
Is ke mizaaj mein hai kya sifla parwari
Khaaey hai gosht zaagh, faqt ustkhwan huma,
Kya munsafi hai zagh kahan aur kahan huma!
Jo nakhl pur samar hain utha snkte sar nahin,
Sarkash hain woh darakht ke jin mein samar nahin.
Baad-e-saba uraati chaman mein hai sar pe khaak,
Malte hain dam-ba-dam kaf-e-afsos barg-e-taak,
Ghunche hain dil garifta, gulon ke jigar hain chaak,
Karti hain bulbulein yehi faryaad-e-dardnaak,
Shadaab haif khaar hon, gul paaemaal hon,
Bahadur Shah Zafar
How and where can we escape from the sky’s rage,
Wherever we go, it will give us chase.
The prison house of the sky is a terrible place,
So long as we live and breathe, we have to suffer this cage.
He who is an inmate of this palace dark,
Is a prisoner of the British just for this fault.
The dome of the sky is a maddening jail,
Oh, we do not have the strength even to raise a wail.
If we try to flap one wing, ten others may break,
How can then our deep desire see the light of day?
How can the captive bird hope to fly away,
When he hasn’t got the strength even to plead and pray?
Many a king of noble note has the world witnessed,
How much pelf and power once they did possess,
All of them were in the end humbled down by death,
Where is Darius, where Alexander, whither Jamshed of the regal crest?
None has lived, nor will live forever on this earth,
Only the actions of the just “smell sweet in the dust.”
Jaaen nikal Falak ke ihaate se hum Kahan
Howe ga sar pe charkh bhi jaawenge hum Jahan
Koi bala hai khana-e-zindan yeh aasmaan,
Chhutna mahaal is se hai jab tak hai tan mein Jaan.
Jo aa gya is mahl-e-teera rang mein,
Qaid-e-hayaat se hai woh qaid-e-farang mein.
Yeh gumbad-e-Falak hai Ajab Tarah ka qafas,
Taaqat nahin hai naale ki bhi jismen ik nafas,
Jumbish ho ek par ki tau par toot jaaen das,
Rah jaae dil ki dil mein na kis tarah hawas
Kya taair-e-aseer woh parwaaz kar sake,
Jis mein na itna dam ho ke awaaz de sake.
Kya kya jahan mein hue shahaan-e-zi karam,
Kis kis tarah se rakhte the saath apne woh hashm,
Aakhir gaye jahan se tanha soo-e-adam,
Dara kahan, kahan hai Sikander, kahan hai Jam,
Koi na yaan raha hai na koi yahan rahe
Kuchh ai Zafar rahe, tau nikoi yahan rahe.
When many a head…
When many a head will tumble down beneath your ruthless sword,
Those who watch will lose their cool, and dread the fatal stroke;
But we’ll stand undeterred despite the threat you hold,
Others might crouch and cringe before your menacing pose,
Blow us, if you like, to shreds, we will be firm and bold.
Fellow-vicims, I have now fallen in the fowler’s trap,
No amount of fret and stir can my chains snap.
Why doth he need a scissors, someone ask that chap,
Why is he worried about clipping down my wings,
Fluttering in the cage is enough to break my fins.
If you pass through the grove, O thou morning breeze,
Meet the crazy nightingale; convey my message please:
Tell her who is chirping among the vernal leaves:
“This grove will stay forever, but the million birds on trees,
Will sing their songs, twitter and trill, fly away and cease.”
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Hindi
Jab tiri shamsheer se kitne hi sar ur jaaenge,
Rang sab ke baais-e-khauf-o-khatar ur jaaenge,
Hum nahin woh jin ke ausaan dekh kar ur jaaenge,
Aur tau dhamki mein, a bedadgar, ur jaaenge,
Par nahin talne ke hum, tukre agar ur jaaenge.
Humsafeero ab tau main phandey mein uske par chuka,
Laakh pharkoon par nahin mumkin ke is se hoon juda,
Poochho us zaalim se tu miqraaz hai kyon dhoondta,
Par katarne ka mire sayyad ko hai fikar kya?
Daam hi ki kashmakash se mere par ur jaaenge.
Subah gulshan mein saba tera agar howe guzar,
Kaheo bulbul se zara itna ke ai shoreeda-sar,
Kar rahi hai chahchahe kya shakh-e-gul par baith kar,
Yeh chaman yunhi rahega aur hazaaron jaanwar,
Bahadur Shah Zafar
Cry not here, O bird of heart! (Murgh-e-dil mat ro yahan)
Cry not here, O bird of heart, the place admits no tears,
Do not look for food or water in this cage, O dear!
We can only beat our head against these stony walls,
Even to gaze at the vents invites the hunter’s wrath.
After putting me to the sword, thus spoke the stony heart,
Embrace the sword by all means, but do not turn or toss.
Do not writhe or roll, O heart, when blows of axe upon you fall,
Even to move your limbs is banned in this slaughter hall.
To yearn and yearn all your life, is your fate, O Zafar,
The fortieth day’s henna ritual is now a dream forgot.
Murgh-e-dil mat ro yahan aansoo bahana mana hai,
Is qafas ke qaideon ko aab-o-dana mana hai.
Teri deewaar se ab hum tau sar patka kieye,
Rauzan-e-deewaar tak aankhen milana mana hai,
Qatal karke mujhko ab sangeen dilon ne yeh kaha,
Qatal ho jana wa lekin tarpharana mana hai.
Mat tarpna, dekhna, khanjar tale, ai said-e-dil,
Ishq ke maqtal mein dast-o-pa hilana mana hai.
Ai Zafar tum ko hamesha chaaheye hasrat mudaam,
Ab tumhen chaalees din mehndi lagana mana hai.
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