Babul Mora - Neyhar chuto hi jaaye

 Considered ever classic 'bidai" poem, sung many times by classical singers as thumri in raag bharvi and performed with kathak dance (see youtube link at the end of post). It was written by the unfortunate last king of Awadh, Wajid Ali Shah (a sad story of a good man who was born at the wrong time in history). Allegedly, he wrote this as he was banished from Lucknow to Calcutta by English.

بابُل مورا، نیہر چھُوٹو ہی جائے

بابُل مورا، نیہر چھُوٹو ہی جائے

(چار کہار مِل، موری ڈولِیا سجاویں (اُٹھایّں

مورا اَپنا بیگانا چھُوٹو جائے ، بابُل مورا۔۔۔

آںگنا تو پربت بھیو اؤر دیہری بھیی بِدیش

جائے بابُل گھر آپنو میں چلی پیّا کے دیش ، بابُل مورا ۔۔

O My father! I'm leaving home. 

O My father! I'm leaving home. 

 The four (palanquin) bearers lift my palanquin. 

I'm leaving those who were my own. 

 Your courtyard is now like a mountain, and the threshold, a foreign country.

I leave your house, father, I am going to my beloved country.

Youtube link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j3VvhvBUSak

Post Mortem

 "Sir! agar zindagi main koi galti ho jaaye to kiya kerna chahiye?"

"Sab se alag ho ker apne saath waqt guzarna chahiye. Apna analysis kerna chahiye. Apni kamingiyon ka idraak kerna chahiye. Zanjīr-e-roz-o-shab ki is tuti hui kaRi main, matame waqt ki is ghaRi main, apni zaat kā labāda utar ke, apna post mortem kerna chahiye"*

"Is se kiya farq paR jaaye ga Sir!"

"Kahin kisi amal main koi pukhtagi aa jaaye gi"

* words shamelessly taken from Faiz' poem  'ye matame waqt ki ghaRi hai'

Aaj Jaane ki zid na karo (full version)

 I have written on this blog before also that "yunhi pehlu main bethe raho" is the most beautiful experience of relationship. Finally found the full version of Fayyaz Hashmi's poem. The last stanza is rarely seen or sung*, which is equally poetical. 

*https://youtu.be/hBvdIsBmQ6g (Fardia Khanum)

https://youtu.be/wGwHQYtvNRw (Ariit Singh) 

آج جانے کی ضد نہ کرو

یونہی پہلو میں بیٹھو رہو

ہائے ! مر جائیں گے، ہم تو لُٹ جائیں گے

ایسی باتیں کیا نہ کرو

تم ہی سوچو ذرا کیوں نہ روکیں تمہیں

جان جاتی ہے جب اُٹھ کے جاتے ہو تم

تم کو اپنی قسم جانِ جاں

بات اتنی میری مان لو

وقت کی قید میں زندگی ہے مگر

چند گھڑیاں یہی ہیں جو آزاد ہیں

ان کو کھو کر کہیں جانِ جاں

عمر بھر نہ ترستے رہو

کتنا معصوم و رنگیں ہے یہ سماں

حسن اور عشق کی آج معراج ہے

کل کی کس کو خبر جانِ جاں

روک لو آج کی رات کو

گیسوؤں کی شکن ہے ابھی شبنمی

اور پلکوں کے سائے بھی مد ہوش ہیں

حسنِ معصوم کو جانِ جاں

بے خودی میں نہ رسوا کرو

فیاض ہاشمی

Ancestral Maths

 

Snake and Ladder board game

 We all grew up playing ludo and 'Sanp-siRhi'. I didn't know that the Snakes-Ladders game was invented two centuries before Christ in India. It was a game created to teach ethics to kids. There is a link from "Times of India" after this poster. Enjoy.

Link: https://bit.ly/2EPz304

A different angle to prayers

 

Najjo

(Beside Manto, Abdul Majid Salik himself described this encounter in his book: 'Yaran-e-kohan')

 ایک دفعہ عبدالمجید سالک کسی کام کے سلسلے میں حکیم فقیر محمد چشتی صاحب کے مطب پر گئے۔ وہاں مشہور طوائف نجو بھی دوا لینے آئی تھی۔ کھلا ہوا چمپئی رنگ، سر پر ایک سفید ریشمی دوپٹہ جس کے کنارے چوڑا نقرئی لپہ لگا ہؤا تھا۔

سالک جو پہنچے تو حکیم صاحب نے اس سے کہا: "یہ تمہارے شہر کے بہت بڑے شاعر اور ادیب سالک صاحب ہیں۔ آداب بجالاؤ۔"

وہ سروقد اٹھ کھڑی ہوئی اور جھک کر آداب بجا لائی۔

پھر سالک سے کہا: "یہ لاہور کی مشہور طوائف نجو ہیں۔ آپ اس کوچے سے نابلد سہی لیکن نام تو سنا ہوگا۔"

سالک نے کہا: "جی ہاں! نام تو سنا ہے لیکن نجو بھلا کیا نام ہوا؟"

حکیم صاحب فرمانے لگے: "لوگ نجو نجو کہہ کے پکارتے ہیں، پورا نام تو

*نجات المومنین* ہے۔"

 (اندھیر نگری۔۔۔ از سعادت حسن منٹو)

Loser

(the content of the following post is graphic) 

 I was born and raised in the slums of Bogota (Columbia), in an area called San Cristobal. I grew with drugs, gangs, prostitution, kidnapping, ransom, gambling, and all the evils of poverty. We were called 'ganchos.' I was respected from early on due to my courage and terror. Soon I rose to the level of Don. Now let me correct you, we were evils of the society but a blessing for the neighborhoods. We provided free food, secured 'ollas,' gave church donations, and brought education to children. I enjoyed getting indulged in alcohol, drugs, and women. Over time, bad habits start taking a toll on my health. To sustain my manly prowess, I start using a higher and higher dose of viagra. One night, we kidnapped a girl of another gang half of my age. She was pretty Hispanic lolita. As I was trying to perform, and she lay her legs open, I could not get any movement in my genital. She starts laughing. She picked gun from the side table, put on my head, and said - "You are already dead, loser." And she kept laughing. It was a blow. I never respected women. I didn't even respect women in my family, including my mother. As I came out of the room, I was sweating. I didn't tell anyone. It was such a hit. I never lost to dreaded gangs, policia, or any danger what so ever. To be a loser to a Chiquita was a huge blow. I learned power never lasts. Sooner or later, another powerful will replace you. I quietly left the town. I worked on farms in California. I married and adopted two kids. Last year I got diagnosed with unusual cancer. I will die soon. A Muslim man once told me that in their holy book, it is written that in the end, we all are losers. I didn't bow to all mighty. I might never. I still have questions unanswered about injustice on this earth. But I learned life is a peace only when you lie low. No power, no viagra, or no gun works - only love and good deeds to humans around you.

Zameer Jafri ki aik ghazal

 Zameer Jafri made his name in Urdu poetry as a "mazahiya shayer". As said, comedy requires immense emotional depth. Read his real gem - one serious ghazal. It is said that a good ghazal requires preferably small bahar, appropriate auzan, and unique khayal. (Mir Taqi Mir legacy).

کپڑے اپنے گھر کے ہیں

دھبے دنیا بھر کے ہیں

باہر کی کوئی چیز نہیں

سارے دکھ اندر  کے ہیں

کیسے کیسے دکھ دیکھے

کیا کیا عیب ہنر کے ہیں

مسجد تو بنوا لی تھی

پتھر سب مندر  کے ہیں

منزل پا لینے کے بعد

جھگڑے راہگزر  کے ہیں

مٹی ہم سے روٹھ گئی

گاؤں بھی پتھر  کے ہیں

Armageddon

Over centuries, humans in every genre, including religion, science, philosophy, or mythology, have argued instead guessed about Armageddon's nature. Due to my recent heavy involvement with pandemic patients' care, I recalled my old interaction with an Australian archeologist I met during travel. He told me:

 "I am 70 years old and have studied many old civilizations. I concluded that humans tend to survive wars, diseases, and catastrophes. All societies, civilizations, and cultures run their bell curve. They rise to their glories and fade away in the books of history. If Armageddon is supposed to happen, and this planet needs to get destroyed, my prediction is will happen in a moment! It may be an asteroid hitting a planet or a global nuclear holocaust. Although it sounds scary, there is a solace that suffering would be very short!"

*

Difference in lifestyles of West and East

 As I took a much-needed break while covering sickest of sick COVID patients with ventilators, ECMOs, and tons of drips - I entered our breakroom looking to get some chai. The only reason I am surviving and keeping my sanity intact while working with these patients is an unlimited supply of chai. Thanks to a few desi nurses around me. As I settled on the chair, took out the mail I bought from home to see my pending bills, one nurse chimed as she handed the mug full of khusbudar ilachi wali chai,

"America aur hamare mulkon main saari zindagi bus 6 lafzon pe ghumti hai

America main: Get the bill, pay the bill

Aur udhar apne India main: chai bun gai, pi ke jaana"

Why we get old

(A conversation with a 92 years old COVID patient)

"So what you are telling me, I assume you do not want any chest compression, electric shock, machine to breathe for you, or any artificial measure or medication to prolong your life. What I am saying is not to attempt to resuscitate you, what we call DNR?"

"Yes, doctor, I lived my life. Despite all troubles, I already enjoyed my life. Now it doesn't matter; I lived for 90 years or 900 years. I worked at Las Vegas as a backstage worker. I think, onwards, it would be just a stretch of the show. For a long time, I wondered why we need to get old? Now I know, the old hood is a blessing. It makes acceptance of death easy. It let you wonder about life - with all its beauty and its cruelty. It makes you let things go. It let you forgive all humans who did wrong to you. It makes you value love, and time people shared with you out of their own time. In the end, it makes you smile. Yes, please let me go peacefully".

At the moment of death

(A conversation with a COVID-19 patient who survived)

 "You almost died that day. If you remember, you asked me to make sure to inform your family. How did you feel before I put you on a ventilator, and we all knew this might be your last conscious moment?"

"It was interesting. At that given moment, there was a massive surge of acceptance to death. There was no fear. I was even devoid of any faith or religion. I didn't care if God exists. Suppose there is anything after death, well and good. If it is all over, let it be. Interestingly, I was still worried about my youngest child, who is still not grown up. Otherwise, no possession mattered".

Lupus in Fabula

'Lupus in Fabula' is an Italian idiom which literary means “the wolf in the fairy tale.”

What it means when life is going smooth, everything feels hunky-dory, as we say in Urdu: "ravi har taraf chen hi chen likhta hai" - the tragedy (wolf) will strike.

I remember my father reminded me of this lesson many times to stay ready for rainy days in sunny days. What a sensible advice it was!!!

Shape of continents and human behaviour

I have mentioned anthropologist Jared Diamond before at this blog (here). Nowadays, in my isolation time I am reading a book, "Atomic Habits". It is a very mediocre book but it mentioned an interesting theory of Jared Diamond about shapes of continents and human behavior.

"Continents that are spread out in an east-west direction, such as Eurasia, had a developmental advantage because of the ease with which crops, animals, ideas and technologies could spread between areas of similar latitude. Continents that spread out in a north-south direction, such as the Americas, had an inherent climatic disadvantage. Any crops, animals, ideas and technologies had to travel through dramatically changing climatic conditions to spread from one extreme to the other. .....................Technologies such as gunpowder were able to migrate 6,500 thousand miles from China, where they originated, to Western Europe, where they reached their apogee, in a matter of centuries. The wheel, on the other hand, developed in southern Mexico, never even managed the 500-mile journey south to the Andes."

You can read the whole article here. https://www.pbs.org/gunsgermssteel/variables/continents.html

Ahmad Nadeem Qasmi writeup

One thing which always bothered me about Qudratullah Shahab and his friend circle including Ashfaq Ahmad is their relentless support for dictators in Pakistan. This one small writeup from Ahmad Nadeem Qasmi is a historical piece on death of 'mazahimati adab' of Urdu literature.

Humorous but true

Surgery and Painting

Unfortunately, I am stuck in ED/hospital/ICU with patients pouring due to COVID.  As I was about to make my exit from hospital, I met Dr. S. We both are living in isolation for last 4 months.

Dr. S is from Lahore but practicing general surgery here for the last 40 or so years. He is volunteering out with COVID patients as we are running short of staff. We both tested negative for COVID on July 3 (thanks to PPE availability in the USA). He asked me to celebrate and have dinner together at his place.  He loved to have a glass of wine with Mehdi Hasan on iPad and cooking his own dinner. Kudos to him, he cooked beef biryani and grilled chicken wings for me with my favorite flavor of garlic parmesan.

I have been to his place before but not to his house upper storey. This time he showed me his paintings at his studio and media room. They were just beautiful. It ranges from women's' figures to nature as well as abstract paintings based on Ghalib's poetry. I learned painting is his other passion and a way to soothe stresses. No wonder he is always so calm.

I asked: "Surgery or painting! ye combination mujhe kuch samjh nahi aaya?" 

He replied: "Socho to asan si baat hai. Main surgery bhi painting hi ki tarah kerta hun. Incision se le ker last stitch tak aaj bhi main har kaam khud kerta hun. Surgery aik delicate art hai. Bohat dhiyan aur compassion chahiye. Painting kerne ki adat ne Mujhe aik achha surgeon banaya hai. Tabiyat main therao aaya hai.....Mujhe tab tak tassli nahi hoti, jab tak patient kuch hafton baad followup ke liye aata hai, aur stitches ke nishan bamushkil hi nazar aate hain".

Old Couple

What a striking painting depicting a couple who is long-married, stayed together, develop differences but can't get away from each other. Painted by Achim H. Pollert.

“Partition”

(Relatively way less written about Lord Mountbatten, the last viceroy of India. Most of the history is either written from the biased eyes of India or Pakistan. Here how his mission was described factually in poetry by W.H. Auden, a British-American poet of that era, who witnessed the great partition sitting far away.  The poem was written in 1966. As he said in the last line, fear of  Lord Mountbatten came true and he was assassinated 13 years later of the poem (1979) but by his other enemy, IRA (Irish Republican Army).

Unbiased at least he was when he arrived on his mission,
Having never set eyes on the land he was called to partition
Between two peoples fanatically at odds,
With their different diets and incompatible gods.
“Time,” they had briefed him in London, “is short. It’s too late
For mutual reconciliation or rational debate:
The only solution now lies in separation.
The Viceroy thinks, as you will see from his letter,
That the less you are seen in his company the better,
So we’ve arranged to provide you with other accommodation.
We can give you four judges, two Moslem and two Hindu,
To consult with, but the final decision must rest with you.”

Shut up in a lonely mansion, with police night and day
Patrolling the gardens to keep the assassins away,
He got down to work, to the task of settling the fate
Of millions. The maps at his disposal were out of date
And the Census Returns almost certainly incorrect,
But there was no time to check them, no time to inspect
Contested areas. The weather was frightfully hot,
And a bout of dysentery kept him constantly on the trot,
But in seven weeks it was done, the frontiers decided,
A continent for better or worse divided.

The next day he sailed for England, where he could quickly forget
The case, as a good lawyer must. Return he would not,
Afraid, as he told his Club, that he might get shot.