Dadri lynching is an act of 'Hindu ISIS'!

Shikwah – Jawab e Shikwah : Still relevant

Its been over 100 years since Iqbal wrote a marvelous set of iconic poems called ‘Shikwah and Jawab e Shikwah’. For some it was path breaking piece of literature that changed the course of history. Others called it The Renaissance of South Asian Muslims reeling under the cascading effects of 1857 Gadar. I could see no change in the fate of Muslims all over the world ever since ‘The poet of east’ created that literary masterpiece. For me ‘Shaikwah – Jawab e Shikwah’ is as relevant today as it was when it was penned more than a century ago. Here is one of my favorite couplets from Shikwah-Jawab e Shikwah. جن کو آتا نہیں دنیا میں کوئی فن تم ہو نہیں جس قوم کو پرواۓ نشیمن تم ہو

Makhdoom - A neglected genius

Makhdoom is another voice of revolution in Urdu poetry. Though he penned those inspiring and romantic lines in Urdu, I feel he didn’t get the recognition he deserves. I am surprised to note that Makhdoom is more popular in Telugu literary circles for his revolutionary thoughts reached them through translations. He also wrote songs for Bollywood movies which include ‘Du badan pyar ki aag main jal gaye’. The couplet that comes to my mind when I think of Makhdoom has the power to influence the people who can make a difference. Here it is .حیات لے کے چلو ، کائنات لے کے چلو چلو تو سارے زمانے کو ساتھ لے کے چلو

Ghalib - The scientist!

Ghalib was astonishingly well versed with science and technology. His many couplets indicate his understanding of scientific principles. Ghalib who didn’t even have the formal basic education wrote the following couplet in mid of 19th century. اب آرزو ے شوق قیامت نہیں مجھ کو دنیا کے ہر اک ذرے میں سو حشر بپا ہیں Amazing isn’t it ?

Iqbal : The ultimate revolutionary

Iqbal was not a leftist for sure. But one of his couplets sound more powerful and revolutionary than the inspirational writings of Sahirs and Makhdooms who promoted the leftist ideology throughout their lives. Here it is the ultimate revolutionary thought from Iqbal. جس کھیت سے دہقاں کو میسر نہ ہو روزی اس کھیت کے ہر خوشہ گند م کو جلا دو

Sahir : The poet who talks about you and me ….

He doesn’t inspires for greater tasks like Iqbal. He is not as Philosophical as Ghalib. He talks about you and me. He talks about our problems, our compulsions and our hopes. Sahir is among the three poets I admire the most. He is very special and close to my heart. I love his ‘be realistic stay optimistic’ attitude. He shows the mirror to the society. He tells the truth no matter how bitter and ugly it is. Here is what Sahir himself opines about his poetry. دنیا نے تجربات و حوادث کی شکل میں جو کچھ مجھے دیا ہے وہ لوٹا رہا ہوں میں

Faiz : A multifacedted poet

Faiz is full of inspiration. From a hardcore revolutionary to an aspirant Sufi he has a multifaceted personality. All these shades reflect in his writings. I have never came across a more daring voice of the oppressed ones than his ‘Lazim hai ke hum bhi dekhenge’. I rate his following couplet as his most read and popular piece of writing which describes the agony of partition in a way no one else did. یہ داغ داغ اجالا ، یہ شب گزیدہ سحر وہ انتظار تھا جسکا یہ وہ سحر تو نہیں

Majaz : A rebel

Majaz is another poet I idolized in my teens. Romantic and rebel , he sounds very much like Sahir. A failed love affair and heavy drinking took a heavy toll on him and he died young. His poem ‘Awara’ is considered a masterpiece of Urdu literature which was used in a Bollywood movie in the mesmerizing voices of Talat Mahmomood and Asha Bhosle. The words ‘Ai gham e dil kya karon – ai wahshat e dil kya karon’ describe the contention within Majaz. The following couplet reflects his rebellious nature greatly influenced by love. بخشسی ہیں ہم کو عشق نے وہ جر تیں مجاز ڈرتے نہیں سیاست اہل جہاں سے ہم

Ghalib : A universal poet

If Iqbal is the poet of the East, I would call Ghalib the poet of the universe. I am amazed especially at his acquaintance with the human emotions and situations. I love Ghalib. Here goes one of his beauties I am mad about. کوئی میرے دل سے پوچھے تیرے تیر نیم کش کو یہ خلش کہاں سے ہوتی جو جگر کے پار ہوتا

Parveen Shakir : The voice of feminism in Urdu poetry

Parveen Shakir is unconventional in many ways. She is the most heard voice of feminism in Urdu poetry. Parveen who had a failed marriage with a Doctor raises the taboo subjects like gender equality, discrimination and suppressed emotions. Her loneliness within reflects in her writings. She wrote کوئی آہٹ نہ کوئی چاپ نہ کوئی آواز دل کی گلیاں میری سنسان ہیں آ نے کوئی It is not about a teenager’s wait for her prince charming. It is the cry of a middle aged woman of our society. Here is her most popular couplet in my view. جگنو کو دن کے وقت پرکھنے کی ضد کریں بچے ہمارے عہد کے چالاک ہو گئے

Sick of sick minds

There are so many sick minds around us. The number is increasing, I'm afraid. A BJP office bearer in Tamilnadu is arrested for expressing his 'happiness' over Makkah crane tragedy. What we are witnessing today is a new low of human values. I was pained at the loss of over 5 thousand lives in Uttarakhand two years back during a Yatra . Are you listening bigots?

My English translation of Iqbal's Jawab e Shikwa - 22 Stanzas

The prayer that comes from the heart is effective Though wingless, it has the power to fly It is sacred and pure and aspires to reach great heights It arises from dust and traverses to the skies My love was wayward, defiant and shrewd My adventurous lay ripped open the sky. The age-old skies overheard and uttered if aught The planets affirmed its presence on the sublime firmament The moon held someone from earth The galaxy confirmed a hideout The only one to perceive my grievance was Rizwan He contemplated if I was the man thrown out of Paradise. Even the angels were bewildered to hear this voice This mystery is beyond the wisdom of those in the skies Has man got access to the skies Has the speck of dust learned to fly now How ungracious are the living on earth How bold and blasphemous are the ones who live below. He is so bold that he dares to be angry with God Is he the same Adam to whom the angels bowed He is a scholar of philosophy and aware of scientific mysteries But he is far from the ways of modesty The humans are proud of their eloquence The slow witted lack the etiquette of speech. A heavenly voice uttered- your story is sorrowful Your goblet is eager to spill out the yearning tears Your wild wail reached the sky How vociferous is your passionate heart It’s good that you have complained in a befitting manner You made the people talk to God. We favour generosity;seekers are none Who should we show the path,no traveller a haven seeks Tutelage is within easy reach, no talent to seek This is not the clay for an adam to be created The skilful shall be blessed with the pomp and pageantry of the Kai We give a new world to the seekers. Hands are in need of strength, hearts are accustomed to apostasy The followers induced disgrace to the Prophet The idol breakers are gone; left are the idol makers Abraham was the father, and the sons are Aazars The drunkards are new, the wine is new, the cups are new The Kaa’ba is new, the idols are new, you are new There were days when it was the source of allurement The tulip flower of the desert was the pride of the spring season The Muslim was the crazy lover of God This untrustworthy was once your beloved Make a pact of slavery with a mistress now Confine the nation of the Prophet to a region. How irked you are to rise in the morn You don’t love us, your sleep is dearer to you Your gay abandon is restricted by Ramazaan Tell us if this is the dictum of loyalty? Religion constitutes nations, no faith, no nation Stars do not gather without the gravitational pull. You are the ones who lack craftsmanship You are the nation least bothered about its nest You are the granary where lightning reposes You are the ones who sell the ancestral graves When you have flourished by bartering graves Given a chance, will you not sell the stone idols ? Who erased out falsehood from this world? Who rescued the human race from slavery? Who populated my ’Kaaba’ with their brows? Who embraced my Quran? They were your forefathers, but what are you? You sit idle and await tomorrow. Suffice to say, the Muslims were promised with houries ? Even for an unjust complaint, one needs to have some perception Justice is the eternal law of the creator On adoption of the Muslim ways the infidels got beautiful women and palaces No one among you longs for Houries Mount Sina still holds sway but there is no Moses. The profit of this nation is collective, so is the loss Your Prophet is one, your religion and faith are similar Your Kaaba , your Allah and your Quran is one It would’ve been great if the Muslims were united too Into sects and classes you have split Is this the way to flourish in this world? Who has abandoned the laws of Prophet? Who has adopted opportunism as a standard practice? Who is impressed by the culture and customs of others? Whose vision is wearied of the ways of their ancestors ? No agony in your heart, no ardour in your soul You don’t value the message of Muhammad. In the mosques the rows are made by the poor The hardships of fasting are borne by the poor To utter our name is only the poor To shield you is only the poor The wealthy in frenzy of their wealth are negligent of us Alive is the luminous nation due to the poor.. The preacher no more thinks profoundly The thrill no more, the fiery speech no more Left is the ritual of azan , the soul of Bilal no more Philosophy prevails, the guidance of Ghazali no more The Mosques mourn the loss of worshippers The upright Hijazis no more. The din and uproar that of Muslims being extinct We say ‘were the Muslims ever present’? You appear as Christians, conduct yourself like Hindus What Muslims are they that even the Jews are ashamed of You are a Syed, a Mirza , an Afghan too You are every one, tell us if you are a Muslim too? The truthfulness of the Muslim was fearless His justice was free from the element of privilege The tree of the nature of Muslim was damp with modesty In bravery he was like a super human. Every Muslim was a prick to the vein of the untruthful The mirror of his personality shone with his deeds If he trusted anything it was his muscle power You fear death but he feared God When a son can’t master the knowledge of his father Then why should the son be the heir to the father’s heritage? Everyone is intoxicated in the pleasures of laziness Are you a Muslim? Is this the way of a Muslim? No Hyder’s simplicity, no wealth of Osman To your ancestors are you connected spiritually? They were honoured for being Muslim And you are disgraced for leaving the Quran. You are wrathful with each other, they were kind You are flawed and a nit-picker, they covered flaws and were generous Everyone desires to live at the celestial heights First off, create a pure heart like theirs The throne of Faghfoor belonged to them, so was the crown of Kai Do you just talk or you possess that honour as well ? Self-destruction is your way, they were men of honour You are reluctant to love, they died for love You just talk, they were men of deeds You pined for a bud, they enjoyed gardens The nations still remember their story Their truthfulness is imprinted on the page of the world. ( I lost few stanzas in the malicious attack on my website www.shajiullahfirasat.com - Will work on the translation of remaining stanzas of Jawab e Shikwa soon )

My English translation of Iqbal's Shikwa

Why should I bear the losses? Why should I leave the interest? Why should I not bother about the future? Why should I be sorrowful? Why should I listen to the sad songs of the bird and be attentive? Am I speechless like a flower to be silent? I possess an audacious power of speech Let there be dust on my face as condemnation for complaining to the God. We are known for our obedience But, we are compelled to tell our painful story In this silence we cry out our pleas Our compulsion has forced us to sing this sad song Oh God, please listen to the complaints of the faithful We always praise you, but, here is our wail of despair. You have been present from the very beginning The flower was there in the garden, but the air never bothered to spread its fragrance You are the one who is just and dispassionate in your decisions Tell us, had there been no air- how the fragrance of the flower would have spread? We took the pain for our own contentment Or else, was your beloved prophet’s Ummah foolish to strive so hard for you ? Before we came into being, your world was very weird Stones were being worshiped at some places and trees were regarded as gods in other parts Human tendency then, was to worship the things which can be seen Why would people accept a God that was not conspicuous? Do you know someone who was there to take your name? It was the strength of the Muslims which did your work The Seljuks and the Turanis were living here The Chinese were living in China and the Sasanis in Iran The Greeks were also living in this world The Jews and the Christians were also there But, who took their swords out for you To right the wrongs ? We were the only ones who fought as your warriors. Sometimes we fought on the plains and sometimes in rivers Sometimes we gave prayer calls in the churches of Europe Sometimes in the scorching deserts of Africa The world conquerors were not arrogant in their behaviour We read the kalima in the shade of the swords. We lived to bear the sufferings of the war And died to uphold the greatness of your name. The purpose of the wars we fought was not to gain power Did we wander in the world without caring for our lives for wealth ? If money was all that our nation wanted Why would we break the idols instead of selling them? We never turned our backs on the battle field The great warlords of the enemies would run away Blasphemers had to face our ire It was not just swords; we didn’t care for the canons We imprinted the message of the oneness of God on every heart We conveyed this message even under the dagger Tell us who broke the gate of the mighty fort of Khyber? Who conquered Constantine, the city of Ceasar? Who broke the idols of false gods? Who destroyed the infidel armies? Who extinguished the blaze in the fire temples of Iran? Who revived worship of The Merciful? Which was the nation that longed just for you? And bore the sufferings of the war for you? Whose sword had conquered and ruled the world ? Whose ‘takbeer’ had awakened the world? Whose fearsome reputation had terrified the idol worshippers? And they bowed down to say ‘there is only one God’. In the middle of the battle when it was time to pray, The nation of Hijaz knelt down to pray- facing the Qibla Both Mahmood and Ayaz stood in one row. No one remained a master or a slave. The slave and the master, the poor and the rich, all became one All were equal when they stood in front of you. We roamed around the world restless;oblivious of night and day We dodged like a glass of wine filled with the potion of monotheism We carried your message across mountains and deserts And do you know any instance of our failure? What is a desert, we haven’t spared the rivers for your sake We galloped our horses through the pitch-black oceans. We wiped out falsehood from this world We rescued the human race from slavery We planted your ’Kaaba’ with our foreheads We embraced your Quran Despite this, you complain that we are not loyal If we are not loyal, then even you are not generous. There exist other nations, among them are sinners Some are humble and some are arrogant Some include the idle, careless and shrewd ones Hundreds are wearied of your name Your mercies are for the outsider’s abode Lightning strikes only the poor Muslims. The idols in their temples say that the Muslims are gone They are glad that the custodians of the Kaaba are gone Hudi Singers are gone from the stage of the world They are gone with Quran in their armpits The infidels laugh at us, do you realize or not? Do you have any regard for your monotheism or not? Who lack even the etiquettes of a social conversation Irony is that the infidels got houries and palaces And the poor Muslim got a mere promise of the houries Neither the former kindness nor grace prevails The point is that we miss the prior blessings. Why Muslims are deprived of worldly wealth? Your power is endless and knows no boundaries You can spring a water bubble from the core of a desert The desert traveler can quench his thirst with that water Strangers mock, disgrace and destituteness Is humiliation the reward for the sufferings we bore for you? The world has now started to love others We are left with an imaginary world We leave now, others take over the world Do not tell us again that the world has become devoid of monotheism We live to uphold your name in the world Is it possible that the goblet exists without the cup bearer The gathering of your remembrance is over; your lovers too are gone The midnight sighs are gone, so are the morning wails They gave their hearts to you and got rewards in return They sat for a while and asked to leave Your lovers came and went away with the promise of tomorrow Search to find them will not yield any results now. The pang of Laila is the same as is the heart of Qais The deer leap in the deserts and mountains of Nejd is the same The heart of love is the same, as is the magic of the beauty The Ummah of the Prophet you sent is the same, you too are the same Then why does this indifference exists without a reason? Why are you staring at your lovers with wrathful eyes? Did we abandon You or the Prophet from Arabia? Did we make idol making our profession and left idol breaking? Did we abandon love or the passion of love? Did we abandon the practice of Salman or Owais Qarni? We keep the fire of Takbir wedged in our hearts We live a life like that of Bilal the Abyssinian. Love is bereft of its old charm Submission and acceptance lack its erstwhile intensity The turbulent heart doesn’t lead us to kaaba And it doesn’t’ abide by the laws of faithfulness Sometimes you are with us, sometimes mindful of others This is not worth telling but you are also unfaithful. You have perfected religion on the peak of Mount Faran You have won thousands of hearts with one gesture You made us burn in your love Your cheeks aflame have set the world on fire Why is it that our bosoms today are not congested with flames? We are the same burnt ones, don’t you remember? The clangour of chains no longer can be heard in the valley of Nejd Qais no longer craves for a glance of the camel’s howdah The fusty fortitude thrives no more, neither do we exist nor our hearts The hearth is wrecked, as you- the radiance of the congregation no longer exists How beauteous will be the day of the return of your glory When you will come back to us unveiled. Others enjoy the wine in the garden sitting by the river’s edge They listen to melodious songs with a glass of wine in their hands Sitting far away from this revelry in the garden Your admirers await a word from you Give your moths again the same spirit to burn for you Command the dear old fire to illuminate again. The wandering nation has again turned towards the land of Hijaz The zeal to fly has helped the wingless Nightingale take off The fragrance of submission pines in every bud of the garden You just pluck it a bit, and the instrument thirsts to play the music The songs yearn to break out of their strings Mount Sinai is restless to be ablaze with the same fire. Ease the hardships of the blessed nation Make the miserable ant take the flight of Solomon Let the unique love spread everywhere Turn the temple inmates of India into Muslims The fragrance of the flower spread out the garden’s secret What a calamity-the flowers of the garden are talebearers The season of flowers has ended and the tools of music are broken The mellifluous singers of the garden have flown away from the branches A nightingale still sings its melodies There’s still a delirium of songs in its bosom. Birds have drifted from the tree branches The flower petals have gone aflutter The enduring mien of the garden lies desolate The branches shed their leaves He is not affected by the changes in the seasons If someone in the garden could understand his cries. There is no pleasure left in dying, nor any gratification in living If there is any relish, it is in bearing this pain and sorrow How restless is the sheen of my mirror Conceits pine in my bosom None in the garden can perceive it Flowers that had a blighted bosom are no more. May the hearts be torn by the warble of this solitary nightingale May the hearts reawaken by this call of the marching bell May the hearts bustle again with a new pledge of faith May the hearts thirst for the same old wine What if the goblet is alien, my wine is Hejazi What if the song is Indian, my lay is Hijazi.

The tragedy suggests that there were no fool proof arrangements in place especially to deal with bad weather though it was raining heavily since last few days.

Reviving bloger account

Hi Friends, Its been a long time since I used this space. I was relying on my website www.shajiullahfirasat.com and my face book and twitter accounts to express myself whenever I feel like sharing something. Now that my website is inactive as as a result of repeated malicious hacking attempts, I am contemplating to use this trusted platform again to share my agonies and joys and update you with vital information if needed. You will be happy to know that I have started a you tube channel on my name which is serving as another creative out to my satisfaction. I sincerely hope that my revived blog on blog spot will be clinch the thirst of those who seek knowledge and information. Looking forward for a long term association with you. Shaji