Wali Gujarati: Father of Urdu poetry

Wali Gujarati [1667-1707] is considered father of Urdu poetry. While we all know the respect Ghalib paid to Meer few of us know what Meer Taqi Meer said about Wali:

Khugar nahin kuch yun hi hum Rekhta-goi kay
Mashooq jo apna tha, bashinda-e-Dakhan tha
[It isn’t casually that I began dabbling in Urdu
I picked it from my lover, a native of the Deccan]

Sample some of his ashaar:

mujh par na karo zulm tum, aik laila-e-khoobaN
majnooN hooN, tere gham kooN biyabaaN se kahoonga

dil-e-ishaaq kyuN na huay raushan
jab khyaal-e-sanam chiragh hua

aik qibla-roo hamesha mehrab meiN bhawaaN ki
karti haiN teri palkaaN mil kar namaaz goya

asr-e-baaadah-e-jawani hai
kar gaya hooN sawal kuchh ka kuchh

ai wali uss be-wafa ki meharbani par na bhool
dil ka dushman hai, magar karta hai baateiN pyaar ki


Here is a documentary about Wali’s life:

Hamida Chopra talking about Wali:

and some ghazals of Wali:

jisse ishq ka teer kari lage by Iqbal Bano:

Tujh lab ki sifat by Abida Parveen:

Gulab aahista aahista by Mallika Pukhraj:

Wali’s dargah was destroyed during 2002 anti-Muslim violence of Gujarat and a road built over it overnight. There is a facebook page demanding rebuilding of the dargah.

Asrar-ul-Haq Majaz – A Journey of Love, Hope and Nationalism

Postage stamp on Majaz issued by the Govt of India

THE year was 1935. The union hall of Aligarh Muslim University (AMU) was brimming with students and the atmosphere was electric. A young man in sherwani stands up. He runs his hand through his long locks, and recites his poem ‘Inquilab’ in his own inimitable style –

“KohsaaroN ki taraf se surkh aandhi aayegi
Ja-baja aabaadiyoN meiN aag si lag jaayegi
Aur is rang-e-shafaq meiN ba-hazaraaN aab-o taab
Jagmagaaega watan ki hurriyat ka aaftaab”

[A red storm is approaching from over the mountains
Sparking a fire in the settlements
And on this horizon, amidst a thousand tumults
Shall shine the sun of our land’s freedom] (1)

The hall reverberates with a thunderous applause. Asrar-ul-Haq Majaz was destined for greatness!

The poetic journey

Majaz’s poetry first made its mark in the culturally alive AMU during the early 1930s. His poems ‘Noora’ and ‘Nazr-e-Aligarh’ established him as a popular poet. The girls just loved him.

“NahiN jaanti hai, mera naam tak woh
Magar bhej deti hai paighaam tak woh
Ye paighaam aate hii rahte haiN aksar
Ki kis roz aaoge biimaar hokar”

[She doesn’t even know my name
But still she writes to me
Her letters keep coming to me
“When will you fall sick and visit again?” she asks]

AMU had other great poets, like Ali Sardar Jafri, Jaan Nisar Akhtar and Jazbi, during this period, but Majaz’s popularity overshadowed all his contemporaries.

Majaz finished his graduation at AMU in 1936. The same year Professor Ahmed Shah Bukhari, popularly known as ‘Pitras’ Bukhari, calls Majaz to Delhi. Bukhari made him join the then newly formed All India Radio as the editor of a journal. Majaz named it ‘Awaaz’ and managed it for a while.

Their relationship soured for some reasons and Majaz left the station.

This was also the time when the door of the married woman Majaz loved, closed on him. She was the only woman he ever loved. It left a permanent scar on his psyche. He became a compulsive drinker.

His personal grief merged with his rebel ideas. The result was ‘Awara’ – a masterpiece of the era.

“Shahar ki raat aur maiN naashaad-o-nakaara phiruuN
Jagmagaati jaagti saDkon pe awara phiruuN
Ghair ki basti hai kab tak dar badar maara phiruuN
Aye gham-e-dil kya karoon aye wehshat-e-dil kya karuuN”

[This nightfall in the city, and I wander aimless and sad
On the awake and glittering roads, my aimless wandering, O
How long in the alien city from door to door I go
What do I do, O sad heart, my mad heart] (2)

The poem became an anthem for the revolutionary youth of the time. The word Awara suddenly meant more than just troubled and jobless-

“Le ke ek changez ke haathon se khanjar toD duuN
Taaj par us ke damakta hai jo patthar toD duuN
Koi tode ya na toDe maiN hii baDhkar toD duuN
Ai gham-e-dil kya karoon aye wehshat-e-dil kya karuuN”

[I shall snatch the sword from Changez’s hand and break it apart
The glittering stone in his crown I must hit
Some body else may or may not, but I should break it–
What do I do, O sad heart, my mad heart] (2)

Heartbroken, Majaz came back to Lucknow.

A nationalist to the core, Majaz along with his friends Ali Sardar Jafri and Sibtey Hasan, took out the progressive journal ‘Naya Adab’ from Lucknow . It was established with funds from the CPI in 1939 under the auspices of UPWA (Urdu Progressive Writers’ Association). The journal was the most influential progressive literary monthly of the period, so much that its first three issues actually laid the theoretical foundations of the UPWA movement. (2)

Naya Adab ran for a decade. After its closure, Majaz joined the Harding Library at Delhi as Assistant Librarian. There he collaborated with Fasihuddin Ahmed in editing the literary journal ‘Adeeb’. (3)

Knowing the man

Majaz was a fragile soul, one who could be easily hurt. Being the nice guy he was, Majaz kept quiet even when friends misbehaved with him.

“Awara-va-majnu.N hii pe maukuuf nahiN kuuchh
Milne haiN abhi muujh ko Khitaab aur zyaadaa”

[They have not stopped at vagabond and rogue
More praises are on their way for me]

Majaz had a great sense of humour. Once somebody’s poetry didn’t go down well with him. He had this to say – “Don’t worry, when your poems are translated in Urdu then people would recognise your talent.” (4)

Majaz was a rebel poet. His anger against the capitalist system provided the basis for Awara and his hope for a better tomorrow, born out of the socialist ideology of the Soviet Russia, is expressed in the poem ‘Khwab-e-Sehar’-

“Yeh musalsal aafaten, yeh yorishen, yeh qatal-e-aam
Aadmi kab tak rahe ohaam-e-baatil ka ghulaam
Zehn-e-insaani ne ab ohaam ke zulmaat meiN
Zindagi ki sakht toofani andheri raat meiN
Kuch nahin tau kam se kam khawab-e-sehar dekha tau hai
Jis taraf dekha na tha ab tak udhar dekha tau hai”

[Such struggle, such suffering, such heinour carnage
How long has man been to superstition a slave
Human mind has at last awakened from its heavy sleep
In the stormy night of life, in the superstitious deep
Has at last dreamt a dream of the golden dawn
Looked at last towards the East, where none before had glanced] (5)

The woman in Majaz’s poetry was more than an object of beauty. He wished to see them as crusaders who could revolt against exploitation and injustice.

“Teri neechi nazar khud teri ismat ki muhafiz hai
Tu is nashtar ki tezi aazma leti to achha thaa
Teri maathe pe ye aanchal bahut hi khoob hai lekin
Tu is aaNchal se ik parcham bana leti to achha thaa”

[Your lowered gaze is itself a protector of your purity,
If you now raise your eyes and test the sharpness of it, it would be good.
The cloth covering your head is no doubt a good thing,
But if you make a flag out of it, it would be good] (6)

Majaz was also faint of heart. In the 1946 sectarian riots, Majaz saw a man being killed in Bombay and couldn’t eat for three days. He ran out of the science class the first time he saw a frog on the table. The poet left science altogether after the episode.

His drinking and poetry provided him the vent to his heartbreak. Once Jigar Moradabadi asked him to quit drinking, to which Majaz replied – “You left it just once, I left it several times.” (4)

Josh Malihabadi once said about Majaz, “He wants to capture the entire beauty of the world in one single glance and to drink all wine of the world in one gulp.” (4)

“Is mahfil-e-kaif-o-masti me, is anjuman-e-irfaani me
Sab jaam-bakaf baithe hi rahe, hum pee bhi gaye chahlka bhi gaye”

[This gathering of fun and frolic, the erudites all around
All merely sat with the goblets, but I drank to the full]

But who could know the man more than he himself. Majaz the poet summarises the man in his poem ‘Ta’arruf ‘ –

“Khoob pehchaan lo, asraar huuN maiN
Jins-e-ulfat kaa talabgaar huuN maiN
Ishq hee ishq hai, duniya meri
Fitna-e-aql se bezaar huuN maiN”

[Look at me, recognise me well, for I am Asrar
I seek love and longing
My world comprises love and just love
I know not the devil of the intellect] (7)

Path to self-destruction

By the early 1950s Majaz’s mental faculties started deteriorating. His drinking further compounded his misery. It was sheer genius that he still managed to pen poems like, Khawab-e-Sehar, ‘Shaher Nigaar’, and ‘Andheri Raat ka Musafir,’ which reflects on his last ditch attempt to turnaround his messed up life.

His poem ‘Aitraaf’ was his swan song. Majaz lost hope and accepted defeat-

“Wo gudaaz-e-dil-e-marhoom kahaaN se laauN
Ab maiN wo jazba-e-maasoom kahaaN se laauN”

[That tender heart, long dead, beats no more
That innocent passion, long gone, excites no more]

In 1952 Majaz went to Calcutta with Doctor Saifuddin Kichlu to attend the All India Cultural Conference. He was just a shadow of his old self. Sardar Jafri gave him five Rupees every evening for a drink. The rest of his drinking sessions were sponsored by visitors at the bar. One day he asked for ten Rupees. When Jafri tried to reason with him he said, “Sardar you’ve a family, a house, and you do poetry. What do I’ve? Now you don’t even allow me to drink!” (4)

Majaz landed in Ranchi’s mental asylum the same year. The poet who never wrote a weak couplet now struggled with verses. This verse recovered from his belongings tells a lot about his mental state – “Woh regzaar-e-khayal me hai kabhi kabhi humkharaam meri.” [That wasteland of thoughts is walking alongside me] (7)

The end

Jafri recalls seeing him last in the December of 1955 when he arrived in Lucknow from Bombay to attend a Student Cultural Conference. Majaz met him at Hazratganj and showered the same love and affection on his old buddy-

“Humdum yahi hai, rahguzar-e-yaar-e-khushkhiraam
Guzre haiN laakh baar isi kahkashaN se hum” *

[This slow pace, this path of bliss has been my companion
I have passed this galaxy a million times]

They then went to the conference at Baradari in Qaisarbagh together. Majaz the poet, and person, seems to come alive that night during the mushaira. He recited the following couplet several times to an eager and appreciative audience-

“Bahut mushkil hai duniya ka savarna, teri zulfoN ka pech-o-kham nahi hai
Ba-ise-sayle-ghamo-sayle-hawadis, mera sir hai ki ab bhi kham nahi hai”

[I wonder if my life gets sorted out, the way your entangled locks do
A sea of sadness surrounds me, somehow I’m standing tall]

The next day it was 4th of December. Majaz stayed with Jafri and Sahir Ludhyanvi at the hotel. Sahir bought a bottle of fine quality whisky for Majaz. He was made to promise that he won’t drink in the day and won’t go out with his friends. They even locked the bottle inside the almirah on Majaz’s own suggestion. As if he had a premonition of things to come, Majaz told Jafri twice to spend more time with him as he seems not so sure of the future.

Jafri and Sahir reached the hotel late as they had to attend a tea party after the conference. Majaz left during their absence. They searched for him in vain.

Majaz didn’t turn up for the conference on the 5th of December. At five in the evening the fears proved real. Somebody broke the news of Majaz lying faint in the Balrampur Hospital. The conference was postponed. Everybody rushed to the hospital. Majaz had an oxygen mask on him. Doctors showed little hope.

It was the result of a wild night. Majaz’s friends took him to a tavern in Lalbagh where they all drank on the rooftop. One by one they all left. Majaz stayed back into the cold winter night. The next morning the owner informed the police about Majaz. He was taken to the hospital where the doctors diagnosed a brain hemorrhage and pneumonia. He was just 44.

A female fan sharing the name of his beloved sat next to him when Majaz passed away that night. The poet was at peace finally.

Majaz often reached home late or not at all. Aware of this habit his old mother used to leave his food, a packet of cigarettes, and fifty paisa, next to his bed. The rickshaw-pullers of the city, who knew Majaz well, dropped him home and took the fifty paisa coin.

That night everything changed. Majaz’s mother was waiting on the floor next to his bed. Her son was coming back never to leave again.

“Ab iske baad subah hai aur subah-e-nau majaz
Hum par khatm shaam-e-ghareeban-e-Lucknow”

[Tomorrow awaits a new dawn
With me ends the darkness of Lucknow]

Like a shooting star, Majaz, in his self-destruction left behind a trail of brilliant compositions that forever illuminates the firmament of urdu poetry. Every time the students and alumni of AMU, like me, sing the university song, at their campus and elsewhere in the world, Majaz comes to life.

“Ye meraa chaman hai meraa chaman, maiN apne chaman kaa bulbul huuN
Sarshaar-e-nigaah-e-nargis huuN, paa-bastaa-e-gesuu-sumbul huuN”

(chaman: garden; bulbul: nightingale; sarshaar: overflowing, soaked; nigaah: sight; nargis: flower, Narcissus; paa-bastaa: embedded; gesuu: tresses; sumbul: a plant of sweet odour)

And so the great poet lives on, the way he always did – as the cynosure of all eyes!

* Ali Sardar Jafri used this couplet as the title song of his famous television series, Kahkashan, broadcasted on Doordarshan during the early 90s.

(Based on Ali Sardar Jafri’s account in ‘Lucknow ki Paanch Raatein’.)


1 Kuldip Sahil, A Treasury of Urdu Poetry From Mir to Faiz: Ghazals with English Renderings (Delhi: Rajpal & Sons, 2009), 114-119.
2 Geeta Patel, Lyrical Movements, Historical Hauntings: On Gender, Colonialism, and Desire in Miraji’s Urdu Poetry (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2001), 111
3 Abida Samiuddin, Encyclopaedic Dictionary of Urdu Literature (New Delhi: Global Vision Publishing House, 2007), 387
4 Ali Sardar Jafri, Lucknow ki Paanch Raatein (New Delhi: Rajkamal Prakashan, 2010), 25-58
5 K. C. Kanda, Masterpieces of Patriotic Urdu poetry (Delhi: Sterlings Publishers Private Limited, 2009), 323-339
6 “Ghazal as a form of Urdu poetry in the Asian subcontinent”, accessed December 5, 2011, http://www.ghazalpage.net/prose/notes/ghazal_urdu.html
7 Rakhshanda Jalil, email message to the author, December 8, 2011.

Who is the best Meer singer?

Meer Taqi Meer is a big name in Urdu poetry. In fact, he is so big that it seems people are afraid to touch him. There has been lot of work on Ghalib and Iqbal but Meer has been denied the attention that he really deserves. His brilliance is his simplicity of language and use of words that not only fit perfectly in ashaar but also the sound is also just right for the mood of that sher.

Meer portrait as calligraphy by

Dil ki baat kahi nahi jaati: Mohammad Rafi

hasti apni hubaab ki si hai: Barkat Ali


dekh to dil ke jaan se uth-ta hai: Mehdi Hasan

Ulti ho gayiN sab tadbeereN : Mehdi Hasan

hontoN pe kabhi unke mera naam bhi aaye: Amanat Ali Khan

Dikhayi diye yuN ke bekhud kiya : Lata, Khayyam


patta-patta, boota-boota : Ghulam Ali

Ibtida-e-ishq hai rota hai kya: Jaswinder Singh

Faqeerana aaye sada kar chale: Roop Singh Rathod

An album of Meer ghazals by Pankaj Udhas:


You can play all videos here as a playlist here:

Marsiya : a form of Urdu poetry

I am happy to see this news about opening of a school to revive/preserve the art of marsiya writing.

Marsiya is a fully developed form of Urdu poetry and it is wrong to think that is just a lamentation for the dead in Karbala. Karbala, of course, has an important place in Islamic history and therefore in Muslim literature. Almost all Urdu poets use Karbala as a symbol of great tragedy or epic battle between good and evil.

Probably the most famous and often-quoted sher about Karbala is from Maulana Mohammad Ali Jauhar:

Qatal Hussain asl meiN marg-e-Yazid hai
Islam zinda hota hai har Karbala kay bad

Majlis-e-marsiya are organized in Lucknow during Moharram.

The usual form of marsiya is four lines of same radef/qaafiya and two lines of different radeef/qaafiya. The marsiya is well-developed form of poetry. The intensity of pain and suffering described in a marsiya is unparallal in any other literture.

Meer Babar Ali Anees [1800-1874] and Mirza Salamat Ali Dabeer [1805-1875] are the biggest names of marsiya-nigaari.

Zia Mohyeddin reciting Anis’s marsiya

But marsiya is not merely Urdu poetry, it is also a performance art where emotions of the words need to be conveyed to the audience so that they visualize the battlefield, feel the pain of sufferings, and learn the lessons of Karbala.

In three-parts is a wonderful recital of marsiya by Zulfiqar Ali Bukhari:

Marsiya continue to be practiced but probably all poets now old. Here is a recording of a majlis-e-marsiya in Lucknow. Feel the poetry:


Found another video that shows more prominently the story-telling component of marsiya. In two parts:

My friend Afzal Usmani informs that Allama Shibli Nomani wrote a book comparing the poetry of Mir Ali Anis and Mirza Dabeer: “Mawazina-e-Anis-o-Dabeer” ( http://shibliacademy.org/publications )

A Poem On Mumbai Attacks

Mumbai Gateway Of India

Shiddat Pasand

Mujhe yaqeen tha, Ke mazhabon se
Koyee bhi rishta naheen hai unkaa
Mujhe yaqeen tha, ke unka mazhab
Hai Nafraton ki hadon ke andar
Muje yaqeen tha, Woh la mazhab hain
ya, unke mazhab naam hargiz
siwaye ‘shiddat’ ke kuchh naheen hai
Continue reading A Poem On Mumbai Attacks

Ghalib: Ode to Benaras

Banaras GhatsThe cancer of communalism and bigotry in South Asia continues to haunt us. These days, the Muslims are once again a subject of intense, though not always fair, scrutiny in India: their loyalties are being questioned and many are potential terrorists if not already abettors of violence. The post 9/11 world has contributed to the demonising of the Muslim identity and history to surreal heights. Continue reading Ghalib: Ode to Benaras

Ahmed Faraz – Remembering The Romantic Rebel

ab ke ham biichRe to shayad kabhii KhvaaboN meN mileN
jis tarah suukhe hu’e phuul kitaaboN meN mileN

This time when we part, may be we will meet in dreams.
Like dried out flowers in books.

Ahmed Faraz passed away at the age of 77 in Islamabad after months of ailment on 25th August 2008. He was taken ill on his recent visit to USA and was hospitalized Chicago for weeks before making a short recovery. Continue reading Ahmed Faraz – Remembering The Romantic Rebel

Faraz – The Poet, The Romantic, The Rebel

“Maira kalam to amanat haiy mairey logon ki, Maira kalam to adalat haiy mairey zameer ki”
(My poems are the property of my people, My words are the judge of my conscience) Continue reading Faraz – The Poet, The Romantic, The Rebel

Kaifi Azmi – The Poet And The Man

Kaifi Azmi“Tu jo bejaan khilonon se bahel jaati haiy

Tapti saanson ki haraarat se pighul jaati haiy
Paaon jis raah mein rakhti hai phisul jaati haiy
Bunkey seemaab hur ek zurf mein dhul jaati haiy
Zindagi jihad main hay sabar kay qabu main nahin.

Jannat ek aur hay jo murd kay pahloo main naheen.

Uski azaad ravish pur bhi machalna hay tujhey

Zeest key aahni saanchey main dhulna hai tujhey
Uth meri jaan mere saath hi chalna hai tujhey.” Continue reading Kaifi Azmi – The Poet And The Man

Mushaira: The Shrinking Platform Of Urdu Poetry

kyaa rahaa hai MushaairoN meN ab
log kuch jam’aa aan hote haiN

What is there in poetry soirees now?
Some people gather, and that is it.

It is difficult to believe that the above couplet was written by Mir Taqi Mir during a time regarded as the golden age of classical Urdu poetry. While reading the couplet it is impossible not to consider what Mir would think of contemporary mushairas? The last mushaira I attended was at Aligarh Muslim University in February 2003. That mushaira never finished because of a combination of audience apathy and faulty sound system. A mushaira in the hallowed lawns of Aligarh Muslim University and big names of contemporary Urdu poetry didn’t get a chance to even recite their poetry! This is the same AMU where Maulana Hasrat Mohani was expelled because a certain poet from Rampur recited a couple of sub-standard verses in a mushaira Hasrat helped organize. Of course there were other factors in play, most important being Maulana’s nationalistic leanings, but the very fact that a student can be expelled for such an act gives us some food for thought on the debilitating stage of contemporary mushairas.

Urdu poetry by its nature is composed for the stage. It is supposed to be recited and to be listened. The poet recites the first misraa of his couplet and keeps reciting till he develops a certain expectation among the audience about the content of the second misraa. And then he will surpise them all with something totally different from their expectations. The bigger the surprise, the more the applause. Imagine Ghalib reciting this misraa in a mushaira a few times, nikalnaa Khuld se Adam kaa sunte aaye haiN lekin and then following it up with bahut be-aabruu hokar tere kuuche se ham nikle. This is the primary reason why Ghazal with its two line couplets is the common form of poetry recited in Mushaira. Qitaat and Rubaa’ii with four lines sometimes work. But longer Nazms usually don’t work because of obvious reasons.

As is the case with the Urdu language, so it is with mushaira that after partition both have been slowly stereotyped as something specifically Muslim. Our Urdu-wallahs certainly have a role to play in this regard as the voices coming from the Mushaira podium grew more communal. Krishna Bihari ‘Noor’, one of the last torch-bearers of the legacy of Raghupati Sahay ‘Firaq’ and Brij Narayan ‘Chakbast’ complained to me about this when I met him after a mushaira in Aligarh. In that mushaira, Rahat Indori, in his typical shrill tone lambasted the Hindu extremists with this couplet:

uR jaayegaa tez havaa meN lashkar vashkar sab
Topii vopii, bandar vandar, nekar vekar sab

Noor said to me with a tinge of sadness apparent in his voice that ye Mushaire ke sher nahiiN haiN (These couplets do not belong to mushairas). Even though Rahat Indori was targeting a particular group of people, the symbols he chose are not specific to that group only. It is not that social issues have not been tackled through mushaira before. There has been a very well articulated genre of progressive poetry in Urdu through Sahir Ludhianvi, Majrooh Sultanpuri, Majaz Lucknawi, Ali Sardar Jafri, Kaifi Azmi and many more. However, the tone and tenor was different. Even in recent times, Khumar Barabankvi, the poet of love and a big favorite in mushairas wrote about the Meerut riots in this touching couplet:

chiraaGhoN ke badle makaaN jal rahe haiN
nayaa hai zamaanaa nayii roshnii hai

Nowadays, most of the Urdu poets suffer either from victim mentality or inferiority complex. So, we either have couplets being recited about the discrimination meted out to Muslims in India or over-zealous verses proving their patriotism to the country. Most of the audience of contemporary mushairas are Muslims and these themes resonate well with them. However, with the losing away of the secular nature of mushairas, one more common thread between Hindus and Muslims in India is under the threat of breaking apart.

I leave you with a mushaira clip of Rahat Indori and Khumar Barabankvi.