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And what do we do when we can’t sleep? We drown our pages with a few tears, some smiles, and poems we didn’t know existed inside of us. The first time I lifted my pen to write a poem, it was because I was so in love. I didn’t have words to express myself except through words like,
“Meri zindagi ka nuqta hai tu.
Jahaan aur zubaan ke beech ka farq hai.”
(You are the centre of my life. The difference between the world and my tongue.)
Upon being asked by someone or maybe it was just upon me thinking about being trapped in the women’s compartment in the Delhi metro rail, I started writing for my feminist protest collective. My poetry, which was only mine and solely for me for the longest time turned into songs and chants. It suddenly transformed into power. The feminist collective and the rest of the Delhi student politics circle kept singing Faiz and Jaun Elia, Firaq Gorakhpuri and Amrita Pritam as they marched and took the blowings with a smile. And perhaps, this exactly is the power of poetry.
On World Poetry Day, Homegrown brings to you a selection of some of the best poems written by Indian poets in different languages on different subjects—poems that evoke as many different emotions as those that exist within us.
1. Hindi
Har Raat Tumhare Paas Chala Aata Hoon,
Harivansh Rai ‘Bachchan’
Har rāt tumhāre pās chalā maiṅ ātā hūň.
Jab ghan aňdhiyālā tāroṅ se ḍhal dharatī par
ā jātā hai,
Jab dar-paradā-dīvāroṅ par bhī nīṅd nashā
chhā jātā hai,
Tab yaṅtr-sadṛsh apane bistar se ho bāhar
chupake-chupake
Har rāt tumhāre pās chalā maiṅ ātā hūň.
Samatal bhū-tal, battī kī pāňtoṅ ke pahare
maiṅ supt nagar,
Aṅbar ko darpaṇ dikhalāte saravar, sāgar,
Madhuban, baṅjar,
Him-taru-maṅḍit, naṅgī parvat-mālā, maruthal
jaṅgal, daladal–
Sabakī durgamatā ke ūpar muskātā hūň.
har rāt tumhāre pās chalā maiṅ ātā hūň.
(I come to you every night.
When thick darkness descends down upon the earth after seeping through the stars,
When the sleepy trance enamours even the thickly- curtained walls,
Then quietly, I step out of my bed
And as if I were a machine,
I come to you every night.
As this town with its flat ground,
Is encumbered with sleep,
Guarded by strings of light,
The streams and seas show the sky a mirror,
Taverns deserted,
Snow-grooved, naked mountain chains, desert
Jungles, marshland,
I smile at their inaccessibility,
As I come to you every night. )
Undeniably, Harivansh Rai ‘Bachchan’ (1907-2003), one of the strongest pillars of Hindi Romantic poetry. While the world remembers him for his iconic Madhushala (1935), his genius was clearly also visible in lesser-known poetry, sometimes even tucked in nooks and crannies. Fun fact, Bachchan had a PhD in English literature from the University of Cambridge and was a professor of English at the University of Allahabad. Additionally, Bachchan was fluent in several Hindi languages (Hindustani, Awadhi) as well as Persian.
2. Urdu
Guloñ meñ rañg bhare bād-e-nau-bahār chale,
Faiz Ahmad Faiz
Guloñ meñ rañg bhare bād-e-nau-bahār chale
Chale bhī aao ki gulshan kā kārobār chale
Qafas udaas hai yaaro sabā se kuchh to kaho
Kahīñ to bahr-e-ḳhudā aaj zikr-e-yār chale
Kabhī to sub.h tire kunj-e-lab se ho āġhāz
Kabhī to shab sar-e-kākul se mushk-bār chale
BaḌā hai dard kā rishta ye dil ġharīb sahī
Tumhāre naam pe ā.eñge ġham-gusār chale
Jo ham pe guzrī so guzrī magar shab-e-hijrāñ
Hamāre ashk tirī āqibat sañvār chale
Huzūr-e-yār huī daftar-e-junūñ kī talab
Girah meñ le ke garebāñ kā taar taar chale
Maqām ‘faiz’ koī raah meñ jachā hī nahīñ
Jo kū-e-yār se nikle to sū-e-dār chale
(Like the new breeze of spring that grants blossoms their hue,come forth love, grant the garden leave to go about its business.
This birdcage is forlorn.
Call upon the gentle wind, friends to petition the Lord, if it will, to speak of my beloved.
Let the dawn, for once, arrive through the archway of your lips.
Let the dusk spread its perfume-like musk from your tresses.
This impoverished heart is privileged to suffer and, hearing your name, to swell, leaving comfort behind.
What is done is done but, sundering night, know that your passing is adorned with our tears.
So insatiable is my vehemence to be in your presence, my love,
I bunch up my shirt in a knot and rip its collar to shreds.
No destination along the way has any appeal for Faiz,
A step away from his beloved’s street is a giant leap to the gallows pole.
Translation credit: Mustansir Dalvi )
Written on January 29, 1954, in Rawalpindi’s Montgomery Prison, a Ghulam Ali fan might immediately recognise it. A deeply romantic poem perhaps also a significator of Faiz’s feelings for his country, this poem was written when we arrested for being a communist (despite his insistence that he never was one) and being part of what was called the Rawalpindi Conspiracy. He was later exiled to the UK for a brief period.
3. Bengali
Rabindranath Tagore
Aami chini go chini tomare ogo bideshini
Tumi thako sindhupaare ogo bideshini
Aami chini go chini tomare ogo bideshini
Tomaay dekhechhi sharodoprate
Tomaay dekhechhi madhobi raate
Tomaay dekhechhi sharodoprate
Tomaay dekhechhi madhobi raate
Tomaay dekhechhi,
Hridi maajhare, ogo bidesini
Aami aakashe paatiya kaan
Sunechhi sunechhi tomari gaan,
Aami tomare sopechhi praan ogo bidesini
Aami aakashe paatiya kaan
Sunechhi sunechhi tomari gaan,
Aami tomare sopechhi praan ogo bidesini
Bhuban bhramiya sheshe
Aami esechhi nutan deshe
Aami atithi tomari dware ogo bidesini
Aami chini go chini tomare ogo bideshini
Tumi thako sindhupaare ogo bideshini
Aami chini go chini tomare ogo bideshini
(O, lady from abroad, you are known to me.
You stay far away across the ocean.
I have seen you in the autumn-morning,
In the tender beautiful nights,
Seen you within my heart, O, lady.
Pressing my ears into the sky, have I heard your song,
O, the lady from abroad,
I have offered my soul to you.
Having roamed all around the globe, have I finally reached a new country,
A guest at your door I am,
O the lady from abroad.)
Even though a song in its own right, Aami chini go chini tomare ogo bideshini finds its place in this article instead of a poem from Tagore’s Gitanjali (1910/1912), maybe, his Chitto Jetha Bhay-shunyo ‘Where the Mind is Without Fear’, because of the interesting story behind it and in order to re-iterate the power of poetry. Apparently, this song had been written in dedication to Argentine writer Victoria Ocampo. Tagore had met Victoria, who he fondly called Bijaya (the Bengali equivalent of Victoria) and who was a great admirer of Gitanjali in Buenos Aires. She wrote in a letter, “I rented a garden house from a relative for Tagore to live in. From its piazza, and the hall on the second floor, one could see the river.” He dedicated his collection Purabi, which was published in 1925, to “The Lotus Palms of Bijaya”. It has been written, “Tagore had written the song Ami Chini Go Chini Tomare, Ogo Bideshini (I know you well, O exotic woman, I know you well) in 1895 while he was in Shelidah. He had given Bijaya a translation of the song within days after they had first met.” Tagore and Bijaya exchanged letters for 15 long years. Ami Chini Go Chini Tomare, also remembered fondly as the song originally sung by Kishore Kumar for Satyajit Ray’s Charulata (1964), continues to stand for the power of love and friendship.
4. Punjabi
Amrita Pritam
Main Tenu Fer Milangi
I will meet you again
Main Tenu Fer Milangi
Kithe? Kis trah? Pata nahi
Shayad tere Takhiyl di Chinag banke
Tere Canvas te Utrangi
Ya Khore teri Canvas dey Utte
Ik Rahasmayi Lakir Banke
Khamosh Tenu Takdi Rawangi
Jaa Khore Suraj ki Loo banke
Tere Ranga vich Ghulangi
Jaa Ranga diyan Bahwa vich beth ke
Teri Canvas nu Wlangi
Pata nahi Kis Trah-Kithe
Par Tenu Zarur Milangi
Jaa Khore Ik Chashma bani Howangi
Te jivan Jharneya da Paani udd da
Main Pani diyan Bunda
Tere Pind te Malangi
Te Ik Thandak jahi banke
Teri Chhaati de naal Lagangi
Main Hor Kuch nahi Jaandi
Par Ena Jaandi
Ki Waqt jo v karega
Ae Janam Mere naal Turega
Ae Jism Mukkda hai
Tan Sab Kuch Mukk janda
Par Cheteyan dey Dhaage
Kaayenaati Kana dey Hunde
Main unha kana nu chunagi
Dhageyan nu walangi
Te tenu main fer milangi
I will meet you yet again
How and where? I know not.
Perhaps I will become a
figment of your imagination
and maybe, spreading myself
in a mysterious line
on your canvas,
I will keep gazing at you.
Perhaps I will become a ray
of sunshine, to be
embraced by your colours.
I will paint myself on your canvas
I know not how and where –
but I will meet you for sure.
Maybe I will turn into a spring,
and rub the foaming
drops of water on your body,
and rest my coolness on
your burning chest.
I know nothing else
but that this life
will walk along with me.
When the body perishes,
all perishes;
but the threads of memory
are woven with enduring specks.
I will pick these particles,
weave the threads,
and I will meet you yet again.)
(Translated by Nirupama Dutt for Daak)
Another poem of love, Punjabi poetess Amrita Pritam’s ‘Main Tenu Fer Milangi’ is her undying promise to Imroz, the love of her life and beyond. It has been written by Daak, “Even now, when Punjabi is written in Gurumukhi script on one side of the border and in the Persian script on the other, Amrita Pritam’s poetry is popular in both India and Pakistan. Her personal life is as beautiful and full of story as her words. Married early to a man she later divorced, she fell in love with poet Sahir Ludhianvi but their love was never to have a conventional happy ending. Much is written of their intense and unusual relationship. She ended up living the last forty years of her life with a man she wasn’t married to, a bold statement in those times; and a feat worth mentioning. This was the celebrated artist Imroz.”
Hear Gulzar recite it here.
Even as one had initially planned to acquaint the reader with all of the diversity in Indian poetry, it is only possible to list a few and do justice to the beauty of each. Indian poetry, however, is also never complete without the mention of English poetry.
5. English
Agha Shahid Ali
Stationery
The moon did not become the sun.
It just fell on the desert
in great sheets, reams
of silver handmade by you.
The night is your cottage industry now,
the day is your brisk emporium.
The world is full of paper.
Write to me.
Agha Shahid Ali, a Kashmiri-American poet who passed away too soon in 2001, wrote of love, longing, and loneliness. And it was in the junction of all these that he found the catharsis that every reader of his does. His last book was Call Me Ishmael Tonight, a collection of English ghazals and his poems are featured in American Alphabets: 25 Contemporary Poets (2006) and in other anthologies. Ali was buried in Northampton, in the vicinity of Amherst, a town sacred to his beloved poet Emily Dickinson.
In life, death, smiles, mourning, and love, perhaps, poetry is the only constant.
Homegrown wishes all its readers a Happy World Poetry Day!
(All translations, unless otherwise stated, belong to the author.)
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