Poets From India

"In this sea where rise up storms of 'me' and 'we', some of the population find escaping not so easy. No one's should be burdened by carrying another, every wave is a bridge, to be crossing over...'me'."

"The pledge that you and I have made, you may or mayn't recall, The pledge, that is, to love till death, you may or mayn't recall. The joys once bestowed on me, those kindness galore, I remember every bit, you may or mayn't recall. Those new complaints, grumblings new, those delicious tales, That getting cross without a cause, you may or mayn't recall.If chanced we to get together, to reaffirm our faith, How we complained of our unkind kin, you may or mayn't recall. If there was aught that annoyed your heart, I always let it go unsaid, you may or mayn't recall. We too had once each other loved, and frequently did meet. We too were once intimate, you may or mayn't recall. Your getting cross on the union night, spurning all my pleas, Your insistent "no" to everything, you may or mayn't recall. Whom you counted as your friend, faithful whom you thought, I am the same suffering Momin, you may or mayn't recall."

"The literary world must take a stand [to stop Bloomsbury publishing the book]. This is not about cancel culture. This is about defending literature from fascism. This is about standing up against religious divide, hate speech, islamophobia and false history."

"Sometimes I think that what I do must be either idiotic and naïve or courageous. I don’t know which. If there was no threat of violence, that is what you would do. This threat of violence shouldn’t dictate what you are going to write or hinder you in any manner."

"Who does the novel belong to? I am writing about a different reality, so I need to shape it to fit my reality. You don’t want to do the same. You don’t want to do the done thing. To take a risk, you still need to be absolutely on the margins. I am doing what I want to do."

"A memoir for me means a person’s life story; if I was going to write my actual life story, I would condense this entire marriage into a footnote."

"I have been in an abusive marriage. Violence can come from love, from a very intimate person. Violence can come from all sorts of crazy situations. What are you going to do? You have to deal with it when it strikes."

"Love is not blind, it just looks in the wrong places."

"Shame is not in the beatings, not in the rape. Shame is in being asked to stand judgment."

"When you see someone who looks like your mom there and she’s like ‘this puts so much of my pain into something concrete that I can hold,’…That’s when I’m like okay, I’m doing something right and I just want to keep doing it."

"I used to submit to anthologies and magazines when I was a student – but I knew I was never going to be picked up. All their writing was, you know, about the Canadian landscape or something. And my poem is about this woman with her legs spread open."

"…For a long time, it debilitated me a lot. Nothing that I wrote was good enough. I’d start writing then be like, “Nope. This is sh–.” And that was a really negative experience to have with my writing, because the more I said that, it was almost like the writing in my heart would cower into a corner and be like, “I’m not coming out.” I really had to work through a few weeks of being kind to myself and saying, “Your job is to get to the desk, have your pen out, and write, write, write, write.” You have to get through the bad stuff before you can get to the pit of everything that you really enjoy…"

"People aren’t used to poetry that’s so easy and simple."

"The object of my worship lies beyond perception's reach; For men who see, the Ka'aba is a compass, nothing more.""

"Discoursing all the time with all, yet acting far beyond all."

"translation:"

"کم مشمر گریہ ام زانکہ بہ علمِ ازل بودہ درین جوئے آب گردشِ ہفت آسیا"

"If what the eye sees does not rankle in the heart Sweet is the flow of life in travel spent."

"The happiness of the world is nothing for me for my heart is left with no feeling besides blood."

"تیرے کرشموں سے پُر قلبِ خلا و ملا گفتگو ہر ایک سے، امر میں سب سے جدا"

"Do not discount my tears; eternal wisdom has decreed That in this flowing stream the seven millstones all revolve."

"Against whose artful writing does the painting utter a plaintive cry? The form of every picture wears a paper-attire. Ask not about the diligence of my hard-heartedness in solitude, To turn the Evening into Morning is to dig the Canal of Milk! Cognizance may spread its net of hearing to any extent, The Phoenix is the object of our Universe of Speech. O Ghalib! Whereas even in captivity I have my feet on fire, The ring of my chain is a hair that hath seen fire! Did none other than Qais come to face the task (Love)? The desert was perhaps as narrow as the eyes of the envious! Perturbation set the black mole of the heart right; Thus it came to light that smoke was the wealth of the scar. In the dream, Fancy had its dealing with thee; When the eye opened, there was neither loss nor gain! Still I am learning lessons in the school of the grief of the heart, But it is only this: that went and was. The shroud covered the scar of the defects of Nudity, I was, otherwise, in every attire a disgrace to Existence! Asad ! Farhad, the mountain-digger, could not die without an adze; He was only intoxicated with (the wine of) customs and conventions."

"Just like a child's play this world appears to me Every single night and day, this spectacle I see."

"Ghalib, we are from the sacred land of Turan, Undoubtedly we are of glorious lineage, We are of Turkish descent And the chiefs of the tribe were our forefathers, We are Arabs, belonging to the tribe of Turks And in perfection we are ten times better than the moon."

"The prison of life and the bondage of grief are one and the same Before the onset of death, why should man expect to be free of grief?"

"It is not praised if you are the only one to understand what you speak interesting is the situation when you speak and the others understand."

"I am the sinner’s fault, somewhat, Your devotee, O God, somewhat. I do not understand whole or part, In my heart, I know not all, somewhat. I remain loyal to you, Faithful I am, faithless – somewhat. Since I do not meet any other, With him I have communion – somewhat. The intoxication of love has given me flight, In bliss, I fly some things, somewhat. My dreams lie in wakefulness, I see visions better there, somewhat. I may not be anyone, yet, Don’t ask — I am what I am – somewhat. Let them think me their humble servant, I am the dust of the road, of the feet – somewhat. I have got the blessed eye of faith, O Zafar, from something I have moved to somewhat."

"My heart has no repose in this despoiled land Who has ever felt fulfilled in this futile world? The nightingale complains about neither the sentinel nor the hunter Fate had decreed imprisonment during the harvest of spring Tell these longings to go dwell elsewhere What space is there for them in this besmirched heart? Sitting on a branch of flowers, the nightingale rejoices It has strewn thorns in the garden of my heart I asked for a long life, I received four days Two passed in desire, two in waiting. The days of life are over, evening has fallen I shall sleep, legs outstretched, in my tomb How unfortunate is Zafar! For his burial Not even two yards of land were to be had, in the land of his beloved."

"The heart is asunder, singed to a kebab, This love has been the disaster of my life. My murder rests good on you, don’t worry, You have found grace, I am away from strife. “Enamoured” one day, “mad” on another, Each day I was given new names, new life. Why should I not drink my blood in envy? When today, with my rival they wine. The goblet’s lips kissed yours in ecstasy, My victory was to bite into mine. For you, I wandered streets with tearful eyes, Setting my heart on you was misery. We have washed your street with a storm of tears, Our begging bowl of a cap is now empty. Without replies now, this is what we found, That the messenger is our sole reply. Had asked for your picture to console my heart, Looking at it I am more uneasy. Your tyranny — boundless, day of reck’ning —one, I wonder how the account is compiled. Zafar, change the refrain, recite that ghazal, Of which each verse is your picked poetry."

"غازیوں میں بُو رہے گی جب تلک ایمان کی تخت لندن تک چلے گی تیغ ہندوستان کی"

"دوست آں باشد که گیرد دست دوست در پریشان حالی و درماندہ کی دوست مشمرآنکه در نعمت زند لاف باری برادر خواندہ کی"

"Zafar always put huge emphasis on his role as a protector of the Hindus and the moderator of Muslim demands. He never forgot the central importance of preserving the bond between his Hindu and Muslim subjects, which he always recognised was the central stitching that held his capital city together."

"I wish you had made me the master of royals, Or made my crown the bowl for alms and betrayals. You should have made me mad, crazy only for you, Why did you make me wise, capable of denials? You made me poor, fit only for sifting through dust, And I wish the dust of her feet were my trials. If you made me intoxicated with love, Why did you make the measure of life small vials? A wretched heart torn a hundred times over lives, To be the shoulder to rest her hair is my desire. If I were not worthy to be with the Sufis, Could have been good for the company of drunks, defiant? If you wished to burn me by parting from the pourer, Should have made me the lamp of the tavern’s foyer. The fire of beauty was not unveiled in the garden, Or the bulbul too would have been made a moth on fire. This incessant world is a vile place, O Zafar, Its cities should have been desolate and dire."

"O heart, with the very stones or bricks that some people hurled at you all along, build a wonderful mosque of love with foundation, solid and strong."

"Let's forget today who is friend or foe, and hold each other in caring embrace. Let your love be the magnet to bring the humanity to Allah's grace. Remember those in perennial fast, constantly in hunger and deprivation, Share with the poor, orphans and the destitutes, to make inclusive your celebration."

"Weary of struggles, I, the great rebel, Shall rest in quiet only when I find The sky and the air free of the piteous groans of the oppressed. Only when the battle fields are cleared of jingling bloody sabres Shall I, weary of struggles, rest in quiet, I am the rebel eternal, I raise my head beyond this world and, High, ever erect and alone!"

"O heart, Ramadan has come to an end, and the happy Eid knocks at the door for all, Come, today give yourself away wholeheartedly, heed the divine call."

"Even Muhammad Ali, later regarded as the greatest nationalist leader among the Muslims, admitted in a public speech in 1908 that the interests of the Muslims differed from those of the Hindus and would suffer if they joined the Hindus in their political agitation. He therefore frankly asserted that the Muslims could not be expected to become martyrs to the unity of India and it would be a retrograde step in the political evolution of the Muslims to leave them “at the mercy of an angelic majority” (i.e. of the Hindus)." The spirit of Syed Ahmad dominated the Muslims who, with rare exceptions, regarded themselves as Muslim first and Indian after- wards,"

"A very important factor which is making it almost impossible for Hindu-Muslim unity to become an accomplished fact is that the Muslims can not confine their patriotism to any one country. I had frankly asked (the Muslims) whether in the event of any Mohammedan power invading India, they (Muslims) would stand side by side with their Hindu neighbours to defend their common land. I was not satisfied with the reply I got from them… Even such a man as Mr. Mohammad Ali has declared that under no circumstances is it permissible for any Mohammedan, whatever be his country, to stand against any Mohammedan.""

"Even Muhammad Ali, who posed as a staunch nationalist and a gitat admirer of Gandhi, and in whose sincerity Gandhi had absolute confidence. belonged to the anti-Hindu group. In support of this, reference may be made to the speech of Muham- mad Ali as President of the Muslim League Session in 1908, in which he not only accepted the standpoint of Sir Syed Ahmad that the Muslims in India must stand by themselves but ridiculed the idea of Hindu-Muslim unity, as the following extract from his speech will show : “At any rate the Muslims canot be expected to take poisonous cup and drink it to the dregs without a murmur as a martyr to the unity of India... .... -The sanctimonious apostles of unity contend that the interests of Mohammadans do not differ from those ot Hindus. They were the same when $hivaji revolted against Aurangzeb, or when the situation described in the Anand Math existed. The interests in that sense of the whole of humanity are the same.........--- The position of different societies in the scale of political evolution is judged according to the degree to which each has eliminated the personal from the principles that guide it in its system of Government. It is therefore a retrogade step in our political evolution to leave us at the mercy of an angelic majority that invariably thinks of the unity of India’s ultimate interests.” It is of interest to note that this is quoted with approval by a distinguished Muslim leader, Mohammad Noman, in his book, Muslim India, published in 1942. (224)"

"Muhammad Ali's observation on the sudden manifestation of zeal by the Muslims and Hindus for conversion and reconveision to their faith is worth quoting : “My own belief is that both sides are working with an eye much more on the next decennial census than on heaven itself, and I frankly confess it is on such occasions that I sigh for the days when our forefathers settled things by cutting heads rather then counting them'"

"To consider one’s creed as superior to that of every non-Muslim is the duty of a Mussalman."

"In other words, Islam can never allow a true Muslim to adopt India as his motherland and regard a Hindu as his kith and kin. That is probably the reason why Maulana Mahomed Ali, a great Indian but a true Muslim, preferred to be buried in Jerusalem rather than in India. (pp. 330-331)"

"However pure Mr. Gandhi's character may be, he must appear to me from the point of view of religion inferior to any Musalman, even though he be without character... Yes, according to my religion and creed, I do hold an adulterous and a fallen Musalman to be better than Mr. Gandhi."

"I had long been convinced that here in this Country of hundreds of millions of human beings, intensely attached to religion, and yet infinitely split up into communities, sects and denominations, Providence had created for us the mission of solving a unique problem and working out a new synthesis, which was nothing low than a Federation of Faiths … For more than twenty years I have dreamed the dream of a federation, grander, nobler and infinitely more spiritual than the United States of America, and today when many a political Cassandra prophesies a return to the bad old days of Hindu-Muslim dissensions I still dream that old dream of 'United Faiths of India.'"

"But between belief and actual character there is a wide difference. As a follower of Islam I am bound to regard the creed of Islam as superior to that professed by the followers of any non-Islamic religion. And in this sense the creed of even a fallen and degraded Mussalman is entitled to a higher place than that of any other non-Muslim irrespective of his high character even though the person in question be Mahatma Gandhi himself."

"Maulana Mohammed Ali, the right hand man of Mahatma Gandhi in the early days of freedom struggle, had announced in public, not once but repeatedly, that the worst sinner and debauchee among the Muslims was, in his eyes, far superior to even Mahatma Gandhi!"

"I cannot understand why the Ali Brothers are going to be arrested as the rumours go, and why I am to remain free. They have done nothing which I would not do. If they had sent a message to the Amir, I also would send one to inform the Amir that if he came, no Indian so long as I can help it, would help the Government to drive him back."

"O King! The city, which is called Madhurapuri for its honeyed loveliness, has now become the city of cruel beasts; it now lives up to its earlier name of Vyaghrapuri, the city of tigers because humans don’t dwell there (anymore). Those temples of Gods, which used to reverberate with the sacred melody of the mridangam, now echo the dreadful howls of jackals. In the Brahmin Quarters [Agraharams] of our city, huge columns of smoke emanating from the scared Yagnas used to rise up and reach the skies amid the sacred Vedic chants but alas! today those selfsame Quarters send up wretched stenches of meat roasted by the Turushkas; the Vedic chants are today replaced by the beastly cacophonies of drunken hoodlums. During the days of Pandyas, our women used to bathe in [river] Taamraparni, whose waters turned white from the sandal-paste applied to their breasts. My lord! Now she’s coloured only in red from the currents of blood flowing into her from all the cows slaughtered by its wicked occupiers all over the country. O King! I cannot bear to look at the countenance of those Dravida ladies who were bounteously endowed with beauty. Ravished horribly by the scourging Turushkas, these delicate women now sport lifeless lips and exhale hot breaths, and their abundant tresses that have come undone are painful to the eyes. I don’t have the words to describe the suffering and dishonour painted on their faces, which know neither redemption nor protection."

"One day, a strange woman appeared before king Kampana and complained in the following strain about the occupation of the south by Turushkas, and its evil effects. “O King! The place known as Vyaghrapuri (Chidambaram, Perumparrapuliyar) has become truly so, for tigers inhabit it now where man dowlt once; the vimana (dome of the central shrine) of Srirangam is so dilapidated that now it is the hood of Adisesha alone that is protecting the image of Ranganatha from the falling debris. The Lord of Gajaranya (Tiruvanaikka, Jambu-kesvaram near Srirangam), who once killed an elephant to obtain its skin for his garment, has now again been reduced to the same condition, because he has been stripped bare of all clothing; while the garbhagriha (central shrine) of many another temple is crumbling, its mandapas overgrown with vegetation and its ponderous wooden doors eaten up by white ants. In the temples which once resounded with the joyous mridanga (a kind of drum), there is heard at present only the jackals that have made them their abode. The river Kaveri, that was curbed by proper dams and flowed in regular channels, has begun to breach in all directions. In the agraharas where the smoke was seen to curl up from the fire-offerings (yagadhuma), we have now the offensive-smelling smoke issuing from the roasting of flesh by the Muhammadans, and the sonorous chant of the Vedas has been replaced by the harsh voice of these ruffians. The beautiful coconut trees which once graced the gardens surrounding the city of Madura, have been cut down by these intruders, and in place of these, we have gruesome substitutes in the form of iron sula, which are adorned with garlands of decapitated human heads strung together. The water of the river Tamraparni, which used to be rendered white by the sandal paste rubbed away from the breasts of youthful maidens at their bath, is now flowing ted with the blood of cows slaughtered by these great sinners”. Thus did the strange lady describe to Kampana, the fate that had overtaken the fair south, and drawing from her girdle a resplendent sword, addressed the king once again as follows: “O Sovereign! Once upon a time the divine Visvakarma, gathering the splinters from the weapons of all the Devas and smelting them together, shaped this strange sword and presented it to Paramesvara for gaining victory over the daityas. By performing a severe penance, one of the early Pandya kings obtained it from Lord Paramesvara. With the help of this divine weapon the descendants of this race continued to rule the kingdom prosperously for a very long period; but by a misfortune the princes of the Pandya dynasty lost the virility of their sires. Agastya, having secured this remarkable sword, presents this now to you. Just as Krishna slew Kamsa in Mathura in olden times, O King! do you also proceed now to the southern Madhura and slaughter the Mussalman king, the enemy of the world, and set up several pillars of victory on the bridge of Rama (between the mainland and the island of Ramesvaram). During your administration of the south, you should also build a strong dam across the Kaveri, and make her flow in a manner useful to the agricultural population”"