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This border that drinks blood and spits sparks’: Voices of Urdu poets on war and peace

Faiz Ahmad Faiz spoke for an entire generation of Famous Urdu poets when he wrote this. It is against this background of making common cause, of speaking up, that these poems on war and peace culled from a broad swathe of poetry — from the First World War to the War of Independence and then the wars India fought with Pakistan — must be read. From Jang-e Europe to Jang-e Hind-o Pak, it has been a long journey.

The War in Europe and Indians

Shibli Nomani

Consumed with pride, a German said to me: “Victory is not easy but it isn’t impossible either The army of Britannia is less than ten lakh And on top of that it is not even prepared As for France, they are a bunch of drunks And not even familiar with the art of warfare.” I said your arrogant claim is all wrong If not mad you are certainly not wise We the people of Hind are ten times the Germans You have no sense to differentiate big from small He listened carefully to what I had to say Then he said something that can’t be described “By god, anyone will lay down their life for such simplicity You are willing to fight but without even a sword in your hand!”

(Original title: Jang-e Europe aur Hindustani)

A warrant of arrest was issued against Shibli Nomani for writing this poem. However, he died on November 18, 1914 before the warrant could be used.

From Collected Works

Akbar Allahabadi

Real goods are those that are made in Europe Real matter is that which is printed in the Pioneer Though Europe has great capability to do war Greater still is her power to do business They cannot install a canon everywhere But the soap made by Pears is everywhere

The Cleverness of the English Mind

Ahmaq Phaphoondvi

Look at the turmoil and the bloodshed among our people The cleverness of the English mind is used up in all such schemes This murder ’n mayhem, wars ’n battles, cruelties ’n malice The country’s garden is barren, with nothing but dust and desolation There are no flowers here nor any freshness or fertility There is bloodshed in every direction and piles of corpses Tyrants like Dyer and O’Dwyer rule in the manner of Changez Shuddhi and Tableegh movements here, conch and calls there Had these not been in our midst the British Rule would have been difficult

(Original title: Angrezi Zehn ki Tezi)

Thank You Europe

Agha Hashar Kashmiri

O earth of Europe, O cherisher of outer raiments O rival of Asia, O lover of the spark in the harvest Your idea of healing is throwing out everything Because of you the world is a place of mourning The eyes of freedom are damp with the tearsof longing The tale is blood-drenched people are destitute Your philosophy is contained in your Book of Oppression Humanity is the passion of your civilised barbarity Ancient greatness laments your recent behaviour Your old beauty has been washed away by splashes of blood You have turned the dignified theatre of the east into a wilderness You have turned heaven on earth into a model of hell A shout is rising from the dust of the downtrodden Asia is crying out and telling the world at large On my poor grave there are neither lamps nor flowers And not the wing of the moth or the sad song of the nightingale

(Original title: Shukriya Europe)

After the two Great Wars, there seemed little doubt in the mind of most Urdu poets, especially the progressives, that war was justified as it would bring freedom. And, so, there was Makhdoom Mohiuddin, the poet from Hyderabad writing in Jang-e Azaadi (War of Independence):

Look, the red dawn is coming, the red dawn of independence Singing the red anthem of independence, freedom and independence Look, the flag is waving of liberty, freedom and independence

And there was Kaifi Azmi writing an ode to the new woman who must walk hand in hand with her mate, in Aurat (Woman):

Arise, my love, for now you must march with me Flames of war are ablaze in our world today... You must burn in the fire of freedom with me

But by far the most famous comment on the blood-soaked end to a prolonged war for freedom is contained in the immortal lines from Subah-e Azaadi by Faiz Ahmad Faiz:

This patchy light, this night-bitten dawn This is not the dawn we had been waiting for

In a poem titled Maatam-e Azadi (The Lament for Freedom) written in 1948, Josh Malihabadi strikes a sombre note when he takes stock of the peace that comes at the end of a long and bloody struggle:

O friend, don’t ask me for the tale of Hindustan Our throats were torn by the scratching of our songs When we escaped the sword, we were beheaded by the veins of the rose

Majaz too had lost some of his youthful ebullience by 1948 when he wrote:

Hindu Muslim Sikh and Christian will shed tears of peace Having played Holi with blood, they will now wash off these stains

By the time India celebrates its first Republic Day, Sahir Ludhianvi’s disenchantment with the new republic is already palpable.

In a poem titled Chhabees Janwary (26 January), Sahir invokes the beautiful dreams the nation had seen, dreams of a better tomorrow and asks some important questions.

Twenty-sixth January

Sahir Ludhianvi

Come, and let us ponder over this question What happened to those beautiful dreams we had dreamt When wealth increased why did poverty also increase in the country What happened to the means of increasing the prosperity of the people Those who walked beside us on the street of the gallows What happened to those friends and comrades and fellow travellers What is the price being set for the blood of martyrs What happened to the punishable ones for whom we were ready to lay down our lives Helpless nakedness does not even merit a shroud What happened to those promises of silk and satin Cherisher of democracy, friend of humanity, wisher of peace What happened to all those titles we had conferred upon ourselves Why is the malady of religion still without a cure What happened to those rare and precious prescriptions Every street is a field of flames, every city a slaughterhouse What happened to the principles of the oneness of life Life wanders aimlessly in the wilderness of gloom What happened to the moons that had risen on the horizon If I am the culprit, you are no less a sinner O leaders of the nation you are guilty too

Ali Sardar Jafri in Subh-e Farda (The Morning of Tomorrow) speaks of standing on the border (obviously between India and Pakistan) waiting for a new morning, the morning of tomorrow:

On this border of blood, tears, sighs and sparks The sun, broken in pieces, had set on this border On this very border the dawn of freedom was wounded yesterday Where you had sown hatred and grown swords This border that drinks blood and spits sparks It slithers on the bosom of our soil like a serpent It enters the battleground bedecked with the armaments of war

The wounds of Partition were revived after every war with Pakistan. Each time, the poet cautioned against war. Sahir, the most vocal pacifist said in a nazm titled Ai Sharif Insanon:

War itself is the problem How can it then provide the solution? Today it will give fire and blood Tomorrow it will bring hunger and beggary

To end with Faiz Ahmed Faiz poetry, let us remember his epochal poem on the 1965 war India fought with Pakistan entitled Sipahi ka Marsiya (Ode to the Soldier):

Rise from the earth, wake up, my son

This beautiful elegy (hauntingly sung by Nayyara) is a tribute to the soldier who lays down his life fighting for the country. It is, to my mind, a fine example of the essence of the progressive spirit in Urdu Shayari, of the poet’s humanity and concern for individual life that is precious.

Source: dawn.com

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Allama Iqbal, The Legend

Dr Allama Iqbal is the well-known as one of the famous Urdu poets not only in Subcontinent but across the world as well. He poetized every matter of the human’s life. In this era, the young generation still does like Allama Iqbal Shayari in Urdu. His poetry is taught at school to the children and it leads them towards the bright future. He wrote many poems and the best Urdu Ghazals to indicate the common issues of the people for their lives.

Born: November 9, 1877, Sialkot, Punjab, British India

Passed away: 21st of April 1938 (matured 60) Lahore, Punjab, British India

District: British India

Era: twentieth-century reasoning

Primary interests: Urdu verse, Persian verse

Remarkable thoughts: Two-country hypothesis, Conception of Pakistan

Iqbal was conceived in Punjab on ninth Nov 1877.

 He got his initial instruction in Sialkot. Subsequent to passing the placement test, he joined Intermediary College. Mir Hassan, an extraordinary oriental researcher, had an exceptional inclination for islamic Studies. Iqbal continued to Europe for higher examinations in 1905 and remained there for a long time. He took the Honors Degree in Philosophy and showed Arabic at the Cambridge University without Prof. Arnold. From England, he went to Germany to do his doctorate in Philosophy from Munich and afterward came back to London to fit the bill for the bar

Iqbal came back to India in 1908. The writer had won all these scholastic shrubs when he was 32 or 33. The legend rehearsed as a legal counselor from 1908 to 1934, when sick wellbeing constrained him to surrender his training.

In 1927 the writer was chosen to the Punjab Legislative gathering. In 1930, he was chosen to direct at the yearly session of Muslim League. In his presidential location at Allahabad, Iqbal out of the blue presented the possibility of Pakistan. In 1930-31, he went to the Round Table gathering, which met in London to outline a constitution for India.

In spite of the fact that Iqbal's was long and extended the end was abrupt and very peaceful. He inhaled his toward the end in the early long stretches of April 21, 1938, in the arms of his old and committed hireling, abandoning a large group of grievers everywhere throughout the Islamic world. There was a black out grin playing on his lips, which overwhelmingly helped one to remember the last rules, which he set down for an honest Muslim. I reveal to you the indication of a Mumin when demise comes there is favor his lips.