The classics of any language are a source of enlightenment and enjoyment for the world at large. They become so, on account of their content, diction and style. In any translated version the content may perhaps be presented more accurately than the language, diction or style of the original. However, certain translators have done a commendable job of conveying not only the message but the sweetness of  tone and beauty of the text. The two that come to mind are Fitzgerald’s -- Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, and Ahmed Ali’s, anthology of Urdu poetry in his book – The Golden tradition.  Being impressed and influenced by them and somehow motivated by the message of heritage, I too decided to try my hands at it, and am attempting to delve on some of Ghalib’s philosophical poems, those containing his unique and obscure thoughts.

I have also been motivated by the fact that, being an immigrant to another society and culture, one sooner than later, begins to look for the flavour of youth and ones own past heritage.   

With the rapid trend of globalization and frequent movement of people, a multi-national atmosphere can now be created anywhere with the import of dress, cuisine and traditions from the four corners of the world. So why literature should be left behind? Further, to keep one’s future generations in touch with their roots they should to be exposed to ideas and the richness of their own heritage and past traditions. We, who move to settle abroad should neither expect nor force our children to stay away from the main stream of society. Yet, there is no reason why they should not be informed of their inheritance, its cultural background and moral values. We should not, however, force them to compulsively labour and devote their precious time and energy to purse ideas in the original tongue. Most young people will take up permanent station here and may never like to return to the land which will probably be as foreign to them as this one once was to us. 

English language is rapidly acquiring a universal status and has therefore, been chosen as a medium of choice to communicate with the young. It is worthwhile to reflect upon the fact that what is generally thought to be a generation gap, especially in the East, is no such thing. The gap, if there is any, is in our communication. We may differ in ideas and outlooks yet have a common connection and link through our genes. Let us bridge this gap by talking to our children in the language they are comfortable with. They should be given the opportunity to explore these ideas and the basis of their origination, perhaps thus inculcating a desire to learn the unique and original ideas of the masters of various cultures. This venture is, therefore, an attempt to evoke minds, young and old, to examine things in light of an ever changing world of knowledge, at the same time bearing in mind that the ‘original’ work of the pioneers cannot be duplicated, only preserved to the best of one’s ability. 

The importance of original literature cannot be emphasized enough, yet ‘half a loaf is better than none’. So instead of starving our younger generation and then later being blamed for it, or regretting not having passed it on in essence at least, it is better to ‘give them the taste of blood and then leave them hungry’. Therefore, we should be able to provide them a flavor of their ancestral background in some form at least.  If their quest is genuine they will find the road to the authentic originality themselves. This is my first hand experience, as my own past has played a major role in nurturing this attempt to reignite the flame. That flame which the elders had tried to kindle in me at a young age, but which the distractions and other pursuits of life kept under cover for a very long time. 

It was only after migrating to Canada in 1989 and finding time on my hands that I was woken up to search for the lost moorings. I have been motivated to gather the deeply embedded thoughts and drifting ideas and put them down for posterity, to perhaps lay their hands on and take advantage of them.     

With this background in mind I am attempting to present some of Ghalib’s poetry and its English translation for you to browse through and perhaps enjoy and appreciate the depth of thought of one of the great thinkers of all times. I may not be able to capture the beauty of the original, as no translation can ever equal it, yet if it narrates the ideas and perhaps the thought process of the genius, it would have fulfilled the underlying purpose. I have thus taken the precaution and titled the presentation, ‘ Ghalib --- as I understand him’, for his intellect and thought is so deep and sometimes obscure, that different meaning can be drawn by different people.  You are free to comprehend him to the extent and depth of your own desire and ability.   

In this translation of Ghalib my attempt has been to cover two aspects. First to translate verse into verse. In this I may have drifted a little in its true essence, but I feel that this makes the narration more palatable and attractive. As said earlier a translation can never equal the original, yet make it attractive perhaps motivates the reader to prod along to the end. The second idea is to portray the essence and theme of Ghalib’s thoughts, of course only as I understand them. It is also my endeavour to acquaint younger readers of Ghalib with the background in which he wrote and to elaborate the underlying hidden and obscure meaning of some verses, thereby to reveal the extent of depth and emotional experience Ghalib was capable of fathoming, expressing and narrating. Some typical and peculiar personalities of eastern culture and tradition, like ‘saqi’, ‘nauha-gar’  etc have been elaborated in the explanations.  Phenomena like the special relationship of ‘Dil o Jigar’, i.e. heart and soul, and ‘khoon e jigar’,  ‘blood of the liver’, have been commented upon but have been adapted to a more comprehensible diction in English. After every verse a paraphrase or ‘tashreeh’ has been attempted. The paraphrase can not claim to depict the actual thoughts of the poet, for as said earlier Ghalib is not simple to fathom, and ones own subjective understanding of him must be reflected both in the translation and ‘tashreeh’.  The entire venture has been both an interesting and  a challenging endeavour because the tradition and language of one culture is not explicitly manageable in another, and however perfect, the translation can never equal the original.  How far I have succeeded is for you, the reader, to judge and decide. 

Ziauddin Ahmed                                       Canada                             tidylink@yahoo.com  

INTRODUCTION 

Asadullah Khan Ghalib (1797 - 1869) was a poet philosopher of India in the nineteenth century.  They were times of flux, and the entire world was engulfed in a drastic change. It was an age of transformation for all of mankind. The whole world was in tumult because the change was fundamental in nature.  Industrialization was spreading rapidly, and with the advent of the machine age a major sifting and shifting of human values was taking affect. Centuries old and established moulds of culture and morality were being reshaped in the light of the immense impact of the material giant of mass production through machines. Man, who had hitherto considered himself completely under the control of Nature and its rampant laws now began to perceive the power of his own discovery and invention -- the machine. He started to use it to his material benefit and the uplift of his fellow-beings, gaining more self confidence and personal security.  The ideas of -- ‘work now and be rewarded later ’, and that -- ‘all labour and effort of each individual was being recorded, to be compensated and acknowledged in another life perhaps’; were being questioned. The entire basis of human morality came under close scrutiny. The theory and belief of a completely subjugated man, which had been exploited by the dogmatic and myopic view of the clergies of the religious beliefs of all three monotheistic orders, too started to show cracks under critical analysis.   Man seemed to feel surer of him and the fear of the unknown began to recede. The subtle workings of ‘Mother Nature’ which man could not observe by his naked gaze, he could now examine by a telescope over his head or a microscope under his eye. The ‘hows’ and ‘whys’ and his own position in the  universe of  things started becoming clearer to him with the advancement of scientific knowledge.   Some of the greatest men of learning were the outcome of this fundamental readjustment of human thought. Ghalib was one of the front-runners of these independent thinkers. 

As the title suggests, this is only an individual’s attempt to understand the intellect and genius of Ghalib  --  the likes of whom take birth but only once for mankind.  A large number of people have been drawn into Ghalib’s fold and a great variety of work has been done on the poet.  One of the greatest of them in English, has been done by  (Prof)  Ahmed Ali in his book: 

The Golden Tradition  -- an anthology of Urdu poetry. 

Published by Columbia University Press ( ISBN 0-231-03688-4) 

The back ground and period of Urdu poetry is most comprehensively discussed and explained in it,  along with an unparalleled translation of selected poems from celebrated poets of each period. 

Ghalib’s ever lasting quality is his depth of human knowledge and philosophy presented in a unique tongue, diction and tradition of his time. The depth of thought and observation have been married in the maturity of language and vocabulary. The result is a vast variety of shades of impressions, giving a new slant every time it is read.  Therein lies its perpetual bloom and appeal for all ages.  Ghalib’s philosophy embodies humanity, hence its universal acceptance and admiration. His maturity and intricacy of style is also evident in his double meaning sentences and stanzas, and above all his pun.  eg. 

Kayuun Jal Gaya na taab-e rukh-e yar daekh kar

Jalta hoon apni taqat-e didaar daekh kar 

 

Why did I not burn on seeing the heat of her ire

I am jealous of my own ability to bear the fire. 

and 

Nukta cheen hai gham-e dil, ous ko sunayae na  banay

Kaya banay baath, jehan baath  banae na banay 

 

Difficult task is the sorrow of the heart,

even her, one can’t narrate it to.

What use is there to make ado,

where no make ado, will ever  do.

Ghalib was a “progressive Muslim”, one who questioned, deciphered, understood and only then submitted to Nature’s laws.  He did not surrender to the dictates of the dogmatic or the fundamentalist’s school of thought.  His questioning mind brought him to the zenith of detached self-observation and critical personal analysis.  He understood the workings of human nature from outside the shackles of ignorant and dogmatic religious beliefs and practices.  For he says: 

Hum Mouwahid hain, hamara caish hai tark-e rusoom

Millatain jub mitt gaiyan ajzaa-e imaan ho gaiyan

 

We are monotheists, our belief is

to shun traditions and scribes.

Ingredients of faith flourish

with the elimination of sects and tribes.

All original thinkers have a sensitivity about them. They are aware and gain consciousness of phenomena which are beyond ordinary humans and want to share it with the world;  only to be rebuffed and ridiculed by conformists and propagators of status quo.  Original thought leads  to the reality of extreme loneliness and elevated comprehension, and is insatiable by temporary companionships which one seeks in the surroundings. Ghalib’s awareness and vision were so acute and penetrating that to preserve sanity he sought some relief. Knowing fully well that exceeding the limit would tilt the balance and lead to addiction and escapism.  He has narrated this so aptly by saying:

Bay mae kisay hai taqat ashoob-e aaghahee

Kheincha hai eijz-e hawsala nae khat ayagh ka.

 

Without wine who has the strength

to bear the din of consciousness.

The defeat of courage has drawn a mark,

on the rim of the cup’s evenness.

And he goes further to stress that: 

Mae say gharaz nishaat hae kis roosia ko

Eik Goona baekhudi mujhay din raat chahiaye

 

Which wretched sinner seeks pleasure from wine.

A deep oblivion, day and night for me, there should be.

A  state of oblivion or bliss is sought by man since the beginning of time. It may not be achievable in this mortal life but its search is eternal and has been endowed in human nature.  Self fulfillment is one form of acquiring  it.  Contentment comes in spurts and bliss and satisfaction are temporarily achieved when man puts in his best  and whole-hearted effort in exposing the  hidden embedded talent, possessed by every individual; thus fulfilling the very purpose of his creation perhaps. The liberation of the trapped treasures of ones nature is every ones desire, but the majority of us  are lost and tangled in the achievement of glamour and material glitter of this worldly life.  Only some can see the truth beyond its physical garb. Ghalib was one who saw it.  His view  encompassed the universe it self;  as is evident from: 

Hastee kay muth farayeb may  ajayeeoo Asad

Aalam tamam halqa-e daam-e khayaal hai.

 

 

Be not deceived, O Asad, by the dazzle of creation

All existence is encircled, by the net of imagination.

The one distinctive aspect between man and the rest of the creation is his intellect. All things have good or bad effects depending on how they are viewed and employed. So also it is with the intellect. If intellect is endowed with a positive approach it leads to progress and achievement, but if enshrined in pessimism it destroys and destructs the edifice of life itself.  The basis of intellect is thought and imagination. Out of which emerge all word and  deed. It is this fact which Ghalib has so beautifully bejeweled in the verse above.  A beautiful thought emanates from purity, and a vicious idea takes birth in the ugliness of contamination. Purity in its turn is inculcated by faith and belief, whereas impurity originates in doubt and deceit.

 

It just goes to show what faith and belief Ghalib must have possessed.

Ghalib tried to view the reality of Nature itself, but in its reflection saw his own image; since he said:

 

Sach kehtay hoe khud beene O’, khud aara hun na kayuun hun ?

Baitha hai buth-e aaina seema meray aagay

 

True I am self observing, self admiring, why be it not so ?

Facing me is one whose forehead, like the mirror, is aglow.

Then Ghalib goes on to tackle the hidden mysteries of Nature and questions its underlying purpose.  For he says: 

Naqsh faryadee hai kis ke shokhi-e thareer ka

Kaghazi ha payrahan her paykarr-e tasweer ka

 

Whose dazzling work does the impression stricture?

Of paper is the robe, of every figure in the picture.

The impression – the picture or creation, is questioning, crying out loud, for having been given the brilliance and the joy of being created; brought into existence and given the consciousness of it. Yet there is lament and pain of awareness because all is temporary and short-lived, just like the dress of paper of each figure face in the picture. 

When he comes to behold  beauty in Nature he questions its secrecy: 

Jab woh jamal-e dil farooz, surat-e mehar-e neem rose

Aap he hoe nazara sooz, purdaey mein munh chuppaeye quon

 

When her radiance is heart enthralling

and appearance like the sun at noon.

Self-exposed and self-adoring,

Why then in veil, she hides her bloom?

and then professes to explain its reason: 

Dashna-e ghamza janistan, nawak-e naz bay panah

Taera hi ux-e rukh saahee, samnay taeray aayae quon

 

Like shooting arrow your demeanor,

and dagger sharp your vanity.

Even  your own faces shadow,

in front of you why would it be?

This wonder, amazement and query then leads him to lament the fact -- the same conclusion as has been reached by  philosophers like Plato, Pythagoras and others -- that man is fallen divinity.  As is evident from his verse: 

Na tha kutch to Khuda tha

Kutch na hoota to Khuda hoota

Duboya mujh ko honay nay

na hoota main to Kaya hoota?

 

When naught existed God existed,

Had none there been, God would be.

My own existence lowered me.

Would I not be, what would it be?

In the end  I would like to leave the questioning mind with my question for Ghalib lovers to ponder, decipher accept or reject. For, if and when I meet Ghalib I will ask him as to why he did not write thus: 

Na tha kutch to Khuda tha,

Kutch na hoota to Khuda hoota

-Sujhaya-  mujh ko honay nay,

na hota main to Kaya hoota?

For if I had not been brought forth I would no doubt have been part of the whole;  but an insensitive, unconscious, ignorant part. My very being and  individual existence gives me an identity of an entity and is responsible for making me aware of that fact. Hence: 

When naught existed God existed,

Had none there been, God would be.

My very being, this made me see.

Would I not be, what would it be?

AAH KO CHAHIYAY EIK UMR ASAR HONAY TAKK 

Aah ko chahiyay eik umr asar honay takk

Koan jeeta hai teri zulf  kay sir honay takk

 

A sigh needs an age,

to show affect to the world.

Who can survive,

till your cascade is uncurled.

(The concept of (aah) curse, sigh or silent complaint, is both religious and superstitious in the East. If someone suffers due to inexplicable reasons, it is said that s/he is suffering on account of another’s curse or sigh. Here, Ghalib is saying that though even a curse shows its affect after a time, no one knows the length of time the beloved will take to groom her hair. May well be that he may perish and be consumed in the waiting.) 

Daam har mauj mein hai halqa e saad kaam nahang

Dekhain qaya guzray hai quatray pay gohar hunay takk

 

Each desire takes a hundred effort,

Before it can unfurl.

See, what all a drop has to go through,

to become a valuable pearl.

(To get fulfillment of a desire one has to make devoted effort and a number of sacrifices, and has to patiently wait to see its achievement.  Just like no one knows how difficult or tedious a process a drop of water has to pass through before it changes into a valuable pearl.)

Aashiqi sabr talab aur tamana baytaab

Dil ka kaya rung  karoon khoon e jigar honay takk

 

Love endears patience,

but desire is a restless flood.

What shade should I give to the heart,

till my soul bleeds blood.

(Love matures slowly, but desire is difficult to control. What should one do to get peace of the heart while the process is being completed?

Eastern poetry has given both the heart and the soul (represented by the liver which is a much more deep rooted organ in the body) much prominence and importance in the human psyche. As, different from animals, man shows   supremacy in both possessing and governing his emotions and feelings, and striving towards their fulfillment, in a conscious manner.  The heart, though a physical organ, which primarily controls and pumps the flow of blood – the most vital fluid – has been epitomized as the body’s jewel. But where does this blood come from, and what is its origin? It is the liver (inner being). So whereas the heart may hold the key of control; there would be nothing to control if the liver did not produce it in the first place. In Urdu poetry both heart and liver thus go together, hand in hand, with some sort of a love-hate relationship, each envying, yet affirming the other’s position. Something like the chicken and the egg story -- which came first and which holds sway? Overall however, the heart seems to get more attention from poets for it is the embodiment of delicacy and frailty. The heart is the seat of feelings and emotions, which at times shake the very edifice of human existence.  The soul (inner being) on the other hand seems to be more enduring and more deep seated. It personifies the physique of man, and perhaps has more resilience. But if pain and sorrow are intense and unbearable, both heart and soul cry out in unison.)   

Hum nay maana kay taghaful na karo gay lekin

Khaak hojayangay hum tum ko khabar honay takk 

 

We admit you will not delay

in the beckoning.

Yet, we would have turned to dust

till your reckoning.

(Although  the beloved may  not delay  and  perhaps come quick on getting the news of the illness of the loved one, yet the news may take a long time to reach, and the poet may perish by then) 

Partave khur say hai shabnam ko fana ki taleem

Mein bhi hoon eik inayat ki nazar honay takk

 

The dew learns to vanish,

With the onset of sunlight.

I too wait, but just,

for a single favour of sight.

(The water droplets of the overnight dew quickly evaporate with the coming of the heat of the sun, even in the shade. The beloved too gets consumed when the lover gives one glance, for which he waits all his life.)

Yak nazar beish nahin fursat e hasti ghafil

 Garmi e bazam hai eik rakhs e sharrar honay takk

 

Not more than a wink is the freedom,

to remain oblivious.

Only unto a dance of the spark,

 Is the warmth of the banquet, obvious.

(The carefree life is very short-lived and fleets by after a moment or two. For then, once again the worldly woes take hold, and remind one of the temporariness of bliss, and  the emptiness of life itself.) 

Gham e hasti ka Asad kis say ho juzz marg e illajj

Shama her rang mein jalti hai sehar honay takk

 

What can treat the torment of life,

except death, O’ Asad.

The candle keeps vigil till dawn,

in all times, -- happy or sad.

(Life’s strife only comes to end with  the end of life itself. However, the process of living has to be borne and this life lived in all conditions and circumstance till then.)