The Poems of Bedil

bedil2

Written by Randeep Singh

Mirza Abdul Qadir Bedil (1644-1720) is one of the leading poets of the Indian school of Persian poetry.

Born in Azimabad (Patna) into a family of Uzbek descent, Bedil lost his parents at an early age and was raised by his uncle. He received a classical education, but also mastered poetry and philosophy through self-study. Bedil served in the Mughal army, but returned to Delhi during the reign of Aurangzeb. It was there that he devoted himself to writing poetry.

Bedil composed over 16 books of poetry including ghazals, rubais and masnavis. His poetry deals with philosophical and metaphysical themes and his verses are complex, challenging if also captivating. He was not well received in Iran which generally disdained the “Indian School” of Persian. He remains, however, an iconic poet in Central Asia and Afghanistan. The Urdu poets Ghalib and Iqbal cited Bedil as an important influence on their poetry.

The selected verses below were translated from Persian into Urdu by Afzal Ahmed Syed and from Urdu into English by Musharraf Ali Farooqi (unless otherwise noted).

For too long the heart’s desire bound me
With a drop of blood I was painted whole
Ulfat dil umr haashad dast o paaim basta ast
Qatra-e khoon az sar taa paa hunaaim basta ast

I read in the wave’s fickle, delicate form
The preface of the sea, the wind’s footprint
Mara ma’aena shad az khat-e shakasta mauj
Ki naqsh-e paa-e hava sarnoshat-e aeen darya’st

What heart’s shop is not adorned by desire?
The mirror’s realm of clarity reflects a bazaar
Ko dil-e kaz havas aaraaesh-e dakaanash neest
Dar safaa khaana har aaena baazaare hast

Behold the spring painted with hues of new secrets
What your imagination never grasped the spring reveals
Chasm va kun rang-e asraar-edagar daard bahaar
Aan cha dar vahamat naganjad jalwa gar daard bahaar

In the desert of fancy there are no fixed points
To find our bearings no need have we
Dar dasht-e tauham jahate neest ma’een
Maa raa chi zaroor ast badaaanem kujaayem

In contentment’s land seek not the sun and moon
If a bread and lamp in night rations has been provided to you
Dar mulk-e qanaat ba ma o mahar mapardaaz
Gar naan-e shabe heest o chiraagh-sar-e shaame

For ages we’ve been amused at expressing worthlessness
We are the opener of the pages of stories of nothingness
You could expect nothing from us, but name
we are the messengers of the world of nothingness

’aumrîst kî sargarm-e bayân-e heechîm
tumâr gushâyee dâstân-e heechim
bâ nâmi az ân mîyân, zi mâ qane’a bâsh
mâ qâsed-e paighâm-e jahân-e heechîm
(Translated by Nasim Fekrat)

Sources:

Annual of Urdu Studies: http://www.urdustudies.com/pdf/27/20BedilPoems.pdf

Encyclopaedia Iranica: http://www.iranicaonline.org/articles/bidel-bedil-mirza-abd-al-qader-b

‘Hawawaan de Sanjh – ہواواں دی سانجھ’ by Harinder Kaur Dhahan

uddari-harinderdhahan-1

Vancouver diye seetlay hwa, toon Lhore val ve ja
apni nighhi nami, khushk hwa ch mila

Sukki sukki Thandh rahi Lhoriyan noon tarrpa
badl le ja urra ke, val Lhore de desha

Na toon lorrein passport, na toon lorrein visa
na lagnay dollar tere, na custom, security te sama

Tainun koi na vekh sakda, kern tainun mehsoos sada
toon taan vagdi vagdi, jhaT paar ker lawein haddan

Tainun sajjay khhabbay’ aggay pichhay, rok na koi sakda
toon shurk ker ke langein kolon, bin dassay thaun patta

Gurumukhi te Shahmukhi nain, sanjhan layan pa
toon ve rishta jorr le, sang Lhore de hwa

Saday piyaray naal dostaan, toon ve dosti nibha
hathein chhawaan kern tainun, saijal palkan te biTha

Vancouver deye seetlay hwa, toon Lhore val ve ja
apni nighhi nami, khushk hwa ch mila
..

Read the original in Gurumukhi
Hwawan De Sanjh

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ہواواں دی سانجھ
ہریندر کور ڈھاھاں

وینکوور دییے سِیتلے ہوا، توں لہور ول وی جا
اپنی نگھی نمی، خشک ہوا چ ملا

سُکّی سُکّی ٹھنڈ رہی لہوریاں نوں تڑپا
بدل لے جا اُڑا کے، ول ہور دی دِشا

ناں توں لوڑیں پاسپورٹ، ناں توں لوڑیں وِیزا
نہ لگنے ڈالر تیرے، نہ کسٹم، سیکیوریٹی تے سما

تینوں کویئ نہ ویکھ سکدا، کرن تینوں محسوس صدا
توں تاں وگدی وگدی، جھٹ پار کر لویں حدّاں

تینوں سجّے کھبّے، اگّے پِچھے، روک نہ کویئ سکدا
توں شُرک کر کے لنگھیں کولوں، بِن دسّے تھَوں پتہ

گورمُکھی تے شاہ مُکھی نیں، سانجھاں لیاں پا
توں وی رشتہ جوڑ لے، سنگ لہور دی ہوا

ساڈے پیارے نال دوستاں، توں وی دوستی نِبھا
ہتھیں چھانواں کرن تینوں، سیجل پلکاں تے بٹھا

وینکوور دییے سِیتلے ہوا، توں لہور ول وی جا
اپنی نگھی نمی، خشک ہوا چ ملا
..

مینوں اپنی ماں بولی پنجابی نال بے حد پیار ہے۔ وینکوور دے خالصہ سکول چ پنجابی پڑھاون دا سبھاگ وی پراپت ہویا۔ ہُن وی ہر اِتوار گوردوارے وچ بچیاں نوں پنجابی پڑھا کے خوشی محسوس کردی ہاں۔ پنجابی ساہت کویتاواں، کہانیاں تے ناول بڑے شوق نال پڑھدی رہندی ہاں۔ کدی کدی دھارمک کویتا لِکھ کے گوردواریاں چ پڑھن دا موقعہ وی ملدا رہندا ہے۔ میں اک پرمانت یوگا ادھیاپک (سرٹیفایئڈ یوگا ٹیچر) وی ہاں۔ ایہہ سِکھیا میں لنگارا کالج توں حاصل کیتی ہے۔

ڈھاھاں إنٹرنیشنل پنجابی لِٹریچر پرایئز نال میریاں بھاوناواں اتے سیواواں جُڑیاں ہویئاں نیں۔ نومبر ۲۰۱۳ وچ اسیں ڈھاھاں پرایئز دا اعلان کرن لئی لہور گئے سی۔ اوتھوں ایس قسم دی کویتا لکھن لیئ مُڈھلی پریرنا مینوں لہوریاں ولوں ساڈے لئی پیار، ستکار تے مان وچوں ملی۔ اوندے سیال پتہ لگیا کہ لہور دے لوک ٹھنڈیاں تے خشک ہواواں توں پِیڑت ہن۔ اک دن سیر کرن ویلے گرمی نال میریاں تپ رہیاں گلّاں نوں جدوں وینکوور دی سمندری ہوا نے چھویا تے اک انوکھا جیہا سکون ملیا۔ اوسے ویلے میرا دل وینکوور دی سیتل ہوا نوں لہور دی خشک ہوا نال سانجھ پیدا کرن لئی پکار اٹھیا۔

Read the above in Gurumukhi

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‘The Business of Burying is Booming’ by Fauzia Rafique

03Oregon-SS1-superJumbo-v3‘Community members at a vigil in Stewart Park to honor the victims of the shooting at Umpqua Community College in Roseburg, Oregon, Thursday’ October 1/15.
Photo by Gosia Wozniacka/Associated Press.

So sad, 45 mass shootings in nine months, state violence permeates all levels of society. It’s not just the ‘gun laws’ that need changing.

The Business of Burying is Booming

This ode is Daddy
-cated to NATO, our Unified Protector.

 

1949 to the Present, Daddy
is busy keeping ‘the Russians
OUT, the Americans
IN, and the Germans
DOWN’.
The OUT changes
The DOWN changes
But the IN stays the same, and
The IN stays the same, and the IN
Stays the same. The same,
Daddy-O?
Once and for all:
America brings Dear
-Daddy Democracy and Pretty
-Pink Progress to the
Backward
-Third World (People).

NATO’s first progress: Vietnam war
4,257,282 civil, mostly Vietnamese
2,447,087 military, mostly Vietnamese
I won’t count
the dead of Kosovo or Yugoslav
Wars, Iraq Wars, Afghan
Wars or Pakistan Wars.
I’ll go
To NATO’s latest progress: Capture
and kill Gaddafi. Only six (includes my Heartbreak
Harperized Canada) of the
28 countries
in support, still 9,500 strikes.
And wow, how
(in Vietnam Bosnia Yoguslavia Kosovo) how the
Business of
Burying is
Booming.

Daddy my Sharp Guard Super
Man Hero, spends 70% of
world’s defence budget,
owns the most
of all the weapons of
mass destruction, with ‘possible first
use of tactical nuclear weapons’.
Daddy got navy warships, global
hawk surveillance drones, maritime
patrol aircraft, medium-range nuclear
missiles, radar and interceptor missiles
helicopters, ships, submarines, with
‘No reductions
foreseen in
NATO’s nuclear
arsenal’
And see how
(in Vietnam Bosnia Yoguslavia Kosovo
Iraq Afghanistan Pakistan) how the
Business of
Burying is
Booming.

Daddy has this huge (oops)
video game
collection, and
You are a part of Daddy’s
games. So am I, check
again, Daddy’s heroic adventures and quests:
Operation Iraqi Freedom, Operation Ocean Shield, Training Mission – Iraq, Operation Eagle Assist, Active Underwear, Operation Essential Harvest, Deny Flight Operation, Deliberate Force, Operation Joint Endeavor
There’s more, including ISAF-KFOR-IFOR
-SFOR-ACE-ALTHEA, but no more
space on this page
‘cause I am going to
count those
still-
-alive
to see how
(in Vietnam Bosnia Yoguslavia Kosovo
Iraq Afghanistan Pakistan
Egypt Lybia Syria) how the
Business of
Burying is
Booming.

To ward off Daddy’s colonial jok:
My mantra, a bit long
a little tedius
like all mantras.
It will work,
like all mantras.
‘In Your Name, the People of:
Albania (2,834,667), Belgium (10,827,519), Bulgaria (7,351,234),
Canada (34,447,000), Croatia (4,425,747), Czech
Republic (10,515,818);
‘In The Name Of:
5,560,628 Danes, 1,340,122 Estonians, 65,821,885 French
81,802,000 Germans, 11,306,183 Greeks,
10,014,324 Hungarians, 318,452 Icelanders, 60,605,053 Italians;
‘In Your Name, the People of:
Latvia: 2,229,500, Lithuania: 3,249,400, Luxembourg: 502,100, Netherlands: 16,667,700, Norway: 4,937,900, Poland: 38,092,000, Portugal: 10,636,888, Romania: 21,466,174, Slovakia: 5,435,273, Slovenia: 2,046,510, Spain: 46,148,605, Turkey 73,722,988;
‘In The Name Of:
62,008,048 Britishers and 311,328,000 Americans!
All together = 906,002,051 (White majority) people
(i am included even when Brown)
‘In Whose Name, In
My Name, In
Your Name, In
Our Name, In
My name, In
Your Name
this
Business of
Burying is
Booming!’

NATO: 28 member countries, two in North America (Canada and the United States) and 25 in Europe while Turkey is in Eurasia. NATO missions have taken place in countries located in Asia, Africa and Eastern Europe.

Remembering deaths of Palestinian people, and others, not mentioned here.

From Holier Than Life by Fauzia Rafique
frafique@gmail.com
gandholi.wordpress.com

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Poet Irfan Malik in Town

irfan-malik
Boston-based South Asian American poet and the organizer of South Asian American Theatre (SAATH) at Harvard University, Irfan Malik is visiting Vancouver from September 12 to 26 with his new collection of Punjabi poetry ‘Dooji Aurat’.

He will be presenting and participating in various events around town including the following, where his participation is made possible by some wonderful people such as our very own Ajmer Rode, Harinder Dhahan, Chin Mukherjee, Sukhwant Hundal, Anne Murphy, Carol Shillibeer, Barj Dhahan, Dr. Saif Khalid, Mohan Gill and Manpreet Dhillon.

Sept 13, 1-4pm
Punjabi Lekhak Manch
Newton Library, 13795 70 Avenue at King George Blvd, Surrey

Sept 14, 6-8pm
Hogan’s Alley Reading Series
Hogan’s Alley Cafe, 789 Gore Avenue, Vancouver

Sept 15, 6:30pm
Punjabi Poetry Evening
George Mackie Library, 112 St/84 Avenue, Delta

Sept 17, 1-3pm
Punjabi Seniors’ Group
Sunset Community Centre, Main/52, Vancouver

Sept 20, 


2pm
SANSAD-CPPC Public Forum
‘Pakistan-India Peace: People’s Need vs State Interest’
Room 120, 
Surrey Centre Library, 10350 University Drive, Surrey

Sept 21, 3:30-5pm
UBC Punjabi Class
UBC Campus, Vancouver (non-public)

Sept 21, 6-8pm
Poetry Wars
100 Braid Street Studios, New Westminster

Sept 25, 5:30-8:30
Surrey Muse
Room 418, City Centre Library, Surrey

To contact Irfan while he’s here, send him an email at
malikirf@gmail.com

Surrey Muse event details
SM-9-25-2015

Irfan Malik is the Featured Poet at this gathering. He will be presenting with Author Maureen Butler, Poet/Performer RC Weslowsky and Author Katherine Wagner. The event is hosted by poet/Performer Mariam Zohra.

Event is sponsored by
Dhahan Prize For Punjabi Literature
Dhahan Logo in all scriptsand
Surrey Muse & Uddari Weblog

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‘Rainshed Dream’ by Sana Janjua

The purple midnight of Jhelum
crawls over the rainshed memory
I have of you – drenched,
tipsy with pubescent desire,
as if you will light up the mosque in
which we played cards
with your skill at the game- those nerved hands-
and the soul of that fluttering heart,
all mine.
Outside, it poured
and I cajoled you on
with my nascent dialect
that was too outlandish to
your upper middle class upbringing.

A jackal  whimpered in the distance,
somewhere where jackals reside.
The pack moved closer in inches
towards the story, so that the epic

(our love story)

became an unmoored myth
of belligerent animals
that slime out of nocturnal spaces,

howling,

which perturbed your
sophisticated sensibilities,
making me an incongruity to your prestige,

your high end, red bricked house,

heaving its mighty benevolence

in the midst of an anthill, my residence.

Your story had to be written with the
nib of a peacock feather,

dipped in the splash of white gold,

imbuing the stately shades

you have in your heroic blood,

when you so generously grant me
a smile,

a glimpse,

(and, nowadays)

a small touch

so i may burn,

burn at both ends.

i have no where to go,

but to hide in the shadows

my voice

generates on the periphery

of your vision.

My genesis lies in
the idea of the possibility

that i may exist,

that i may very well be born

under the weight of

your rib cage.

It’s you,
who has brought me to life.

Between us, there is a galaxy

of contradictions,

and of a singular realization

that you are the guardian of my imagination,

and i am the silhouette of your past.

All this time,
in looking at you and the passing nights,
I only had a longing– a wild cry–

inherited and passed down the line of
old city’s song writers who feed on
the wisdom and chirping of migratorial birds;
right here from my throat
to my stomach is
but a cry, –a wild cry–
a song bird’s devotion,
nothing to quell your taste in music and noble art.

You have spent days
unlearning the dignified aesthetics
of your social class
when you play Salman Ahmed
on a small guitar,
that tune which had no song attached to her,
no burden attached.
It is a free tune and
we are free to touch each other,
as we hold  each other’s hands,

wanting to kiss the august sky
in the imagined street named after

you and me.

Mad reverie,
Somewhere in the world,
There is a street named
after our unrequited love.
Find me that, and

find me your love.

Sana Janjua is a poet and a playwright who is also the President of Surrey Muse, an interdisciplinary art and literature presentation/discussion group.

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Poetry at Bathurst & Bloor

Wednesday, 6.00 pm
July 8, 2015

In the Backyard
Behind the Different Booklist Bookshop
746 Bathurst St, Toronto
(Enter via Honest Ed’s Parking Lot)

Krisantha Sri Bhaggiyadatta wonders if you scratch poetry, where you find the economics.

He has read poetry (wherever he can get away with it) more recently in Toronto and San Francisco, but also in Colombo, Peradeniya, Beijing, Port of Spain, New York, London, etc.He was a weekly broadcaster of Bourgeois Blues, Bourgeois News on Toronto’s CKLN (now banned) radio. His books of poetry include: Transfixed in Twilight (2015), Cheqpoint in Heaven (2005), Aay Wha’ Kinda Indian Arr U? (1997, 2015), The 52nd State of Amnesia (1992), The Only Minority is the Bourgeoisie (1985), and Domestic Bliss (1981). He is now compiling: A Very Personal English History of the World.

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‘Three Deaths in the Summer of 2014’ by Sana Janjua

zoayspainting-sana

An extraordinary painter
had died in Pakistan
with his mind
split from the agony of
rush-wounding consciousness,

and an Ahmedi woman so ordinary
no one would remember her name
was killed with a child in her womb.

When he was alive,
he was always dying
from the pain of having witnessed
too much of what happened
on ordinary days in Pakistan
in the last two decades.

When she was alive,
she was always singing songs
so that when her son grows older,
he can extraordinarily endure
the withered weather of wrath
unlike the painter.

I don’t remember all of that,
because my doctor says
my memory is suspended
to allow for survival.

I don’t remember that
one day when I was ordered
to convert, to bow down
to a god who will not forgive me
for the sin of having been born
on the wrong side of the fence.

I don’t remember how
I was called an imbecile
on that one evening when my heart
had already sunk below
the canal that weaved the
periphery of my city.

I don’t remember those many
nights when I would wake up
howling because the cage was
smaller than the limits of my
imagination, and I was drowning
in the venom of a decayed love.

But, what I do remember
is how I threw stones at your
martyred memory having
thrown away the last remnant
of my now deceased heart.

Art work by Ahmad Zoay.

A Pakistani Canadian playwright, performer and a poet, Sana Janjua is a co-Founder and the President of Surrey Muse since 2011.

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