aziz ahmad - poems -

Poetry Series

aziz ahmad- poems -

Publication Date: 2008

Publisher:Poemhunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive

aziz ahmad(3-3-1934) Name: Aziz AhmadPen name: Aziz – (Moradabadi) Father’s name: Qazi Jamil Ahmad Sahib, (Late) Date of Birth: 3rd March,1934Place of Birth: Moradabad (U.P) , India:Qualification: M. A (English) Profession: Service (Retired Lecturer, M.Q. I. College, Seohara, Bijnor) Years of Haj Pilgrimage: 1975 and 2000Name of Spiritual Teacher: (Late) Maulana Asrarul Haq Khan SahibGuide of Urdu Poetry: Hazrat Samar MoradabadiNames of Ancestral famousLiterary Personages: 1) Hazrat Ali Sikandar (Jigar Moradabadi (Late) 2) Qazi Abdul Gaffar Sahib (Late) Books Published:1) Elegy on Jigar Moradabadi,19822) Life in Verses,19853) Ilahiyat-o-Wahiyat 19954) Mirat – e - Jigar 20015) Karvan – e – Ghazal,20036) Kehkashan – e – Ghazal,20067) Bostan – e – Ghazal, (To be published) Source of Spiritual gains And blessingsMother, Jigar Moradabadi and Spiritual TeacherHobbiesEssay Writing and Composing VersesResidence: Mohalla Lala Bagh, near Masjid Amin Sahib, Moradabad.Mob. No- +919411069686.Ph. No- 0 +91 591 247 0533

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A Call For Unity Neither are we Muslims nor Hindus;We are Flowers of the self-same vase.Success will certainly kiss our shoes;We are working for the self-same cause. We brave the dangers courageously;We break the bars that came in our way.Our love will conquer undoubtedlyThe hearts of those who have gone astray. We know Enmity some men worship;Condemnable black sheep they are all.History proves our long fellowship;Hatred is bad and causes a fall. Ours is the Flag aloft in the World;Its hues our Love, Truth and Honesty.Weapon of non-violence we should holdIf we want to prove our majesty. aziz ahmad


A Force In the daily sights of NatureA force is active every where.The being of the day and night,The sun and the moon that look bright,The stars that twinkle in the skyThe beasts that roam, the birds that fly,The fruits that feast the eyes of man,The clouds that rain, tell of a planOf Him whom mind can’t comprehend,Who all does know and understand. aziz ahmad


A Letter Since when, dear, you have gone,I have become undone.I want you back to come;Whatever done is done. All your friends are traitors;They hijack my letters.You will know their movies;They worsen the matters. Come back, or let me hearOne word of joy and cheer.Why do you now forget,Once we were very near?It seems you are misled,Misunderstanding fed.Do you not remember,You were mine once you said? You have gone for months nine;I still think you are mine.If you don’t come nor write,I’ll lie on the rail-line. aziz ahmad


A Restful Sleep The man who wants a restful sleep,Or wishes fro his peace of mind,Or a life full of contentment,Should have a heart just - and kind. A heart that gives others relief,Relief to those who are in need.For he can’t have a restful sleep,Who makes other people worried. aziz ahmad


Adversity Adversity, say the wise men of old,Is a blessing is disguise. Adversity is a ladder of gold;Rung by rung on it we rise. Adversity brings out real worth of man;It’s not a foe but a friend. Adversity brightens our inner manAs polish of a good brand. Adversity mingles sorrow and painIn the verses’ joyous strain. How so necessary and how so main!Save it joy is worthless, vain. aziz ahmad


An Atheist “Why do you ail, my room *partner? ”“My stomach is in disorder.”“You should use vinegar daily;You will surely become healthy.” “Aye, you advise me quite rightly;I know it works effectively.We should take it with onionIn the doctors' opinion.” “No I tell you a better way;Experiment it from today.When you intend going to bed,Let no worry disturb your head. Then dropp into your both nostrilsThe drops of vinegar which killsThe germs that upset your stomach.”This I said only in a mock. But, when at night, the fellow lay,Used it as I had told the way.He bitterly snorted and sneezed;He was by the affliction seized. He did not see indeed my fun,Though he deemed himself a wise one.He was in his creed an atheist;He had comprehension the least. He used to argue against God;His misunderstanding was odd.Why was he so proud of his brain,When could not see a fun so plain? *My room partner in Aligarh Muslim University.


aziz ahmad


Birthday A friend of mine invited meOn his birthday ceremonyHe arranged to express his glee,When reached the age of forty three. His house was adorned like a bride;Everything there was beautified;The birthday song was sung aside;My friend looked as if puffed with pride. Gladly the candles were lighted;The cake was cut and dividedAmong those who were invited;A scene of rapture was sighted. Though for my friend’s life I did pray,My thoughts went the opposite way.Why do we enjoy our birthday,When our life wanes a year this day? aziz ahmad


Blessings O nature, how you make and mouldDifferent form of countless men!Different chits of the fate they holdWritten with your natural pen. Men are by nature different:Virtue do some; while some evil.We fall into astonishment,When they leave behind the Devil. We became breathless when we seeMen surpass heavenly beings.It is though lotted what are we,Blessings may change the fate’s writings. Aziz Ahmad aziz ahmad


Bus Collision A bus collided one day mornWith a truck that did not blow horn.The mishap took a heavy tollOf passengers of the bus whole.Some were dead and some were rollingOn the ground owing to bleeding.Limbs of men, women and childrenWere lying scattered and broken.These carriages in the forestWere after mishap taking rest.What a pathetic was the scene!Like that one might have rarely been.The air was surcharged with the grief;The hearts vibrated like a leaf.Such events serve as a warningTo the men who have live feeling.But lo! The pockets of the deadWere picked there by the turbans red. aziz ahmad


Child- Eater Once came a child-eater from KanpurTo abide in the town of Rampur.A devil in form of man was he.As he was cruel, unkind and free.He wore a beard and moustaches long,And on his long flute, he played a song.He caught the children by means of trick;Some said, ‘By the power of magic’.He cut them with his sharp iron knife;That was the only aim oh his life.Concealing them in his bag, he went;But lo! The city people got scent.Then and there they caught him red-handed,And to the police overhanded.I didn’t know, then, what happened to him.During those days, I was a small child,And knew not of the aim of that wild.When I grew up, I observed the fact,He was not alone to do such act.As a big fish preys upon small one,So most men, in fact, do the same fun.It is a proverb that ‘might is right’;The weak became the powerful’s diet. Aziz Ahmad aziz ahmad


Come In My Dream I Beg No More Come in my dream, I beg, no more;For your vision makes my heart sore.It reminds me of the days past;I thought then they would ever last. I loved you mutely and truly,But often become unruly.That love smoulders in my heart,And it seems will never depart. Dead are the moments I met you;For me you kept on waiting too.A sort of sensuous fragranceI smelt often in your presence. How wondrously you sang a song,Being rapt, in your passions strong!It gave me an inclinationTo sings songs in my own fashion. You oft prepared tea or coffee,And served me so courteously.What a taste it had and flavourMingled with your love and favour! When you were nigh, I gazed at you;With confidence I used to woo.Those who got the scent were jealousOf us and often made a fuss. Come in my dream, I beg, no more;For your vision makes my heart sore.It reminds me of your fair form,When I observed no rules or norm. aziz ahmad


Conciliation Two real brothers differed longerOn a certain household matter.One day, ran higher their anger;Their language grew rough and bitter. They started wrangling each other;It set one of the brother’s sonOn taking part with his father;He abused his uncle anon.But the father took exception,And slapped on the cheek of his son.“Who are you to take this action? ”He said to him and made him run. This inspired the other brotherTo come to conciliation.Lo! They both embraced each other,Forgetting their disputation. aziz ahmad


Critics Critics are said to have a heartWhich remains unmoved by the art.They are of such a race or casteAs earns by making fun of art.When they see anew star appearIn the sky of literature,They weave a net of criticismIn which they try to entrap him.But they cannot catch the artist,As he surpasses them in wit.When they find their net is empty,They become very much sweaty.When he gets commend of pen men,From their hand falls their bitter pen.Their comments oft help in his rise,And are the blessings in disguise. BY Aziz Ahmad aziz ahmad


Elegy On Jigar Moradabadi INTRODUCTION Mr. Aziz Ahmad has written an Elegy on the Poet Haji Ali Sikander, commonlyknown as Jigar Moradabadi. The poem is in 48 stanzas of Eight lines eachfollowed by 48 paragraphs of notes, one for each stanza. They explain the realmood of the stanzas. This is perhaps the first time that an Elegy in English on anUrdu Poet has been attempted. Elegiac poems in Urdu are common. The marsaisof Anis and Dabir are long elegiac poems of unsurpassed beauty. An Elegy isliterally a song or poem of mourning. The English examples are Lycidas, Adonaisand Thyrsis. They are true elegies although Gray's well-known Elegy, which waswritten in a country churchyard does not mourn anyone in particular and dealswith 'the pathos of mortality'. English Elegies, like Latin Elegies before, were written in a metre called elegiac.Any poem written in that metre was called an Elegy irrespective of the subjectmatter. Later the point about metre was dropped and any poem was consideredan elegy if the subject matter was what I have described, irrespective of themetre. Today the subject and metre must coincide to make a proper elegy. The metre must be hexameter or pentameter. A hexameter is of six measuresthe fifth being a dactyl and the sixth either a spondee or a trochee. The otherfour may be either a dactyls or spondees. An example is Longfellow's Evangeline.Homer's two epic poems and Virgil's Aeneid are in hexameter. Pentameter verseis in two parts, each of which ends with an extra long syllable. The first halfconsists of two metres, dactyls or spondees, the latter half must be two dactyls. I have said this because metre-wise this poem in English will not be regarded asa proper Elegy but subject-wise it is. Perhaps Mr. Aziz Ahmad can cast the linesagain. * Subject-wise the poem is excellent. Jigar who wrote of himself: Jigar main ne chhupaya lakh upna dard o ghum lekin Bayan kardeen meri surat nay sub kaifiyatein dilki Was a poet in the front rank in India and in the days when there were Iqbal, Faniand Firaq and several others. Tabassum Nizami has done a great deal to bringhis life before us, and his books Daghe Jigar, Shola- e- Toor and Aatishe Gul arepoetry which is seldom equaled.


No wonder Mr. Aziz Ahmad's heart bleeds at the very thought of Jigar's death in1960. Not only has he paid his sincere homage to his memory but he hasdescribed the anguish of the family and friends. Jigar would have said: Meri roodad e ghum who sun rahe hain Tabassum sa labon par araha haiJigar hi ka na ho afsana koi Daro devar ko hal araha hai. Mr. Aziz Ahmad's heart-rending verses do make even the doors and walls getinto ecstasy! 23rd September,1981 M. Hidayatullah6, Maulana Azad Road, Vice- PresidentNew Delhi-110011. of India *AUTHOR'S CLARIFICATION I append here for ready reference the views of the reputed critics aboutmodern poetry, which are printed on pages 223,224 and 225 of “The Study ofPoetry” by A.R. Entwistle. The reaction against metre in modern poetry is only another symptom of thedissatisfaction with things as they are. The movement towards “free verse” is, ofcourse, no new thing. The experiment of Matthew Arnold, Henley, Walt Whitmanand others occur readily to the mind. Here it is useful to know how the new poetry affected Professor Churton Collins: “If a man six feet high, of striking masculine beauty and of venerableappearance, chooses to stand on his head in the public streets….. he will at leastattract attention, and create some excitement; secondly……..the law of reactionin literature, as in everything else, will assert itself, that when poetry has longattained perfection in form and has been running smoothly in conventionalgrooves, there is certain to be a revolt both on the part of poets themselves andin the public taste, and the opposite extreme will be affected and welcomed; andthirdly, ……… if a writer has the courage or impudence to set sense, taste, anddecency at defiance and, posing sometimes as a mystic and sometimes as amountebank, to express himself in the jargon of both, and yet has the genius toirradiate his absurdities with flashes of wisdom, beauty, and inspired insight,three things are certain to result, ……… namely, sympathy from those who favor


the reaction, disgust on the part of those who belong to neither party, but whoare quite willing to judge what they find on its own merits.” For the frankly modernist view we turn to Mr. Robert Graves, who says: “Poetry has, in a word, begun to 'go round the corner'; the straight street inwhich English bards have for centuries walked is no longer so attractive, now thata concealed turning has been found opening up a new street or network ofstreets whose existence tradition hardly suspected. Traditionalists will even sayof the adventures: ' They have completely disappeared; they are walking in thesuburbs of poetry called alternatively Nonsense or Madness.' But it disturbs thesetraditionalists that the defections from the highway are numerous, and that thepoets concerned cannot be accused of ignorance of the old ways, of mentalunbalance in other departments of life, or in insincerity.” The spirit of the present generation is in marked degree anti-traditional, and itwould easy, but tiresome, to show by copious quotations how welcome the spiritof revolt has become. Similar tendency is found in modern Urdu Poetry. We should see, what AkbarAllahbadi says in connection. Qaedon men husne mani gum karo Sher main kehta hoon hijje tum karo (Lose in rules beauty of meanings;Verse I compose, you do spellings.) Since this elegy consists of a mixture of a Urdu and English words, it is practicallyimpossible to confine it to the conventional English metre. Aziz Ahmad FOREWORD I have with interest gone through the Elegy on the death of the late Haji AliSikander, Jigar Moradabadi, presented to me for my comments by Mr. AzizAhmad, the author. I am impressed by his style and art. It shows his deep lovefor Jigar Moradabadi who was a poet of great genius. It seems that he has agood knowledge of the life and art of Jigar. As he has written in the Preface thatno poet has so far written an elegy in English on the death of any Urdu poet is,as far as I know, correct. The endeavour is his own. Some points given in the


Elegy have already become widely known, while some others are quite new.When I started reading it, I was so charmed that I could not leave it unfinished.It is a fine piece of literature and fascinates its readers. I appreciate the unity ofthe poem. The stanzas employed help to bind the parts of the poem together intoa single whole, so that it becomes a “Silver chain of soundof many links, without a break.” The choice of words and constructions are commendable. I feel that Mr. AzizAhmad make a very good use of rhetorical language. The poem is a rhymedproduct of the author's imagination. He has, no doubt, chosen a dignifiedsubject- the death of a great poet, but the distinction lies in the fact that he hasbeautifully portrayed his life as well as art. The poem is elaborate in workmanship and is long enough, with orderlydevelopment and fine descriptions. The interplay of emotion, reflection andspontaneity are commendable. At the same time he has no want of narrativeforce. His logical transition from one thought to another is praiseworthy. Thedescription of scenes in the poem presents a clear picture before the eyes of thereaders. The author exhibits his real respect fro Jigar and grief over his death. In my view, the poem is great due to the following grounds: - There is in the proposition- ' I weep for Jigar Moradabadi………'; the invocations toJigar's dead mother and the Spirit of poetry etc.; the mourning of the relativesand friends; the procession of the mourners in concrete and abstract form;The partaking of nature and Super-natural beings in grief; the praise of thedistinctive traits of the life and art of Jigar; and the reward that the great poethas found a place in paradise and has become eternal in death. In the end, thenote of personal lament shows his deep personal attachment. While mentioning many good qualities of Jigar Sahib's personality Mr. AzizAhmad rightly emphasized in the last two lines of Stanza no.25 that he littlebothered for money. Just to endorse his point I would like to relate one incidentwhich vividly remember even today. In June,1947 an All India Mushaira wasorganized in Shahajan pur, U.P. Although a student of 10th Class, I happened tobe one of the organizers of this function. Unfortunately because of extremely badweather and sudden heavy rains, the Mushaira was a total failure. All was upset.Not a single poet could recite his poems. We lacked funds even to pay thetraveling expenses of more than 12 poets who had arrived to participate inMushaira, including such popular poets as Salam Machli Shahri and Khumar


Barabankvi. Jigar Sahib was staying with one of his pupils Mr. Habab Tirmizi. Thepoets were demanding money and we were worries how to satisfy them. JigarSahib apprehended the whole situation. He got up quietly, went to the wall wherehis Sherwani was hanging, brought out some two hundred rupees and gave ussaying, “Give it over to them.” When in 1955 I met Jigar Sahib in Aligarh and reminded him of this incident, hesmiled and pretended as if he did not remember. Many such events can berelated which reveal rare moral qualities of his character. To conclude my comments, I think it appropriate to quote a few lines from theElegy which I like most. The following lines remind us of Shelly's Adonais: Ideals splendid, Desires, Adorations;Joys blinded with Tears and Winged Persuasions;In melancholy mood Love and Ties;Sorrows with her family of Sighs;With hair unbound and tears their eyes flow,Came there in form of procession slow,The slow moving procession might seemLike pomp of ants in Summer near stream. Beautiful imagination is presented subtle contrast of the following lines: Angels waited his life-account to write;But were dazzled, seeing him in white light.Who knows not the reason for this light?His body though dark, his soul was white.The loveliest personification is found in stanzas no 12 and 13 where Learning of his death, Wines held a meetingTo condole his death by hard breast-beating. and whereSome Wines spirited came to his grave;Their eyes were red, their hearts were brave. Stanza no 19 testifies to the author's great skill in narration. Pathos is alsobeautifully given.


It is evident from stanza no.24 that Mr. Aziz Ahmad has been deeply influencedby Robert Frost, a famous American poet. The superb description is found in stanza no 26 and 27 where Jigar's fondness forplaying cards is shown. In the following lines a fine smile has been used: - His behavior was like verses laboured,Every syllable of which is measured.Respectful with his elders was he,And with his friend intimate and free.With his youngers reserved and fatherly,He treated them kindly and politely. In stanza no.33 it seems that the author wants to say that Jigar disliked 'Ghazals' composed by ladies; but the idea has been expressed by giving abeautiful definition of 'Ghazal'. The following lines in stanza no.44 are very befitting: - Beauty is the base in the lays of Asghar;But love beautifies the verses of Jigar. The following lines, though subjective, compel me to appreciate the author: -Risen above the waves saw I a hand;All of a sudden, it drew me to land.It was the hand of Jigar- a rare manWho is born once in centuries span. In the following stanza I find a relish of sonnet. It is filled with sincere feelings. The void so created cannot be filled,The Hawk of death has the 'Ghazal Bird' killed.But the time of death is fixed by HimWho is our Lord without doubt and whim.The only tribute to him I payIs to compose this sorrowful lay.His features shall in these lines be seen;If they live, he shall in them be green. May this endeavour of Mr. Aziz Ahmad be crowned with success and glory! I wish


him to give us many more such wonderful poetic pieces. Dr. Qamar Rais Reader,Department of UrduUniversity of Delhi OPINION I Janab Aziz Ahmad sahib has sent me a copy of an elegy he has composed in thememory of the late lamented Haji Ali Sikandar Jigar, the Doyen of Urdu poets inthe Indian sub-continent. I have gone through this elegy with deep interest and I find that Aziz Sahib lovedand admired Jigar Sahib from the core of his heart. He pours out his heart ingrief for Jigar whom he considers the zenith of muses. The elegy is a fittingtribute indeed to a person who lived and died for poetry and whose verses shallfor ever continue to inspire generations to come. Some of Aziz Sahib's stanzas are sublime and worth quoting. For instance hespeaks from the unexplored depth of his heart when he says: - For Jigar I weep. And you too weepWith me, for I plunge into the deepOf pain and sorrow, of grief and tears.O hapless Hour chosen from all years!I ask you to rouse your other compeers;Then together we will weep blood fro tears.Till future dares forget the pastHis name and fame shall ever last. In stanza no 28 he has painted a true portrait of Jigar. Of such virtues was Jigarmade and of such virtues his Ghazals are the outcome. He was noble both inmind and in action. He was cordial and hospitable most,And was to his guests a courteous host.His behaviour was like verses laboured,Every syllable of which is measured.Respectful with his elders was he,And with his friends, intimate and free.


With his youngers, reserved and fatherly,He treated them kindly and politely. I am sure that all those who knew and loved Jigar will enjoy the fine quality ofthe elegy and will realize that Aziz Sahib has for once not taken to poeticexaggeration. Kunwar Mehender Singh Bedi OPINION II Mr. Aziz Ahmad' elegy on Jigar may be unconventional in metre but is wonderfulin matter. The poem is the graphic account of the life, character and verse of agreat Urdu poet, it has a great imaginative and emotional appeal and isremarkable for fine personification and vivid imagery. It reminds of Shelly's'Adonais'. B. K Kansal Ph. DChairman HINDU COLLEGEDept. of Post-graduate Studies MORADABADand Research in EnglishBanbata Ganj (Near Kamal Talkies) Dated 28thSept.1981Moradabad- 244001 PREFACE The few lines I have put in this little book are nothing but a tribute I am obligedto pay to the memory of the Late Haji Ali Sikandar, Jigar Moradabadi, a relativeof mine, to whom I am deeply indebted as the credit of my life's making goes tohim. He was born on 6th April 1890, in Mohalla Lal bagh, Moradabad, U.P., but fromthe boyhood he left his native city and roamed far and wide to make his lifeglorious. He was a natural poet of Urdu. If we peep into his life, we find it truethat 'a poet is born, not made.' Asghar Gondwi, a renowned poet of that time, on seeing him, understood fullwell that he was fated to be great. So, he owned him, guided him and showeredhis favors on him. Jigar lived at Gonda, U.P., in the house of his wife, Nasim. Journey had become


the part of his life. He reminded mostly out in connection with Mushairas.Whenever he returned home, he wanted us to remain with him. So, I havepassed a portion of my life with him and observed him with love and reverence. I wanted to write something about him in Urdu prose, and to get published someletters and poems written in his own hand, which I have kept safe with me likesacred things. I started writing it, but by the force of some unknown power, my mind turned toa theme quite novel. In English, as far as I know, nobody has composed an elegyon the death of an Urdu poet. My purpose of writing in this language is thatEnglish will be a vehicle to convey my thoughts and outside this country, asEnglish, being an international language, is read and spoken everywhere. Jigar was acclaimed ' Ghazal King' in his lifetime. He died on September 9,1960and was laid to rest at Gonda in the lap of his dear country. He was truly poetic in his habits and disposition, character and conduct, thoughtsand feelings, ways and manners, motions and gestures, dressing and clothing,gait and get-up. Moreover he was gifted by Nature with a throat extremelymusical. I have poetized my feelings to pay him homage, as, I think, the homagepaid to such a great poet should be musical. I hope that his soul will accept it. When I was staying at Mecca after the performance of 'Haj' in the year 1975, onenight I saw him in a dream. During my stay there I had not dreamed of anyoneelse save him. When I woke up, I felt a sort of restlessness. Then and there, Iperformed 'Umera' for him. When he died, I felt a shock of grief. This Elegy is the outlet of the grief I feltthen and have concealed so far. This Elegy contains some points which are quite new, and which the lovers ofJigar Moradabadi are unaware of. Though the Elegy has parts comprising manytraits of Jigar, I have tried to make it a unified whole. I hope that for the lovers of Jigar Moradabadi, this work will be a Souvenir worthkeeping. How far my aims are fulfilled is for the readers to judge! In the end, I express my thankfulness to Dr. B. K. Kansal, Head of theDepartment of English, Hindu College, Moradabad, who has been kind to me to


give valuable suggestions for this composition. I am highly grateful to Mr. M. Hidayatullah, Vice- President of India, for his veryvaluable and illuminating introduction, which throws sufficient light on elegy inEnglish, Urdu and Latin literature, on its matter and metre. His judicial office hehas held as the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. I also express gratitude to Dr. Qamar Rais and Kunwar Mehender Singh Bediwhose high praise of the poem gave me great encouragement. Aziz Ahmad 1 I weep for Jigar Moradabadi- he is dead!O weep for the poet who has beautifully wedLove and Wine with verses of new time,And has achieved a fame so sublime!Wailing and weeping wets the air.How so sad is the drum of the ear.How so sad is the whole atmosphere!There is none who is not in despair. 2 For Jigar I weep. And you too weepWith me, for I plunge into the deepOf pain and sorrow, of grief and tears.O hapless Hour chosen from all years!I ask you to rouse your other compeers;Then together we will weep blood fro tears.Till future dares forget the pastHis name and fame shall ever last. 3 Weep, O Spirit of poetry! Weep,For he has gone for his final sleep.His body though motion less; his soul's brainListens to your weeping with woeful strain.At his death are sorrowful many moreThank those who loved his poetry and lore.


As a poet he was great; as a man was he sublime.He has lived life very fine; he is uneaten by time. 4 Alas! O Noble Mother, Mother greatWho bore a poet full many a trait!You could not see him gathering fame,Upraising your position and name.In your grave you might have felt charmWhen he would sing his rhymings warm.Now he has gone into the gulf of deathFrom where nobody returns to this earth. 5 Angels bewail him as he is mortified,And bless his three works to be immortalized.He could not bear when his Motherland's prideWas being crushed by the liberticide.Communal ghosts when raised their heads,Poison was filled in people's headsBy professional leaders' hired men;Then sorrowful songs flowed his pen. 6 Ideals splendid, Desires, Adorations;Joys blinded with Tears and Winged Persuasions;In melancholy mood Love and Ties;Sorrows with her family of Sighs;With hair unbound and tears their eyes flow,Came there in form of procession slow,The slow moving procession might seemLike pomp of ants in Summer near stream. 7 Rooms of his house began lamenting anew.Their weeping was silent, though heard by a few.Such mute voices rarely poets hear;Others remain deaf, they do not care.


They heard the sound of his amorous layWhen he would sing there in wondrous way.To him they responded with their echo.Oh! he is dead, leaving them in great woe 8 One day before his death, he slowly murmured,“A compartment of train for me be reservedAs life's journey has come to an endAnd I have to go to Other Land.”Some kin by him were standing silent;Their eyes were tearful, their heads were bent.Grief so much shattered his dear wife,She lost all the pleasures of life. 9 When his bier was to be taken out,Every one was weeping without doubt.Short-lived though is general grief,His wife's agony was not brief.Till Nature is on its normal course,Morning after night will nature force.But his wife will weep, day and night,As her dear soul has taken flight. 10 The eyes had since stopped their weeping;Now came turn of the heart's bleeding.The air had been filled with grief and sorrow;People hurriedly made many a rowFor the prayer with humble salutation,They prayed to God for his soul's consolation.Homage was paid to departed soul;But Death was unmindful of the dole. 11 With open heart, his grave was readyTo welcome warmly his dead body.


Angels waited his life-account to write;But were dazzled, seeing him in white light.Who knows not the reason for this light?His body though dark, his soul was white.He, in dewy sleep, took his last fillOf liquid rest, forgetful of ill. 12 Learning of his death, Wines held a meetingTo condole his death by hard breast-beating.The meeting was attended by all the WinesOf various colors, tastes and racial lines.A resolution was proposed in the meeting,And it was unanimously passed by standing.Wines were weeping, as he was the oneWho once loved them more than any one. 13 Some Wines spirited came to his grave;Their eyes were red, their hearts were brave.They were the ones he had preferred once,But later divorced them for nuisance.They came ashamed and fully disguised;They were by mourners not recognized.Once he had been under the charm of wine;Later, he broke all the bottles of wine. 14 His was not more than a twin willWhich he made known when he was ill.He told his wife in presence of no otherThank my mother, he anon called her thither.“You won't break your bangles in my dole;You won't give alms for balming my soul.”His wife a gentle lady, told him anonThat these two conditions would not be undone. 15


A Wish lay suppressed within his heart,Which remained unfulfilled in the last.He desired his grave to be dug nearThose of his father and mother dear.But once his mentor made a prophecy.Every thing of Jigar, his house would see.His prophecy strangely came to be true;The dust of his grave him to Gonda drew. 16 His father, who was in paradise,Heard the news of his son's demise.The news proved to be dagger to his soul,Though he was beyond the reach of the dole.By angels there was a Naat being recited,Composed by Jigar, the very Naat invitedGod who rapt in listening to the numbersAllotted Jigar one of heaven's chambers. 17 People were drowned in the ocean of grief;They could not have time for nay relief.Angels so warmly received his soul;While Earth took his body as a whole.Grave swore his body never to mar;Angels wished his soul to shine like star.God judged the situation, and then deliveredHis body to Grave, and soul to heaven transferred. 18 First couplet he made, when eight years old,Father scolded him, when he was told.He said through he was to be a poet,He should not poetise so early yet.His father, an adapt in Marsia singing,Taught him to sing verses in the beginning.The art of singing he did well maintain;Many a poet copied him in vain.


19 A lot to adversities came in his early teens;After father's death, he had no sustaining means.Kin were not ready to call him their own,Save his step-uncle who helped him alone.Relations condemned him; he was lorn;Some called him poet, kin laughed in scorn.No one knew then he would change the weather,And would have in his cap a fine feather. 20 Compelled by the conditions, he drank wineThat gave impetus to his metres fine.The more he drank, the more civilized;Oft in shame he felt demoralized.His hair was long, his beard neglected,And by passions he was much affected.Who can drink so much wine as the poet drank?He was super-drinker, to be very frank. 21 What a great poet mystic was heWho chose Jigar, and owned him dearly!I praise his might, wisdom and insight;He changed his life by dint of his light.The plant dear he watered and rearedGrew to his prime and full flowered.But alas the fruit was never given birth!His dear is dead; and dead is the hope of mirth! 22 A land was inherited so fertile;Some incidents sowed it, but not futile.It was well watered by pure wine,And was looked after eyes so fine.There grew a garden of many plants green;It was charming and worthy to be seen.Colourful flowers, beautiful and fair,


Shall always lend smell to poetic air. 23 When he became the climax and crownOf the poetic fame and renown,A man became of him deadly jealous,And mixed with his food something poisonous;When caught, he confessed his crime,And Jigar forgave him in no time.Even such men are very very sorry.What an exemplary character had he! 24 He was once staying with his friend,And had enough money to spend.He was, one night, lying on a cot;A person smelled that he had a lot.Presuming him asleep, he picked the pocketOf his hanging Sherwani or his jacket.He saw him doing this pernicious deed,But let him go, thinking him in dire need. 25 Forgetting had been his habit since boyhood.It is although bad, in his case was so good.It was his habit doing for others good;And having done it, he forgot it for good.He recommended daily several men,He had such wondrous power in his pen.Who could find such a gentle friend?He forgot money he would lend. 26 Playing cards was his hobby like rime;In playing them he did not mind time.He would play them till late at nightAnd oft forgot to take his diet.He felt bitter when he lost his game,


And got irritated, with excuses lame.Honesty reigned supreme over him,So chances of win sometimes were dim. 27 His wife disliked his playing cardsWith his intimate friends and bards.How so interesting when she was angry!And on it with him she did not agree!He cooled her anger by burning the cards,And swore he would never play them onwards.But lo! The cards burnt and crematedWere again born and animated. 28 He was cordial and hospitable most,And was to his guests a courteous host.His behavior was like verses laboured,Every syllable of which is measured.Respectful with his elders was he,And with his friend intimate and free.With his youngers, reserved and fatherly,He treated them kindly and politely. 29 He talked often in a roundabout way;Listeners had to guess point of his say.He did not know the art of oratory,He was although in the know of poetry.Poetry even he could not debate;He felt it though within, without combat.The way he advised was very attractive.Though he is dead, he is subtly instructive. 30 Humility was his noble trait,What though he was a poet so great.He was not narrow, nor arrogant at all,


So his was a gradual rise, not a fall.Oft he would say that he was nothing,But was an outcome of some blessing.“Respect even the elders' shoes.”He said, and did similar dos. 31 Sycophancy did not suit his nature;Self-respect was his special feature.He was witty, sensitive and fair;To talk like him very few men dare.Ills, our beauty, spoil and mar,We are drawn from the goal afar.He sincerely tried to killWith his songs the germs of ills. 32 No poet ever earned as so much as did he,For the highest was his royalty and fee.He gave much money out of his incomeTo the needy he gladly did welcome.When at homes currency notes he hidIn pillow, book or tin with a lid.They were meant to be given to the needy,And kept hidden from the view of his lady. 33 Ghazal was originally meant conversationLover had with his lady in imagination.But later its definition was amended;Now the scope of it is wide and extended.It has a number of beautiful lines;It has themes in lovely symbols and signs.Jigar disliked it composed by a lady;He said strangely, “Ghazal and a lady! ” 34


“The life and soul of Mushaira has flown; ”The poets who love Jigar say and moan.He was poet of so great a fame,People swarmed him on hearing his name.They came to listen to, from far and wide,His honey-sweet rhymes; alas he has died!The way he sang was singularly his own;Nature had given him such bewitching tone. 35 He love much his country dear,He did not leave it in greed or fear;Though many a chance in his favourIn Urdu-loving Pak., India's neighbour.He loved his country's gardens and bowers;Thorns he bore, while leaving their flowers.He was favourite of Indo-Pakistan;He was moreover commended in Iran. 36 When muse goaded him, he made outlinesOf plants, flowers and the like designs.From those shot out a natural coupletWhich was the outcome of passions' outlet.He chose them after making his correction,And made of them a beautiful creation.Poems of his are wines of his liver,We are drunk with the rhymes of Jigar. 37 His love was very pure and without lust,Lady's-love respect for his was a must.He gave 'love' many a colourful name;According to him loving was no game.He drank love from the cup of lady-love,Then got communications from above.Who could think then and who could judgeSuch a hard drinker would do Haj?


38 He dipped in the oceans of passions,And bathed with water of emotions.He was so rapt in adoring the love,Often he scaled the firmament above.He was lost in his imagination,He had a bliss of reciprocation.He soared up high in versificationTo have a bliss of amalgamation. 39 All the verses Jigar has wroughtBear the stamp of what he thought.The poetry he composed is a fine art;Naturally it goes to the people's heart.He had a very keen sense of beautyWhose expression he considered his duty.He made his critics bend so lowWith poetic spells he would throw. 40 He was created by nature as a bard,His ideas in verses are not so hard.He did not put art for only art's sake;He was the ‘Ghazal King’ of special make,His poetry is made out of his life;It belongs to life and exists for life.He has often blended love and beautyAs if they were no separate entity. 41 He was by nature fitfully emotional;Poems of his are novel, though conventional.We hear the cries from within his heart;Moods he garnered into words of art.Concerned he was mainly with his feelings;Oft they are filled with spiritual meanings.He liked sorrow much more than delight


Which he viewed unstable as the night. 42 Such poetic ego he was given by Nature,Imitation of others did not suit his nature.As from bees, the bee-queen takes honey,So he took much from sublime company.Governed he was not by views of others;If he liked, he dipped them in his colours.If we took into his poetic glory,We find beneath a current of Manglori. 43 On reading his poems, we find it evident,He was influenced by many an incident.Monetary lures could not him enticeTo cease fire against political vice.Fact and truth in them heartily we feel,Which to young poets very much appeal.This trend in Hasrat was just a start,But it was Jigar's beating of heart. 44 Till then, most poets had poetized the feelingsOf lovers, their humble bowings and kneelings.Nut now Jigar translated the feelingsBorn in the hearts of the lovers' darlings.'Loves' of common poets we do not love;But the 'love' of Jigar who would not love?Beauty is the base in the lays of Asghar;But love beautifies the verses of Jigar. 45 We see the sun and shadow of realismBlending with the dreams of romanticismIn a balanced and fine symmetryIn Jigar's beautiful poetry.He was a love-poet over and above,


But he did not suffer from the ill of love.The heart of his 'Love' was kind and cruel;The role she played was double and dual. 46 He did not view life in a narrow way;He wove his view-points in many a lay.He was not afraid of his life's end;Death he took for the call of his Friend.For him, it was a meaningless thing;He was life, so he found death nothing.He has now reached a place of loveWhere he lives life our world's above. 47 Once I was in hot water of life;Many a hurdle came in my strife.Risen above the waves saw I a hand;All of a sudden, it drew me to land.It was the hand of Jigar- a rare manWho is born once in centuries span.The soul of that great man, like a star,Still guides my life when the hurdles bar. 48 The void so created cannot be filled,The Hawk of death has the 'Ghazal Bird' killed.But the time of death is fixed by HimWho is our Lord without doubt and whim.The only tribute to him I payIs to compose this sorrowful lay.His features shall in these lines be seen;If they live, he shall in them be green. SUPPLEMENTARY NOTES Stanza 1 I mourn the death of the Reverend Poet, Jigar Moradabadi. Let all of us


weep for him who has very beautifully produced couplets after couplets on Loveand wine. In fact, love is the spirit of his poetry. Wine gave him frankness to bring outfeelings of his heart, but it could not make him naked in expression. He had awineful personality from where his poems came out as intoxicants. Stanza 2 I weep for Jigar Moradabadi. I invoke the sad Hour of his death which hasbeen selected from all the years for this unfortunate event to weep with me. Ialso ask unlucky Hour to wake up his other companions (i.e. the hours that havepassed) . Then we all collectively will weep blood for the poet. So long as thefuture continues to remember the past, his name and fame as a poet shall bepassed on from age to age. Stanza 3 Spirit of poetry has been invoked in this stanza to weep over the death ofthe poet whose soul listens to its painfully musical weeping. He was a man of distinctive qualities. He had a laudable character. He was likedby men of every religion. His nature was so good that sometimes he was liked bythose who had no taste for poetry. Time, therefore, cannot spoil his fame. Stanza 4 Jigar's dead mother is worthy of praise as she gave birth to a poet who hadmany qualities. But it is regrettable that she had died before he became famous.I imagine that the soul of his mother might have felt comfort when he achievedfame. Now he has departed from this world to a place from where nobodyreturns. Stanza 5 Even the angels are sorry about his death. They are unable to save him. Sothey bless to immortalize his three books; namely, 'Daghey Jigar, ' ' ShaulaeyToor' and 'Aatishe Gul'. In the last of his books he has written some poems beingmoved by communal riots of those days.Such communal riots are planned by the politicians in India from time to timeand their mercenaries disturb the peace.


Stanza 6 There came in the form of procession mourners: the poet's Splendid Ideals,Desires, Adorations, Joys which were blinded with tears and Persuasions (whosewings are conspicuous feature) , his Love and Ties in melancholy mood, andSorrows accompanied by Sighs. They were all with undressed hair, and tearswere flowing from their eyes. The Procession was moving slowly and slowly. Thewhole procession looked like a train of ants seen near a stream in the summerseason. Stanza 7 Jigar sometimes composed lines of his poems after mid-night. Only his wifewas present in the room where he slept. I slept in the other room. But his singingwas so enchanting that it awakened me and made me lost. I sometimes felt thatthe rooms were also spell-bound. The rooms responded to him with their echowhen he sang his loving poems in his house. It is now really painful that he hasleft the world, and has also left them in great woe. Stanza 8 The words within inverted comas “A compartment of train for me bereserved as life's journey has come to an end, and I have to go to Other Land”are the actual words spoken by Jigar in depression one day before his death.A few relatives of Jigar were present in his house in a very sorrowful conditionwhen he was nearing death. His wife was very much aggrieved. She was bereftof pleasures of life. Stanza 9 In this stanza actual scene of the house is depicted when his bier was beingtaken out for the funeral prayer. Every one who was present at that time wasweeping. The people who come to mourn the death of a man generally leave the houseafter some time. Similarly, the people who came to mourn the death of Jigarwere also intending to leave house after some time. Day and night, as usual, will go on happening by turns; but for his dear wife,both day and night will be gloomy, as her joy has taken flight in the death of herhusband.


Stanza 10 Actual scene of the funeral prayer (Namaze-Janaza) before the burial isdepicted in this stanza. The prayer was held near his house. The weeping is stopped when the people offer funeral prayer. But the heart issad. The whole atmosphere was surcharged with grief. People prayed for theconsolation of his soul. But death was not the least affected by the grief. Stanza 11 When Jigar was buried, his grave felt joyous to receive his body. TheMuslims believe that after the burial, angels come to ask the dead a fewquestions. Angels asked Jigar some questions in his grave, but they were amazedto see in the grave a white dazzling light instead of darkness. The reason for thislight was that Jigar was saintly at heart though once he was wine personified.Jigar was actually dark-coloured, but his soul was supposed to be white (astriking contrast) . He enjoyed the most tranquil rest in his grave, unmindful ofthe worries of life. Stanza 12 Wines in this stanza have been figuratively portrayed to hold condolencemeeting on his death by hard breast-beating. All sorts of Wines (Wines ofdifferent colors, of different tastes and of different races) attended themeeting. A resolution to mourn the death of Jigar was proposed in the meeting,which was agreed upon and then passed by standing, without a single vote ofdissent. The reason why Wines mourned his death was that Jigar once lovedthem more than any other man. He was once a record-breaker in drinking wine. Stanza 13 Some Wines were so much spirited that they came to his grave to pay himhomage. Their eyes were red and their hearts were brave. (It is to be noted thatafter drinking spirited wine the eyes become red and heart becomes brave) .These were the Wines Jigar once preferred to other Wines. But when he realizedlater that they were the cause of nuisance, he divorced them. They came fullydisguised and were ashamed because they were divorced by the poet. Themourners who were present at his grave could not recognize them. In the last two lines, the figure changes into factuality because Jigar gave updrinking in his later age.


Stanza 14 When Jigar was on the death-bed, one day he called my mother, and toldhis wife who was sitting beside him that, after his death, she should neitherbreak her bangles nor give anything in charity for the peace of his soul. When hewas asked the reason be his wife for forbidding her from giving alms for theconsolation of his soul, he said, “I have done much for myself. You need not todo any thing for me.” His wife who was a righteous and gentle lady promised himthat she would fulfill his will. Stanza 15 In fact, Jigar wanted to be buried at Moradabad, his birth-place; but AsgharGondwi, his mentor, once said that every thing of him (Jigar) would be done athis (Asghar's) house at Gonda. His prophecy finally came to be true. Jigar diedon September 9,1960 at Gonda and was buried there. Stanza 16 I imagine that his father was in paradise. Hearing the news of his son's saddemise, he felt a shock of grief. The paradise is the place where ordinarily thenews of this world does not reach. But the angels specially delivered the news ofJigar's death to his father. In paradise some angels were reciting the NAAT (a poem in praise of theProphet, Mohammed which Jigar composed after the performance of 'Haj' in theyear 1953) in a very sweet voice. God who loves extremely his dear prophetwas attracted by the singing of the NAAT and become so much rapturous that heallotted Jigar one of heaven's chambers. Stanza 17 People were over head and ears in grief. They could not find any relief so far. Earth claimed that the dead body of Jigar should be given to it. Grave (a sub-ordinate of Earth) swore that it would not spoil his body. Hearing thearguments of Earth, angels, the inhabitants of the sky declared that his soulwould be put in the sky to shine like a star. So, it should be given to them. God judged the case and then ordered that the body of Jigar be given to earthand Sky has a rightful claim over his soul. By this order, angels very warmly


received his soul. Stanza 18 It is true that Jigar in his childhood was trained by his father in singing andthroat- controlling. Marsias are Elegiac verses in Urdu composed on the battle ofKarbala in which Hazrat Imam Husain and others were beheaded mercilessly. Hespoke out first couplet at the age of eight. When his father heard his couplet, hescolded him saying that he should not make couplets too early. Many poets tried to copy his style of singing but in vain. Stanza 19 When Jigar was in his early age, his father died. Thereafter, he wassurrounded by many difficulties. He was condemned, disowned and deemedinferior by his paternal relatives. Only Maulvi Ali Asghar, his step-uncle who wasa gentle and righteous man, supported him. His relatives in the initial stage of hiscareer did not think that he would become so great. Some of the relatives evenmocked when the people said that Jigar had become a poet. Stanza 20 He was forced by the circumstances to drink wine, but wine could not spoilthe sublimity of his character. His feelings and senses were all the moreawakened when he was drunk. In that condition he did not utter foul words. Herealized that drinking of wine was bad. His hair was long and he often neglectedthe dressing of his beard. He was an abnormal drinker of wine. Stanza 21 A famous mystic poet of those days, Asghar Gondwi, owned Jigar andguessed at first sight that he was to become great. Jigar was taken by his admirers, was offered drinks, and his Ghazals regaledthem; but he was given nothing. Then Asghar urged him not to attend theMushaira without his consultation. Now, when people wanted to take Jigar,Asghar asked them to give him atleast Rs.50, which was initially fixed as his feefor a Mushaira. His fee began swelling with his growing fame, and it went beyondRs.1000 (a good sun in those days) excluding travelling expenses. Asghar Gondwi married off his sister-in-law to Jigar on her condition that Jigar


would have to give up drinking. On breaking his promise not to drink, themarriage got terminated resulting in divorce. After about 15 years he remarriedthe same lady. Then he gave up drinking for ever, and led a good conjugal life,but, unfortunately, remained childless. Asghar Gondwi is worthy of praise as he helped Jigar a lot and tried to uplift him. Stanza 22 Jigar inherited poetic talents from his father, Maulvi Ali Nazar, and his grandfather, Maulvi Amjad Ali, as they were also poets. He also took blessings of somespiritual men. A few incidents of his life and wine gave a push to his muse withthe result that many themes came out of his heart like green plants which makea plot of land beautiful, attractive and worthy to be enjoyed. The poems of Jigarare likened to the colourful, fresh and fair flowers of the garden. They shall forever continue to please men of poetic tastes. Stanza 23 The incident referred to in this stanza is true. Various books written on Jigarafter his death corroborate the fact that when Jigar was staying at Bhopal, a manwho was jealous of his because of his extra-ordinary fame, tried to give himsome poison by mixing it with his food. But it was discovered, and the man wascaught & questioned. He later on confessed that he had actually committed theheinous crime. At this, Jigar at once forgave him. It shows the sublimity of hischaracter. Even such men as were jealous of Jigar are very sorry. Stanza 24 Jigar was staying at his friend's in Bombay. He had two thousand rupees inhis pocket which were given to him as fee of a Mushaira. He was at night lying ona cot. A person, presuming him asleep, picked the pocket of his Sherwani whichwas hanging on a peg. He was not sleeping at that time and was noticing all theactions of the man. But he said nothing and let the thief go. In the morning, heasked for some rupees from a friend of his, but did not disclose the name of theperson who picked his pocket. This incident is mentioned in various books. Stanza 25 Forgetting had been Jigar's habit since boyhood. He used to do good to


others and after doing good, he forgot it fro ever. He wrote severalrecommendatory letters daily for the men who approached him and wanted toget employment somewhere. He often gave the needy some money as loan, butdid not think it proper to take money back. Stanza 26 He was very fond of playing cards. He played at a stretch for hours together,and was so much engrossed in the game that he even forgot to take food. He gotirritated when he lost the game, and put forth various lame excuses. Honestywas in his nature, so he wanted to play fair game and sometimes lost it owing tohis honesty. Stanza 27 When at home, Jigar was very often reprimanded by his wife, a strict andreligious lady, for playing cards. Often an interesting quarrel arose in the housebetween them on this score, and he was compelled to please his wife bypromising that he would never play them; but when the anger of his dear wifecooled down, he forgot all his abjurations and promises, and started playingcards again. Sometimes, he burnt the cards. But getting opportunity, hemanaged to buy them again. The idea in the figure used in the last two lines of this stanza has been borrowedfrom the belief of the Hindus that the dead after cremation is born again andagain until he attains salvation. Stanza 28 He always welcomed his guests warmly. People came from far and near, andstayed in his house. He did not let even the unwanted guests feel that he did notlike them. He treated the guests properly according to their position andgradation. Stanza 29 Jigar's way of talking or advising was very peculiar. He did not come to thepoint directly, but started beating about the bush. He felt and enjoyed poetry,but lacked ability to discuss it. Though he is no more in the world, his verses area source of instruction to us. Stanza 30


Though he was very great, he did not consider himself so. He was neithernarrow nor arrogant at all. Often he used to say that he had no qualities of hisown but became great because of the blessings of spiritual men. He achievedgreatness step by step, and therefore it was permanent. For the interest of the readers I write here an incident that proves his humility. Once it so happened that a number of men were sitting with him on the carpet inhis sitting room. They put their shoes outside the room. After some time,drizzling began. I was standing outside the room, but it did not come to my mindthat I should remove their shoes to the shade. Jigar at once stood up and beganto pick up the shoes. Seeing him doing so, some men from within the roomrushed, and did not let him do so. Then turning to me, he said, “God will give you respect,If you respect the elders' shoes.” Stanza 31 Jigar hated flattery. In this connection an incident of his life is given below: - Once he was staying at Hyderabad. He was at a place busy in playing cards. Hewas favourite of the Nawab of Hyderabad. A man came from the Nawab andrequested him to compose some poem in praise of the Nawab to be recited onthe occasion of his birth-day ceremony. Jigar at once retorted that he was apoet, not a clown. The Nawab, a wise man, was not displeased to know the reply.He valued him all more. It was only the scheme of those who were jealous ofhim, but it fell through. He was witty, sensitive and very fair in his dealings. He had such frankness as israrely found in men. He did not like ills at all, and tried to annihilate them by means of his songs. Stanza 32 He earned so much wealth that neither the poets prior to him nor hiscontemporaries could earn; but he was very generous and spent his money inhelping the poor. When he was at home, he kept some money out of theknowledge of his wife. He often put some rupees under the pillow, sometimes ina tin with a lid, or in some book. This money ordinarily was meant to be given to


the men who visited him to seek his help. It was very interesting to se Jigarsearching for the money urgently and confusedly. He was not sure about theplaces where he had concealed the currency notes. Sometimes turned the bedupside down, sometimes he opened the boxes, and then shut them confusedlypronouncing Lahol (cursing the Shaitan) , sometimes he turned the pages of thebooks. This was all done stealthily lest wife should see his perplexity. Shesometimes smelt the rat and enjoyed the sight. Stanza 33 The literal meaning of Ghazal is to converse with the lady-love or to expresssomething about her. In other words, it can be said that generally in it areexpressed such emotions and experiences of life as are concerned with beautyand love. As these emotions are universal, so the presentation of them in Ghazalhelped it much in becoming favourite of the people. But if Ghazal had stayedwithin the narrow bounds of the above definition, it would not have reached thepresent place. It was, therefore, necessary for it to take up different conditionsand feelings. So, even after centering on beauty and love as their favouritethemes, the poets took into its domain social, cultural, political, historical,religious, mystical, philosophical and psychological aspects of the life of man. Atevery stage, it went on changing according to the call of time. That is why it stillsurvives, and has a life of its own. The structure of Ghazal proved helpful to the poet in adopting different ideas. Ineach of the couplets which are between the first and the last ones, the poetpresents a complete thought. Therefore every couplet is itself a unit. In this way,the poet presents different thoughts in different couplets. Thus, it becomes thebeautiful product of the poet's imagination. As Ghazal is very close to human feelings softness and delicacy are sure toappear in the language. When all these aspects of Ghazal are combined withmusic of its words, it all the more influences the people. The reason why it isliked so much is that it is expressed in lovely symbols and signs carrying deepand hidden meanings. After looking into the development of Ghazal, we find that at different stages oflife it served as translator of the time. Thus its shape is polished and scopeextended. I write here an interesting incident that caused me to compose this stanza. Onceit so happened that Saghar Nizami, an Urdu poet, came along with his wife tomeet Jigar who was then staying in the house of Maulvi Mohammed Ahmad in


Mohalla Lal Bagh, Moradabad. Saghar Nizami's wife recited before Jigar a Ghazalcomposed by her. Jigar heared it and praised it a little; but when he was comingout, he smiled and said in a strange way, “Aurat aur Ghazal” (Ghazal and alady!) . Stanza 34 He was really the life and spirit of Mushairas. When he was alive, he was theonly poet who won the hearts of his listeners with the magic of his poem sung bya painfully sweet throat he was gifted with. Ordinarily in the Mushairas he wasgiven the chance of reciting his poems after all the other poets had sung theirpoems. During the singing of other poets the audience remained unserious, butwhen he started singing, there was perfect silence. Nobody dared disturb thedecorum of the Mushairas. The audiences were rapt and lost while he sang. Notonly this, but the people also remained eager to have a glimpse of him. Stanza 35 Jigar was truly patriotic. His love for his Motherland is fully exhibited in hispoems. In Pakistan also he was very famous. He attended the Mushairas oninvitation from Pakistan. The Government of Pakistan once desired him toimmigrate there, and promised to give him a beautiful building with a motor carif he settled their permanently; but he flatly refused to accept the offer. He also wrote many poems in Persian due to which he earned fame in Iran.Some poems of his were translated in his lifetime, and were sent toenglish0speaking countries. This translation, I remember, was made by Mr.Mohammed Ahmad who was a judge posted at Gorakhpur at a certain time. Stanza 36 The method of his composing poems was very peculiar. Although some ofhis couplets were extempore; generally it was his way to compose his poemswhen he was in his proper mood. He began humming in loneliness and madeoutlines of plants with leaves, flowers and buds. All of a sudden, from the buds orflowers he drew a line either slanting or straight and then wrote a couplet. In thisway, when there were some couplets, he made of them a beautiful poem. After afew corrections, the poem was complete. He has made his poems with the extract of his liver (the equivalent word for liverin Urdu is Jigar which is also the pen-name of the poet) , and therefore theymake the listeners drunk.


Stanza 37 Jigar was not sensual. He was in fact a sensuous poet. His love was pure. He hada respect for his beloved in his heart. He started his loving his lady and when hereached the climax of his love of God. He was such a drinker as remainedexcessively intoxicated; but his will-power was so strong that when he madeabjuration, he gave up drinking for ever. The giving-up of wine had a bad effecton his health, and the result was that he suffered from various diseases. Aftergiving up drinking, he became spiritual and performed 'Haj'. Stanza 38 Jigar was very sensitive and emotional. He had delicate feelings whichsometimes became too intense. His wonderful flight of fancy, his sincerity, hispassionate intensity, his piety of soul and purity of inspiration gave sometimes aspiritual colour to his poems. He did not pass through the stages of beauty and love carelessly, but he full wellexperienced the hardships of the journey. He felt it so much that he absorbedtheir spirit in himself. Often he is lost in them too. He composed his poems when his feelings were intense and when his thoughtsinflamed his over quick imagination. In the beginning he enjoyed various shapes of beauty but when he reached thelast rung of his love, he found that every breath of his was filled with the air ofbeauty. It is a fact that beauty is unlimited but to contract and absorb it in himself iscalled love. Jigar has tasted the relish of this love. Stanza 39 Jigar's views are very clear in his poetry. His poetry is the image of his life.He was not in the habit of saying one thing and doing another. As his coupletscame direct from his heart, they touched the hearts of the listeners. There is aflood of passions in his poetry, but it is a craftily dammed by his art. As he wasthe lover of beauty, his poetry is also a product of beauty. As is the tradition thatin the beginning the critics are generally antagonistic to the artists, they criticizedhim also; but they fell into astonishment when he was appreciated by all andsundry.


Stanza 40 Jigar was a great poet. His poetry is a thing to be enjoyed. It is not an artwithout substance. Educated as well as uneducated persons can enjoy his poetry,according to their understanding. This was the reason why he gotcommendations of all and became the favourite of the masses. Even in hislifetime the title of 'Ghazal King 'was bestowed upon him. He had seen the upsand downs of life. So, his poetry is an outcome of his own experience. In the opinion of jigar beauty and love are one and the same thing. Apparentlythe words, beauty and love seem very ordinary, but these are the only words inwhich the secret of both the words is hidden. In the poetry of Jigar we findseveral ideas about these terms. Sometimes he declares that beauty is the causeand love its effect and sometimes he calls love, the cause; and beauty, theeffect. At some stages he passes through a place where he finds beauty and lovemixed up. In other words, when love reaches its climax, it becomes beauty andwhen beauty is lost in seeing itself, it becomes love. In such a state of Love,Mansoor, a great Saint yore had uttered “Anal Haque” (I am God) . Stanza 41 He did not like unrhymed verses. His poetry is modeled on the technique ofthe poets of old. His couplets are proportionate and rhythmical. This conventionalform of poetry suited him best because he was extremely musical when he sanghis poems. Many of his poems can be interpreted in spiritual sense. Thequotation “Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thoughts” comestrue when we go through his poetry. He was over packed with feelings.Somebody has rightly said about him, “had he not been a poet, he would havebeen mad.” Stanza 42 Jigar maintained self-respect in his life. He did not copy the ideas of thepast or present poets. He was not a blind follower of any poet. He used to sit inthe company of such great personages as Iqbal Suhel, Mirza Ahsan Beg, SulemanNadvi and Rashid Ahmad Siddiqi but he did not dye himself in the color of anyone of them. He put the influences he got from such august men into the glass ofhis own poetic wine. He had a God gifted quality to extract the essence from theviews of others and drew the conclusion thereof according to his own taste. Thismade him all the more polished in beauty and art. If we read his poems, we findin them the influence of the blessings of his Pir (Spiritual Guide) , the late


Maulana Abdul Ghani Manglori. Stanza 43 Perhaps we can mention no other Modern Ghazal poet who was so muchmoved by adverse circumstances and great events as Jigar; but he remainedoptimistic and found hope in despair. Whatever he viewed and experienced, hepoetized unhesitatingly. The Government of that time often tried to shut hismouth by monetary temptations but in vain. The young generation very muchliked this tendency, which had been initiated by Hasrat (an Urdu poet) : but inJigar we find it all the more prominent. Hasrat took it lightly, but in Jigar it is thebeating of his heart. According to Prof. Rashid Ahmad Siddiqi, this is the placewhere character makes poetry high or low. Here we find actual differencebetween poetry and propaganda. Stanza 44 Generally, it had been the tradition from yore that the poets translated thefeelings of the lovers and showed them bowing before their lady-loves to invitetheir attention and favours; but Jigar opened a new chapter by translating thefeelings of the lady-loves. He maintained equal respect of the lovers and thelady-loves. The character of the lady-love presented by the Urdu poets in generalis not good. We do not like it, but the character of the lady-love presented byJigar is so fine that we cannot help appreciate it. Urdu poetry is really grateful tohim for this novelty. Jigar is the poet of love. But he is opposed to purchase at low cost his beloved asmost second rate poets do. He knows very well the delicate relation of beautyand love and wants to maintain it all costs. Jigar's attachment with Asghar was personal, but in poetry he was quitedifferent. In Asghar's verses, we find excess of thoughts, but lack of emotions. InJigar's verses, we find excess of emotions, but lack of thoughts. The poetry ofAsghar is based on beauty, while of Jigar is based on love. Love adorns hispoetry. Stanza 45 Jigar is a romantic poet. Romantic poets present realism in dreams. In him wefind the sun and shadow of realism. He has sung songs of beauty and lovethrough out his whole life. To him, beauty is alive and real. He recognizes beautyin various forms. He has not painted his beloved so cruel as the Urdu poets of old


have done. His beloved has a soft corner in her heart where the feelings grow.His beloved is cruel and kind both. She is naughty as well as shy. She is the sunas well as the moon. That is why in the poetry of Jigar love is not an endlesstragic story. In his poetry, there is a desire to love and to be loved. Stanza 46 Whatever Jigar has said, has said after coming into contact with life. In his view,the field of life is not limited. He feels life from this world to Other World. Hesays, “I am life, death cannot touch me.” To him death is a meaningless thing.To move from one place to another is not death. His love is not perishable.Wherever he sees, he finds life and life. Though he has parted forever with theglass and bottle of wine, we feel his presence in the poetic world. He still lives inhis verses. We find life in his poetry. He is not afraid of death. If death comes asa message of Friend, it cannot be called death. In reality, life and death are thetwo aspects of a phenomenon. Stanza 47 This stanza throws light on my personal relationships with Jigar. My father diedwhen I was a child. I had to face many difficulties. Jigar, as a guardian, gave meall the help needed. He used to infuse courage into me in desperation. He alwayswished me success. Though he is dead, I still receive spiritual guidance from himat the time of difficulties. Stanza 48 I think the gap caused by the death of Jigar is not to be bridged. As for myself,I feel very much indebted to him. I have only tried to compose this Elegy toexpress my gratification. It is a fact that on account of his art he is to beremembered; but I have tried immortalize his extra-ordinary features by writingthis Elegy. aziz ahmad


Fame I sing a song in your honour O Fame!It may be accepted though it be lame.Very many are the charms of your name;The great and small alike want you to tame. You are in some places well-known as Fame;While in others, you are nicknamed Defame.This is only a difference of name,Howsoever you are the one and the same. Under your effect a nameless *teacherBecame more famous than his old tutor.He was acclaimed the foremost teacher;Credit of all this goes to your nature. A fav’rite of yours, a wool knitter’s **son,For testing his fortune, went to London.He began his career as a play-wright;Because of your grace he came in lime light. A new world was discovered by that one***Who braved many dangers of the ocean.Despair and anguish vanished from his soul,When you assisted him to reach his goal. A man**** of great wisdom became that oneWho travelled very far and wide with none.Like the moon you uplifted him to shine;He, then, gave the world morals very fine. You are the artist’s most glorious prize,And hence, he is very skilful and wiseIn taking gems with the help of his brainOut of the art’s deep and bottomless main. Who does not know it is certainly true,Nobody is exempted from your view?It is so wonderful rather than strange,The saints and prophets are out of your range.


*Aristotle**Shakespeare*** Columbus****Sheikh Saadi aziz ahmad


Find Out Knowledge Knowledge is deep as a deep sea;It has many springs which are free. Mind plays in the field of knowledge;Man is naught, untaught in college. The field of knowledge is too vast;The time is short and running fast. The tree of knowledge is too high;It grows up and touches the sky. It is foolish to waste your time;Thus your life cannot be sublime. In case your time you waste and miss,You’ll later find yourselves amiss. Find out knowledge, leaving your rest;This is the way they call it best. Aziz Ahmad aziz ahmad


Flattery How so hypocrite this age is!Changed is the life’s image, *Aziz.How so difficult is these daysTo make headway by moral ways!Flattery makes you efficient;Otherwise you are deficient.Ability is to suffer;Sweet cakes does eat now a duffer.Dutifulness is of no count;Flatterers are seen to surmount.A silent diligence suffers;Flattery like most officers. aziz ahmad


Flight Of Fancy When my Fancy like a lark high up flew,India soon after my attention drew.I saw her with my optimistic eye;I tell you what I observed from on high.I saw her beautiful and very fine,A lovesome goddess distributing wine.The goddess was piping a lovely song;Her lovers were rapt in dainty ding-dong.She looked very old and new both combined,Stepping forward, although looking behind.She walked very slow, but she was steady;To kiss her feet every goal was ready.She had a halo of that light in whichHope found those who had fallen into ditch.She gave the jerks, but they were not so oft;They awakened those who were in sleep lost.Her dress was white and green separated;White was surging, though green dominated.She drew favours from the Highest above;She was what you call a symbol of love.Some students unbridled hindered her wayWith the aim of disturbing her array.The goddess had spiritual power;She mended them by shocks in her bower.A giant of corruption raised his head,And from up to down it was slowly led.Finally, it came to strike the goddess,But it was strangely reduced to ashes.A famous evil nicknamed PovertyWanted to suck the blood of liberty.It increased like bugs in the Summer time,And Morality seemed quite sucked by crime.These were the things the goddess herself learnt,But she was silently bore their brunt.She had a lot of gold in her pockets,And had many jewels in her lockets.Them she divided among the people,And so they become prosperous ample.I do not know how far this view is true;


The time itself in future will tell you. aziz ahmad


Friend How hard it is now to find a friend,Gentle in nature, honest of hand,Who in your sorrow may weep with you,Who, when you need laughter, may laugh too,Who before your foes may not feel fright,Who in your cause may use all his might,Who, if has money, and you need it,May not give you the slip to assist!But on the other hand there are men;Make them friend and your loss is certain.How hard it is now to find a friend!I fear that this chapter may not end. By,Aziz Ahmad 'Aziz' aziz ahmad


I Adore Lord The Supreme Some adore the forms of stones;Some adore the dead Saints’ bones;Some adore the things they make;They are misled so mistake. They think they gain from these things;They forget the King of kings.How so unthoughtful they are!They are from the goal too far. In such things some don’t believe;In the lurch, they know, they leave.I adore Lord the supreme:I am wakeful, not in dream. aziz ahmad


I Say I Have Lost You Have Won What sorrow, agony and grief!From them I ever get relief.Who will like the tale of my grief?It is too long, it is not brief. I don’t want to part with my woe;I keep in my heart this arrow.What use is then for you to know?I think it was allotted so. My heart says I should drink poison,But I live just like any one.Do not remind me what is done;I say I have lost, you have won. WHAT A CHANGE The air is polluted my dear!Doubtful is the whole atmosphere. Who are at fault? Do you not see?The fanatics of the country. Safe are not even pubs these days;How so changed are the bibbers’ ways! The people are now the sidersOf the *Sheikhs as well as Leaders. What will then be my position?Them I disdain, avoid and shun. Why do you seek my home address?I wander in the wilderness. *The pseudo-learned Muslim religious fanatics who sticks to the letter and ignorethe spirit. I have borrowed this word from Urdu Poetry.


aziz ahmad


I Went On Pondering I saw a lady on a road crossing;Her limbs had for long been slowly melting.She was a leper; her sores were leaking;She was though living, death she was seeking.Torn off was her saree she was wearing;In her very bad plight she was begging.By chance, on that crossing I was passing;I felt pity seeing her suffering.To a Hindu shop I went for buyingVegetable food pure for her feeding.When I offered her that food nourishing,I found myself grieved by her questioning.“Are you a Muslim or Hindu being? ”Was her quest at which I was wondering.When I replied, “A Muslim God-fearing.”She did not take that I was offering.Why to accept it was she unwilling?In pensive mood I went on pondering. aziz ahmad


Immortality Death eats up our life very fair;The high or low he does not spare.Time and again I warning here,He will catch me; so I feel fear.So far I have had children four;I don’t wish to have any more.My children may become worthy;But is there nay certainty?They may heighten their parents’ name;They may become the cause of shame.Nothing is in the hands of man;Reverse can become what we plan.But my works having rarityCan give me immortality. aziz ahmad


In A Good Mood Two lovely pairs,The wayfarers,On a dari,Under a tree,Were taking foodIn a good mood. A dog untamed,Crippled and maimed,A FaithfulnessIn great distress,Hunger-beaten,And age-broken,Slowly came there,Sat down to stare,And waged his tailTo beg in ail. They paid no heed,Him they should feed.A bit or twoOf bread could do.They looked though prim,Were very grim. A monkey saw,Who knew no law,Them taking foodIn a good mood On them he pounced;In fear they bounced.He took their foodIn a good mood. aziz ahmad


In Memory Of My Mother O my Mother, you are no more!We are alas bereaved of you.Although my Muse is very sore,I want to pay homage to you. Twenty eighth of the month of May,And the year nineteen eighty two,You felt indisposed on Friday,But alas we were not near you. On that day in the afternoon,Perhaps it was the time of two,You remembered * Honey and * Moon;They were far, nothing we could do. You later felt pain in your chest,But offered as usual Namaaz.Soon after you lay to take rest;No one knew what the matter was. Your heart sank causing heart failureThat day in the evening at four.Doctors came but they could not cure;Thus you left us for evermore. You loved the # Sultan # Medini,And God you did always adore;You repented sorrowfullyFor the errors you did before. In you lived many a virtueWhich was generally admired;Firm faith in God was found in You;So He gave you what you desired. Sometimes I noticed you doingActs apparently seemed quite wrong.But they all were full of meaning;Right came out of the seeming wrong.


What affine character you had!Your life was based on religion.In your absence we become sad;You flew from us like a pigeon. In hardest days, you led us right,When father early breathed his last.With your industry and foresight,You made us stand on our feet fast. We can never repay your debtWhich grows greater from day to day.By your blessings all things we get;We live here; while you went your way. May your soul enjoy perfect bliss!May room in heaven be your due!It is my prayer, as I wis,You’ll forgive me if I wronged you. ** Her Grand sons named Adib Ahmad and Khaliq Ahmad alias Moon and Honeyrespectively.## A Title of Mohammad Mustafa (Peace be upon him) aziz ahmad


In Praise Of God You are the God of all beings;You are the Sov’reign of all kings;You said ‘Be’ and grew all beings;You will be the End of all things. You are the Ocean of hoodness;You are all and all in greatness;You are the Luster of brightness;You are Love, Truth and Uprightness. You are the Scope of the scopeless;You are the Hope of the hopeless;You are the Source of the sourceless;You are the Force of the forceless. You are the Lihgt ever-shining;You are the Might ever-lasting;You are the Sight ever-seeing;You are the Guide ever-guiding. I disdain the world’s empty lore;You and only You I adore.I slip to sin, but then feel sore;I beg You not to close Your Door. aziz ahmad


Jealousy ‘T is the experience of my life,Some men are jealous of those who rise.Greatness is the result of the strife,But the jealous never it realize. Jealousy is an evil passion;It leads to envy and then to murder.The bible condemns cain’s ill action,As he took the life of his brother. Keats too became the prey of ill-will;The reviewers did not let him live.But the fame of his they could not kill;It will remain for ever alive. The jealous sometimes play dual game;Friendly they pose, but do back-bitings.They are like dogs, nay, dogs without shame;They pay no heed to moral bindings. aziz ahmad


Knocked And Ran He, on a road, was standingIgnorant of the road-laws.He was in his tattered clothes;A poor village child he was. I was sitting in a carOn the left of the driver.When the car came near the child,It was slowed by the driver. He sounded aloud the horn,But the child did not it care.The child, in his tattered clothes,Remained standing mutely there. He was aping the gestureOf the driver of the car.How joyful in his action,As if he were in the car! He was moving round his armsIn driving his unreal car.The driver, taking the side,Safely steered his real car. But a truck from the front sideDown the road speedily ran.The child, in his tattered clothes,The truck driver knocked and ran. aziz ahmad


Love Love surpasses all the power;Withers it never with the hour. Life is void lacking this power,Like a garden with no flower. How so wondrous is this fire!Never does it die in the mire. Hearing the tuning of this lyre,A * king once kicked a great empire. It is like an electric wire;It can connect with the world entire. It is a great need of the hour;Wish I do bathed in its shower. * Edward VIII aziz ahmad


Martyrs You should not think the martyrs die;They do not die; in fact they lieUnder the earth with perfect calm;Blessings of men to them are balm. With God they become intimate,As they did not shirk to combatThe forces which defy the right;In result, Darkness yields to Light. They were just to Just, true to true;Hypocrisy they did not do;For worldly prize they did not care;In the Hereafter, life they share. This world was a shadow of them;Truth they loved, untruth did condemn.Through the gate of death they enterThe other world which is better. You should not think the martyrs die;Angels to them their food supply.They gladly blessed the *crusaders.And cursed the tyrant invaders. *Those who fight in defense of truth. aziz ahmad


Mother India O Mother Land! O Mother Land!You are very dear and rare land.You are the paradise on earthWhere things are not in any dearth. O Mother Land! O Mother Land!You are very dear and rare land. In Your Lap live men and womenOf every caste and religion.You rain your love and affectionOn them all without distinction. O Mother Land! O Mother Land!You are very dear and rare land. You have got a peculiar traitDue to which you are very great.You adopt the foreigners too,Who like to live and die for you. O Mother Land! O Mother Land!You are very dear and rare land. You are beautiful, all perfect;You are rich in every aspect.In the ancient times, we have heard,Aliens called you ‘a golden bird’ O Mother Land! O Mother Land!You are very dear and rare land. The mountains guard your honour here;The ocean washes your feet there.The rivers contain sweet waterWhich for us is just like nectar. O Mother Land! O Mother Land!You are very dear and rare land.


Our culture is ancient and high,We are respected that is why.Culture has bound us by and by,With a chain of pure love and tie. O Mother Land! O Mother Land!You are very dear and rare land. We are sorry here live some menWho are not loyal, but still then,Pose as lovers of this nation,Whom we do not like to mention. O Mother Land! O Mother Land!You are very dear and rare land. We are sorry here live some men;Fire of hatred they ever fan.Freedom, we fear, may not be lost,Which we have got at a great cost. O Mother Land! O Mother Land!You are very dear and rare land. Let us be wise not to be toolOf selfish powers which befoolThose who do not well understandTheir aim which is behind their stand. O Mother Land! O Mother Land!You are very dear and rare land. We will be lucky, if we dieFor you, O Gracious Country High!We’ll give them a fitting reply,Who see you with a slanting eye. O Mother Land! O Mother Land!You are very dear and rare land.


aziz ahmad


My Dream Came True Once I had dreamed that you beckoned to meTo be present and your glimpses to seeIn the fine green-domed tomb in Medina,O God’s dear Mohammed *Sayyedina.It came true when I performed Haj and wentTo pay you homage with my head low-bent.Being sinful, I could not raise my head.Although in my language I humbly said,“O God’s very dearly- chosen prophet!I am ensnared in this-worldly love’s net.Howsoever bad I am. I am yo’rs;The Devil deflects me from the right course.”I prayed you for your recommendationsTo God for forgiving my transgressions. *Sayyedina is the title of Mohammed Mustafa (Peace be upon him) aziz ahmad


My Son’s Vision “Why are you gazing at the sky,While on the cot, my son you lie? ”“I am seeing God in the sky;Father I do not tell a lie.” “How do you find God, O my son? ”“A very great and Supreme One!In pantaloons, shirt and apron,Like Him I don’t see anyone.” I could not help laughing at this;My innocent son I did kiss.He was, as I think, not amissTo disclose his vision like this. What he said was foolishly wise;God is ever hid from the eyesOf man, though to see Him he tries;He looks varied to varied eyes. aziz ahmad


On A Girl’s Wedding Why, my girl, do you wither?I bless you, just come hither.I ma on Poesy’s wings;In your wedding music rings. May yours be a happy life!May you be a worthy wife!May you be you husband’s pride!May you be his sweetest bride! May you both love each other!May you both ply life further!May you both never suffer!May you both never differ! May you be his lone spirit!May you please him with your wit!May you win him with your tact!May you with him live compact! May he in thought be your friend!May he never you offend! !May you and he be as one!May you and he will live on! Do not worry, do not quail;This change-over you should hail.May your in-laws rain on youLove and honour! So, adieu! Why, my girl, do you wither?In bloom you should be rather.I am on Prophecy’s wings;Tidings good your future brings. aziz ahmad


Once He Consulted A Doctor Once he consulted a doctor;He had lost for long his laughter.The doctor prescribed him some cureWhich would produce the effect sure.He used enough pills and portionUnder the doctor’s direction.But he found no alterationIn his thoughtful disposition.After an ample duration,He apprised of his condition(same as before) to the doctorWho was dazed knowing it, after.He again thought on the matter,And tried to advise him better.“You should read the mirth storiesOf the writer *Shaukat Thanvi’s”At this he said to the doctor,“I am myself the same writer.I have lost for long my laughterWhich my readers have won, Doctor.” *Shaukat Thanvi was a great writer of humorous novels and stories in Urdu. aziz ahmad


Pandit Jee He was learned the least in a school;He knows the tactics to befool.He has a liking to drink wine;He eats *Murghey *Mussallim fine.He snares the orthodox womenIn his sensual net often.He obtains many gifts and fee;The people call him 'Pandint Jee'.He has privilege to performRituals in an approved form.He belongs to the Brahmin caste;He says his 'guild' will everlast.Behold! He sits on a platform;The *Hawan he is to perform. **A type of specially cooked cock.*A ritual which only the Brahmins among the Sanatani Hindus are authorized toperform. aziz ahmad


Soul There lives a soul in you,Too intimate and true. It does give you counsel;Accept it or cancel. As you intend to sin,A voice comes from within. It gives you a warningTo check you from sinning. But when you ignore it,Weak you grow in spirit It becomes hush and mum,When wicked you become. aziz ahmad


The Devil's Weeping The Devil was weeping sittingLike a man by a big building.A saint said to him smilingly,''Why are you weeping bitterly? ''The Devil, wiping his eyes, said,''See this building which is ahead.The owner once had sought my aidTo have it beautifully made.He earned a lot of black moneyBy the advice given by me.But now he has engraved on itSome words in the Arabic script,Say 'Haaza Min Fazli Rabbi; 'So I am weeping bitterly.' aziz ahmad


The Lock And The Key When you came in my companyYou were the lock, I was the key.The lock was lovely, bright and new;How to open it, I sought the clue.I took the lead as you weren’t free;You were the lock; I was the key.Then we got used to each other;Unease fled from of us either.Now we both have become rusty;You are the lock; I was the key.We often required to be oiledTo remove the rust although mild.We are given no guarantee;You are the lock; I was the key. aziz ahmad


The Mist The mist was thick, the sky clouded;The bus which I took was crowded.It was afraid of gaining speed;It was moving on with great heed.The air was shedding drops of drewWhich were felt, but came not in view.The sun did not open his eye;You also know the reason why?I was sitting on a side-seat;The mistful scene did my sight meet.But something I realized in it,Hidden, implied and implicit.Lo! When I exercised my thought,A piece of lore from it I got.Our soul like the sun in the mistIs veiled, when great sins we commit. aziz ahmad


The Unity Of God Woe to those who mock and jeerThe fact of God crystal clear;Woe to those who fail to seeHis mighty in His unity.Why don't draw their attentionHis kindness and affection,His order and arrangementWell made in the firmament?His law on the sea and landIs enough to understand,He holds in His hand the stringOf each and every being.He swayed, He sways and will swayWhen this world passes away. aziz ahmad


Three Murderers To death were sentenced three murderers;The reasons were of different natures.The first man killed his daughter, a whore;Corrupt was she her marriage before.Her father married her to a manFor saving the honour of his clan.After marriage, she didn’t herself change,Although to us it seems very strange.Her husband sent her to her father’s,As she was considered as a curse.Here she did not change her character;So the father murdered his daughter. The second man killed a wicked manWho had killed his father with some plan.At that time, he was only achild;He saw him being killed by that wild.As he grew up, so grew his hatred;His eyes, seeing him, in rage grew red.One day he made up his mind to killThat wicked man his dream to fulfill.He killed him in the similar wayAs that man killed his father one day. The third man was by blood the uncleOf the only child whom he did kill.When his brother was on the death bed,He called him beside and to him said,“After me deem my child as your son.”His brother told him it would be done.The father of the child willed and died;He did not know then his brother lied.It was terrible the uncle killedThe child ignoring what he was willed,Only to usurp his propertyImmorally and illegally. To be hanged when these killers were brought,The first two seem content with their lot.


Boldly and mutely, when hanged, they died;But the third wept bitterly and cried.The hangman took him to the scaffold;Being afraid, he ran from their hold.He was caught again, again he slipped;He cried, “Save me, ” and fearfully skipped.Cowardly he suffered the hanging,And, when he died, ended his crying. aziz ahmad


Three Questions If your self is not pure,If your aim is not sure,If your way is to lure,How will you heal and cureThis blindness of a new mind,And the ills of a new kind? If you are in the night,If you are void of light,If you have lost the sight,How will you show then lightTo those who have become blind,And are lagging far behind? If you are coy and shy,If you don’t like to vie,If you are apt to fly,How will you do and dieFor the sake of the mankind,And the preys of the unkind? aziz ahmad


To Mrs. Indira Gandhi Blest be O Indira Gandhi,The leader of Congress Party.In you the country people seePure milk of human sympathy. How so beautiful a flowerOf Adam and Eve’s fair bower!You have reached the highest towerOf great fame, glory and power. A worthy leader of our land!The people deem you as their friend.You remain ready to extendIn time of need your helping hand.A champion of socialism;A hater of communalism;A captain of secularism;A heart loving many an ism. You do not feel afraid at all;You remain great in rise or fall;You are strong as the iron wall;You deserve the respect of all. A great reader of human face;A sound justice in every case;A great glory of human race;A modern lady full of grace. Boastfulness does never touch you;You make the plans ever anew.Patriotism takes pride in you;You have a place which is your due. A Director of the world’s screen!You are far better than a queen.May God give you life long and greenTo shape the dreams Gandhi had seen!


This poem was composed and sent to Mrs. Indira Gandhi on her birthday, the19th of November,1983, which she acknowledged with thanks. Ah! Now she is dead;Tear-drops my eyes shed.I hope her dear sonShall shine like the sun. aziz ahmad


To My Students Obey orders of your father;Do full service to your mother.Be respectful to your teacher,The maker of your character.Love truth, justice and become bold;Help who are infirm and the old.Keep your promise; it is the traitThat can make you noble and great.To be honest should be your goal;Follow the dictum of your soul.Break the whims without feeling shy;Ever try to make yourself high.Be not content with the current,Build your future on the present.Fill up your mind with good knowledge,O dear students of my *college! *M.Q.I. college, Seohara, Dist. Bijnor. (U.P) aziz ahmad


True Freedom He murmured sometimes,Sometimes kept silent.He said, 'True freedom; 'None knew what he meant.He was declared mad;Worried were his sons;A freedom fighterHe had long been once.He talked to his selfIn fit of madness;He made some cartoons,When in his calmness,One night in his roomHe grew uncontrolled,And in the morning,He was dead and cold.In his hand was foundA paper folded;It had a cartoonOf man unheaded.He was portrayed bentUnder the burdenOf money, car, fridgeAnd television.His lips were shaking,Death though made him dumb;He looked as saying,'Freedom, true freedom.' aziz ahmad


True Love True love verily is not a child’s play;Many an up and down come in the way.Love is quite untrue, if you think of you,Or if your interests are in your view.True love naturally blots the self out;It weighs the ‘love’ more than the self no doubt. aziz ahmad


Tyranny Tyranny grows up when you have no courageTo cut it down with a sickle of your rage.If you are intrepid, you are not to sitLike a statue with no feeling and no wit.If you endure it, a great sin you commit;You deceive others as well as your spirit.First is your position in respect of faith,If you face the tyrant with no fear of death.Second is your position, when you use your penTo incite the people against cruel men.Third may be your position, though you fear them,If atleast in your heart such men you condemn. aziz ahmad


Woman If there had been no woman,Life would have been dull for man. Life is like a two-wheeled cart;The wife plays an equal part.Blessed is he who has a wifeFaithful and helpful to life. Cursed is he who has a wifeSimple outward, inward knife. Do you know why this woman?Raises a problem for man? Problem rises when madamIs deprived of her freedom. aziz ahmad


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