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David Mathews, Christopher Shackle and
Shahrukh Husain write about the Urdu poets
of Delhi under the last Mughal emperor.
The contribution of the writers of Lucknow
to Urdu letters had indeed been great and
the inhabitants of that city could feel
justly proud of its past. On the other hand,
the people of Delhi had much to remember and
however diminished the Mughal empire had
become, their city was still the imperial
capital, its centre dominated by the
splendid buildings, majestic streets and
crowded bazars, which had been planned by
Shah Jahan. No self-respecting citizen of
Delhi would admit to the supremacy of the
Urdu of Lucknow, and to this day, even
though the subcontinent is divided and the
speakers of the language are dispersed, the
rivalry continues.
The essayist Farhatullah Beg (1883-1948),
who had been educated in Delhi College and
had learnt Arabic from Nazir Ahmed, one of
the most formidable scholars of the city,
frequently looks back to the days before the
Mutiny, describing with great enthusiasm the
life that centred around the Red Fort and
its last Mughal rulers, Bahadur Shah Zafar
(1775-1862). Here lived some of the most
considerable Urdu poets - Zauq, Ghalib,
Momin, Shefta and Dagh - whose verse was on
everyone's lips.
Although Farhatullah Beg had not witnessed
the great mushairas, which took place at the
court, he later brought all the famous names
together in a piece entitled The Last
Candle of Delhi, a representation of a
fictitious gathering of poets presided over
by the King himself.
Bahadur Shah was not only a patron but also
a poet of some distinction. He took the
pen-name Zafar ('Victory') and before he was
deposed in 1857 and exiled to Rangoon, where
he spent the last four years of his life, he
composed a large divan of Urdu verse,
replete with rhetorical conceits, difficult
rhyme-schemes and unusual metres.
The complexity of his verse is usually
ascribed to the influence of his mentor,
Shaikh Ibrahim Zauq (1790-1854), one of the
greatest figures in the literary circles of
Delhi. Ironically, Zafar is best known for a
short, pathetic poem, which is probably not
his. It is likely that it was written by
someone in Delhi after the Mutiny when the
king was in exile. Its ascription to Zafar,
however, is so firmly accepted that its
authenticity is now never questioned. Indeed
it must be one of the best-known poems in
the language:
I am the light of no one's eyes,
the blame of no one's breast -
An ineffective pinch of dust, unwanted and
unblessed.
My love has left me, and my face is
colourless and pale.
My garden, stuck by autumn's blight, in
spring can only fail.
No man puts flowers on my grave; it is no
place for prayer.
A shrine of helplessness am I. Why leave a
candle there?
I am no tune to ease the soul, or calm
the frenzied brain.
Long separation is my cry - a melody of
pain.
Zauq, who served the King for much of his
life, and who was rewarded with the grand
title of Khaqani-e-Hind and a commensurately
small stipend, which never exceeded 100
rupees even when he was at the height of his
career, was born to a military family of
little note.
He lived adequately, in the shadow of the
Red Fort, and enjoyed the prestige given to
him by his connections with the royal
family. Although his means were always
slender, and on several occasions he might
have improved them by accepting the offers
of rulers elsewhere, he was attached to
Delhi and his circle of admirers, and was
unwilling to leave...
As the poet laureate, Zauq was frequently
called upon to write qasidas and excelled in
the art, no doubt inspired by his genuine
admiration for Sauda. In style and
virtuosity his lyric poetry closely follows
the fashion set by Lucknow and through
displaying little genuine inspiration it is
unrivalled in terms of formal excellence...
The poet, Momin Khan Momin (1800-52) came
from a line of court physicians. The money
his family received from the King, the
payment of which was continued after the
fall of Delhi by the British government in
the form of a handsome pension, was enough
to keep Momin in reasonable comfort, and he
rarely had to work for his living. He
studied the family profession and at the
same time took an interest in music,
astrology and geomancy. The amulets that he
wrote were highly prized, and he was
considered to be one of the best
chess-players in Delhi...
He was however chiefly famous for his love
poetry, emotional, tender and sensual
verses, for one of which his great
contemporary, Ghalib, declared he would have
given his own divan. Some of his best-known
poems refer discreetly and indirectly to
past love affairs. He would recite them in
the best mushairas while combing his long
hair with his fingers...
Both Zauq and Momin were highly thought of
in their time, but in the twentieth century
their work has been overshadowed by the
relatively small divan of Mirza Asadullah
Khan Ghalib (1797-1869), whose name now
ranks only with that of Iqbal as one of the
most widely read and most frequently quoted
poets of the language.
Ghalib is one of the few Urdu poets to have
achieved popularity outside the subcontinent
and in 1969 the centenary of his death was
celebrated in many countries. Commentaries,
studies and translations of his verse
abound, his poems have been set to music,
and films have been made of his life. As is
often the case with great writers, Ghalib
was not so highly acclaimed in his own time,
but posterity has surely vindicated his
prediction.
In time my verse will mellow, so they
leave it now unread
The buyer knows the oldest wine goes quicker
to the head
My star rose in the firmament and shone ere
I was born
My poetry will be renewed and sung when I am
dead.
Mirza Ghalib, as his title shows, was a
noble of Central Asian Turkish stock, a fact
of which he was extremely proud. He was born
in Agra and spent his childhood there in
great comfort. It is said that he began to
compose poetry at the age of ten and showed
his first attempts to the elderly Mir Taqi,
who forecast a bright future for him. After
an early arranged marriage, which was never
very successful, he came to Delhi and rented
a house in the centre of the old city.
From this time onwards much is known about
his life from the Persian and Urdu letters
which he exchanged with his friends. His
Urdu correspondence, which he later
published, is remarkable not only because it
affords a rare insight into contemporary
Delhi life, but provides us with the first
examples of natural, terse prose, a world
apart from the fairy stories written
elsewhere.
In Delhi he soon gained a reputation for his
poetry, which, if not exactly appreciated,
was certainly different from what people
were used to hearing. His reputation was
also enhanced by his lifestyle, his open
fondness for courtesans and wine-bibbing,
and his aristocratic contempt for all of
which he did not approve.
Already in his twenties he compiled his
first Urdu divan, much of which he later
discarded, and began to devote himself to
Persian composition. Among his teachers he
mentions a certain Abdul Samad, a
Zoroastrian convert to Islam, with whom he
perfected his knowledge of the Persian
language and its literature. Ghalib was
proud of his Persian verse and on more than
one occasion claimed it to be superior to
anything he had written in Urdu...
The worth of his Persian poetry cannot be
disputed, and Ghalib stands almost last in
the line of its great Indian exponents, but
from his own writing there comes plenty of
evidence to show that he did not exactly
despise his Urdu verse. In one of his
ghazals he proclaims without modesty:
Other poets there may be, whose verse is
very fair,
But all agree that Ghalib's style is quite
beyond compare.
Throughout his life, Ghalib was constantly
plagued by financial problems. Having lost
his share in the pension that had been
granted to his uncle, in 1826 he set off for
Calcutta to appeal for its restritution. He
was greatly impressed by the seat of British
government and in one of his poems praises
the city's beautiful women, its delicious
fruits (no doubt mangoes, of which he was
extremely fond), its mellow wines and, for
some inexplicable reason, its climate.
Notwithstanding his happy sojourn there, he
came back to Delhi empty-handed.
He continued the same lifestyle and in 1841,
the year in which he published his first
collection of Urdu verse, he was fined 100
rupees for gambling, yet another sin against
the code of Islam of which he was guilty.
Some years later he was thrown into jail for
the same misdemeanour, which must have been
a traumatic experience. On his release he
found himself abandoned by most of his
friends, and the stigma of a three-month
jail sentence was a great blow to his honour.
Pride was one of Ghalib's greatest failings.
In 1842 he was offered what might have
proved a lucrative appointment as Persian
lecturer in Delhi College, but he returned
home without having been interviewed,
because the British visitor had not come out
to receive him on his arrival. The post was
then offered to the eccentric Momin, who
also declined, presumably because he did not
need the money.
Ghalib swallowed some of his pride when he
accepted an offer from Bahadur Shah Zafar,
who asked him to write a Persian history of
the Mughal dynasty, a task which he regarded
as somewhat beneath him. Later, however, the
King appointed him as his ustad, and on the
death of Zauq in 1854, Ghalib succeeded him
as laureate to the court.
Ghalib was on fairly intimate terms with
Bahadur Shah and many anecdotes are told
about their friendly relationship. His
drinking habits caused a number of eyebrows
to be raised at court...
Ghalib's good fortune did not last long, for
within three years of his appointment the
Mutiny broke out, and he remained for
several months virtually a prisoner in his
own house. He had little sympathy with the
mutineers, whom he considered rabble, as is
clear from the private journal which he
wrote at the time. If he had stepped outside
during those dangerous times his life would
have been at risk.
After the restitution of British control in
Delhi, Ghalib found himself lonely and
friendless. His patron was in exile and many
of his acquaintances were barred from
returning to the city. Money was a constant
problem, though in 1860, the Nawab of Rampur,
a firm ally of the British, who had become
Ghalib's pupil, had his pension restored.
During the last eight years of his life,
Ghalib suffered periods of ill health and
his memory began to fail him. He re-edited
and polished his Urdu and Persian verse and
arranged for the publication of his letters
which were collected into two volumes. In
February 1869 he took to his bed and died
without recovering consciousness.
Ghalib's Urdu verse stands out from that of
all his contemporaries and is popular today
because of its frankness, conviction, and
above all the humour which Ghalib was
capable of applying to any subject. Greatly
influenced by the mediaeval Persian writers
of India, whose poetry is characterized by
extravagance and ornate turns of phrase.
Ghalib could also be obscure, a fact which
was often noted by other members of his
circle...
If Ghalib indulged in obscurity to
demonstrate his intellectual superiority
over others, there are on the other hand
many poems which appeal to all through their
directness, and on occasion the language
even borders on the colloquial. These poems
are written in ghazal form and ostensibly
the theme is love and separation, but Ghalib
more than anyone is able to make them mean
whatever he chooses. A strong sense of
independence and self-respect are the things
that come across most clearly:
You give your heart to someone, why then
fret and writhe in pain?
You've lost your soul, you've lost your
tongue. No reasons to complain.
She will not yield, so why should I? At
least I have my pride.
We're angry with each other, but we've
honour on our side.
In faith and love I'll crack my head on
someone's step for sure.
But, stony heart, it doesn't have to be
outside your door.
Before Ghalib, few lovers had dared to
address their mistress in such a direct
manner or had been realistic enough to come
to terms with the fact that if you are not
wanted, there is little to be done about it.
David J. Mathews was formerly Senior
Lecturer in Urdu and Nepali at the School of
Oriental and African Studies, London. He is
the author of several books.
Christopher Shackle is Professor of the
modern languages of South Asia at the School
of Oriental and African Studies, London.
Shahrukh Husain is a journalist and the
author of several books on European and
Asian cultures.
This book explains why Urdu literature
continues to exert its special fascination
for those who can enjoy its beauties in the
original. It contains a vivid description of
the rich heritage of poetry first created in
the declining years of the Mughal empire.
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