Gulzar wears
many intellectual hats. He is a film
director, known for making sensitive movies,
a short story writer, and a lyricist who has
penned many a soul-stirring song for Indian
films. But the title that Gulzar, as those
who know him believe, wishes to be
associated with is that of a poet. For
poetry is his first love.
Born on August 18, 1936 in Dina (now in
Pakistan), Sampooran Singh (his real name)
migrated to Delhi after partition in 1947.
He began his professional career in the film
industry as assistant to the renowned
auteur, Bimal Roy. Initially, he also wrote
some songs for Bimal Roy's "Bandini". It is
said that the first ever song that he wrote
was Mora gora ang laee le. Later on,
in the early 70s, he himself took to
filmmaking and carved a niche for himself by
producing films ("Aandhi", "Merey Apney", "Maachis",
etc) that were markedly different from what
the others were offering. To date, films
remain his bread and butter.
But poetry is food for his soul. So far
Gulzar has published quite a few collections
of Hindi and Urdu poems and their English
translations all of which have attracted a
huge readership. From his first collection
Ek Boond Chaand (Hindi) published in
1962 to Raat Pashminey ki (Urdu), which hit
the newsstands in 2002, Gulzar's poetic
offerings have been received with tremendous
éclat. In between Mera Kuch Samaan (Hindi
song collection), Chhaya Chhaya
(Hindi song collection), Janam
(Hindi), Chauras Raat (Urdu) and
Chaand Pukhraj Ka (Urdu) also made many
critics and poetry buffs acknowledge his
literary worth.
A famous publishing house a few years ago
published yet another book by Gulzar,
Triveni. The astonishing feature of this
collection was the genre Triveni that the
poet seems to have invented. It's a
three-line composition in which the first
two lines converge like the rivers Ganges
and Jamuna, whereas the third startles the
reader like a strong, invisible stream of
Saraswati, taking the meaning of the above
two lines at a tangent.
Although his short stories' collections are
not as prolific as his poetry, but a few
tales from two of his books Dhuuan
and Raavi Paar have often been
grouped with some of the all time great
short literary pieces. For Dhuuan,
the master writer has been awarded the
prestigious Sahitya Academy award. Not only
that, the government of India has conferred
on him the national honour of Padmabhushan
as well. But since Gulzar's preferred form
in literature is poetry, one should throw
light on some of its salient features.
One doesn't know where critics of Urdu and
Hindi literature at a later date will place
Gulzar's poetry. However, there is no doubt
about the fact that what Gulzar has been
able to create through his verse over the
last four decades or so is something that's
peculiar, unique and quite unlike the
conventional patterns and norms of Urdu
poetry produced in the 20th century.
Gulzar's poetry is replete with images -
images that utter words, which inexplicably
don't seem to convey any meaning, yet
re-transform into images and splash colours
onto the canvas of imagination. This might
not make sense, though one could call it
surrealistic poetry, which communicates
before it is understood. Take for example a
minimalist nazm from Chaand Pukhraj Ka
The nazm is a confluence of a number of
images. They don't seem to gel; yet once
they conflate into a whole, there is
something intrinsic in them that titillates
the brain and make the reader feel it with a
certain psycho-emotional appeal. It's a
dream-like scene: a chair here, a semi-ajar
door there and you wake up trying to
construct the sequence, with a strange sense
of literariness.
It's not that this is the only hallmark of
Gulzar's poetry. His nazms and ghazals often
convey the issue quite lucidly that the poet
tries to touch upon in a rather oblique way.
Especially his ghazals are not as convoluted
as his free verse. Consider these couplets:
Simplicity is the keynote of the overall
auditory value of Gulzar's ghazal. It falls
easy on the ears. But notice the last
couplet where Gulzar once again resorts to
imagism - something that he doesn't seem to
have control over. His poetic technique
doesn't allow the reader to try and make
sense of the words that he is employing;
rather, it's the entire scene that he
creates which speaks for itself. It is often
said about writers that a person has
thoughts and he writes them down as words.
Later, others read them and the poet's
thoughts become theirs. With Gulzar this is
not the case. He doesn't let, perhaps
unwittingly, the reader own his thoughts,
though he easily communicates his message.
Not a mean feat.
This does not imply at all that the poet is
an introvert. It's just that, like any other
verse-wielding genius, all his creative
endeavours begin on a personal note and
subsequently broaden their scope.
For example, it is a known fact that Gulzar
hasn't come to grips with the partition. He
has composed a few very heart-rending poems
on the subject. And it's not just partition,
but also the terrible class strife and
communal tensions that have plagued India
for half a century, that appear to nibble at
his soul. In Raat Pashminey Ki, there
is a six-part nazm "Fasadat". It is a
poignant piece on the Hindu-Muslim riots
that often break out and immensely disturb a
sensitive writer. Part six of the nazm
reads:
One may call it gory poetry. But at the
heart of it lies the sensitivity of an
artist to whom human life is not a
dispensable commodity. Here again notice the
vivid imagery, albeit a tad unsavoury.
Known for his socialist bent of mind, Gulzar
has of late taken a liking to sufism. Some
of his recent film songs and ghazals are an
ample testimony to that. Recently, this
caused some debate in the literary circles
of the subcontinent. One guesses, age and
spirituality go hand in hand. Besides, who
would argue the fact that one looks for more
than just flesh and blood identity. This
holds true at least for creative people.
That's why they constantly engage themselves
in the process of creating.
In the foreword to Raat Pashminey Ki,
Ahmed Nadeem Qasmi, who Gulzar fondly calls
Baba, writes: "It pleasantly surprises me to
know that born in Jhelum and brought up in
the environs of Mumbai and Delhi, Gulzar has
been so original that this feature of his
poetry (originality) has become synonymous
with his personality. Who else but Gulzar
could see the moon in the shape of a dry
leaf and wonder if it would be carried on
the breeze onto his lawn?" Even if you're
not a fan of Qasmi Sahib, it's hard to
dispute his comment on Gulzar.
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