Raat chhayi to her ik dard kay dharay chhootay //
     Subeh phooti to her ik zakhm kay taankay tootay //
       Doopeher aayi to her rug nay lahoo barsaya //
     Din dhalla khouf ka ufreet muqabil aaya.//     
    Humming of the supra verses of Faiz froze abruptly on my lips as I conjured him in army uniform; with goblet of costly wine in hand- amid rich people and there flashed past my two write ups in this very column: one dated 13 Oct 2008, titled Man- where are you?; other dated 30 July 2009, titled Facets Of Love,-wherein an attempt was made to translate the exuberantly expressive poem, Aawarah, of the great hummer of revolutions-Asrar ul Haq Majaz (1913-1955). Scenes from Khuswant Singh’s book about partition time followed & so did Gulzar’s words “ Subeh subeh ik khuwab ki dastak per darwazah khola ….. sarhad per kal raat sunna hai chali thi goli// sarhad per kal raat sunna hai kuchh khuwaboon ka khoon hova hai”; though Bollywood’s  Ho kay majboor mujhay…faintly audible and my poem, Beast On The Brook- about ravages of violence in Iraq; published on 27 May 2007, wasn’t far behind. (Reproduction of latter in this very column in near future would be my pleasure, if nodded by the page- editor; though chances thereof seem bleak as few English poetry lovers exist in our happy valley). Likewise Catastrophe of Japan in last century and the Frankenstein unleashed recently, some months back, there, surfaced on my memory sheet.
    Strolling in wee hours, yesterday, I sensed anti-war words of another impressive voice becoming more audible…Khoon apna ho ya paraya ho// Nasle aadam ka khoon hai aakhir// Jung mashriq main ho ki magrib main// Amann-e-aalam ka khoon hai aakhir. All this led me to goad my readers today to read yourself, at least, the great inimitable poem of Abdul Hai Sahir Ludhyanvi (1921-1980) - PARCHHAIYAAN, as it is an all time impressive poem, true for all conflict areas, narrating  the sad tale written with the blood of innocent human beings- exploited by ugly politicians cum war-Lords of our savage world.
The constraints of space in the newspaper you hold this time, dear reader, has to be understood by all contributors,- including me, though the dictum’ fit in the frame’ doesn’t go well with the rebel inside me. When I came to know that even Sahir Academy hasn’t translated the poem PARCHHAIYAAN, I attempted one. I wish the rendition of selected extracts could be presented to you, dear readers but, using words of Faiz, loat jati hai ‘ udher’ ko be nazzer kya kejiye. Deletions from the V. V. thoughtfully chosen extracts of this looooong anti-war poem, (-that I would like to call a bouquet; captivatingly beautiful verses have been presented in a form that tell the STORY) that I had thought of offering you, would be committing injustice/ disrespect to the poet Sahir and his touching and heart-rending poem, parchhaiyaan. So moved I am by this anti war poem that I often find myself suddenly reciting it ...it just haunts me. Do read the original once. You will just love it. See the dramatic flash back technique Sahir has employed, how realistic the narration, how appealing, how it transcends time n space barriers...how all time relevant it is...how it commences...how it culminates in a prayer for the next generation...how it ends on a note of caution...paiker jalay thay...abkay parchhaiyaan be jal jayen gi.
It is the most touching anti-war Urdu poem I’ve read so far. Instead of sloganeering, it has visibly emoted from poet’s heart. One word – humanism at its best – describes it best. Leaping from present to past in flashback and then back to present, culminating into a prayer as if sensitive eyes (fearing cruel fate/ time/ system) lift to heavens, wishing tomorrow of the present generation/ young pair, shouldn’t be dark like that of past generation/ poet plus his beloved. Parchhaiyaan has that universal appeal - that discerning adepts and throbbing hearts can easily see.
Ya, supremacy of the ‘feel’ – best known to experiential poetic heart/ lovers; less known to prosaic – ‘live-rs’ is the right key.
See with your eyes-the vibrant colours, hues and form; breathe in the aroma; the essence. and keep it in the leaves of your ‘life-diary’—in the inner chambers of your heart, in the inbox of your cerebral cells like saved messages and handy/fast communicative templates, like the ones ‘sms-ed’ by your beloved (-be they text messages / picture messages/ voice messages invoked) that you love to read, re-read, forward/send, adding recipients; to which you add symbols, you add pictures, sound effects, video animations, melodies previewed, put in background, in layout, advanced as attachments, added from personal files, pictures/recordings cherished and stored by your soul and body just like you with your cell phone.”
Bye dear.
P.S  ( Some day , some where you will definitely find my translation of this poem- dedicated  to all innocent non- combatant lives and irretrievable beautiful moments of life we lost in the turmoil period here. As my token of love, O’ residents of my blighted land, here is the refrain & 8 lines (be content please); take it as appetizer, but read the original poem:
 Tasavuraat ki parchhaiyaan ubherti hain //
Images past are coming to life
And today when beneath these trees once again
Two dusky images flutter; two hearts have come to meet
I am wording my wish: The blood smeared evening,
shouldn’t be in their fate. Look! Clouds of war loom again//
For long it has been the pastime of politics
Children who reach prime should be butchered.//
Trustee of new generation is our blood
Now onwards marauding hoards can not be fed on OUR blood.
Images past are coming to life
Images past are coming to life.

Bye.      
(Feedback at sarwar_55_mindscape@fastmail.fm) 

Lastupdate on : Fri, 1 Jul 2011 21:30:00 Makkah time
Lastupdate on : Fri, 1 Jul 2011 18:30:00 GMT
Lastupdate on : Sat, 2 Jul 2011 00:00:00 IST