Sunday, 16 January 2011

Faiz - Jame gii kaise bisaat yaaraa

Yet another exceptionally melodious ghazal from Faiz's 1965 work, dast-e-tah-e-sang.  There's a popular rendition of a part of it by Farida Khanum, which merits a hear.

jamegii kaise bisaat-e-yaaraa.n ke shiishaa-o-jaam bujh gaye hai.n
sajegii kaise shab-e-nigaaraa.n, ke dil sar-e-shaam bujh gaye hai.n 

जमेगी कैसे बिसात-ए-यारां कि शीशा-ओ-जाम बुझ गए हैं 
सजेगी कैसे शब्-ए-निगारां, कि दिल सर-ए-शाम बुझ गए हैं 

جمے گی کیسے بساطِ یاراں کہ شیشہ و جام بُجھ گئے ہیں
سجے گی کیسے شبِ نگاراں کہ دل سر شام بُجھ گئے ہیں

how will the gathering of friends/lovers be organised? For the wine-glasses have dimmed themselves... 
how will the adorned night be embellished? For, (already) on evenfall, the hearts have dimmed themselves...

bisaat is literally something that is 'spread out' or 'laid out', used for goods and merchandise, as well as beds and carpets.  A specific usage is in the context of a 'game board' such as one for chess.  In this context, a 'bisaat-e-yaaraa.n' is possibly a convivial get together with friends, or a union of lovers...  

sar-e-shaam would be the onset, or the early part, of the evening. 

vo tiiragii hai rah-e-butaa.n mei.n, chiraagh-e-rukh hai na sham'a-e-vaada
kiran koii aarzuu kii lao, ke sab dar-o-baam bujh gaye hai.n 

वो तीरगी है रह-ए-बुतां में चिराग़-ए-रुख है न शम-ए-वादा 
किरन कोई आरज़ू की लाओ, कि सब दर-ओ-बाम बुझ गए हैं
وہ تیرگی ہے رہِ بُتاں میں چراغِ رُخ ہے نہ شمعِ وعدہ
کرن کوئی آرزو کی لاؤ کہ سب در و بام بُجھ گئے ہیں

such darkness (fills) the path to idols; there is neither the lamp of a face, nor the flame of a promise
call for some ray of desire, for all doors and roofs have dimmed themselves 

Indeed, what, save longing, can light these treacherously obscure paths to the Beloveds...?  They certainly wouldn't deign to provide any assistance - either by allowing their radiant faces to guide one's steps, or by dangling incandescent promises as street lamps...!
bahut sambhaalaa wafaa kaa paimaa.n magar vo barsii hai ab ke barkhaa
har ek iqraar miT gayaa hai, tamaam paighaam bujh gaye hai.n

बहुत संभाला वफ़ा का पैमां, मगर वो बरसी है अब के बरखा 
हर एक इक़रार मिट गया है, तमाम पैगाम बुझ गए हैं
بہت سنبھالا وفا کا پیماں مگر وہ برسی ہے اب کے برکھا
ہر ایک اقرار مٹ گیا ہے تمام پیغام بُجھ گئے ہیں

The pact of faithfulness (I) tried much to guard, but such was the rain this time
(that) every acknowledgement were obliterated, all messages have dimmed themselves

Nice, isn't it?  What hope can mere devotion, howsoever desperate, have against these forces of nature...?!

qariib aa ai mah-e-shab-e-gham, nazar pe khultaa nahii.n kuchh is dam
ke dil pe kis-kis kaa naqsh baakii hai, kaun se naam bujh gaye hai.n

करीब आ ऐ मह-ए-शब्-ए-ग़म, नज़र पे खुलता नहीं कुछ इस दम 
के दिल पे किस-किस का नक्श बाक़ी है, कौन से नाम बुझ गए हैं
قریب آ اے مہِ شبِ غم ، نظر پہ کُھلتا نہیں کچھ اس دم
کہ دل پہ کس کس کا نقش باقی ہے ، کون سے نام بُجھ گئے ہیں

come closer, o moon of the night of pain, (for) nothing is apparent to the eye now
whose portraits still remain on the heart, (and) which are the names that have dimmed themselves

This is a sublime one!  It sort of caps, in triumphant manner, the recurring imagery of a vision-challenging darkness that snakes like a leitmotif throughout this ghazal.  Finally, the moon that presides over the night of separation is called upon for assistance, with a request to bend a little closer... to shed a little light on the wounded heart... so the poet can see which of his memories still remain etched on the cardiac walls, after all its dark palpitations...!

bahaar ab aa ke kyaa karegii, ke jin se thaa jashn-e-rang-o-naghma
vo gul sar-e-shaakh jal gaye hai.n, vo dil tah-e-daam bujh gaye hai.n

बहार अब आ के क्या करेगी, के जिन से था जश्न-ए-रंग-ओ-नगमा
वो गुल सर-ए-शाख जल गए हैं, वो दिल तह-ए-दाम बुझ गए हैं
بہار اب آکے کیا کرے گی کہ جن سے تھا جشنِ رنگ و نغمہ
وہ گل سرِ شاخ جل گئے ہیں ، وہ دل تہِ دام بُجھ گئے ہیں

What will the spring achieve by coming now? Those (because of) whom there was celebration of colour and song
all those flowers have withered on branches, (all) those hearts have fallen dim (trapped) in snares

Hmm... has such a lovely rhythm to it, doesn't it?  So typically Faiz.  And what an endearingly petulant irritation the sher wears, at the offer by the spring to make an 'oh-so-belated' appearance!


Shweta said...

Very pretty!

Dr. Ravinder S. Mann said...


deewaan said...

Shweta: Yes, 'pretty' is how I would peg this one! Not among the deepest ones, nor the most intense, but enjoyably 'pretty'!

Dr. Mann, Anon: Many thanks!