Leave No Grain for Tomorrow

Farzana,
I`m curious about where you got the notion that Imroz is a Pakistani. I googled him and realized that you probably made that up considering that his name is Muslim. I found a couple of articles that say that Imroz was a clean-shaven Sikh and that is definitely true because he was a friend of my late grandfather, and I`ve heard some of their stories. So, I hope you will correct that before other readers start believing that.
Annie.

very subtle..and smooth flowing like a persian film..little said..much conveyed and even more to be pondered upon..

kudos..*standing..*

Ref#40 [if you look closely, all cribbing about `zulm` arises out of a Romantic need for order in chaos.]

Dear Farzana

Bholay Naath will not agree with. He represents the disorder and is quite romantic dude. He is so romantic that his thingy is given a prominent position in every temple but he does not crib or talk about zulm etfc. He dances. He has sex. He eke out pretty decent existence.

As Heeranand Sachidanand Vatsayan Ageyey has said in his poem

Voh rogi hon ge, prem jinhe anubhav ras ka kattu pyala hai
Voh murday hon ge, prem jinhe sammohan kaari haala hai

Mainay vidagdh ho jan liya, antim rahasya pechaan liya
Mainay ahuti ban kar dekha hai, yeh prem yagya ki jwala hai


Dear Frazan, there is no cribbing, crying in healthy love and romance. Where there is supressed sexuality involved there you can talk about zulm, crying in love and romamnce.

FarzanaVersey #40 {``I was wondering whether I`d have to spend the rest of my writing life penning articles and poems in poorbhi... ``}

Farzana,
Please don`t. :) As it is, my bill from the Lallo Prasad Poorbhi Translessun Serbis in Patna is way over budget. I am crying ``uncle!``

swarrier, zeena:

Thanks for clarifying about `Oedipal` before I could do so...I was wonderign whetehr I`d have to spend the rest of my writing life penning articles and poems in poorbhi...

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#33 by arstoo:

[Why this romantic article instead of the usual hindu/indian zulm stuff?]

Romanticism, in the classical sense, has a lot of `zulm` in it...and if you look closely, all cribbing about `zulm` arises out of a Romantic need for order in chaos.

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ijaz_gul:

Could you please write to me at editorsATchowkDotcom?

Thanks...

And considering we have the boom-boom stuff on the upper board, yahaan veerani hi hogee...

#32 by arstoo

Just being pedantic it is Oedipus and not Oedipal. On the second thought you can say Oootpal and he is from Haryana and like any haryanvi he is also a maader???.}}}

Mr.arstoo

Oedipus and Oedipal are SYNONYMOUS. Oedipal is more correct to use in Psychiatirc terms in reference to sexuality theory. Thank you

#37
ijaz_gul sahib

Awesome, Poetry. WoW!!!

I can understadn Punjabi very well.

#31 by FarzanaVersey {``Salim_Chauhan:
...I do not see high maintenance in a negative light, for it comes with the responsibility of mostly being deserving of it! ...Eik to, humree umar ka lihaaj karo…hi bitya baatan koi chhokariya ko sunayee de. ...…humra to kaam logan ka raah dikhlayee ma hai…seedhi chaal ya tedhi chal, oo tuhaar pairan ki soch-samajh par biswaas ho…...``}

Farzana,
So, we are now deserving of high maintenance, are we? :)

Hum hamaisa tumhar lihaaj karat heN - baat umar ki ho yaa hunar ki. Humka maaf kar dejiyo hum tumka devi barabar samjhin. Aisa bhi nahi ke tumra ik per koi, khuda na khwasta, kabr maN howat he. Bas, humra ji chaahat he ke tuhaar humri raah bhitkartayee phiro aur humri kamar par, oooi susri ka kahat hen, haan backpack, paTakhdiyo. Tuhaar jaban poorbhiyaa maN bahut bahut meeThi howat he - hum tumre muN baat karne laaik hi nahiN. Tuhaar saamne humri koi jaat hi nahin.

That`s it, your advanced Poorbhi knowledge has tested the limits of my limited ability. Thanks.

Dear Readers,
I cannot resist.
In the early 1900s when new villages were established in Sargodha, my father’s family shifted there from East Punjab. Fed up with a step mother and village life, he ran away to Gujranwala.
He was taken in by the Padre of the Protestant Seminary there and got his early education there.
He had that talent for Punjabi, Urdu and Persian poetry. He was a familiar face in the Mushairas there and came across Amrita. Later he taught at Khalsa High School Sargodha and returned to Gujranwala after his marriage. My Ami Ji had memories of meeting Amrita there. He died in 1960 when I was a toddler.

There are many ways in which all of us can relate.

It’s sad that when this part of history was passed on to us, we were kids and never serious. Farzana’s article brings back all those memories and what they mean to us. As a tribute, lets recap that Famous Poem: -

aj aakhan Waris Shah nun, kiton kabraan vichchon bol,

te aj kitab-e-ishq daa koi agla varka phol

ik roi si dhi Punjab di, tun likh likh maare vaen,

aj lakhaan dhian rondian, tainun Waris Shah nun kaehn

uth dardmandaan dia dardia, uth takk apna Punjab

aj bele lashaan bichhiaan te lahu di bhari Chenab

kise panjan panian vichch ditti zehr ralaa

te unhaan paniian dharat nun ditta paani laa

is zarkhez zamin de lun lun phuttia zehr

gitth gitth charhiaan laalian fut fut charhiaa qehr

veh vallissi vha pher, van van vaggi jaa,

ohne har ik vans di vanjhali ditti naag banaa

pehlaa dang madaarian, mantar gaye guaach,

dooje dang di lagg gayi, jane khane nun laag

laagaan kile lok munh, bus phir dang hi dang,

palo pali Punjaab de, neele pae gaye ang

gale`on tutt`e geet phir, takaleon tuttii tand,

trinjanon tuttiaan saheliaan, charakhrre ghukar band

sane sej de beriaan, Luddan dittiaan rohr,

sane daliaan peengh aj, piplaan dittii tor

jitthe vajdi si phuuk pyaar di, ve oh vanjhali gayi guaach

Raanjhe de sab veer aj, bhul gaye uhadi jaach

dharti te lahoo varsiya, kabraan paiaan choan,

preet diaan shaahzaadiaan, aaj vichch mazaaraan roan

aj sabbhe Kaido` ban gaye, husn, ishq de chor

aj kitthon liaaiye labbh ke Waris Shah ik hor

aj aakhan Waris Shah nun, kiton kabraan vichchon bol,

te aj kitaab-e-ishq da, koi aglaa varka phol

Translation:

Today, I call Waris Shah, “Speak from your grave”

And turn, today, the book of love’s next affectionate page

Once, a daughter of Punjab cried and you wrote a wailing saga

Today, a million daughters, cry to you, Waris Shah

Rise! O’ narrator of the grieving; rise! look at your Punjab

Today, fields are lined with corpses, and blood fills the Chenab

Someone has mixed poison in the five rivers’ flow

Their deadly water is, now, irrigating our lands galore

This fertile land is sprouting, venom from every pore

The sky is turning red from endless cries of gore

The toxic forest wind, screams from inside its wake

Turning each flute’s bamboo-shoot, into a deadly snake

With the first snakebite; all charmers lost their spell

The second bite turned all and sundry, into snakes, as well

Drinking from this deadly stream, filling the land with bane

Slowly, Punjab’s limbs have turned black and blue, with pain

The street-songs have been silenced; cotton threads are snapped

Girls have left their playgroups; the spinning wheels are cracked

Our wedding beds are boats their logs have cast away

Our hanging swing, the Pipal tree has broken in disarray

Lost is the flute, which once, blew sounds of the heart

Ranjha’s brothers, today, no longer know this art

Blood rained on our shrines; drenching them to the core

Damsels of amour, today, sit crying at their door

Today everyone is, ‘Kaido;’ thieves of beauty and ardour

Where can we find, today, another Warish Shah, once more

Today, I call Waris Shah, “Speak from your grave”

And turn, today, the book of love’s next affectionate page

Courtesy ‘Daily Times’

Farzana, 30

Most man-woman relationships suffer from an Oedipal/Elektra complex.

I don’t agree with “most” in this context. However deep buried in us and extraordinarily tabooed, Oedipal/Elektra complex is there. So, agree and disagree at the same time.

Such queries and the journey tell you a lot more than the plateau would.

Agree. The journey is the key, not the goal.

That is if you see defeat as defeat. I see it as a new beginning.

Defeated by another person is utterly unacceptable to me. I see defeat as defeat, not a new beginning, if “new beginning” for you is a “better person.”

Life is not always about defeats and victories. The rhetorical query is about how you have tasted life right from the stage of the aroma, or waited to bite into it…how well has it been ingested and digested…in the present context it is about freedom to choose your kind of life.

Lofty words, indeed! I think ALL are free. ALL choose their lives by their own volition. People’s life-style may not seem “free” to you, but they have chosen their kind of life. However, if certain kind of life is shoved down one’s throat by the society/state, then is it really the individual’s freedom of choice?

would you then say that each time we get an insight or enlightenment we become prisoners of it?

No, on the contrary. Satori is freedom. One does not realize one is in prison till enlightenment. Enlightenment sets you free, only then you can see the prison you were in.

Would you validate the ‘ignorance is bliss’ idea?

This entirely depends on what you mean by “ignorance,” and for whom.

What I meant was that she (the sun) wouldn’t imprison her own freedom (sunlight).

I knew I was taking “light is prisoner of sun” metaphor out of context of what you wrote, that’s why I did not quote the whole sentence. I found the metaphor very intriguing and found profundity in its opposite...a satori, if you will.

``No one has understood Narcissus better than a creative person. Spending most of one’s time with one’s own creation can turn the head of the most humble artist. Does the search not dwindle into a selfish exercise? ``

``Personalised writing, which Pritam had honed into a fine art, involves the readers totally. They embellish their own thoughts on the work. There is the danger of misinterpretation.``

I always thought in the same way about Amrita Pritam........during my youth she really captured my imagination......... I would see a punjabi girl and imagine her..........but realized that Amrita Pritam existed in her books only..............she had the narrative power to make you believe in the identity between what she created and what really was..........

Dear Farzana

Why this romantic article instead of the usual hindu/indian zulm stuff?

As Ghalib said it is not easy always to cry blood.

Aisa assan nahi lahoo rona
Dil me taqat, zigar me haal kahan

Ref#30

Dear Farzana

Just being pedantic it is Oedipus and not Oedipal. On the second thought you can say Oootpal and he is from Haryana and like any haryanvi he is also a maader???.

Re: # 32
Dear Arstoo
To be even more pedantic..... Oedipal is, relating to, or characteristic of the Oedipus complex. However the expression ``Oedipal complex`` is an equally vaid term. -)

A bit of a digression:

#19 by Salim_Chauhan:

[You said ``High maintenance!`` I didn`t. But then you want me to carry your backpack! :)]

You accused me of wanting the reader to travel a certain path because I felt a certain way. I played along…which is where the backpack metaphor came in.

I do not see high maintenance in a negative light, for it comes with the responsibility of mostly being deserving of it!

[Bitya, kyoon humka sataat ho? Hum tumhar likhaan PaRhaan par fida hogave to tum humre sar pe apna bojh patakhdiat ho.]

Eik to, humree umar ka lihaaj karo…hi bitya baatan koi chhokariya ko sunayee de. Aur likhan-parhan ki baat nikaal hi diye ho to maathey par darad ho ke bojh, baat to kaunu bhoosey ki naahin. To uthayee do ya patkayee do, tumra hi bedva paar howat ya nuksaan…humra to kaam logan ka raah dikhlayee ma hai…seedhi chaal ya tedhi chal, oo tuhaar pairan ki soch-samajh par biswaas ho…hamra biswaas todan ki jurrat ki to tentwaaN dabayee diye.

#25 by Zeena:

Thanks for understanding. Besides, I cannot compete with Mariah Carey or Nike shoes :)

More about that thread and other related things in my ilog later…

I am truly touched that some people found a ‘connectivity’. It means a lot…especially given my pugnacious political reputation!

Nasah saab:

If you recollect on my Ismat Chugtai vs. Taslima Nasreen board I had mentioned this meeting and you had prodded me to share. Itney dinoun se aankh bharey hue liye ghoom rahe hai…
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#21 by Godot:

Some of the sentences you pointed out are mine, some by Amrita Pritam and one by Imroz. I shall clarify mine and stick my neck out and conjecture about the other two…after all, interpretation is as exciting as expression…

[“There can be no one else…no one…you are my daughter….I your son.” (Imroz)

Is that uttered by a lover? If yes, then is the taboo of incest been broken? You say you realized what it meant. What does that mean if incest is not implied?]

Most man-woman relationships suffer from an Oedipal/Elektra complex. Not quite in the literal sense, but when you are removed from a ‘structured’ environment into a relationship, the mimicking of role-playing would not be uncommon.

I understood it because he was initially supported by Amrita (‘the son’) and later tended to her needs (‘the daughter’).

[“Why does it happen that after the hard climb there is always the plateau, so placid that you wonder whether the effort was worth it?” (FV)

Depends on what that plateau is. Isn’t it wise to figure-out the plateau before you spend the effort climbing it, to know the goal before you struggle to get there?]

Even if you know the goal beforehand, the hard climb may change your perspective towards it – how many falls did you have, did you run out of oxygen, did you ever want to return? Such queries and the journey tell you a lot more than the plateau would. On still ground, besides wiping the perspiration, there might not be much left to ‘conquer’.

[“Victory and defeat are problem words. To be a winner you have to defeat someone” (Amrita Pritam)

These are, in fact, sublime words. The only person to be defeated by you is you.]

That is if you see defeat as defeat. I see it as a new beginning.

[“How does one know that a person has tasted life?” (FV)

When you have defeated and claimed victory over yourself.]

Life is not always about defeats and victories. The rhetorical query is about how you have tasted life right from the stage of the aroma, or waited to bite into it…how well has it been ingested and digested…in the present context it is about freedom to choose your kind of life.

[“sunlight is the prisoner of the sun.” (FV)

On the contrary. It’s the sun that is the prisoner of light.]

My full sentence was, “You couldn’t question Amrita Pritam’s freedom. Just as you wouldn’t ask whether sunlight is the prisoner of the sun.”

What I meant was that she (the sun) wouldn’t imprison her own freedom (sunlight).

However, to take your argument, I would like to twist it a bit: would you then say that each time we get an insight or enlightenment we become prisoners of it? Would you validate the ‘ignorance is bliss’ idea?

PS: Your translations are here and these add to Chowk. Thanks for the engaging queries.
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#20 by drlokraj:

Agreed that the Sahitya and other awards work on a sifarish hierarchy and Amrita Pritam might have been a part of it…but sometimes being mother-goddess make you believe in the genuineness of devotees.
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#29 by ijaz_gul:

[I grasped what you were attempting to lay open, but yet missed pieces till I read and re read. Phrases are to be picked and then linked. Some background knowledge of History, partition and lives of those involved is essential.]

I have often been accused of obtuseness, and sometimes rightly so. But I do feel that all of us should find our linkages with the piece of literature as well as how it has been ‘read’. I agree that background knowledge is essential, but besides ‘physical’ history, there is the history of one’s own psyche and how we perceive that history.

What I was struck by in your post is that both your father and I have been moved to tears by the same person…despite our different histories.

Finding linkages in the ether happens perchance…

Farzana,
I feel humbled. The point is that having read Amrita and listened many times over to her ` Aaj Akhan Waris Shah Noon` sung by Inayat Hussain Bhatti, I grasped what you were attempting to lay open, but yet missed pieces till I read and re read. Phrases are to be picked and then linked. Some backround knowledge of History, partition and lives of those involved is essential.

I feel, lots of comments on such essays come without much of comprehension. These are pieces of literature and one could write volumes.

By the way, my father and Amrita met many times. My mother told me that when Enayat Hussain Bhatti sang Aaj Akhan Waris Shah Noon, my father had to fight tears. We still have that 78RPM record.

Cheerios