Habib tanvir
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Madaari: Wherever I go, I have in tow, this bear cub. One day, along the way, I saw this lovely bear cub I looked around, until I found, this bear cub Cost money, and lived on honey, this bear cub He grew, and became a bear true, this bear cub Everywhere I go, I have in tow, this bear cub
“What happened to the ape you used to bring.” I laugh and say, this is the way I make a living I took that ape, by the nape, and untied its string The very day came home to stay this bear cub.
With metal rings that crackle from top to tip. A bowl in hand, and a bag from shoulder to hip I bring it to the market square to jump and skip I walk ahead and thus I lead this bear cub.
Golden bangles on his wrists that shine like new, Bells on his feet, in his ears rings of pearly dew, The silken cord made up of red, green and blue, That is the leash on which I lead this bear cub.
Falls on me and soon you see us rolling in the sand, Sometimes he, at others I have the upper hand, And so we strive, to give this performance grand. I don’t give in, nor accepts defeat, this bear cub.
As this performance goes on for a while, Money rains down and collects in a pile. Everyone is happy and declares with a smile: Oh what show, what marvelous show, by this bear cub!
If you are a lover true, even for the shroud don’t save a sou. Recently, Nawab Sa’adat Ali Khan sent a bagful of money to Nazir. The money lay there in the house and Nazir could not sleep the whole night because of it. As soon as it was morning, he sent word to the Nawab saying that if a brief relationship could result in this, he shuddered to think what would happen if the relationship became a permanent one. He was invited repeatedly but he refused to leave Agra. His usual excuse was: I am but a small and insignificant pen pusher, how can I dare think of anything else! He saw the whole world sitting in Agra. He writes: (raising the voice) Nazir, all books revealed their meaning When I read the book of the human heart.
The stranger wanders about the market . Kite Seller: (ostensibly for the benefit of Hamid and others who are still gathered there) Nazir makes no distinction between men, be it a kite seller or book seller. (Raising his voice) For him, they are both human beings. (Bookseller turns red with anger.) Stranger: (to Bookseller) Gentleman, do you have Nasikh’s works? Bookseller: (taking out his anger on the stranger) Nasikh is a greenhorn. He’s just started writing and you want his works! If you are so keen to read him, you should go to Lucknow and listen to him in person. Stranger: There were some people talking about him here. I heard one of his verses, so I thought... Bookseller: ...that I have gathered people to advertise my books! What ignorance! God help me! (Stranger cows down for a moment, then turns and asserts himself) Stranger: Sir, why are so many persons gathered here? Bookseller: (exploding) Sir, they are all ignorant like you. They have assembled there to listen to the poetry of another ignoramus. (Taken aback, the stranger goes off. A loud guffaw from those assembled.) What strange people one has to deal with! I’ve been sitting here all morning. Not a soul has come to buy a book. They just walk in with weird queries. Damn! Munshi32 Ganga Prasad enters and approaches the book shop. Bookseller: Greetings Munshiji! How are you, sir? Ganga Prasad: I am well, thank you. Who was this joker you sent to me? And why? Bookseller: Why would I send him to you? Your name came up during the conversation. He was looking for somebody to finance the publication of his book. You know that I don’t have any money. So he must have got it into his head to approach you. Ganga Prasad: Listen, I have had enough of Urdu-Persian books. I have decided to start a newspaper in English from Delhi. In fact I came here to tell you that you too should give up selling books and get into the newspaper and journals business. Times are changing and you must adopt new ways. Bookseller: This is exactly what I have been thinking. That I should leave Agra, move to Delhi and establish myself in the newspaper and journals business. Ganga Prasad: If you move to Delhi, who will send news reports from Agra? No, sir, you will stay right here. Bookseller: But for an English language newspaper... Ganga Prasad: You send your dispatches in Urdu. I’ll get them translated into English. Bookseller: Why not bring out a newspaper in Urdu as well? Ganga Prasad: Come on, how many read a newspaper in Urdu? No, sir, the newspaper will have to be in English. That is the language of the future. It will be the language of the whole country tomorrow. We will need to draw up an agreement. After discussing the conditions, we will sign a proper contract in order to avoid the kind of misunderstandings that had taken place in connection with the publication of Diwaan-e-Haafiz. Bookseller: There is one thing that worries me. Before starting the newspaper business, I would have liked to lighten a burden that weighs on my mind. Gaga Prasad: Which burden? Bookseller: There are a few small texts that I want to publish. Ganga Prasad: For example? Bookseller: Some madarasa text books—such as, Karima, Ma-muqueema, Aamadnaama , etc. I do not have even ten rupees to invest in this project. Ganga Prasad: Why? You must have made some money from the two hundred and fifty copies of Diwaan-e-Haafiz? Bookseller: Sir, you are mistaken. I gave away all my copies to my friends and did not charge them anything. Ganga Prasad: And instead of giving me a share of the money, you just presented me with the rest of the two hundred and fifty copies. Now, I don’t even have a single friend to whom I could gift the Diwaan-e-Haafiz. Bookseller: As far as I remember that was what we had decided. I also incurred a loss in this venture. All my labour was wasted. However, if you still think that this was not the agreed arrangement, you could send those two hundred and fifty copies to me and I will give you the money as and when they are sold. Ganga Prasad: Mister, there is hardly any chance of their being sold now. Who will buy them? Let us forget about it. Why don’t you just start the newspaper business? That work will itself bring you the necessary capital to publish karima, na-muqueema and other such useless stuff. Though in my view publishing these texts will be a futile exercise and you are again likely to incur a loss. How many, do you think, will be there in the new schools who will read aamadnaama? I must take your leave now. Will see you again in a day or two. Goodbye. Ganga Prasad leaves. Rake comes down from Benazir’s brothel. The cops hide in a corner and as soon as the Rake appears, they pounce on him and hold him down. Rake: Let me go, you bastards! Why do you hold me so, you sons of a bitch? Since when has it become a crime in this crazy town to visit a tart? Kite Seller: What happened, friends? Why are you arresting this man? First Cop: He instigated a riot here yesterday. Rake: Hey! Who instigated a riot? And when? Do you have any witnesses? Second Cop: Come to the police station. You can meet your witness there. Utensil Seller: Brother, you have caught the wrong man. The quarrel was between some other people. I did not see him here at the time at all. Second Cop: We don’t know all this. We have to follow our orders. First Cop: Come on, let’s do our work. Don’t pay any attention to him. Rake: Your constable turns out to be quite a sissy. I had thought I was dealing with a Raavana. That he and I will fight over Sita’s abduction in a face-to-face battle. I did not realize that your town is full of the fairies of paradise! First Cop: This is not a court. Whatever you have to say, you should say there. Enough, now come on! Exit with the Rake. Kite Seller: What was this? Utensil Seller: I was here. I never saw this man during the quarrel yesterday. Laddoo Seller: How can one be sure in all that confusion. He could have been here, who knows? Beni Prasad: So many people were there. How could you notice everyone? Can you identify all of them, Ramoo? Utensil Seller: I cannot say that, brother. However, if I see them, I’ll perhaps be able to identify some of them. But, friends, had this man been among the rioters, I could not have failed to notice him. I would definitely have recognized him. Laddoo Seller: On what basis can you say that? What is so special about this man—does he have wings? Utensil Seller: His clothes, his face, the flowers around his wrist. No one of his description came into the market yesterday. This man seems to have come from some other place. I saw him pursuing a prostitute in the evening. Laddoo Seller: It is also possible that he was the one who instigated the riot. He does not have to appear in public to do that. Utensil Seller: That I do not know. But just think. If he is a stranger in this town, how can he instigate a riot here? Mellon Seller: Why can’t he? Utensil Seller: You should look to your own safety and not talk so big. Kakri Seller enters briskly. His face blooming, a song on his lips, he is followed by a row of noisy children. He sits on the bench in front of the paan shop and starts singing while selling kakris. Every stanza brings him a customer or two. Kakri Seller: O how wondrous are the kakris of Agra, The best of course are those from Iskandara. How slender and delicate, how lovely to behold, Like strips of sugarcane, or threads of silk and gold, Like Farhaad’s liquid eyes or Shirin’s slender mould, Like Laila’s shapely fingers, or Majnun’s tears cold. O how wondrous are the kakris of Agra. Some are pale yellow and some lush green, Topaz and emeralds in their lustre and sheen, Those that are round are Heer’s bangles green, Straight ones like Ranjha’s flute ever so keen. O how wondrous are the kakris of Agra. Crunchy and crisp though tender to touch, In beating the heat the kakri helps much, Cools the eyes, soothes the heart, I can vouch, Call it not kakri, it’s a miracle as such. O how wondrous are the kakris of Agra. Kakri Seller goes out singing and dancing. Enter the melon seller, singing. Melon Seller: Melons these days are the town’s talk You will find this fruit wherever you walk, Irrigates the heart when it’s dry like chalk, In quenching the thirst it’s right on the mark, Come buy my melon don’t stand, don’t balk. (Exits) Laddoo Seller: (enters singing) I sent for molasses and rolled sesame laddoos, In one street after another, I sold sesame laddoos, Promising pleasures untold, sesame laddoos, For everyone, young or old, sesame laddoos, I sent for molasses and rolled sesame laddoos. Constable enters and goes straight to Benazir’s brothel. Constable: Is madam alone? Drummer: Please have a seat. I will go and tell her. (Goes out) Sarangi Player: You are early today, sir? Constable: Why, it’s already time for the evening prayers. Sarangi Player: That’s right, sir. Benazir enters. Benazir: Greetings. It seems your heart could not find peace at home or at work today. Constable: When has my heart ever found comfort at home or at work? Besides, yesterday I discovered that you have introduced a new rule of ‘first come first served.’ So you might say that I started yesterday and have at last arrived at the beloved’s doorstep. You have not promised this evening to any one else, have you? Benazir: I have promised it to you too. Constable: Well, you trade in promises. It is remarkable that you remember. Anyway, today I am armed. Benazir: Did you come here yesterday without your weapon? Constable: Yes madam, I had forgotten my weapon yesterday. But today the bow and arrows are all intact. Benazir: What kind of archer are you to carry all other equipment except the crucial bow and arrow? Well, where should I begin? (Opening the paan-daan) How careless of them! There is not a single paan in here and no one has had the sense to go down and buy a few paans. The drummer comes forward to take the money for the purchase of paans. But he is pre-empted by Manzoor Hussain, who had come in earlier and who now hurries down stairs to buy paans. Constable: Is he one of your lovers? Benazir: A very old one. Constable: Never saw him before. Benazir: Do you keep a list? He is known to me for the last eight or ten years. He has only recently adopted this mendicancy, humility and silence. He used to be a rich man. He would express his love through words and deeds—in other words, in the practice of love he employed his tongue, his limbs, every part of the body. Now he has wrapped me up entirely in the blanket of his heart and soul. Constable: You must be very cozy in there. He does not feel jealous, does he? Benazir: He is long past that stage. Constable: Is he mad? Is he able to comprehend when one talks to him? Benazir: His name is Manzoor Hussain, but he turns away if one calls him by that name Constable: Why? Benazir: Who knows! Maybe he has started hating his own name. He seems alright mentally. People say that he will start speaking again one day when conditions improve. Manzor Hussain returns with the paans. Constable: Manzoor Hussain! (Manzoor Hussain gets up hurriedly and goes out. Constable guffaws. Fakirs enter singing “Aadminaama.” The actors enter and join in the chorus. Chorus: Man is the king who rules over the rest, Man’s the one who is wretched and oppressed, Man the one clad in rags or richly dressed, He also is man who dines on the best, And the one who lives on crumbs too is man. They are men who build temples and mosques, Men are also those who perform religious tasks, Men also are the ones who pray and recite holy texts, Men steal devotees’ shoes and indulge in other thefts, And the one who catches the thief too is man. Here, a man is willing to give his life for another, He too is man who kills and commits murder, It’s man who betrays and humiliates his brother, It’s man who calls for help and succour to another, The one who rushes out to help too is man. It’s men who have shops and trade in things, One man buys what another man brings, Man makes and sells a variety of things, To hawk his wares he shouts or sings, And the one who offers to buy too is man.
Another on Man’s fair name is a blight, He too is man who is dark as the night, Another like the moon is fair and light, The one who is brutish and ugly too is man. Men wash the dead and stitch the shroud, Collect round the body, their sad heads bowed Friends lift the coffin, followed by a crowd, Some chant the kalma33, and some weep aloud, And the one who lies there dead too is man. The noble, ignoble, the king and his slave, Respectable wise man to contemptible knave, He who sought knowledge and he who knowledge gave Man also the best of the best that we have And the worst and the meanest too is man.
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1NOTES Mendicants who go around singing or chanting and receive alms from people. Fakirs are often associated with the sufi (mystical) tradition. 2 A traditional poetic form in which a poet laments or describes the hardships faced by the denizens of a town. 3 Kafni is a long shroud like robe (usually green) that fakirs traditionally wear. 4 Sweet balls made of sesame seeds and molasses or sugar. 6 A poetic form specific to Urdu and Persian. 7 A percussion instrument 8 A string instrument. 9 Betel leaf . 10 A small denomination of the currency. 11 A small denomination of the currency prevalent at the time. 12 One who trains animals and make them perform. 13 Small sesame seed candies. 14 The Arabic name for Plato. 15 “Maulvi” and the related word “Maulana” are titles or forms of address for a learned person 16 A poetic form employed usually for eulogising someone or something. 17 Another poetic form in Urdu and Persian poetry. 18 One who compiles and chronicles biographical as well as literary information about known poets and writers; the closest English term perhaps is “biographer”. 19 Interpretation of the Prophet’s words; analysis and criticism; art of Tazkira writing. 20 The Tale of the Four Wanderers. 21 Akbar, the Second. 22 The Greatest Fort. 23 In the original couplet, which is in Persian, the wit is in the use of the words “idol” and “Ram”. The former traditionally refers to the hard-hearted beloved and the latter, as a verb, means “to conquer.” 24 An obscene song traditionally sung at weddings. 25 A traditional drum. 26 Bread made of gram flour. 27The Rake is here playing with Benazir’s name which literally means matchless. 28 Benazir asks this question in Punjabi and the guest’s subsequent response too is in the same language. 29 Karima is a book of poems in Persian by the famous Sufi poet Sheikh Sa’adi. Ma-Muqueema is another similar book by another author. Both works formed part of the Persian syllabus in the madarasas. Aamadnaama is the first book of Persian grammar. 30 A traditional form of address for fakirs. 31 A kind of shell. It was used as small currency in the past. 32 Used during the British Rule as a title for anyone who had an English education. 33 Kalma is the basic text of the Muslim creed. Yüklə 495,53 Kb. Dostları ilə paylaş:
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