Chand umeedein chand fasaane

Avid readers of Urdu poetry would definitely find shades of Firakh Gorakhpuri in this piece (specially in the last couplet). The title is borrowed from Mehndi Hassan's famous ghazal - bhooli beesri chand umeedein, chand fasaane yaad aaye.

Bewafa jo hue tum to koi shikwa bhi nahi
Mit gayi ho ranjishein saari kuch aisa bhi nahi,

Dard to hai dil mein ki tum chodh gaye mujhko
Rok loon tere qadmon ko, dard itna bhi nahi,

Ab tammanna bhi nahi, na koi khwaeish hi rahi
Shab-e-firaaq magar shaam-e-besahar ho, aisa bhi nahi,

Chand umeedein, chand fasaane, sab adhoore hi rahe
Niyat-e-mohabbat to paak thi, aadmi wo magar achcha bhi nahi.

Comments

Selfie Point: A Conversation

Aji dekhiye na, ee humra supreme leader ka itna bada photo kaahe laga hai har jagah par? Abhi toh election ka date bhi nahi aaya hai aur lagta hai ki resultwo announce ho gaya. Aree pagli, ee koi normal photo nahi hai. It is called a selfie point - a point where the self dissolves into Him. Gita mein likha hai na, shareer nashwar hota hai lekin aatma amar. Haan wo toh theek hai, lekin Gita ka ee sab se kya lena dena? Lena dena hai. Iska matlab hai chitra mein bandh kar khud bhi vichitra ho jana. Phir Gita mein toh ye bhi likha hai ki insaan na kuch lekar aata hai na lekar jaata hai. Lekin Saheb toh hamesha jhola jhola bolte rehte hain. Kahte hain, jhola uthayenge aur furr ho jayenge. Kabhi socha hain aapne ki kiska jhola lekar wo chal denge aur usmein konchi konchi rakha hoga? Soche toh nahi hain lekin ho sakta hai usmein ek digital camera ho, wahi wala jo Saheb digital camera ke utpatti ke pehle se use kar rahe the. After all, vision doesn't require technology alone. It also re

Amateur clicks

The doomed diva

The doomed diva Har ek mod pe bas do hi naam milte hain Maut keh lo – jo muhabbat na kehne paao (There are only two names on each pathways (of life) Call it death, if you can’t call it love) I am sorry for even trying my hands at translating these beautiful verses portraying intense suffering, tragedy and clamour of an individual. Are there any guesses who penned these lines? I am sure very few of us would rightfully identify this poetess-in-oblivion who wrote many such verses and couplets as a personal way of registering, recording and dealing with her grief-stricken short life of forty odd years. She was born on 1st August 1932 in Mumbai to Ali Baksh and Iqbal Begum (renamed from Prabhawati Devi). Her father was an actor in Parsi theatre and also dabbled in Urdu poetry and occasionally gave music direction in Hindi movies. This girl, Mahjabeen Bano, was the youngest of her siblings and in the family mired in financial hardships she was literally forced to work in films. Her career st

doublethink

Search This Blog