POEMT: Seeds

Desire is the seed of Misery,
Consumption, that of Poverty.

- owais

--

This has first been published on this page.

.

I regard this couplet as my life's work. The first line is dedicated to the mature reader, the second, to the maturing one.
.

.

ESSAY: Gender of Beloved in Mir’s Poetry

.
Mir Taqi Mir (1722-1810) is often remembered as the father of Urdu Ghazal. Ghazal is the most popular form of Urdu poetry. Such is the status of Mir that even Mirza Asadullah Khan Ghalib when speaking of Mir has this to say-

Rekhte ke tum hi ustad nahin ho Ghalib
Kehte hain, agle zamaane mein koi Mir bhi tha
(You are not the only master of Urdu, Ghalib
They say, there also was a man named Mir)

Mir’s, and for that matter even Ghalib’s own times were quite turbulent- what with Nadir Shah Durrani and Company Bahadur! A conservative society was forced to become even more conservative in order to safeguard what it considered its very existence. Women in purdah were pushed even further inside. The isolation between sexes was so complete that the only women a man could see and interact with, were either one’s own immediate family- or those on the bazaar.

The former were obviously a taboo, and in the latter’s case, demand far outstripped the supply. That left one area still open- one could well fall in love with a member of one’s own sex. But just like ancient Greece, manliness was by far the most highly prized commodity. This meant that no ‘man’ could afford to be seen as passive; no ‘man’ could allow himself to be loved. To be the active party carried no such stigma. To love, therefore, was indeed a necessity. The mantle of being beloved, again, just like in ancient Greece, fell on those who were no more children, and not yet ‘men’, i.e., boys just entering manhood.

Typically, the equation would also be the same: Erastes was the well-to-do adult from nobility, or from the miniscule middle class, almost always married; Eromenos was the beautiful adolescent with a moustache or beard just making an appearance. The Eromenos would generally not allow the Erastes too many liberties in the beginning. It is during this stage of courtship when the Eromenos is indifferent, or affecting indifference, that the Erastes finds his most anguished and audible voice. Ancient Greeks have left many such voices- in the literature, in mythology and philosophy, in art. Closer home, they have these only in the Ghazal.

One finds in Urdu Ghazal that the beloved is almost always referred to, in the male gender verb forms. The beloved is always aata, jaata, karta; very rarely, aati, jaati, karti. One could always ascribe this, in part, to the fact that the Ghazal had been brought up under the tutelage of Sufi saints. Since the Sufi’s real beloved is The Beloved- a Romantic, All-loving God- the Sufi’s address is always in the male gender form; male being the accepted gender of God. But that could not be the whole reason; because the pre-20th century ghazal is replete with references that could only be to a human male.

It is only with this background that we can approach Mir’s poetry. There are a few more things to remember about Mir. His imagery, symbols and vocabulary are pretty much the standard across the spectrum of 18th and 19th century Urdu poetry. Also, one must remember that he lived a long time, and was a very prolific poet. In his six Urdu diwans alone we find 13,590 couplets. Total extant couplets are more than 30,000. It would be well at this juncture to recall that all of Ghalib’s fame rests on a mere 1,802 couplets. Finally, we must also recognize that Mir is one of the boldest and clearest talking poets Urdu has ever known, when it comes to writing about love; specifically homosexual love.

Of the 13,590 couplets in his six Urdu diwans, a preliminary reading reveals that as was the norm, there is often no reference to the beloved’s gender. However, in several cases (262 couplets) one finds several key-words that establish the gender of the beloved. Of these, 225 clearly refer to a male beloved, remaining 37 refer to female beloved. This makes for 86% of couplets referring to a homosexual liaison, 14% to a heterosexual one.

It may be reiterated that other couplets, when on the subject of the beloved, use male gender verb forms; which since it was customary to use them, does not throw much light on the actual gender of the beloved. This factor has therefore been ignored in this study.

The 37 couplets presumed to be referring to a female beloved contain the following key-words:
Purda, Hijaab- Purdah. Used customarily by all ‘respectable’ women, irrespective of the religious community they belonged to.
Burqa- The black veil used by muslim women in the subcontinent to implement purdah when they are out of their homes.
Naqaab- That part of the burqa which covers / uncovers the face of the burqa-wearer without disturbing the rest of the burqa.
Since Purda, Hijaab, Burqa and Naqaab are customarily used only by females, one can conceivably conclude that the beloved is a female person.

The 225 couplets referring to a male beloved have been counted so on account of the following key-words:
Ladka, launda, tifl, naunihal, pisar- all used when referring to a male adolescent or a young man.
Dadhi, Khat– beard.
Mian- Sir, dear etc. (always for a male).
Sawar- Mount (as on a horse: Invariably male).
Talwar- Sword (invariably carried by a male).
Mugh, mughan, mugh-bachcha- Cup bearers (invariably male).
Mas, Masan- Beginnings of a moustache, Down leading to a moustache.
These again are exclusively male references, therefore one can certainly conclude that the beloved is a male person.




Some of the 225 couplets that refer to a male beloved are reproduced below. A trans-creation done by self is also presented along with the couplet in question:

1. Tera hi munh take hai, kya jaaniye ke naukhat
Kya baaghe sabz toone aaine ko dikhayaWhat divine mirage is
the mirror lost in?
Is it your young beard
that makes it look at none?

2. Shaadabi o latafat hargiz na hui usme
Teri mason pe garche sabze ne zehr khayaSpring poisoned herself, but
got not the freshness for her greenery;
It’s all in your rosy face
and the sprouting hint of your moustache!

3. Hai teera roz apna ladkon ki dosti se
Is din hi ko kahe tha aksar pidar hamara
Friendship of lads made
my days; my life dark
Is that what father said
‘My words you better mark!’

4. Ji liya bosa-e rukhsaar-e mukhattat de kar
Aaqebat un ne hamen zehr diya paan ke beech
I lost my heart to you
kissing your bearded cheek,
My life you took away
with poisoned betel leaf!

5. Woh jo alam uske oopar tha so khat ne kho diya
Mubtila hai is bala mein Mir ek alam hanoozWith the arrival of his beard
his beauty was lost, yet
a world of lovers of his,
have still to bow away

6. Vay nahin to unhon ka bhai aur
Ishq karne ki kya manai haiI want you, but if not you
just fine is your brother!
I need to love, who the
beloved is not the matter


7. Ladka attar ka hai kya ma’jun
Hum ko tarkeeb uski bhai haiWhat a dish, this boy
the doc’s apprentice is!
I love the formula, only one
to cure my heart’s disease!

8. Ladke birahmanon ke sandal bhari jabeenen
Hindostan mein dekhe so unse dil lagayeBrahmin boys of India
take away my heart
Beautiful foreheads, headier
with the fragrance of Sandal.

9. Jab kuch apne kane rakhte the tab bhi sirf tha ladkon ka
Ab jo faqir hue phirte hain Mir unhin ki daulat hai
When I was a wealthy man
all that was mine, was the boys’;
Now that I am a beggar
they are my only fortune.

10. Kya jano tum qadr hamari mehr-o-wafa ki ladke ho
Lohoo apna den hain tumhare girte dekh paseene koA mere boy you are, what you
will know the value of my love
Let a drop of your sweat fall on the ground
I shall complement it with my blood.

11. Woh baghbaan pisar kuch gul gulshagufta hai ab
Yeh aur gul khila hai ek phoolon ki dukaan par
The florist has found a new flower-
It is the gardener-boy, who has just flowered.

12. Kar rakha ta’aviz tifli mein jise / Ab so woh ladka sayana ho gaya
Is bala se aah main ghaafil raha / Yak-ba-yak dil ka lagana ho gaya
The kid I kept close to my breast always
suddenly has matured.
Strange are the ways of perception
I never saw until late!

13. Afsanakhwan ka ladka kya kahiye deedni hai
Qissa hamara uska yaaron shuneednin haiThe story-teller’s lad is
a sight beyond compare.
As is his and my story,
a story beyond compare.

14. Mir kya saade hain beemar hue jiske sabab
Usi attar ke ladke se dawaa lete hainSo innocent am I,
I ask for medicine from
the same physician’s boy
who’s the cause of my disease!

15. Jab na milta hai bazaaron mein Mir
Ek looti hai woh zaalim sarfaroshYou don’t find me in the bazaars
sodomite that I am, you know where to find.

16. Door kar khat ko kiya chehra kitaabi unnen saaf
Ab qayamat hai ke saare harf Qur’an se gaye
He chose to remove
the beard that he had.
Now I look at his face, and can’t
see the words of Qur’an.

17. Kiya us aatishbaaz ke launde ka itna shauq Mir
Beh chali hai dekh kar usko tumhari raal kuchThe young man at the fireworks shop
fired my heart so,
I can do nothing, but
sit and salivate!


Work on trans-creating the rest of the ‘homosexual’ couplets of Mir is underway. And at some point in time a more exhaustive document is planned. However, for now, we can conclude this study with a few more facts about Mir. It seems that Mir had got married twice, though he mentions nowhere about either of the marriages in his autobiography. He had at least two sons. As mentioned earlier, this was the norm in the society of that time- most people would get married, and would see no harm in a little bit of dalliance in the side with the boys.

What is required is a much more detailed study of other poets of the time. It will not be easy getting into the lives of people of that time through the history books, as they say nothing much about sexual practices of the time. Poetry, on the other hand, opens a gateway direct into the human heart of those times. Such a study is also planned, however, no time-lines have yet been drawn by me on that.



---

References:
1. Kulliyat-i-Mir, Vol I, © 1983, Taraqqi Urdu Bureau, West Block, R K Puram, New Delhi 110066.
2. Deewan-I-Ghalib, Kamil, © 1988, Kalidas Gupta Raza, Sakar Publishers Pvt. Ltd., Mumbai.

- Owais
--
This is first being published on this page.

POEM_: Two Young men of Sodom

.

His pain will heal with time.
But today, he cries unconsolably.
This young man of modern Sodom,
an honourable citizen of the ancient city-state;
known today more for their loathed love than for their, other,
what may have been, more loathsome disqualities.
His pain is for his lost, lover of several years.
The only lover he has known, all his adult years.

The other young man has just tried
renouncing his citizenship of Sodom.
He has hidden behind the label that allows
men to swing both ways.
And has given in to his mammoth
extended family’s pressures, to get married.
To an unsuspecting young woman.

Poor fellow.
Can a peacock change his colors?
He can shed the rainbow plumage
for a while. But only, for a while.
He will be back, seeking love, the fear of which
is the last remaining acceptable prejudice
in this sensitive, civilized World.

But only, this time he will
seek love not in the arms of a durable beloved;
but in the slam-bam of fifty-nine second episodes
in the loos and deserted public gardens.
He will have a servile wife to go back to.
And possibly a child or two, which may or may not
be his own.

He will forever be scared
of young, or older men professing their love for him.
He will swear, that this is only fun.
He will insist that fighting for one’s right to love
is meaningless, the ultimate exercise in futility.
Even irreligious, blasphemous and corrupt.
Perhaps, immoral and cowardly too!

And the first young man, paining and pining today
will spend a year or two, or more,
getting over this colossal
betrayal, will find love again, and this time
for keeps.
He will be a success, and not just materially;
He will also conquer the World, in myriad new ways.

Young man, grieve, but despair not, for future,
as much as the present, belongs to those who can dream,
commit,
and deliver on those.

Among the two young men of Sodom,
there is a winner, and there is a loser.
And make no mistake: with your searing pain
you are the winning man.
Young man, grieve,
but keep playing, you will win.

Yes.
You will win.


- Owais
--
This is first being published on this page.

POEM_: Two Stains

.

Years ago,
I found
a beautiful little firefly
and imprisoned it, in a cloth cap.

Bewitched,
I watched it for hours.

Next morning,
eager to see it shimmering again,
I opened the gates of his prison--
And found an ugly bug inside.

My ayah said,
come the night
he’ll shine again.
Our bahishti, the water-man, said
free him now,
he has been yours for a night.

Betrayed and dispossessed,
unable to accept
a single night’s connection,
I threw it on the cemented floor.
And quashed it
until it was no more
than a stain.

- Owais

--

This is first being published on this page.

POEMT: Read Me For…

There are so many,
who write so much better than I do.
For their beauty read them,
read me for my love.

- Owais

--

This is first being published on this page.

POEM_: Stopped Loving You

I look at your photograph
and remember the days
when I fought with you
when I hated you
when I thought I could never love you again.

I look at the photograph,
vision blurred with tears.
I realize
that I indeed could never love you again.

For I never stopped loving you.
I never can.

- Owais

--

This is first being published on this page.

POEM_: The Night Is Half Gone

.

The night is half gone.
And the dawn is half as close.

And perhaps,
you are half-way mine.
Only,
I do not accept life
in half-measures.

I will not allow you to be half mine,
or claim half of me.

If you want me,
give yourself,
and take me
in full measure.


And then some.

- Owais

--

This is first being published on this page.

POEM_: Of Cats, Dogs and Lovers

.
Aloof, independent,
visiting a thousand other places,
they come when they want to, when they need to.
Whether they love, they only know.
Regal animals, cats are treated as such.

Expressing their love with all their being,
they lose their very identity in the beloved.
And they never wait to be stroked, yet
‘dog’ is an insult in every language I know!

You the cat, dear,
and I the dog,
can we ever be happy together?

- Owais

--

This is first being published on this page.

POEM_: Selfish Pig

I want you mine.
Only mine.
All mine.
And forever mine.

- Owais

--

This is first being published on this page.

POEM_: One of THEM!

They asked me
whether I was a Christian
a Buddhist, a Hindu
or a Mussalman?
They asked me if I was an
Australian, an American
a Japanese or an Indian?
They asked me
what language I spoke:
Chinese, Spanish
Hindi, English or Russian?
They asked me if I was
a woman, a man or something in-between?
They asked my caste, my race
my colour, my sexual inclination.

To them all,
I just said-- A human.
A being.

They asked me what I desired
I said-- Love.
They asked me what I worshipped
I said-- Life.
They asked me what I wished to be
I said-- a pillar in the house of Liberty.


And then, they said,
You are one of THEM!

They stoned me, they burnt me,
They raped me, they hanged me till death.

- Owais

--

This is first being published on this page.

POEM_: Since I Met You

.

Nothing ever
mattered much to me.
But now,
I am jealous of the very earth
you walk on.
Jealous almost, of myself,
for having you.

Even,
of you, yourself.

After all,
even if you want to, you can never leave
yourself.

- Owais

--

This is first being published on this page.

POEM_: The Long Wait

And long I told myself,
that those who mean to come back,
never go.
But I never quite believed it .
I always thought
that you loved me dear
and would be back
before I lost hope in you.
In Love. In Life. In God.

I waited a long time
till I forgot what I was waiting for.
And then I told myself,
that if you had really loved me,
you would have found me.
And that,
you perhaps do not remember me
and the deliciously long night, we had once shared.
I wanted to believe this,
but never could.

I still await you.

- Owais

--

This is first being published on this page.

POEM_: You ARE Dangerous

.

From you,
all paths lead me to apathy.

For, if I were to win your love,
nothing worthwhile
remains to be striven for.

And if I do not,
nothing then matters anyway!

- Owais

--

This is first being published on this page.

POEM_: Disaster

Travelling in this
super-fast, super-efficient
...(so un-Indian that!)
Shatabdi Express
from the city of Lutyens
to that of Dost Mohammed,
I read of
Tabish Khair’s ‘incident’.
And watch the dead mangled bodies
of the erstwhile train bogies
lying by the way-side.

I wonder how very close behind us
disaster is

and sometimes catches up.

---

- Owais

POEM_: From None, But You

Beloveds
I have a thousand.

Lover,
I can have but One.

Flesh and blood,
for all the temptation it carries
is always too weak
too mean to live up to the expectation it creates.

Love, I must
for that is my raison-de-etre;
but give me the power
O Ultimate Beloved,
to expect love from none,
but You.

- Owais

--

This is first being published on this page.