Memories (Episode 11)

Beginning of my Affinity with Poetry and Literature

Hadhrat Mawlana Sahban Mahmud (may Allah have mercy on him), along with teaching us our regular curriculum books, had instilled in me a taste for poetry and literature from that time. Hadhrat himself would compose fine poetry, and during lessons, he would not only recite his favourite couplets but also explain their literary subtleties in such a way that we would understand their true meaning and enjoy them. At one point, he started the practice of giving us a couplet and asking us to compose further couplets based on it. We would, to the best of our abilities, create a rhyming line and show it to him, and he would correct it.

On the other hand, as I have mentioned before, our household environment was also steeped in poetry and literature. Our respected father (may Allah have mercy on him) composed poetry not only in Urdu but also in Arabic and Persian. Our eldest brother, Hadhrat Zaki Kaifi (may Allah have mercy on him), was an established poet, and due to him, renowned poets frequently visited our house. Our sisters also had a special interest in poetry, and respected Muhammad Wali Razi would also compose poetry. Therefore, our recreation and entertainment at home was that whenever all of us siblings gathered together, we would sometimes start a poetry competition, and at other times one of us would recite a good poem or Ghazal we had read or heard, and we would all enjoy it. At times, we would read a literary article together, and at other times, Choti Apa would read HafIz Jalandhari’s Shahnama-e-Islam to us, which we listened to with great interest.

In this backdrop, I developed a passion for poetry and literature from childhood. By the age of nine, I had already memorized many poems and Ghazals. In those days, a children’s magazine named “Sathi” (“Companion”) was published. My elder brother, respected Muhammad Radi (may Allah have mercy on him), had subscribed to it in my name, and I would be overjoyed at receiving it. I would eagerly await the postman at the beginning of each month because of this magazine. When I received it, I would not be satisfied until I had read it cover to cover. It was this magazine that ignited in me the desire to write something myself. My sister, whom we called Choti Apa, especially encouraged me in this. In those days, magazines had a section for pen pals. Children would send in their names and addresses to be published, inviting other children to be their friends through written correspondence. When this magazine started the ‘pen pals’ section, my sister suggested I start correspondence with one of the names listed, as it would help me practice writing. I looked through the names [of children] who wanted to be pen pals and the name I liked the most was “Mujahid”. From the address, I found that he lived in the African city of Nairobi, which was then the capital of Tanganyika (later renamed Kenya). I chose him for pen friendship solely because I loved the name “Mujahid”. I wrote a haphazard letter and showed it to Choti Apa, who made corrections and transformed it into a proper letter. I posted it and also received a reply. This pen friendship continued for some time. I would initially write a letter for my unseen friend, and show it to Choti Apa, who would review it and enhance it with literary touches. In this manner, gradually, I also began developing some writing skills.

In those same days, in the Readers’ Opinion section of the daily “Jang” newspaper, people would spark debates on various subjects, and articles from both sides of the argument would be published. Once, a pointless debate arose about whether a woman can be a poet. Choti Apa advised me to send my point of view to the newspaper. In compliance with her order, I wrote an article which was published under the title “Women and Poetry” in “Jang”. This was my first published piece of writing. Later, a debate arose as to whether Quaid-e-Azam’s^[1] face should be printed on currency notes. I wrote an article titled “Pictures on Currency Notes”, in which I took the position that pictures^[2] are impermissible and that it leads to personality worship. Therefore, no pictures should be printed on our currency notes. Another time, a debate ensued as to whether mixed-gender education should be allowed in the country. On this occasion, too, I sent a write-up presenting arguments against mixed-gender education. All these articles were published in “Jang”, and Choti Apa not only provided moral support but also reviewed and edited them. Therefore, it would probably not be incorrect to say that it was her teaching, nurturing and encouragement that were the foundation of my literary efforts. I was ten years old at the time. She got married to late respected Shafqat Ali of Lahore on 27 February 1953. Coincidentally, the Tahrik-e-Khatm-e-Nubuwwat (Movement for the Finality of Prophethood) had reached its peak across the country on her wedding day. A grand rally was being held in Aram Bagh, in which Hadhrat Mawlana Ataullah Shah Bukhari (may Allah have mercy on him) was speaking, and arrest warrants for several senior scholars of the country had been issued. Rumours about an arrest warrant for our respected father (may Allah have mercy on him) were also circulating and we were unsure if he could attend his daughter’s wedding. But in the end, Allah Most High protected him and the wedding took place with wellbeing.

I still remember that I cried for weeks when Choti Apa left our house. She would visit Karachi once a year, and those days would be like Eid for me. A long time after her wedding, I expressed my emotions in the form of a poem, in which I said:

چھوٹی آپا! مری اس نظم کا عنواں تم ہو
تم ہو اس بزم کی تزیین کا ساماں تم ہو
حضرتِ والدِ ماجد کی نگاہوں کا سرور
والدہ کے رُخِ پُر نور کی افشاں تم ہو
تم سے بہنوں کے دلوں میں ہے طرب نغمہ سرا
بھائیوں کے لیے ہر درد کا درماں تم ہو
مہر و الفت کے جہاں پھول مہکتے ہیں سدا
ہاں وہ گلشن، وہ گلستاں، وہ خیاباں تم ہو ‍
جس جگہ شور ہے انسانوں کی افزونی کا
اُس جگہ میں بھی جو ملتا نہیں انساں، تم ہو
بے رخی اور لگاوٹ کے ان اندھیاروں میں
روشنی جس سے ہے، وہ شمعِ فروزاں تم ہو
تم سے ہے میری نظر میں رُخِ ہستی پہ نکھار
جس سے ہے بزمِ محبت میں چراغاں، تم ہو
تم سے چونک اُٹھتی ہیں ارمانوں کی نورس کلیاں
عید کا چاند ہو تم، صبحِ بہاراں تم ہو!
لوریوں میں بھی مجھے درس دئے ہیں تم نے
ہاں مری بہن، مری دوست، میری ماں تم ہو!

Translation:

Choti Apa! You are the title of this poem of mine, you are
You are the grace that beautifies this assembly, you are
The delight of our respected father’s eyes,
You are the radiance on our mother’s glowing face, you are
Joyous melodies resound in our sisters’ hearts because of you,
You are the panacea for every pain of our brothers, you are
Where flowers of love and kindness bloom endlessly,
Yes, you are that garden, that flowerbed, that park, you are
In a world proclaimed to be filled with a plethora of people,
The one person who is missing is you,
Amidst the glooms of indifference and pretentious attachment,
You are the brilliant lamp that provides light, you are
The world, in my eyes, appears beautiful because of you,
This gathering of love lights up because of you,
Blossoms of hope spring into life through you,
You are the crescent of Eid, a beautiful spring morning, you are!
You have taught me lessons even in lullabies
Yes, you are my sister, my friend, my mother, you are!

When I recited this poem to her during her visit to Karachi, she wrote a reply in the same rhyme and rhythm after returning to Lahore:

چھوٹے بھائی! مری اس نظم کا عنواں تم ہو
آنکھ کا نور ہو، تسکینِ دل و جاں تم ہو
تم سے میکے کی فضاؤں میں ہے اک کیفِ نشاط
کیا چمن زار ہے وہ جس کی بہاراں تم ہو
آنکھ کا نور ہو، والد کے جگر کی راحت،
والدہ کے لئے تسکین کا ساماں تم ہو!
بھائی کے خونِ شجاعت میں حرارت تم سے
اور بہنوں کا مچلتا ہوا ارماں تم ہو
سب سے چھوٹے ہو، تمہیں پیار ہے سب کا حاصل
ہے دلوں پر بھی حکومت، وہ سلیماں تم ہو
دیکھ کر تم کو میرے دور ہوں سب رنج و محن
بھول جاؤں جسے پا کر غمِ دوراں تم ہو!
ہیں مرے گلشنِ ہستی میں بہاریں تم سے
کِشتِ دل جس سے ہے سیراب وہ باراں تم ہو
تم سے کھلتے ہیں یہ ارمانوں کے نورس غنچے
جس میں یہ پھول مہکتے ہیں، وہ داماں تم ہو
دل ہے یا علم کے انوار کا آئنہ ہے
درس دیتا ہو جو پیہم، وہ دبستاں تم ہو
جہل و الحاد کے بڑھتے ہوئے اندھیاروں میں
روشنی جس سے ہے، وہ شمعِ فروزاں تم ہو
الغرض حمد اُسی ذات کی زیبا ہے مجھے
جس کا انعام ہو تم، رحمتِ یزداں تم ہو

Translation:

Little brother! You are the title of this poem of mine, you are
The light of my eyes, the comfort of my heart and soul, you are
An invigorating aura pervades our parents’ home with you,
How wonderful must that garden be, whose spring is you!
You are the light of our eyes, the comfort of our father’s heart,
You are the source of serenity for our mother, you are
The brave blood of our brothers warms up with you,
And you are the ardent hope of our sisters, you are
You are the youngest, enjoying the love of all,
You are the Solomon who reigns even over hearts, you are
Your sight allays all my griefs and hardships,
Having you makes me forget all worries of life, you are
My garden of life gets its spring from you,
You are the rain that waters the garden of my heart, you are
Petals of hope blossom to life with you,
You are the valley in which flowers exude their scent, you are
Your heart is a mirror of the enlightenment of knowledge,
You are the school that continuously teaches, you are
Amidst shrouding glooms of ignorance and disbelief,
You are the brilliant flame that provides light, you are
In short, all praise befits that Being,
Whose gift you are, a mercy of God, you are

When I turned twelve years old, our new academic year began in Shawwal 1374 AH at Darul Uloom. In that year as well (i.e. 1374 AH to 1375 AH), we studied Sharḥ Jami, Maqamat Ḥariri, Kanz al-Daqaiq, Usul al-Shashi, Qutbi, Sharḥ Tahdhib and al-Balaghah al-Wadihah, all under Hadhrat Mawlana Sahban Mahmud (may Allah have mercy on him), and we continued to benefit from his unforgettable teaching style. As I have mentioned before, Hadhrat (may Allah have mercy on him) had a special interest in poetry and literature in those days and would compose fine couplets himself. Through his literary taste, he would add colour even to books like Sharḥ Jami. That year, when we studied al-Balaghah al-Wadihah under him, his taste for literature made the study of this book twice as enjoyable. Al-Balaghah al-Wadihah is itself filled with exquisite literary pieces. Hadhrat would explain the subtleties of eloquence and rhetoric with examples from Urdu poetry, which made the entire lesson thoroughly vibrant and colourful. For example, I remember that while explaining “Ta’qid Ma’nawi”, he recited this couplet of Momin as an example:

خیالِ خواب راحت ہے علاج اس بدگمانی کا
وہ ظالم قبر میں مومن مرا شانہ ہلاتا ہے

Hadhrat explained that “علاج اس بدگمانی کا؟” – in the first line of this couplet – is actually a question and its meaning cannot be properly understood without a question mark at its end, or reading it in an interrogative tone. In similar ways, we greatly benefitted from his literary disposition.

In the evening, after returning home, we would enjoy recreational activities in Burns Garden or Polo Ground until Maghrib, and thereafter would remain busy studying and preparing for the next day’s lessons. After that, all of us siblings would gather and often compete in a poetry competition and my enthusiasm for this competition made me eager to memorize as many poetry couplets as I could. During that time, when we received Shahnama-e-Islam of Hafiz Jalandhari at home, we would sit around Choti Apa, who would read it to us in a fluent and rhythmic tone. Her voice still echoes in my ears. I became attached to the Shahnama so much that I memorized entire pages from it, and the reality is that I learned the detailed events of the Battle of Badr, the Battle of Uhud and the Battle of Trench through Shahnama first and only later from the books of my syllabus.

Besides this, if anyone brought a good religious or literary book, we would all enjoy reading it together. At times, “al-Nabi al-Khatam” H of Mawlana Manazir Ahsan Gilani (may Allah have mercy on him) was being read; at another time, “Ghubar-e-Khatir” of Mawlana Abul Kalam Azad was read; on some occasions, Hadhrat Mawlana Asghar Husayn’s (may Allah have mercy on him) “Khwab-e-Shirin”, and on other occasions, the humorous articles of the late Patras Bukhari were read. In short, this gathering of brothers and sisters was very lively and colourful. And if ever our respected father (may Allah have mercy on him) had some time to join us, we would not need any other pastime. Any time in his company was blissfully delightful. Our respected father (may Allah have mercy on him) would blend in with us and sometimes narrate stories of his elders, sometimes events from Islamic history, and at times inform us about those of his daily engagements that we could comprehend.

In those days, occasionally, beneficial programs were aired even from Radio Pakistan. The morning would begin with a recitation of the Qur’an by the late Qari Zahir Qasmi, after which the daily episode of Hadhrat Mawlana Ihtisham al-Haq Thanwi’s (may Allah have mercy on him) lecture on Qur’anic Studies would be broadcast. On Fridays, at the request of the then-Director of Radio Pakistan, late Zulfiqar Ali Bukhari, our respected father’s (may Allah have mercy on him) lectures on Ma’arif al-Qur’an would be aired. The programs after these would also feature less indecency than what appears in today’s radio and television programs. The programs in those days were highly literary in nature, and several interesting and informative series were broadcast. We learned about the game of “Chistan”, which was a general knowledge competition, from the radio. A weekly poetic gathering was also aired, in which one line of a couplet would be put forth and the participants had to create the second line. Several notable poets from around the country would take part in this. Hafiz Jalandhari, Adib Saharanpuri, Himayat Ali Sha’ir, Sha’ir Lakhnawi, Mahirul Qadri, Ra’is Amrohwi, Qamar Jalalwi, Iram Lakhnawi — they would all recite their latest poems almost every week in this gathering, and all of us siblings would eagerly listen to it. If poets from India were visiting Pakistan, they would also be invited. In this way, we listened to respected Jigar Muradabadi, Shakil Badayuni, and Jagan Nath Azad for the first time in that poetic gathering.

Now it comes to mind that in those days, even our pastimes were of an educational and literary nature, which helped increase one’s knowledge and also enhanced one’s academic and literary taste. It was due to these gatherings that I developed a love for books.

[1] Translator: “Quaid-e-Azam” in Urdu means “The Great Leader”. It is the title used for Muhammad Ali Jinnah, the founder of Pakistan
[2] Translator: of animate objects

…………….(Continued)…………….