Ghalib’s Most Famous and Popular Shers Translated and Discussed by Maharaj Kaul
Maharaj Kaul translates and discusses Mirza Ghalib’s (1799 – 1869) most popular and famous shers:
Ghalib Sher 10:
hazāroñ ḳhvāhisheñ aisī kih har ḳhvāhish pah dam nikle
bahut nikle mire armān lekin phir bhī kam nikle
Translation:
all the thousands of longings are such that over every longing I would die
many of my wishes were fulfilled but still few were fulfilled
Discussion:
Ghalib says there are thousands of desires in life such that, for each of them one would sacrifice his life. Many of my desires were fulfilled, but still they turned out to be few.
Ghalib Sher 9:
koʾī vīrānī-sī vīrānī hai
dasht ko dekh ke ghar yād āyā
Translation:
it is a desolation like desolation
seeing the desert home came to mind
Discussion:
This is a famous sher known for its vast ambiguity. Is Ghalib reminded of his home seeing the desolation of the desert? Or is he longing to be at his home, seeing the desolation of the desert? Or, is he in a state of the mood of desolation; then, seeing the desert he is reminded of his home, as a state of relief. We cannot understand what Ghalib had in his mind writing this couplet.
Ghalib Sher 8:
koʾī mere dil se pūchhe tire tīr-e nīm-kash ko
yih ḳhalish kahāñ se hotī jo jigar ke pār hotā
Translation:
let someone ask my heart about your half-drawn arrow
where would this romantic pain have been if it had gone through beyond the liver
Discussion:
The half-drawn arrow thrown by Ghalib’s beloved at him, whether by amateurishness or by design, has produced a beautiful pain in him. On the other hand had it been thrown fully by her, he would have been dead, but without any pain. This pain is what produces the feeling of love. So, he is better off in pain than being dead.
Ghalib Sher 7:
ġham-e hastī kā asad kis se ho juz marg ʿilāj
shamʿa har rang meñ jaltī hai saḥar hote tak
Translation:
for the grief of life Asad what would be the cure except death
the candle in every color burns until the coming of dawn
Discussion:
Ghalib asks what is the cure of the unavoidable grief of life. He answers his question by saying that life is like a candle which keeps on burning all night till dawn. Then when its wax runs out it extinguishes. When the flame of life is burning it can encompass everything imaginable. This is the inherent sadness of human life. The second line of the sher is awesomely great, as it tells that while alive a man can be an element in all possibilities. That is, the scope of human life is great; man’s consciousness can take him to anywhere.
Notes:
Asad is the middle name of Ghalib. His full name was Assad Ullah Khan Ghalib.
Ghalib Sher 6:
āh ko chāhiye ik ʿumr aṡar hote tak
kaun jītā hai tirī zulf ke sar hote tak
Translation:
a sigh needs a lifetime until the appearance of an effect
who lives until the subduing of your curls
Discussion:
It is among the most famous as well as popular shers of Ghalib. Most of its translations into English have been marred by the translation of the second line of the sher. They have been given to the effect: ” who will live until she deigns to pay attention to her lover.” The word “sar” means subduing or disentangling or softening. So, “zulf ke sar hote tak” means ” until the hair curls are disentangled, subdued, or softened.”
Ghalib says that his sighs for his beloved will need a lifetime to be effective, as it is the nature of human emotions and sentiments. But while he is waiting miserably, his beloved does not pay any attention to him, as she is busy disentangling the curls of her hair. This is the utterly painful contrast between the two.
Ghalib Sher 5:
ham ko ma.alūm hai jannat kī haqīqat lekin
dil ke ḳhush rakhne ko ‘ġhālib’ ye ḳhayāl achchhā hai
Translation:
we know the reality of paradise but
to keep the heart happy Ghalib this idea is good
Discussion:
This is one of Ghalib’s famous shers. It says that we know what paradise is actually, an illusion; but to keep oneself happy and distracted this idea is good.
Ghalib Sher 4:
merī qismat meñ ġham gar itnā thā
dil bhī yā-rab ka.ī diye hote
Translation:
in my fate if so much sorrow was ordained
hearts Oh God many should I have been given
Ghalib Sher 3:
dil hī to hai na sañg-o-ḳhisht dard se bhar na aa.e kyuuñ
ro.eñge ham hazār baar koī hameñ satā.e kyuuñ
Translation:
it’s just a heart no stony shard why shouldn’t it fill with pain
I will cry a thousand times why should someone complain
Ghalib Sher 2:
ishq par zor nahīñ hai ye vo ātish ‘ġhālib’
ki lagā.e na lage aur bujhā.e na bane
Translation:
love we do not have power over it is that flame Ghalib
it may not ignite when we ignite it nor it may extinguish when we try.
Ghalib Sher 1:
ishrat-e-qatra hai dariyā meñ fanā ho jaanā
dard kā had se guzarnā hai davā ho jaanā
Translation:
the desire of a drop is to obliterate itself in a river
pain growing beyond limit becomes its own cure
Discussion:
Ghalib says that the ecstasy of a drop of water is to lose its little identity by merging with the much larger expanse of a river, thereby enriching its existence vastly. Let us say there is a man who lives in a small village, where he leads an ordinary life. Then he decides to migrate to a large metropolis as he feels he is not living fully. Though by moving to the metropolis he loses his identity but he vastly gains in the scope of his profession and culture. It is this expansion of mind what Ghalib is referring to.
The second line says that when a human being suffers very much due to something, the suffering elevates his fortitude to tolerate it. Great suffering challenges the human spirit, giving birth to a high threshold of forbearance in him.
Tribute To Dilip Kumar
https://www.facebook.com/profile/100009422537911/search?q=dilip%20kumar
Where Are You Art?
It was hard to believe when you left us,
A shock to our existences,
A joy-wrencher, a peace-snatcher.
For years you walked on earth with tough-feet,
And carried high-ambition,
But soft ways and words you used with the world.
Though in rough business,
Your concern for humanity never wavered,
Family was your prime focus.
You left a mark for us to look up to,
A way to emulate,
A memory to rekindle our souls.
Suffern, New York, February 23, 2024
maharaj.kaul@yahoo.com
Kamal’s Journey Against Time
When I Met Kailash Mehra the First Time
I do not remember when I first heard about Kailash Mehra the singer the first time, but I remember thinking about her seriously in 1990’s when her musical CD Bal Maryo came out. It was a fabulous collection of Kashmiri songs, including the classic bedardi chani, which also is her favorite song of herself. I heard the CD dozens of times. It also introduced the singer Vijay Malla to me, whose singing I have cherished since.
In 2003 we heard that Kailash Mehra was touring U.S. for her musical concerts. My wife felt strongly that we should manage her New York concert. I supported her in her vision, and in that direction, we realized that we should invite her to stay with us. To our good fortune she accepted the invitation, and the date of her arrival from, I think, one of the Midwest cities, was set.
Kailash Mehra’s flight was coming at LaGuardia Airport in New York City. I started two hours before the flight arrival time from my home. I was lucky to find the parking for my car at the airport quickly. This put me in the arrival gate an hour before the flight arrival, a long time to kill comfortably. It was a busy arrival gate where several flights came. Every few minutes I would check my watch to see how much more time I will have to wait to meet Kailshji. Finally, it was announced that my guest’s flight had landed. I waited anxiously for her to come to the baggage arrival carousel, from which I was only twenty feet away. One by one the passengers from the city in Midwest flight came to the carousel and after some search picked their bags and left the arrival building. But I did not see Kailash Mehra. But wait a minute, I had never met her before. How was I then going to recognize her? Well, I had seen her photograph in the concert flyer used in one of the cities she had given a concert in. Arrival passengers around the baggage arrival carousel were thinning out, but where was my Kailashji? Now there were only four passengers looking for their baggage. But which of them was Kailashji? It remained a $64,000 question, as I was not able to match the passengers with the image of Kailash Mehra I had in my head. I started panicking, which is not normal for me. Finally, there was only one passenger left at the baggage arrival carousel. Logically it must be my Kailshji. I started focusing on her keenly. She had a lot gold ornaments on her. She was dressed in shilvar-kameez and chuni, Indian women’s clothing. My brain was shouting to me: that is her, that is her. We were both staring at each other for several minutes, as we were not sure if we were seeing the right person. Finally, I could not take it anymore. I jumped the rope separating the passenger receivers and the passengers. We were the only two people left, as every receiver had paired with his arriver. I rushed toward her in excitement and virtually hugged her, but did not do it out of the fear that an Indian woman would not allow a stranger to touch her. I braked my rushing feet just a few inches from her and folded my hands in the classic Indian hand gesture of namaste. I peered at her intensely and she looked at me with controlled inquisitiveness. Later in my relationship with her I learnt how a controlled personality she was. I wanted to ask her why she was wearing all that gold jewelry but did not dare to do that because of her Indian sensibility. Meanwhile, my brain was busy in figuring out the difference between the Kailash Mehra photo I had seen and the Kailsh Mehra I was seeing.
Once in the car we started to cast off our shyness, she faster than I. I had to keep myself in control lest she think I was a mental lightweight. Once home she relaxed considerably in the company of my wife.
On August 28, 2003, I organized a concert for her in Rockland County, New York. I introduced her to the audience in what turned out to be a very successful event. She sang some of her famous songs to the joy of the tri-State (New York, New Jersey, Connecticut) Kashmiri audience.
Later she and her husband Vijay Kumar Sadhu became very good friends of me and my wife Mohini. In the 2006 visit to U.S. she and Vijayji stayed with us, and I again organized a concert for her, but this time in New Jersey. It was even more successful than the earlier concert. I stayed with Kailashji and Vijayji at their residence in Jammu during one of my visits to India. Our relationship became deeper with time.
But with the passage of further time, she became formal with me. She now addresses me Respected Kaul Sahib in letters. But for me the magic of that first encounter and the subsequent meetings has never been dulled. Behind her present very formal and disciplined persona lies a simple girl who needs affection and attention. That is what I have captured in the photo at the top of this essay I took of her in 2009. But behind her controlled demeanor lies a long-suffering personality. She has seen a lot of hard times in her life but yet she has managed to become a very successful artist in a language she was not born in. I believe her being denied a Padma award is disgraceful on part of the government. Last year I tried to persuade the Jammu and Kashmir Governor to give her that award but it did not succeed.
Suffern, New York, July 24,2023
maharaj.kaul@yahoo.com
The Enigma of Bhajanji
We hardly knew you Bhajanji,
A year has passed since you unexpectedly left us,
A year of intense suffering and slow-burning pain.
We searched for you in the corners of the world and heavens,
But only in the recesses of our hearts and contours of our minds
We saw your smiles and songs well anchored.
While on earth you were an enigma hidden in a charm,
Your pains and joys were carefully wrapped up,
Only clue to your soul was in your music.
Wherever you are give us a smile from time to time,
As your absence has changed our rhythm and colors,
We are searching for new anchors and new meanings.
But you left the world of music in a better shape than before,
You bought harmony and intensity in its pursuit,
Joy and freedom in its absorption.
Suffern, New York, July 17, 2023
maharaj.kaul @yahoo.com
The Marred Gift of God
It is something that the world remembers you after death,
But for a moment I would burn our love and reclaim my freedom,
As in our times it is a convenience not a dedication.
It is a wonder that God still has faith in humans,
For they have mutilated the grand design,
And changed living to a process than a phenomenon it is.
The sunrise still reveals the wonder of nature,
But the world runs by a dollar,
Our best hopes are materialistic.
Why have we surrendered to physicality,
Where have we lost the spirit of grand ideas,
Why isn’t sacrifice the great bliss?
What was given to man and what he has done with it
Will remain forever a dagger in man’s heart,
Our loss immeasurable.
Suffern, New York, November 13,2022
maharaj.kaul@yahoo.com
Stillness of Being
Where Do We Find You Bhajan?
Where do we find you Bhajan,
In the shy Wullar waters of Sopore,
Or in the regal Nishat and Shalimar gardens?
Your carefully managed long tresses of hair,
Well groomed mustache and stylish kurta and pajama,
Created the image of a slick socialite or an actor just out of a performance.
What were your secrets Bhajan,
What were your heart aches and ecstasies,
What were your frustrations?
Your enigmatic smile revealed little,
That you had devoted your life to strings from five,
Long burning hours doused in perspiration.
Maybe your Kashmiri Dhun reveals a little,
Sopori Baaj some more,
But your mystery you have taken with you.
Suffern, New York, July 14, 2022
maharaj.kaul @yahoo.com
Walking Toward the Sunset
There were times when some people thought
I was a pure specimen of life,
But such adulation was rare and far between,
Most of my life I was a mystery man.
They came to me as I was clean and harmless,
Curiosity was often rife
As how a strange person like me existed,
Or why he existed.
Love was given to me sporadically
As I could never surrender my aloofness,
I was a privileged specimen of some disorder,
A mystery shrouded in an enigma.
Ambition was my engine,
Achievement my goal,
But I did not want humans to judge it,
My ideal was the yardstick.
Heaven and hell were to me the same,
Twain they existed,
One was the prize,
Other its price.
The hardest thing was to live amidst materialists,
The day-to-day artists of existence,
The blind and the deaf,
The greedy and the selfish.
Life by itself does not give anything,
At best it can return you what you put in it,
It is your ideas of life that open the lockbox:
Your vision is everything.
What is love:
A relationship between the observer and the observed,
Held in reverence and grace,
Eternal compact without conditions.
Some of the journey of life is mindless:
Inanities thrown at us without reason,
Imaginations of the crass and benighted,
Dreams of the destitute and vulgar.
How to turn pain into elixir is the challenge of life,
There is no one we can complain to,
The almighty who designed human life,
Is soft on reason and long on imagination.
Stupid I have tolerated but insane I can’t stand,
Life is a long journey of ignoring and compromise,
But the true principle of life is life itself,
Rest is a convenience or mere convention.
I have been victimized by the cheap labeling of the world,
By its false innuendos and vulgar narcissism,
Un-eclectic choices and brutal selfishness,
By a visionless journey and blind faith.
I have seen good ideas mutilated by expediencies,
Imagination crushed by practical solutions,
Good of the community dwarfed by the ambition of one,
Infinity reduced to a momentary thrill.
I have been crushed and beaten by the majority,
Humiliated and tousled by the powerful,
Jeered and lectured by the popular,
Laughed and maligned by the special.
But now I have gained the rest of my freedom,
I have come to the end of my journey,
My sunset beckons me,
I can only look forward and not turn my head.
Why is life so difficult,
It is not so as it comes from nature,
But has been made difficult by the world:
Culture, religion, politics, economics.
Life is a fairy tale but we make it into a project,
We squeeze its music out,
And turn it into an achievement machine,
Results and not reverberations.
Suffern, New York, February 4,2022; Rev: January 14, 2023
maharaj.kaul@yahoo.com
Journal
Ghalib’s Most Famous and Popular Shers Translated and Discussed by Maharaj Kaul
Maharaj Kaul translates and discusses Mirza Ghalib’s (1799 – 1869) most popular and famous shers: Ghalib Sher 10: hazāroñ ḳhvāhisheñ aisī kih har ḳhvāhish pah dam nikle bahut nikle mire armān lekin phir bhī kam nikle Translation: all the thousands … Continue reading
Tribute To Dilip Kumar
Dilip Kumar Is No More: It is a deep personal loss to me that Dilip Saab, one of the heroes of my life, passed away a few hours ago. I discovered him in my mid-teens when I was living in … Continue reading
Where Are You Art?
It was hard to believe when you left us, A shock to our existences, A joy-wrencher, a peace-snatcher. For years you walked on earth with tough-feet, And carried high-ambition, But soft ways and words you used with the … Continue reading
Kamal’s Journey Against Time
She was a ray of light Sourced by an unknown and unknowable fire within – Unencumbered by surroundings and society, She lit a room full of people by her intense enigmatic smile And imbued little things with sensitivity and style, Today time … Continue reading
When I Met Kailash Mehra the First Time
I do not remember when I first heard about Kailash Mehra the singer the first time, but I remember thinking about her seriously in 1990’s when her musical CD Bal Maryo came out. It was a fabulous collection of Kashmiri … Continue reading
The Enigma of Bhajanji
We hardly knew you Bhajanji, A year has passed since you unexpectedly left us, A year of intense suffering and slow-burning pain. We searched for you in the corners of the world and heavens, But only in the recesses … Continue reading