And on my angreez vohorwod, the woman I am marrying gave me this. A scrapbook with Kashmiri verses.
My afflictions are obvious.
Weeds have laid our gardens waste, since conjurors became the gardeners. The commoners learnt the dirty tricks from elites. Among ourselves let us crop our own candour. ~ Abdul Ahad Azad
A yearning dragged my steps to you, To be greeted with wrinkled brows, And a wish sprang from deep within me. “May you live long as Rum Rishi” (a Kashmiri Rishi said to have lived a very long life.) This one is by a poetess named Arnimaal, a woman who had a bright but stupid husband.
The following song by Mahmud Gami [1750-1855] may be given as an example of a real love song, though even this can be interpreted in Sufi wise. The story goes that Gami wrote the song about a girl of Kutahar (a village in the Maraz pargana of Kashmir) named Azme, and that it became the occasion of trouble for its author. Complaints were made about Gami, and his father reported the matter to the Tahsildar of the district; but the poet explained that Azme meant ‘to-day’ and that the whole song had only a Sufi significance.
Azme
‘Azme lil am vuchh-haet vare
‘Azme hawih di dare, lo lo, ‘Azme…
Azme, love of thee came to me, fortunate vision!
Azme, show me thy face, O darling. Azme love of thee…
Shangas augam van kati prare
Badnam gos kutahare, lo lo, ‘Azme…
Say where shall I wait, in Shangas or Naugam?
An ill name I got in Kutahar! Azme love of thee…
Achhavala neb am brang kutahare
Lachha baedi laegim kola tare, lo lo, ‘Azme…
I sought thee in Achhaval, Brang, Kutahar –
Lakh of hardships I suffered, my darling! Azme love of thee…
Rokh chon sazaposh guli anare
Chashma chani kya chhi ab, dare lo lo, ‘Azme…
Pomegranate thy cheeks, or saza-posh-
How dark are thine eyes, my darling! Azme love of thee…
Guma hatsa bomba chani kya chhi moj dare
Nasti chani kari mare, lo lo, ‘Azme…
Shining thy brows as though with sweat-
How many a one thy nose has slain, my darling! Azme love of thee…
bar taq bhit kong-posh tsaran
Melum chhum na kanhzi ra’e, lo lo, Azme…
Sitting by the door, choosing saffron flowers,
I know not for whom, my darling! Azme love of thee…
Kolagam indrah kya chhi nam dare
Tsakra chhas bedare, lo lo, ‘Azme…
What a famous spinning wheel is there in Kolgam,
Matchless its handle, Azme love of thee…
Indarad chonis rapa sanza tare
Vucch-vaen ta ga’e bemare lo lo, ‘Azme…
Silver are the strings of thy spinning wheel,
Those who see it fall ill with wonder, my darling! Azme love of thee…
Zovilis tumalas dogdivare
‘Azme Hund sarvi qad rutiye lo lo, ‘Azme…
Skilfully pounding the rice so fine,
The good shape of the cypress has Azme my darling! Azme love of thee…
Nol kya chhuy tse lalan trotiye
‘Azme Hund van kapan tsotiye lo lo , ‘Azme…
Bright is her dress as a pearl,
Short are the plaits of Azme, my darling! Azme love of thee…
Zovilis mastas Kaugan fidivare
Vankan karay shumare lo lo. ‘Azme…
Slowly combing her hair so fine –
I will count up thy plaits, my darling! Azme love of thee…
Sor lok yem ga’e avare lo lo, ‘Azme…
[Probably a missing line]
Kamadev has passed through Kutahar,
All folk must yield (?), my darling! Azme love of thee…
Mahmud Miskina ha Van prare
Badnam gos kutahare lo lo, ‘Azme…
Hapless Mahmud, where shall he wait for thee?
An ill name I won in Kutahar, my darling! Azme love of thee…
~ From ‘Thirty Songs from the Panjab and Kashmir’ (1913) by Ratan Devi and Ananda Coomaraswamy.
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Found the lines and translation in Encyclopaedia of Indian Literature: sasay to zorgot edited by Mohan Lal, from a section by Shafi Shauq on the poet.
A rendition of the lyrics, @Youtube
Someone asked for a translation of the song. Here are the lyrics and an attempt at translation (corrections are welcome).
madano pardeh royas tul be lagay’e dard’hetay gul t’che mo’laag bewafa bilkul be lagay’e dard’hetay gul madano pardeh royas tul
Beloved lift that veil off your face
love ached
I want to offer you a flower
You don’t play
a compete unfaithful
I want to offer you a flower
Beloved lift that veil off your face
walo maya’ne kaal bomburoo
at’chan hind gash ta’ey nooro
sula yamberzal my’oz’tul
be lagay’e dard’hetay gul t’che mo’laag bewafa bilkul
be lagay’e dard’hetay gul
madano pardeh royas tul
Come my black bumblebee
light of my eyes and my sight
A narcissus I picked, earlier
love-ached
I want to offer you a flower
You don’t play
a compete unfaithful
love-ached
I want to offer you a flower
Beloved lift that veil off your face
walo maya’ne lockcharo ve zolvin nov bahaaro ve dama chu maar vyun’chay sul be lagay’e dard’hetay gul madano pardeh royas tul
Come my Childhood
swarming new spring
a sip of wine remains
come
there is still some time
love-ached
I want to offer you a flower
Beloved lift that veil off your face
~ Abdul Ahad Azad (1903-1948)
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Although Abdul Ahad Azad is now mostly remembered for his revolutionary songs tinged with socialism, but as the above composition proves, his hold on romanticism rooted in Kashmiri idioms was just as fine. He should also be remembered for his contribution to documenting the oral poetic works of Kashmir. A translation of Kashmiri Zaban Aur Sairi, his three volume history of Kashmiri literature, is long overdue.
Shekh Sana recited the name of Rama,
And in an Indian girl he found his Love,
He worshipped an idol and burnt the Koran.
Sing hey ho for joy!
Who was this Shekh Sana? Why is the translation peppered with geography? The book offers no details. Well, that’s not enough for me.
First, this is how I read it:
Rama, Rama
recited Shekh Sana
when
in face of a girl
he found love
He raised an idol
and burnt Koran
O, sing this song!
One would read these lines now and think reference to Koran burning, by a Muslim, is what stands out about these line. But actually what is happening in these lines is really beautiful.
Shekh Sana of these lines is (also) the hero of an Azerbaijanian qissa of Sheikh Sanan,* the man who fell fatally in love with a Georgian-Christian girl, Khumar. In this love story, Khumar’s father agrees to give his daughter to Sanan if he agrees to raise pigs and burn Koran. Sanan agrees, and yet the lovers die, pointing out the fallacy of all religions. Now, the beauty. Later, when this tragedy is transported by Wahab Khar to Kashmir, the poet has the hero recite name of Hindu god Rama and raise idols. Still later, when the same Kashmiri lines are later translated in English by a Pandit, the heroine becomes an Indian. Still much later, when I read those Kashmiri lines and translations, I have to spend hours just to get the context.
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Update:
There is a alternative Kashmiri version in Shekh Sana of Mahmud Gami (1750-1855). In this version Shekh has a reawakening of faith after an intervention by his friends and followers. In the end, the woman breaks her idols and accepts Islam.
The dame in clear submission
Gave up her pride and low passion.
The Sheikh then taught her the lessons of his creed,
And made her the “Kalima” of unity read.
[Tr. by Gulshan Majid, Medieval Indian literature: An Anthology Volume 2, Edited by K. Ayyappa Paniker]
It seems such creative interventions in folklores were not a exception around that time but a trend. In an alternative version of popular Kashmiri folktale of Heemaal Naagiraay put to Kashmiri masanavi form by Wali Ullah Motoo (d 1858), a contemporary of Mahmood Gami, Naagiraay is presented as a Muslim disguised as a Kafir, a Hindu. In this version after Heemaal and Naagiraay burn to ashes, a fakir from Madina restores the two bodies from ashes and then the bodies are buried according to Muslim ritual.
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*Update:
In his biographical piece on life and work of Mahmud Gami, Muzaffar Aazim mentions that Gami’s Shekh Sana was based on a plot from a Persian work by Sheikh Attar (145-1146 – c. 1221) titled Manteq-ut-Tair [The conference of the bird, a Sufi allegory in which a pack of birds go looking for the mystical Simurgh]. This is the original source of the love story of Shekh Sana and Khumar. In this work the woman was a sun-worshiper and in Gami’s Kashmiri version the girl is a Hindu with a tilak on her face when Shekh Sana first sees her and falls in love.
~ Abdul Ahad Azad (1903-1948)
