Mahmud Gami’s Azme

from a book published in 1959
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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How Mahmud Gami’s Words Reached West, 1895

A Muslim Singer-Beggar
From Dutch travelogue ‘De zomer in Kaschmir : De Aarde en haar Volken’
(Summer in Kashmir: ‘The Land and its Peoples) by F. Michel (1907).

It is widely believed that the first person to bring works of Kashmiri poet Mahmud Gami (1750-1855) to western world was Karl Frederick Burkhard when in 1895 he partially published Gami’s retelling of ‘Yusuf Zulekhah’ in a German magazine.

Last night, I came across something that proves that Mahmud Gami’s words may have actually reached west a couple of decades earlier due to incidental travel journaling by a British painter, who also happens to be a blood relative of Virginia Woolf.

In 1877, after sketching the royalty of the Kingdom of Jammu and Kashmir, while on his way back, at Thanna Mandi, a place near Rajouri, in the afternoon of 13th June, V. C. Prinsep (1838-1904) met a traveling Kashmiri bard, a singing fakir, who regaled him with Kashmiri songs for hours while they walked. Preinsep made some notes, and later got two of the songs translated.

In his book ‘Imperial India; an artist’s journals’ (1879), Preinsep writes:

He was a filthy object, the dirtiest of the dirty; but he had the soul of a poet, and as he played his poor four-stringed instrument, he threw his head on one side, and bent over his guitar, much as first-rate performers do at home. He was grateful too, for when I left at 5 a.m., I found him waiting, and he played to me along a couple of miles of road, with his dirty legs keeping time to the twang of his music, and his nose well in the air ; neither would he leave until I gave hookham or permission.
My good friend Major Henderson [C.S.I., who was political officer in Kashmir, and an excellent linguist.] has sent me translations of two of this poet’s songs. One appears to be well known as the love-song of Mohammed Gami, a Kashmir poet.
“Like a flower-bearing plant I have become withered,
 Even I, for thy love, O Bee ;
 I will wail like the nightingale,
 ‘Where shall I seek thee, O Lily ? ‘
 Deal gently with me, come to my feast ;
 I will encircle thee with my arms, O Bee !
 What said I to thee that vexed thy heart with me ?
 By God, I adjure thee, tell me what is in thy heart.
 O dear friend, where didst thou flee from me ?
 Forsaking me, Sundar, O Bee ! “
I should like to have imported my poet as he appeared to me in his rags and filth ; yet is his love-song much like such as are sung in the drawing-rooms of Belgravia. The second song is another love-song, and the name of the poet is not known.
“Go, O bosom friend, bring me my lover, gently, gently.
 In anger he left me, sore and vexed : what offence could I have caused him?
 What is to me adornment of the person, antimony for the eyes, or any other
 embellishment ?
 For wealth and pearls what care I ? or the bells attached to my skirt ?
 O friend, sit with me in the shade of a wide-spreading chenar !
 Let not the calumny of an enemy affect thee. I am helpless.
 For my beauteous and graceful lover a divan and couch I will prepare.
 If he is not pleased with me, for whom shall I prepare them ?
 See what happened to Shuk Sanaa for the sake of the Hindoo maiden !
 He wore the sacred thread, he cherished swine with his own hands ! ” 

As is turns out, the second song is from work called ‘Shekh Sana’, a version of which among others was put to Kashmiri verses by Mahmud Gami.
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Previously:

Lyrics, trs.,Mahmud Gami’s Vasiye Naaraay


Mahmud Gami’s Ghazal

Vasiye Naaraay Daez maey Tan Taey
Yaaras Wantaey bozyam na
Friend, my body is in flames
Tell my love, won’t he listen
Poshaey Mot chum Baey Rosham tae
Rosaey Rosaey Bozyam na

My lover is again peeved
Even if peeved, won’t he listen
Kar saey maal saein poshan taey
Sui chum ratith Katihisana Jaay
I will make a garland of beautiful flowers
But which place holds him back
Dit’cham laer C’tuuram sam taey
Yaras wantam bozam na
But like a thief he ran away
Tell my love, won’t he listen
Vasiye Naaraay
Friend, I am aflame 
Yakhlaas gov aevyul pan taey
Aashaeq kyaet walnaey aay
I realized, like delicate thread
Why lovers get entangled?
Laasheaq chuey na ashiq’kas T’cyam taey  (?)
Yaras wantam bozyam na
Isn’t fair, cheating on love  
Tell my love, won’t he listen
Vasiye Naaraay 

Friend, I am aflame

Kavyin Doony’n ho Kar’yawin taey (?)
Yaawan t’chooran karnam graav

Earthen Hearth ??????????????????
Thief of my youth is now complaining

Booz kya won’nae Mahmuda’n taey
Yaaras wantam bozyam na

Listen to what Mahmud say’s
Tell my love, won’t he listen

Vasiye Naaraay Daez maey Tan Taey
Yaaras Wantaey bozyam na
Poshaey Mot chum
Baey Rosham tae
Rosaey Rosaey Bozyam na
Vasiye Naaraay

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Ghat/Yarbal, 1957

While in some parts of India there are still issues like which caste can claim upstream and which caste can claim downstream of a river, the below image captures how Kashmiris, Muslims and Hindus (two women on right are Pandit) were sharing a river, probably without even realizing the significance of it.

‘Jhelum Ghat Scene’ by Brian Brake, 1957

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Won’t you come to the Yarbal dear?
I would wash your footlings;
My wounds are unhealed –
Come my Love.

~ Mahmud Gami (1750- 1855)

Rama, Rama recited Shekh Sana



Rama Rama paryav Shekh Sanahantay
henzimokha lob tami yar
but polun Koran zoluntay
vantay lo hay lo

~ Poet, Blacksmith Wahab Khar, (b. 1842).

J.L. Kaul in his book ‘Kashmiri Lyrics’ (1945), translates the lines as:

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.

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