Mar
18
2010

Blood is But Blood!

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Poetry, in every age, has been the mode of expression of man’s feelings and desires even when there was no other way. There has been fewer poets though who broke out from the usual pattern of classical urdu poetry or Funoon e Lateefa (The Delicate Arts), and spoke for the silent crowd. Sahir Ludhianvi was one of those rare poets, whose writings shed tears for the poor, down-trodden and the struggling common man. His poems speak of social problems that ruled at that age.

Here I am sharing one of his nazms that truly touches the common man of today and can also be very much related to our current political and social situation.

ظلم پھر ظلم ہے، بڑھتا ہے تو مٹ جاتا ہے
خون پھر خون ہے، ٹپکے گا تو جم جائے گا

خاکِ صحرا پہ جمے يا کفِ قاتل پہ جمے
فرقِ انصاف پہ يا پائے سلاسل پہ جمے
تيغِ بيداد پہ، يا لاشہ بسمل پہ جمے
خون پھر خون ہے، ٹپکے گا تو جم جائے گا

لاکھ بيٹھے کوئي چھپ چھپ کے کميں گاہوں ميں
خون خود ديتا ہے جلادوں‌ کے مسکن کا سراغ
سازشيں لاکھ اوڑھاتي رہيں ظلمت کا نقاب
لے کے ہر بوند نکلتي ہے ہتھيلي پہ چراغ

تم نے جس خون کو مقتل ميں دبانا چاہا
آج وہ کوچہ و بازار ميں آنکلا ہے
کہيں شعلہ، کہيں نعرہ، کہيں پتھر بن کر
خون چلتا ہے تو رکتا نہيں سنگينوں‌سے
سر اٹھاتا ہے تو دبتا نہيں آئينوں‌ سے

ظلم کي بات ہي کيا، ظلم کي اوقات ہي کيا
ظلم بس ظلم ہے آغاز سے انجام تلک
خون پھر خون ہے، سو شکل بدل سکتا ہے
ايسي شکليں کہ مٹاؤ تو مٹائے نہ بنے
ايسے شعلے کہ بجھاؤ تو بجھائے نہ بنے
ايسے نعرے کہ دباؤ تو دبائے نہ بنے

Here’s an English translation of the poem

Blood is But Blood!

Repression is still repression
Rising, it must flop
Blood is sill blood
Spilling it must clot.

Whether it clots on desert sands
Or upon assassin’s hands
On justice’s head or around shackled feet
On injustice’s sword or on the wounded corpse
Blood is still blood
Spilling, it must clot.

However much one lies in ambush
Blood betrays butcher’s hideout
Conspiracies may veil in thousand darkly mask
Each blood drop ventures out with burning lamp on its palm.

The blood you sought to suppress in abattoir
Today that blood moves out into street
Here an ember, there a slogan, there a stone
Once blood comes to flows
Bayonets are no avail
Head, once it is raised
Is not downed by law’s hail.

What is about oppression?
What is with its impression?
Oppression is, all of it, but oppression
From beginning to end
Blood is still blood
Myriad form it can assume
Forms such as are indelible
Embers such as are inextinguishable
Slogans such as are irrepressible.

Sahir Ludhianvi (1921-80)
Translation by anon