February 15, 2009

I had planned to commence this article with Faiz Sahib’s legendary poem Dua but then I recalled what took place a few years ago at an event in Hyderabad, Deccan where I had just recited this verse from the same poem:

Let us raise our hands in supplication

Listening to this, the ladies sitting in the front row ardently draped their dupattas over their heads and raised their hands in prayer. But when I got to the second and third verse of the poem, which were:

We who are unaware of the norms of prayer

We who besides the fervour of love

Remember no God, no effigy

One of the ladies angrily pulled the dupatta off her head and gave me such a scathing look that I forgot the rest of the poem. Nevertheless, Dua is one of Faiz’s most charming works and must be savoured for what it is: a product of sheer beauty:

Those who are envious of Faiz’s popularity cannot understand why he was regarded so highly during his lifetime, and still continues to be revered when he is no more amongst us. They also fail to comprehend that had he not been intimately committed to his love for peace, humanity and social justice, he would never have received the devotion and admiration that he garners today.

Faiz Sahib is that fortunate name in Urdu poetry whose esteem and popularity transcends the bounds of national borders. Once during his days of exile in the reign of General Ziaul Haq, while passing through a random third world country, he happened to disembark at Kolkata airport. Here the Indian immigration officers restrained him from moving further, claiming that Pakistanis could only enter Hindustan via Delhi or Bombay therefore they could now allow him to enter the city.

At this the poet demanded that they contact their chief minister Jyoti Baso. When the immigration officers did so, the chief minister said over the phone: ‘I am coming to the airport myself.’

Shortly afterwards, Jyoti Baso arrived at the airport and warmly received Faiz Sahib. He cautioned the immigration officers that Faiz was not a poet of a single country alone, for him all the airports of Hindustan were wide open. Besides this was the capital city of the communist province of Bengal so no one could stop him from visiting here anyway.

Such was the treatment given to Faiz in our traditional rival country. As for our own country the tutelage of whose beauties Faiz kept praying for all his life it’s another story altogether.

I recall a gathering in Mumbai where Faiz Sahib recited these verses. Anni Apa (renowned writer Quratulain Haider) who was sitting in the front row remarked teasingly, ‘Isn’t this Khair ho teri a little too Punjabi?’

In any case I was talking about the time when Faiz was living a life of exile. Once, on his way to Japan, he happened to land in Pakistan at the Karachi airport. The immigration officials there immediately spotted an opportunity for promotion at his expense. But thanks go to the Talpur community of Sind one of whom was also the governor of Sind at the time. As soon as the governor heard that Faiz Sahib was in the custody of immigration officers, he rushed to the airport and made him guest of honour at his official residence that evening. The next day Faiz was sent off to his destination with full protocol.

At this end, however, a number of art critics and Faiz enthusiasts kept distorting this key dimension of his personality which was the most prominent within his poetry, and because of which he was estranged and persecuted for years. But his personality and poetry had such diversity and magnetism that even his starkest critics could not ignore him and craved for his attention.

Particularly the nouveau riche members of our bureaucratic society always strived to adorn their drawing rooms with everything that glitters. During Faiz Sahab’s final days, they even endeavoured to restrict him to the confines of their drawing rooms. But how could his poetry remain confined within the hollow palaces of glitz and glamour?

In his book on Faiz, Dr Aftab Ahmed recalls a gathering at the residence of Z. A. Bukhari in Karachi at which Bukhari Sahib recited E. M. Foster’s famous quote, ‘If I am asked to choose between disloyalty to my country and that to my friend, I wish I may muster enough courage to go against my country.’ Then, in his quintessential dramatic accent, he wondered aloud, ‘What might be a cause worthy enough for one to sacrifice one’s precious life?’

Seated there, Faiz Sahib in his quiet, soothing voice uttered just one word: ‘Revolution.’ That single word carried such certainty that silence prevailed; nothing more needed to be said.

Faiz’s poetry has become the voice of the oppressed and the enslaved. The crux of his work the universal message of hope glows within the hearts of all those who reside in slums, ghettos and shanty towns. These are the people to whom Faiz Sahib had devoted his poetry:

Is it possible that these people who are the soul of Faiz Sahib’s poetry will ever perish? Never. And since that is the case, Faiz’s poetry will also last forever.