POETS can be classified in different ways. But here I am concerned with the sort of classification which tells us about two varieties of poets — those who are spontaneous and prolific and those who are perfectionists, saying too little and polishing too much. At present, most of our poets are seen oscillating between these two varieties. They little care for a polished expression. But they don’t have the quality of spontaneity either.
However, we have among us two poets who exemplify these two categories in a perfect way. They are Zafar Iqbal and Iftikhar Arif. Frankly speaking, I was reminded of this categorization because of a pleasant concurrence. Just after receiving the second big volume of Zafar Iqbal’s poetic works I received a comparatively thin volume of verse titled Jehn-e-Maloom. That was new collection of Iftikhar Arif’s verse. It was nothing new in case of Zafar Iqbal as I have been receiving his collections, each appearing after a short interval, for which I am thankful to him. But the reception of Iftikhar Arif’s collection was a pleasant surprise for me. His last collection Harf-e-Baryab had come out in 1994. He has taken one full decade to bring out his new collection, while this very decade has witnessed a chain of collections from Zafar Iqbal. Why is Iftikhar so slow as compared to his distinguished contemporary? Is it because he devotes much time to the polishing of his verse?
Iftikhar Arif has spent quite a long time in PTV. While serving there, he might have keenly observed writers always in a hurry. As is known to us, the writers and the artists in media are always in a hurry. They must write at the spur of the moment and win quick fame. This phenomenon has perhaps been a great lesson to him. He has learnt the value of being slow and patient when engaged in writing. Good poetry has, in general, been the fruit of long labour, what the classical musicians call riyazat.
Iftikhar Arif has long years of verse writing behind him. But he has to his credit only three collections, the first being Mehr-e-Dauneem. His verses, with their chaste expression, speak of his care for diction. He takes care to see that he is not superfluous and the few words he employs are packed with meanings. He may be seen as a modernist with a classicistic sensibility. This has helped him to evolve a poetic diction, which is modernistic with a classicistic restraint.
Let me quote here Annemarie Schimmel, who in her comments on his poetry has said: “He is modern in his use of language, but classical in the way he hides his burning concerns in allusions, symbols and metaphors.... an art perfected by classical Persian and Urdu poets.”
While going through his verses, what in the first instance strikes us most is his preoccupation with devotional poetry. Frankly speaking, devotional poetry as practised by our modern poets has mostly been written with the intention to meet the requirements of natiya mushairas and masalmas, held by Radio Pakistan and PTV annually on religious occasions.
The situation with Iftikhar Arif is a bit different. He seems to be deeply devoted to the Holy Prophet (PBUH) and his exalted family. So we see his innermost devotional feelings expressed here. And so this devotional poetry is essentially different from formally written naats, munqabats, salams, and marsiyas. It finds its culmination in couplets alluding to the tragedy of Karbala. It is here that this poetry turns symbolic and acquires a relevance to our times.
When we turn from the devotional poetry to his other verses, ghazals and nazms, we see here an acute sense of homelessness as the dominating mood in this poetry:
Ik hijrat aur ak musalsal daibadari ka qissa
The ‘qissa’ of migration and long drawn homelessness is in this poetry a recurrent theme which can be traced back in the verses of previous collections. And when the poet makes a fine distinction between ‘makan’ and ‘ghar’, we can as well trace the roots of this homelessness in the breakup of the traditional society under the pressure of modern urban living.
Disillusionment, frustration and a sense of deprivation are the ingredients of the feeling that runs through the verses in this collection. Off and on, there is a reference to some precious dreams, which now have come to nought. Only an intense longing for a home has survived.
POETS can be classified in different ways. But here I am concerned with the sort of classification which tells us about two varieties of poets — those who are spontaneous and prolific and those who are perfectionists, saying too little and polishing too much. At present, most of our poets are seen oscillating between these two varieties. They little care for a polished expression. But they don’t have the quality of spontaneity either.
