The border closing ceremony at the Wagah border; image by Arian Zwegers on Flickr, licensed under CC BY 2.0.

Now, as we approach the celebration of the Independence Days of Pakistan and India, on August 14th and 15th, respectively, it may be prudent to reflect on the brutal history (تاریخ/taarikh, fem.) that accompanied these days, often greeted with merriment today. It is difficult to conceive of the vast numbers of people who experienced displacement and violence due to Partition (تقسیم/taqseem, fem.). Essentially, over 14 million people were displaced according to their religion, which created a refugee catastrophe the likes of which it is difficult to comprehend, even today; people were desperate and terrified, not knowing what would happen from one day to the next, which resulted in widespread violence against people who were once beloved neighbors, but who were now construed as enemies based on a difference in faith (مذہب/mazhab, masc.).

The province of Punjab was particularly vulnerable to such violence and instability as it was home to a mostly Muslim population (آبادی/aabaadi, fem.) in its Western regions and a mostly Sikh and Hindu population in the East; in order to comply with the creation of Pakistan as a majority Muslim state and India as a secular one, Sikhs and Hindus living in the Western (مغربی/magribee, adj.; مغرب/magrib, noun) regions felt they should migrate to the East to ensure their safety, and the same was true for Muslims living in the Eastern (پوربی/poorbi, adj.; پورب/poorab, noun) regions.

Unfortunately, the governments (سرکار/sarkaar, masc.) of both countries (دیش/desh, masc.) were extremely ill-equipped to deal with this massive refugee crisis and the violence that accompanied it, resulting in a chaotic environment in which the rule of law, even if applicable, seemed irrelevant. Later, the eastern part of Punjab, now an Indian state, was further divided into what are now the states of Punjab, Haryana and Himachal Pradesh. Despite the divisions sown amongst people who were once neighbors (پڑوسی/parosi, masc. and fem.) due to political propaganda and the fear and uncertainty prevalent at the time, culture and language are strong unifiers and are thus capable of crossing even religious (مذہبی/mazhabee) and national boundaries.

Image by Umair Khan on Flickr, licensed under CC BY 2.0.

Evidence of this can be found today in popular culture, particularly music, such as in the following song, “Ki Banu Duniya Da” (“What has happened to the world/What has become of the world?” / دنیا کو کیا ہوا) that featured on Coke Studio India’s “Independence day” special, in which the Punjabi singers (گایک/gaayak, masc.) Gurdas Maan and Diljit Dosanjh bemoan the loss of South Asian traditions in the face of modernity and Westernization, including the hegemony of English as the global lingua franca to the detriment of South Asian languages (زبان/zabaan, fem.) like Punjabi, Hindi and Urdu. Interestingly, for this Independence Day special, Maan wrote additional verses to this traditional song (گانا/gaanaa, masc.) to express the sense of loss and cultural deterioration that the otherwise-joyous occasion of Independence Day leads one to reflect on.

Regarding Punjab and Pakistan, he sings that “this deal is not profitable for us,” (سودا/saudaa, masc.) referring to “Partition” as a sort of “business deal” that was not beneficial to the people it chiefly impacted: Indians and Pakistanis. He then refers to the Rivers Chenab (چناب), Ravi (راوی) and Sutlej (ستلج) as siblings (بھاٴی بہن/bhaai behen), once connected by geography as they traverse the Indian and Pakistani borders, but now separated by political dictates. He sings, “River Chenab often asks her sister River Ravi / How is my dear brother River Sutlej?” reflecting not only the division of the landscape but the sense of loss and estrangement felt by close neighbors and friends (دوست/dost, masc. and fem.) who, despite their mutual love for one another, were divided along religious lines by Partition. Concluding this section on Partition, the singer laments the fact that the “road to Peshawar is now distant and inaccessible” where previously it had been easier to reach this region. Moreover, he sings that “at the Wagah border / I look for those paths that once existed to Lahore, but sadly aren’t there anymore,” again expressing a division of the landscape that materially and negatively affects people’s lives on both sides of the border.

A few of the millions displaced by Partition; image by Dr. Ghulam Nabi Kazi on Flickr, licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0.

Although this division between the Pakistani and Indian sides of Punjab became law (قانون/qanoon, masc.), it could not stop the flow of culture and communication between remarkably similar people who had once peacefully coexisted. In fact, it is evident today that these two regions, despite national boundaries, cannot be completely separated due to the congruity of culture and language between them. In Pakistan today, about 44.7% of the population identifies as being part of the Punjabi ethnic group and another 48% of the population speaks Punjabi natively, far more than those who claim Urdu as a first or even second language (those who claim Urdu as a first language are at a mere 8%). Clearly, almost half of the population identifies strongly with Punjabi culture and language and that is further in evidence with the fact that many popular Pakistani songs are in Punjabi (such as those featured on Coke Studio Pakistan) and Punjabi is written both in the Gurmukhi script and the Nast’aliq (نستعلیق) script, the same script in which Urdu is written. As we can see here, language and culture are not subject to arbitrary political edicts that dictate national borders but are remarkable travelers (مسافر/musaafir, masc.), able to exist in many climes easily as long as the people who speak and practice them remain devoted to preserving them.

     

Related Stories

• Conversational Urdu: بول چال کی اردو
• Common Greetings and Farewells
• Dressing Up in Style

 

Muslim Greetings & Farewells

Image by Shamraze/Nuhaize on Flickr, licensed under CC BY 2.0.

Oftentimes, you will want to tailor your greetings to the faith of the person you are addressing, especially in smaller towns and villages. This does not apply as much to large cities or in certain contexts, such as in a professional office environment. If you find yourself in the latter context, you can simply use the English phrase ہیلو/hello. But, if you find yourself in a different environment, the following expressions could be of use:

السلام عليكم

(as-salaam-aleikum) 

This is a common greeting used to denote respect to your Muslim interlocutor. It originally derives from Arabic (thus the somewhat non-intuitive pronunciation in Urdu) and means “peace be upon you.” If someone else greets you thus, you may respond in this way: 

وعلیکم السلام

(walaykum as-salaam)

This is the appropriate response to the original greeting and means “And upon you, too” (that is, “may peace be upon you, too”).

Another, less common greeting is the following:

عاداب

(aa-daab)

This word literally means “good manners” or “courtesy” but is really just a way of expressing a courteous greeting and is less formal than the aforementioned greeting. This may be a good way to greet your peers or superiors whom you see on a day-to-day basis in a way that does not specifically reference religion. While saying this greeting, one usually brings one’s hand, slightly cupped, to one’s eye line.

And now for some expressions of farewell:

خدا حافظ

(Khudaa-haafiz)

This is probably the most common Muslim expression of farewell, which means “may God protect you” and is an auspicious way to bid farewell to someone. In many South Asian cultures, the act of taking one’s leave or bidding farewell can be considered inauspicious (that is, possibly boding ill omens) because, in the past especially, you did not know when or if you would see the person or people to whom you are bidding farewell. So, you will notice that many expressions of farewell especially make a reference to God or a superior power protecting the people to whom you’re bidding farewell in case you do not meet them again. A typical response to this involves just repeating the above phrase.

Sikh Greetings & Farewells

Image by Paul Varuni on Flickr, licensed under CC BY 2.0.

A minority of India and Pakistan’s population are Sikhs, although this religious group is more populous in India. When the state of Punjab, which is home to most of South Asia’s Sikhs, was divided due to the partition of India and Pakistan in 1947, many Sikhs felt pressured to relocate to India if they found themselves in the now-majority Muslim, Pakistani half of Punjab. Some, however, chose to stay where they were, meaning they became citizens of Pakistan. The Indian and Pakistani areas of the Punjab, however, to this day have a strong linguistic and cultural connection as many Pakistani people speak fluent Punjabi in addition to Urdu and other languages.

 ست سری اکال

(sat shree Akaal)

This is a very common and somewhat formal greeting, which is perfect for strangers or people with whom you are not well acquainted. “Sat” (ست) means “truth,” “sree” (سری) is a respectful title and “Akaal” (اکال) is a reference to “the timeless being” or, in other words, God. All together, the words translate to “the name of God is truth.”

The above phrase could also be used to express farewell, but some other options are the following:

الودا

(alvidaa)

This is a relatively informal expression of farewell that doesn’t specifically reference religion but is common in Punjabi.

رب رکھا /گٗرٗ رکھا

(Rab rakhaa / Guru rakhaa)

This is similar to the Muslim farewell above. The first means “May God keep/protect you” and the second means “May the Guru keep/protect you,” referring to the Gurus of Sikhism, important spiritual leaders who spread and enriched the Sikh faith, particularly the first among them, Guru Nanak, who lived from 1469 to 1539.

Hindu Greetings & Farewells

Image by Catriona Ward on Flickr, licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0.

As you may already be aware, the most common and formal greeting when interacting with a Hindu is the following:

نمستے

(namaste)

This is usually said while pressing both palms together in front of one’s chest. But, as said previously, this is a formal greeting that is best used with strangers who are superior to you (in age and/or status). Interestingly, you would use this same exact phrase to say goodbye (like “Aloha” in Hawaiian). Many young people today do not use this greeting with one another, preferring to use less formal English greetings such as “Hi” or “Hello.” “نمسکار/namaskaar” is an even more formal variant of the above phrase.

پھر ملیںگے

(phir milenge)

This is a less formal way of saying goodbye and translates roughly to “We’ll meet again/later.” This phrase doesn’t reference religion, so it’s good to use with anyone with whom you’re well acquainted, like a friend or close colleague.

Hopefully you’ll get a chance to test out some of these greetings and farewells in the process of learning Urdu!

The post Common Greetings and Farewells first appeared on Urdu Language Blog.

     

Related Stories

• Conversational Urdu: بول چال کی اردو
• Kaifi Azmi’s “The Son of Mary” (Part 2)
• Punjab and Pakistan / آزادی مبارک ہو

 

Image by DFID-UK Department for International Development on Flickr, licensed under CC BY 2.0.

Can you help me?

• آپ/تم میری مدد کر سکتی/سکتے ہیں/ہو؟ (Aap/tum meri madad kar sakti/sakte hain/ho)?

Let’s break down the vocabulary here:

اہم الفاظ (Ahem Alfaaz) / Important Words: 

1. آپ/aap: The formal version of “you” best used with those who are superior to you socially, such as someone who works above you, someone who is older than you or someone who looks about your age but whom you do not know well. When in doubt about someone you do not know, use آپ/aap. This is considered grammatically plural, even if you’re only speaking to one person. If you wish to indicate more than one person, use the phrase آپ لوگ/aap log (you all/you people).
2. تم/tum: The informal version of “you” often used with those you know well, such as friends, family members and those who work alongside you and/or are the same age as you. Wait until you become acquainted with someone in a friendly way before using تم/tum. This is also considered grammatically plural; if you want to indicate numerical plurality, use the phrase تم لوگ/tum log (you all/you people).
3. مدد کرنا/madad karnaa: to help. مدد/madad (help) is a feminine noun, and this verb takes the possessive pronoun, so you would say میری مدد/meri madad for “to help me,” تمہاری مدد/tumhaari madad for “to help you (informal)”, ہماری مدد/humaari madad for “to help us” and آپ کی مدد/aap ki madad for “to help you (formal)”, etc.
4. سکنا/saknaa: to be able to.

عام جواب (Aam javaab) / Common Responses:

1. زرور/zaroor: Of course!, بلکل/bilkul: Absolutely!
2. آپ کی/تمہاری مدد کر کے مجھے خوشی ہوگی/aap ki/tumhaari madad kar ke mujhe khushi hogi: I would be happy to help you.
3. کتنا وقت لگیگا ؟ / kitnaa vaqt lagegaa? : How long will it take?
4. ٹھیک ہے، ایک منٹ / thik hai, ek minute: Okay, just a minute (wait a sec).
5. معاف کیجیےٴ/کرو، میں ابھی مصروف/بزی ہوں / maaf kijiye/karo, main abhi masroof/busy huun: Sorry, I’m busy right now. (You can also just say “sorry” in English).

Image by U.S. Embassy Pakistan on Flickr, licensed under CC BY-ND 2.0.

What have you been up to lately?

• آپ/تم کیا کر رہی/رہے ہیں/ہو حال میں؟

اہم الفاظ (Ahem Alfaaz) / Important Words:  

1. کیا/kyaa: what. This is a question word—you will notice that all of the question words in Urdu begin with a “k,” such as کدھر/kidhar (in which direction), کہاں/kahaan (where), کیوں/kyon (why), کون/kaun (who) and کب/kab (when). Unlike English, where we usually put question words at the beginning of a sentence, in Urdu the question word appears in the same position as the word it stands for; so, instead of “What are you eating?” (in English, “what,” the question word, appears at the beginning of the sentence), in Urdu you have “تم کیا کھا رہے ہو؟” (Tum kyaa khaa rahe ho / You what eating are?, literally, where “what” appears in the second position, the same place it would be in the answer to this question: میں روتی کھا رہا ہوں / Main roti khaa rahaa huun / Literally: I roti eating am (“roti” or “bread” replaces “kyaa/what” in the second position here). This actually makes asking questions in Urdu easier than English!
2. کر رہی/رہے ہیں/ہو/kar rahi/rahe hain/ho: This is the progressive form of the verb کرنا/karnaa=to do. It indicates the -ing verb in English: “I am doing, You are singing, We are reading, etc.” Remember that the auxiliary verb (ہیں, ہو) changes according to whether you’re using آپ or تم.
3. حال میں/haal me=recently, lately. Another option is آجکل/aajkal, which means “these days.” Yet a third option is فلحال/filhaal, which means “at the present, for the time being.”

عام جواب (Aam javaab) / Common Responses:

1. میں بہت کام کر رہی/رہا ہوں/main bahut kaam kar rahi/rahu huun: I’ve been working a lot.
2. عام طور سے میں پڑھای کر رہی/رہا ہوں/aam taur se main parhaai kar rahi/rahaa huun: I’ve been studying most of the time.
3. میں بس آرام کر رہی/رہا ہوں/main bas aaraam kar rahi/rahaa huun: I’ve just been relaxing.
4. میں گرمیوں کی چھٹیوں کی تیاریاں کر رہی/رہا ہوں/main garmiyon ki chuttiyon ki taiyaariyaan kar rahi/rahaa huun: I’m making arrangements/planning for my summer trip(s).
5. کچھ بھی نہیں کر رہی/رہا ہوں/kuch bhi nahin kar rahi/rahaa huun: I’ve been doing absolutely nothing.

Image by DFID-UK Department for International Development on Flickr, licensed under CC BY 2.0.

     

Related Stories

• Common Greetings and Farewells
• Kaifi Azmi’s “The Son of Mary” (Part 2)
• Punjab and Pakistan / آزادی مبارک ہو

 

Garments for Men (مردوں کے لیےٴ کپڑے)

The first garment for men that I’ll talk about is the Pakistani waistcoat or vest (ویسٹ کوٹ), which men usually don on formal occasions and in professional settings. This Western piece of attire that was adopted by Indians and Pakistanis alike is no doubt descended from the British colonial era. Another outer garment is the اچکن/achkan, which is a jacket that typically falls to the knees and is also worn on special occasions. A similar garment to the اچکن/achkan is the شیروانی/sherwani, which is a lengthy, outer garment that is usually worn over a کرتا/kurta (or long tunic) and a lower garment such as چوڑیدار/churidar, دھوتی/dhoti, پاجامہ/pajama or شلوار/shalwar (we’ll get into these later). It is different from the اچکن/achkan in that it is usually shorter in length, made from heavier fabrics and has a lining.

Examples of traditional Pakistani dress at a wedding; image by Alvi Haroon on Wikimedia Commons, public domain.

Now, let’s discuss one of the words I just mentioned above: pajama! Sound familiar? The word pajama was borrowed into English from Hindustani (پاجامہ) in around 1800; yet the Hindustani word itself was originally borrowed from the Persian “paay-jaameh” (پايجامه‎)  or “leg garment; this term merely indicates loose-fitting, lightweight pants with a drawstring (izaarband/ازاربند) around the waist, not the clothes you sleep in This lower garment is worn by both men and women today. As for another lower garment mentioned above, the دھوتی/dhoti is worn by men throughout South Asia and usually consists of around 15 feet of (generally cotton but can be silk for a special occasion) rectangular, unstitched cloth that is draped around the legs and waist and tied at the waist to create a comfortable, airy garment that is perfect for lounging, doing work or, in some cases, getting married!

Image by Matteo on Wikimedia Commons, licensed under CC BY 2.0.

As for all-important headgear, Muslim men, especially, wear a taqiyah (Arabic: طاقية), or, as it more colloquially known, a ٹوپی/topi (cap), which is a squat, round skullcap worn oftentimes for religious purposes. It is considered proper to cover your head while entering a mosque to partake in prayer as the Prophet Muhammed was said to have kept his head covered while engaging in religious activities. This kind of head covering is particularly prevalent while Muslims engage in نماز/namaaz, or the five daily prayers that form one of the five pillars or commendable practices of Islam.

Garments for Women/عورتوں کے لیےٴ کپڑے

A dupatta (دوپٹا or چنّی/chunni) is a common accessory or feature of a woman’s outfit, although many women living in large cities may not wear them, or may wear them as a fashion accessory rather than a “symbol of modesty,” which they were originally intended to be. A dupatta or chunni is just a long scarf that, when worn for modesty’s sake, is draped across the chest or across the chest and over the hair, especially when entering a mosque for prayer.

An image of two children taken in the modern-day state of Jammu & Kashmir in 1890; both of the children are wearing churidaar. Image by Fowler&Fowler on Wikimedia Commons, public domain.

گھاگھرا چولی/Ghaghra choli is an outfit women may wear to a special occasion, such as a party or wedding. It consists of a long, flowing skirt, usually heavily embroidered or otherwise decorated, and a form-fitting, midriff-bearing blouse (the choli). A variant of this is the لہنگا/lehenga, which is also comprised of a long, flowing skirt and short upper garment. The variations in style with these two outfits are almost endless. And then, of course, is the ساڑی/sari, a popular garment in both Indian and Pakistan that is perfect for daily wear or a festive occasion. It consists of yards of fabric that are wrapped around the body and over the shoulder. Underneath is a long petticoat and a choli blouse.

Another, less common outfit seen today is a “gharara,” (غرارہ), which originally hails from Lucknow. It consists of a کرتی/kurti (or short, waist to mid-thigh length tunic), a dupatta or scarf and a pair of wide-legged pants that are ruched at the knee so that they may flare out conspicuously. The knee area of the garment (called “گوتا/gota”) is usually intricately decorated with zari/زری (thread work of fine gold or silver) or zardozi/زردوزی (another type of embroidery using gold and silver thread as well as sometimes metal, pearls and precious stones) embroidery.

A bridal gharara with zardozi embroidery; image by Farmina Khan on Wikimedia Commons, licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0.

As for garments that demonstrate a person’s religious devotion, women may wear a burqa (برقع), which is usually a long, black garment that reaches to the feet and covers the head and sometimes face, excluding the eyes. In other words, it is a full-body garment. Another option is the hijab/حجاب, which is usually a piece of cloth that covers the hair and chest, leaving the face exposed. The hijab is typically paired with a loose, long-sleeve or 3/4-inch-sleeve shirt. The purpose of these garments is to suggest modesty, demonstrate religious devotion and emulate the Prophet Muhammed, who was said to cover his head during religious activity. Religious men usually wear long tunics (کرتا/kurtaa) and a head covering, such as a topi (ٹوپی/topi), to similarly suggest modesty and devotion.

Garments for Both Men and Women/مردوں اور عورتوں کے لیےٴ کپڑے

The national dress of Pakistan, as you may already know, is the shalwar-kameez/شلوار کمیز, which consists of shalwar or loose-fitting trousers that typically have a drawstring at the waist and kameez, which refers to the upper garment, usually a kurta (a long tunic that varies in its precise length) or a kurti for women (a short tunic that can be waist to mid-thigh length). Every region in Pakistan has its own particular style of shalwar-kameez, from the Sindhi people, to the Punjabis, Balochis and Pathans. Shalwar-kameez can be made out of many different fabrics, but the most common are silk, chiffon and cotton.

A woman from Karachi, Sind, photographed in 1870 wearing dupatta, kurti and shalwar. Image by Fowler&Fowler on Wikimedia Commons, public domain.

One variation of the shalwar that is particularly popular is the patiala/پٹیالہ shalwar, which gets its name from the city of Patiala in the Indian state of Punjab; centuries ago, the King of the region used to wear patiala shalwar as his royal dress. Now, however, the style has been developed exclusively for women and is noteworthy for the amount of fabric it comprises as it features numerous pleats that drape downwards, creating an elegant effect, flowing together at the bottom.

Another option for a lower garment are churidar/چوڑیدار, named for the extra fabric at the bottom that bunches up at the ankles and gives the appearance of bangles on an arm (churi/چوڑی=bangle). These are more form-fitting trousers worn by both men and women.

      

“Taajdar-e-Haram” (تاجدارِ حرم/King of the Holy Sanctuary), sung by Atif Aslam (عاطف اسلم)

قسمت میں میری چین سے جینا لکھ دے  

May I be destined for a peaceful life 

(lit. may a peaceful/contented life be written in my fate)   

ڈوبے نہ کبھی میرا سفینہ لکھ دے 

May my ship stay afloat (even in troubled waters)  

جنت بھی گوارا ہے مگر میرے لئے 

It is not that paradise would be disagreeable to me, but

اے کاتبِ تقدیر مدینہ لکھ دے 

O, scribe of fate, may I be destined for Medina 

This classic was originally sung by the qawwali sensations “The Sabri Brothers” (صابری برادران) who first introduced qawwali, or Islamic devotional music tied to the mystical branch of Islam, Sufism, to the West. In this rendition, the song is given a new treatment with pop star Atif Aslam as the lead vocalist. Aslam, formerly a lead singer in the Lahorevala (لاہور والا) pop-rock band “Jal,” is very popular in both India and Pakistan for his melodious voice and charismatic onstage presence. Another song worth checking out that features Aslam’s vocals is “Dholna” (ڈھولنا), which also aired on Coke Studio Pakistan. “Taajdar-e-Haram” is one of Coke Studio Pakistan’s most popular songs to date, having garnered over 100 million views on YouTube! Not only that, this song effectively broke a record as the first video originating in Pakistan to have achieved that many views, not only from Pakistani fans, but from fans in 185 countries all over the world.

Singer Atif Aslam at the celebration of a Hindi film debut; image by Bollywood Hungama on Wikimedia Commons, licensed under CC BY 3.0.

“Panchi/بنچھی” (“Bird”) by “Jal” (جل, “Water”)

پنچھی ہوں، اڈنے دو

Speaking of “Jal”! This song was first released on Jal’s debut album, Aadat (عادت/Habit), in 2004, but has been given an update with this 2011 rendition, sung by the band’s main vocalists, Farhan Saeed (فرحان سعید, who has since left the band to pursue a solo career) and Goher Mumtaz (گوہر ممتاز‬) and featuring the up-and-coming singer Qurat-ul-Aain Balouch/قرۃ العین بلوچ

This band was established in 2002 and still features the multifaceted talents of Goher Mumtaz, the songwriter, one of the lead vocalists and lead guitarist. Another  “Jal” song worth checking out is “Ik Aarzu/One Wish  (اک آرزو)” also on Coke Studio.  ‬

Goher Mumtaz of Jal; image by Sanwalzia on Wikimedia Commons, licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0.

“Aik Alif” by Saieen Zahoor (سائیں ظہور) and Noori (نوری)

جو نہ جانے حق کی تاقت

The one who knows not of the power of justice 

رب نہ دیوے اس کو ہمت

God does not grant him courage

ہم من کے دریا میں ڈوبے

Come, let us immerse ourselves in the river of the soul 

*من/man (masc. noun) is a slightly ambiguous term in English, as it can mean “heart” in some contexts and “mind” in others.  

کیسی نیا، کیا منجھدھار

How new it all seems, in midstream 

This song exemplifies what Coke Studio Pakistan is all about: bringing together well-known, mainstream artists and little-known artists from folk traditions to create groundbreaking music and expose Pakistani fans and others worldwide to new genres of music that represent the country in the most inclusive way possible: not only showcasing the “big names” from the big cities but paying tribute to tribal and regional musical traditions that make up a large part of the country’s culture. After all, for most Pakistanis, Urdu is not a first language, and they instead claim a number of languages as their mother tongue, from Punjabi, Sindhi and Saraiki to Pashto and Balochi.

Saieen Zahoor has the kind of success story few can emulate: growing up in the Pakistani region of Punjab, he left home at a young age to become an itinerant singer at Sufi shrines throughout Pakistan, often traveling only by foot. Illiterate yet known for his remarkable memory for song lyrics, Zahoor didn’t produce a record until 2006 and was nominated for the BBC World Music Awards based on word of mouth alone, as his incredible passion and powerful voice are difficult to forget once heard. You’ll also notice his use of the “Ektara,” (اکتارا, usually a one-stringed instrument, hence the “ek/اک” but the version Zahoor uses is three-stringed and is known as a “toombi/تومبی”) a folk instrument not often played but very distinctive and usually employed by wandering Sufi musicians like him.

And, of course, we can’t forget the incredible voices of Lahore-based rock band “Noori/نوری” (“Light”) made up of the brothers Ali Hamza (علی حمزہ)  and Ali Noor (علی نور). Another song of theirs that I enjoy is the rock-pop melody, “Jo Mere/جو میرے” (“That Which is Mine”).

Noori performing at a mall in Karachi; image by Arshmaan.alee on Wikimedia Commons, licensed under CC BY 3.0.

“Chal Diye” (“چل دیئے/Departed”) by Zeb and Haniya (زیب او حانیا) and Javed Bashir (جاوید بشیر)

یہ ہریالی، یہ آسمان

This verdure, this sky 

یہ گھٹا، میری رازدان

These rain clouds, my confidantes (who know my secrets) 

رات کے پہلو میں دیےٴ

These candles at dusk 

تیرے لیےٴ ہے بچھے

Are laid out for you

  تیرا ہاتھ تھام کے

Taking your hand

لو ہم بھی چل دیےٴ

Look, we too departed (slipped away)

Zeb and Haniya were a rock-pop band of sisters who have since disbanded, yet produced excellent music during their career, some of it in Urdu and some in Persian. This particular song, in Urdu, features the electrifying vocals of Javed Bashir, hailed by many as a master of Hindustani classical music for his ability to seamlessly and beautifully execute each vocal modulation. Another Zeb and Haniya song that is particularly memorable is the Persian “Paimona,” which is notable for its use of the “rubab,” (رباب) a traditional instrument with a distinctive sound that is not often employed in mainstream music. Persian or Farsi/فارسی is a language of distinction in Pakistan as Urdu borrows many words from this language and much of its classical literature is written in Persian.

Image by PopTech on Flickr; licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0.

Man Aamadeh Am (من آمدہ ام / میں آ گییٴ ہوں) by Gul Panra (گل پانہ) and Atif Aslam (عاطف اسلم)

(from Persian/Farsi to Urdu)

 میں آ گییٴ ہوں، اے واےٴ

I’ve come to you, alas (lit. “woe”) 

تاکہ عشق فریاد کرے

So that I might cry out with love 

 تاکہ ناز بنیاد رکھے، نیا زمندی کی

So that I might begin our flirtation, I beg of you  

(from Urdu)

دل سمبھل تو جاےٴگا پر سمبھل نہیں

Would that I could restrain my heart, but it won’t be restrained 

تم ہی کویٴ رستہ دکھاوٴ نہ

You alone can show me the way out 

 بس یہں میں چاہوں کویٴ بات کرو

I want to hear your voice just once 

ہے سونا من تجھ بن آوٴ نہ

My heart is desolate without you, come to me 

Once again, Atif Aslam makes an appearance, representing the pop contingent, alongside the up-and-coming talent Gul Panra, who sings in Persian/Farsi in a more traditional style. The song is a perfect blend of modern and traditional elements with a fun and flirtatious flair. Once again, Persian makes an appearance in the song (alongside Urdu) as a language of culture and sophistication and which many Pakistanis can understand and speak. The title of the song means “میں آ گییٴ ہوں” in Urdu or, in English, “I have come (to you).” As with many songs from Coke Studio Pakistan, there are helpful subtitles in Persian, Urdu and English to help you follow along with the song’s lyrics (these subtitles are available for some of the other songs I’ve mentioned here as well).

     

Related Stories

• Kaifi Azmi’s “The Son of Mary” (Part 2)
• Conversational Urdu: بول چال کی اردو
• Common Greetings and Farewells

 

Image by Mel Antipam on Wikimedia Commons; public Domain.

Her father was a Sunni Muslim music director by the name of Ali Bux who hailed from Bhera (now in the Pakistani region of Punjab) and her mother, Iqbal Begum (original name: Prabhawati Devi), who was related to the Tagore family, was an actress and dancer who converted from Christianity to Islam to marry Meena’s father. Yet, despite her parents’ talents in the arts, Meena was born into an impoverished family and was introduced to the film world at the age of 4 so that she could begin earning money. Regardless of Meena’s stated wish to pursue her schooling, her parents wanted her to be in films, and thus her career started when she made her debut in Vijay Bhatt’s Leatherface (1939). As a child actor, she starred in a number of films, most of them Vijay Bhatt productions, and it was during this phase of her life that Bhatt gave her the stage name “Baby Meena.”

Her first film as an adult, in which she was cast under the name “Meena Kumari,” came with the 1946 production Bacchon ka Khel/بچوں کا کھیل (A Children’s Game). Yet, her breakthrough role came later, in 1952, with Vijay Bhatt’s Baiju Bawra. On the set of another film in which she starred, Tamasha/تماشا (A Spectacle), she was introduced to her future husband, Kamal Amrohi. After their meeting, Amrohi decided to offer her the lead role in his new film Anarkali (انارکلی), and she agreed. However, two months later, Kumari was involved in a car accident that left her with a permanently disfigured pinky finger on her left hand. It was while she was convalescing in the hospital that her romance with Amrohi began as he visited her there often and the two started writing letters to one another.

Image by Bolskaya on Wikimedia Commons; licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0.

In 1952, unbeknownst to Kumari’s father, with whom she still lived, she and Amrohi got married in a “niqah” (بکاہ, or simple Muslim marriage ceremony) ceremony with a qadi (قادی, a Muslim judge who interprets and applies Islamic law or Sharia) and Kumari’s younger sister serving as officiant and witness, respectively. However, the truth was that Amrohi was already married at the time and had three children by his first wife. Later, when Kumari’s father found out about the secret marriage from an eavesdropping servant, he expressed his disapproval and discouraged his daughter from acting in Amrohi’s films; initially conflicted, Kumari later rebelled against her father and decided to act in Amrohi’s film Daera/داےٴرہ) (1953), causing her father to close the doors of the family home to her. Her relationship with Amrohi, however, was deeply troubled, and the two separated in 1964.

Regarding Kumari’s verse, a facet of her personality and life that few are well-acquainted with, scholars Philip Bounds and Daisy Hasan write that, “poetry was the medium through which Kumari distanced herself from her public image and criticized the industry that had brought her to public attention in the first place. In that sense, her poems tell us as much about Bollywood as they do about herself.” As a woman forced to become an actor at the age of 4 to help lift her family out of poverty, it is understandable that Kumari would have an ambivalent attitude toward the film industry, which was often cruel, cutthroat and exploitative, especially in its treatment of female stars. Despite her success in this industry, Kumari, a sensitive, vulnerable, learned woman and autodidact with numerous talents, met her downfall due to her association with it: she died at the young age of 33 on the 31st of March, 1972 of liver cirrhosis. Fortunately, she left behind echoes of her sensitive and emotive spirit in a book of her poetry compiled by her friend, fellow poet, lyricist and director Gulzar, after her death, entitled Tanha Chand/تنہا چاںد (The Solitary Moon).

Image by Abhijit Kar Gupta on Flickr; licensed under CC BY 2.0.

     

Related Stories

• Kaifi Azmi’s “The Son of Mary” (Part 2)

 

The first president of India, Jawarhalal Nehru, presiding over a poetry reading or “mushaira.” Image by Public.Resource.Org on Flickr, licensed under CC BY 2.0.

ابنِ مریم (Part 2)

تم یہاں کیوں کھڑے ہو مدت سے	Tum yahaan kyoon khare ho muddat se	Why do you stand here, endlessly?
یہ تمہاری تھکی تھکی بھیڑیں	Yeh tumhaari thaki thaki bheren	These are your weary sheep
رات جن کو زمیں کے سینے پر	Raat jin ko zameen ke seene par	When the morning dawns (these two lines are switched)
صبح ہوتے اںڈیل دیتی ہے	Subah hote undhel deti hai	The night expels them onto the breast of the earth
منڈیوں، دفتروں ملوں کی طرف	Mandiyon, daftaron, milon ki taraf	Toward the markets, offices, mills
ہاںک دیتی دھکیل دیتی ہے	Haank deti dhakel deti hai	They shout, they jostle
راستے میں ہے رک نہیں سکتیں	Raaste men ye ruk nahin saktin	They could not halt on the path
توڑ کہ گھٹنے جھک نہیں سکتیں	Tor ke ghutne jhuk nahin saktin	Their broken knees could not bend
ان سے تم کیا توقّوا رکھتے ہو	Un se tum kyaa tavaqqoa rakhte ho	What faith do you have in them?
بھیڑیا ان کے ساتھ چلتا ہے	Bhediyaa un ke saath chalta hai	A wolf in sheep’s clothing* runs among them
تکتے رہتے ہو اس سڑک کی طرف	Takte rehte ho is sarak ki taraf	You remain, staring at this street
دفن جن میں کیٴ کہانیاں ہیں	Dafn jin men kai kahaaniyaan hain	In which many stories are entombed
دفن جن میں کیٴ جوانیاں ہیں	Dafn jin me kai javaaniyan hain	In which many youths are buried
جس پہ اک ساتھ بھاگی پھرتی ہیں	Jis pe ik saath bhaagi phirti hain	On which empty pockets and coffers, too (this and the line below it are slightly switched)
خالی جیبیں بھی اور تجوریاں بھی	Khaali jeben bhi aur tijoriyaan bhi	Flee and scatter at once
جانے کس کا ہے انتظار تمہیں	Jaane kis kaa hai intezaar tumhen	God only knows* who you’re waiting for
مجھ کو دیکھو کہ میں وہی تو ہوں	Mujh ko dekho ke main vahi to huun	Behold, for I am he
جس کو کوڑوں کی چھاوٴں میں دنیا	Jis ko kooron ki chhaaon mein duniyaa	He, whom the world, in the shadow of filth
بیچتی بھی خریدتی بھی تھی	Bechti bhi khareedti bhi thi	Bought in one breath, sold in the other
مجھ کو دیکھو کہ میں وہی تو ہوں	Mujh ko dekho ke main vahi to huun	Behold, for I am he
جس کو کھیتوں سے ایسے باںدھنا تھا	Jis ko kheton se aise baandhnaa thaa	To whom fields* were bound as if
جیسے میں ان کا اک حصہ تھا	Jaise main un kaa ik hissa thaa	I were a part of them
کھیت بکتے تو میں بھی بکتا تھا	Khet bikte to main bhi biktaa thaa	If the field was sold, I too was traded
مجھ کو دیکھو کہ میں وہی تو ہوں	Mujh ko dekho ke main vahi to huun	Behold, for I am he:
کچھ مسینیں بنایٴں جب میں نے	Kuch masheenen banaayin jab main ne	I built machines
ان مسینوں کے مالکوں نے مجھے	Un masheenon ke maalikon ne mujhe	When the masters of those machines
بے جھجک ان میں ایسے جھوںک دیا	Be jhijhak un mein aise jhonk diyaa	Threw me in to stoke the flames, without a thought
جیسے میں کچھ نہیں ہوں ایںدھن ہوں	Jaise main kuch nahin huun, indhan huun	As if I were nothing but fuel
مجھ کو دیکھو کہ میں تھکا ہارا	Mujh ko dekho ke main thakaa haaraa	Behold, for I am weary, defeated
پھر رہا ہوں جگوں سے آوارہ	Phir rahaa huun jugon se aawaarah	I have been wandering, nomadic, for ages*
تم یہاں سے ہٹو تو آج کی رات	Tum yahaan se hato to aaj ki raat	If you leave tonight…
سو رہوں میں اسی چبوترے پر	So rahoon main isi chabootare par	I will remain, sleeping, on this platform
تم یہاں سے ہٹو خدا کے لیےٴ	Tum yahaan se hato khudaa ke liye	Leave, for God’s sake
جاوٴ وہ ویتنام کے جںگل	Jaao voh Vietnam ke jangal	Go into those jungles of Vietnam*
اس کے مصلوب شہر زخمی گاوٴں	Is ke masloob sheher, zakhmi gaav	Its crucified cities, its wounded villages
جن کو انجیل پڑھنے والوں نے	Jin ko injel parhne vaalon ne	That those bible beaters
روںد ڈالا ہے پھوںک ڈالا ہے	Raund daalaa hai phuunk daala hai	Laid to waste, set aflame
جانے کب سے پکارتے ہیں تمہیں	Jaane kab se pukaarte hain tumhen	God knows how long they have been calling out for you
جاوٴ اک بار پھر ہمارے لیےٴ	Jaao ik baar phir humaare liye	Go, once more, for us:
تم کو چڑھنا پڑےگا سولی پر	Tum ko charnaa paregaa sooli par	This time, you will ascend the gallows*

Image by Exumo on Flickr, licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0.

Notes:

1. بھیڑیا/Bheriyaa: Literally, this means wolf but it can also mean “sheep-like” or “disguised as a sheep” with the implication (as in English) that this creature is seemingly harmless but, in reality, dangerous and duplicitous.
2. جانے کس کا…/Jaane kis kaa: This phrase occurs several times throughout the poem. It is a very common phrase in Urdu that means something like “Who knows” or “I wonder.” But, in English, a colloquial variant of this is “God only knows,” which I chose to substitute each time this phrase is used in the poem as I felt the diction tied in to the poem’s message.
3. کھیت/Khet: Usually, this word means “field,” but it can also connote the crops or harvest from that field or a farm or land in itself. In this poem, the word is a bit ambiguous in that it can mean landed property that belongs to someone and/or borders drawn between nation states, both of which are arbitrary, unnatural divisions that often result in invocations of God and bloodshed.
4. جگ/Jug: A variant of the Sanskrit “yuga,” this phrase denotes an endless succession of epochs during which certain qualities reign supreme. Generally, in this four-stage schema of time, the yugas become progressively more negative as time wears on. For example, we are now in the “Kali Yuga,” meaning the darkest time of humanity during which suffering and scarcity can be extreme. The idea is that a messiah (a concept common to many religions) in the form of an avatar of the god Vishnu, Kalki (lit. means “Destroyer of Filth,”) will appear riding or leading a white horse with a flaming sword in hand; he will then usher in another “Satya Yuga” or Era of Truth, the time period that occurs first in this cycle.
5. ویتنام/Vietnam: Here, Azmi refers to the American “Vietnam War.” A very controversial war then and now, Azmi draws attention to the irony between the “bible beaters'” faith, which encourages them to be kind and forgiving, and the needless bloodshed inflicted on Vietnamese citizens.
6. سولی/Sooli: Or “gallows.” Earlier in the poem, you may remember, the narrator stated that those who are recognized as spiritual leaders in our society, without the presence of Jesus, would exist to serve humanity alone, rather than attempting to serve selfish spiritual aims aimed to curry favor in the after life. He states “after all, who ascends the gallows gladly?” If you want, you can debate what this statement means in the comments below!

Kalki, the last avatar of Vishnu; image by Sudhamshu Hebbar on Flickr, licensed under CC BY 2.0.

     

Related Stories

• Conversational Urdu: بول چال کی اردو
• Common Greetings and Farewells
• Meena Kumari Naaz – مینا کماری ناز: “The Coquet”