Written by: Moaz Bhangu
Posted on: April 05, 2019 | 
| 中文
Afaz Warsi as Ghalib and Abdul Rehman as Gul Khan
Mirza Asad Ullah Khan Ghalib is hailed as 19th century’s most adept Urdu poet. His Diwan is considered a cornerstone of Urdu literature and as Ghalib puts it himself: it consumes you into Ghalib’s scepticism towards the “tamasha” of the world he strives to understand, even if cynically at times. His letters are credited with comprehensively influencing popular Urdu today, offering the language a transition into a simplistic conversational style, from a classically oriental approach towards writing. On his informal yet tenaciously cohesive style of letter writing, he says, “sau kos se ba-zaban-e-qalam baatein kiya karo aur hijr mein visaal ke maze liya karo” (from hundreds of miles talk with the tongue of the pen and enjoy the joy of meeting even when you are separated).
Carrying forward Ghalib’s vision for easy accessibility of Urdu literary practice, Kuch Jaan Lo in collaboration with Olomopolo Media, hosted “Mirza Ghalib Lahore Main,” an evening dedicated to revisiting some of Ghalib’s notable ghazals, letters and the enlightened contribution he made to the Urdu language. It was an evening where the poet himself was supposedly visiting Lahore (as part of a short skit performance) – hence the title of the gathering. Kuch Jaan Lo is an arts and culture organization, for whom indigenous poetry from the Indo-Pak has been a primary area of interest. As the evening commenced, the lounge at Olomopolo (situated in Garden Town’s residential area) had a crowd of about thirty-five.
Ghalib was born in present day Agra (India) in 1797, and started writing at a very young age. He rose to literary fame among Delhi’s high aristocracy, when Emperor Bahadur Shah Zafar bestowed notable titles on him including “Mirza Nosha” - a title added permanently to his name. The poet was a devout Muslim, and has written a number of verses in praise of the Prophet Muhammad. At the same time, Ghalib was sceptical of institutionalized religion, quoted as saying “my object of worship is imperceptible, for men who see with their eyes the Ka’aba is merely a compass.” He passed away in Delhi in 1869.
The event opened with Iqbal’s iconic tribute to Mirza Ghalib, titled after the latter’s name, performed as a ghazal by singers Farhan and Waqar Iqbal. Iqbal’s verses, in the form of an original composition, paid homage to Ghalib’s literary acumen, his wit, and even compared him to the German poet Weimar, one of Iqbal’s foremost inspirations. Introducing Ghalib through the musical medium of a rather well known ghazal, instead of a shayr boasting complex vocabulary, possibly resulted in more effective ice breaking with the audience.
In his introduction to the next segment of performance, host Dr. Arif Amin (content head for Kuch Jaan Lo) said that the aspiration of the gathering was to break past the exclusivity notion attached to classical Urdu literature. He drew reference from the orthodox style of the mushayara, where often the “50 or so poets would be the audience themselves,” and expressed that the aim of their organization was to change that. The following performance was a reading by Abdul Basit, the founder of Kuch Jaan Lo, altered with periodic input by the singers in the form of a ghazal. The material performed in this part of the night was perhaps most complex in its literary form, yet brought a certain degree of fervour upon the performers. Ironically, the sentiment was barely shared by a large part of the audience, although older members of the audience knew parts of the reading by memory and could be seen singing along, overwhelmed.
In between performances, the host continued the running joke that Ghalib himself was nearby, his arrival impending.
Letter reading came next. Ghalib’s letters are some of his most popular works – arguably due to their comparatively colloquial form. Through his letters, both the readers, Quratulain and Sadia Sarmad, introduced the audience to Ghalib’s often cynical outlook on subjects such as marriage and companionship, his repeated usage of conversational phrases, and the poet’s simple yet enigmatic lifestyle. On a number of occasions, the audience erupted into laughter while listening to his letters.
The next performance was the last – smartly presented as the arrival of the poet to the ceremony. Named after one of Ghalib’s couplets, the skit was called “Tamasha Meray Aagay.” Directed by Dr. Arif Amin, the skit was a panel discussion with Ghalib 200 years after his death. While Ghalib was played by Afaz Warsi, supporting characters included Careem driver Gul Khan played by Abdul Rehman, and a third guest, “Googlevy,” played by Faizan Awan.
While Warsi’s portrayal of Ghalib retained the poet’s aura of otherworldly perceptiveness, Gul Khan was the situational cynic who, in order to relate to literary intellectual matter, relied on his slapstick Pashto humour to remain relevant. And, Googlevy was portrayed as the pseudo-intellectual who can’t help but overcompensate for his lack of actual authority, by trumpeting the Urdu language. The moderator attempted to keep the discussion serious and Ghalib-centric, only for Gul Khan’s character to crack jokes, with popular punch-lines including “Mujhay kyun nikala,” commentary on PSL personality Fawad Rana, and his Pashtun identity. He claims he does not have to “arz” the shayr that he could simply ‘command.’ Each round of discussion ends with the shawl-clad Googlevy character, delivering the same spiel full of complex Urdu vocabulary as he too brings modern, relatable references to his exceedingly average poetry. Towards the end, Ghalib makes his most significant and obvious contribution to the panel: that we must hold on to our Urdu identity, feel pride in it, and boast it beyond borders as a symbol of our great cultural heritage.
Considering Ghalib’s relevance today, the skit may have provided better insight into the different types of relationships we have with intellectual and literary practices, amidst abundant information sharing and the modern need for constant social media relevance. Each of the three characters represented a mindset: the learned authority on a subject, the cynic who takes nothing seriously, and the superficial know-it-all. As a final note, it may not be a stretch to assume all three mindsets could be found in the audience, and not just this particular audience. The question one is left with is: what role is played by ticketed urban social gatherings such as this one in stimulating the interest of the audience in Urdu literature and adding to its value? In the midst of a rise in such events, one hopes for a far-reaching and positive influence.
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