A quick recitation to go along in my rather cough-ish voice.

This weekend, Nikhil and I finished composing one of our best songs so far and I, on the other hand, finished a Nazm that had been in my mind all this past week. I would like to dedicate this Nazm to all the down-trodden Women who put up with the daunting task of eking out a life for themselves and their families. People who take little things for granted must stop and look around and remove the garb of arrogance and ignorance. This is the hour to lend a helping hand, as I have realized lately. Helping the needy is not charity, it’s everyone’s Obligation.

Meanwhile, enjoy the Nazm, which is a slight continuance from the last one, Chalo Dafn Karo.

Here’s a recording that I just made of the recitation for Non-Hindi readers [13 OCT 2009]

Last night while trying to sleep I came up with a few words and by the time the tattered notepad’s page was full this evening, a Nazm was born. Since my last Ghazal in April, Akhiri Padaav – I haven’t been able to do much writing due to my travel to India and being extremely busy at work. I did compose Jalpari in May, however, I would call it more a Geet than Nazm. Looking forward to hear what people think of it. While writing this, I was thinking of Arun Joshi’s lines in the book Strange Case of Billy Biswas, “the most futile cry of man is his impossible wish to be understood..”

I started writing Jalpari last Friday, the day after I hurt my ankle and was working from home while on crutches. I reckon even in the pain, I found some solemnity and the idea for this song, which I finished the following day on Saturday. The music had been in my mind for a few weeks, and each word just eased itself into the tune while I played the song on my Classical Guitar. This would be my first recorded song after A Maiden’s Story. I have been content with recent writings and I enjoy the drift in-between Urdu Poetry and Song-writing. May be soon, I’ll be back with another story.

The recording, I’m afraid is not so good this time. I took advantage of a work-from-home today and recorded it in a rush while my Manager was looking for me for a meeting . I hope you all enjoy it and give feedback that always helps.

Interestingly, A Maiden’s Story was also written for a mystical maiden, and so is this one. Jalpari = Mermaid in English. Photo was taken by Nikhil during our Himalayan Sojourn in 2007. Here is the MP3.

While work has kept me busier than usual, I have been doing some reading – on both Spiritual and Poetic ends. A lot has happened since I wrote Khudkushi back in August last year. I have been admitted into Business School, wife of my brother’s high school friend committed suicide and so on. May be the latter had something to do with the visit of some fleeting verses as they came by this evening. So I just decided to put them down. I won’t necessarily call it a sequel to Khudkushi as both contain different messages, but I reckon the gist is the same. Though the language may a bit more khaalis than Khudkushi but I tried my best to point out the esoteric words. Comments, as always are welcome.

I hope you are able to understand what I wanted to say. The protagonist of this Nazm is speaking to you after committing suicide…

I would like to dedicate this Ghazal to some of the revered Shayars from the Progressive Writers era of early 1900s, notably Hasrat Mohani, Jigar Moradabadi, Majaaz Lucknawi and Firaq Gorakhpuri. Comments and critique are both welcome. I might record a recitation sometime too.

I’ve been doing some travelling in last 1 week or so, first to Yosemite Valley and then to the famous/infamous Winchester Mystery House. Amidst travelling, I sit down today and remember our beloved Mirza Ghalib on his 212th Birth Anniversary with this verse:

“लो हम मरीज़ ऐ इश्क के बीमारदार हैं
अच्छा अगर न हो तो मसीहा का क्या इलाज”

He was one of the foremost Urdu Poets during the Progressive Writers Movement in and around 1930s and was a contemporary of noted Poets like Jigar Moradabadi, Firaq Gorakhpuri, Jan Nisar Akhtar, Sahir Ludhianvi and Asgar Gondavi. I hadn’t read much of Majaaz until recently when I found a copy of the TV show “Kahkashaan” that was shown on Indian Television in early 1990s. As the story goes, he fell in love with a married woman from Delhi’s high society and by the time he left Delhi, his heart was reduced to nothing. After having multiple nervous breakdowns and attempting to come back to normal, he finally met his end on a bitter cold night in Lucknow when some friends left him in a tavern after a night of drinking and poetry recital. He died alone (some say due to  cold) that night on 5th of December 1955 in Lucknow. Part of Lucknow died with him that night and Urdu Poetry suffered a huge vacuum, never to be filled again.

Here are some verses from one of his lachrymose Ghazals. Also taken is an excerpt from the TV show Kahkashaan in Jagjit Singh’s voice. Here is the MP3.

Ai Gam e Dil Kya Karoon, one of Majaz’s creations has been sung by many generations of singers, with the most popular version by Talat Mahmood. Majaaz’s sister was married to Jan Nisar Akhtar (his son is Javed Akhtar), another master Shayar from that era.