Hello darkness my old friend--Simon and Golfenker

 

Hello darkness my old friend
I’ve come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision, that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the Sounds of Silence

The introductory verse places the author in the first person, greeting and personifying ‘darkness’ as an ‘old friend’. Revisiting it to confide and speak of a ‘vision softly creeping’ that ‘left its seeds’ while the author slept. This can most likely be interpreted as a dream the author experienced. The fact that it ‘still remains’ seems to suggest it being a powerful and moving fantasy.

In restless streams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
Beneath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touch the Sound of Silence

Following the previous verse, this verse most likely describes the dream the author experienced. It narrates, in a rather exaggerated sense, how the author arrived at the climax of his dream, as shown in the line: ‘when my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light’. This could be a suggestion of an epiphany the author experienced while walking in ‘restless streams’ and ‘narrow streets’. Such a description of his environment, the ’restless streams’, could suggest feelings of turmoil. The ‘narrow streets’ evoke a sense of claustrophobia, and can be interpreted to be abysmal loneliness.  This is further amplified when he narrates how he “turned my collar to the cold and damp” in the fourth line, giving an impression of solitude. The street lamp is described to be a halo, and can be interpreted as an oasis for the author’s loneliness. Describing the ‘neon light’ being strong enough to ‘split the night’ could be used to reinforce his strong and powerful epiphany.

And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never shared
And no one dared
Disturb the Sound of Silence

This verse describes the epiphany mentioned previously. The revelation is described as a large group of “ten thousand people, maybe more”. The author, however, criticizes their interactions as meaningless, shown by the lines “people talking without speaking, people hearing without listening”. This suggests their conversations as passing and weightless; by “talking without speaking” they could not convey any meaning or emotion. By “hearing without listening”, the “people” are unable to interpret or view conversations with any significance or understanding, and treats their interactions as mere routine. The third line concludes this idea with “people writing songs that voices never shared”. This can be interpreted as ideas that are never conveyed or supported by peers, and therefore no longer have any impact or influence. The line also suggests individualistic views, where the “people” keep their emotions and thoughts to themselves. The final two lines describe an unspoken authority or doctrine that prevents people from breaking the endless chain of empty communication. The word “dared” seems to suggest that the people are in fact aware of their meaningless interaction, but choose instead to remain ignorant in fears of upsetting the status quo. The title and recurring line of the song: “sounds of silence”, is also finally explained by these two lines. The sounds of silence can be interpreted to be the author’s acknowledgement of the people’s lack of communication. Although silence suggests void and emptiness, the author beautifully uses its antithesis: suggesting it has “sounds”, to symbolize its salient quality.

Fools said I you do not know
Silence like a cancer grows
Hear my words that I might teach you
Take my arms that I might reach you
But my words, like silent raindrops fell
And echoed in the whelms of Silence

This verse shows the author reprimanding and lecturing the people. Labeling them as “Fools” shows his anger and unhappiness. He further mocks their ignorance, claiming that they “do not know”. His accusation of their blind ignorance, as well as the edifying tone being used suggests his desperation to convey his meaning. He then tells of what they “do not know”, that “silence like a cancer grows”. This line is particularly powerful and important, as it conveys much of the purpose and message of the song. The author teaches that silence proliferates much like a virus, going so far as to compare it to “a cancer” that “grows”. His lampoon ends after the second line, where he takes a more maternal and didactic tone. His imploring of the people suggests his desperation to correct them of their iniquity, to show them of their ways and have his words resonate within them. His dismay, however, is shown in the following line, of how his “words” are like “silent raindrops” falling. This imagery suggests his efforts hitting a blank wall; of how his teachings, powerful as they are, being unable to reach the people. A decrescendo is also used after the word “fell” is sung, adding depth to the image of disappointment and failure. Further drama is added to this with the closing line, where he describes his unheeded words that echo in the “whelms of Silence”. This image also conveys void and emptiness, a theme that is carried throughout the song.

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the sign said the words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls
And whispered in the Sounds of Silence

The final verse is particularly powerful, as it conveys the author’s helplessness and grief. The transition of tone from the previous verse to the final is one of edification to disappointment to hopelessness. The author adopts a melancholy tone, choosing to resign himself to watching the people fall to their doom. The verse suggests he has come to terms with and accepted the people’s perdition, and has given up on them. Furthermore, almost every line in the verse begins with “and”. This allows for a servile like sequence, with the author narrating in a nonchalant style, existing only to describe his observations without emotion. He narrates that the “people bowed and prayed”, suggesting an image of total submission and dependency. The ensuing line tells of them promising their allegiance to “the neon god”. The “neon” description was used before in verse two, at the beginning of the author’s dream. The author reveals the connection between his initial encounter with the people, and that which they now worship. Neon lights can be used to represent a sort of psychedelic urbanization, themes that emphasize the overall message of the song. The use of the word “made” suggests mockery and irony, as the people are worshiping that which they created, resulting in a paradoxical cycle. The third and fourth line seem to suggests a prolonging and delaying of the narration, with two whole lines dedicated to describing the “warning” being displayed on the “sign”. This tautology could suggest the attempt of suspense by the author. Furthermore, the use of the word “forming”, together with this prolonging of narration suggests that the “sign” is taking a long time to form its “warning”. The “sign” could refer to the “neon god” mentioned in the previous line, with the use of the word “flashed” suggesting glowing lights. The fifth line seems to be the most powerful and moving in the song, as it is sung with a forte fortissimo direction. The higher voice part also departs from the close knitted harmony employed throughout the song, as if clawing to reach the high and powerful notes. The passion and urgency from how this line is sung seems to implore the listener to understand its message. The line reveals the result of the prolonged narration performed in the previous two lines, where the “sign” tells of the “words of the prophets” being “written on the subway walls”. This first appears particularly puzzling, as no “prophets”, nor their “words”, are mentioned in any of the previous verses. However, the energy in which the line is sung suggests that these “prophets” are very much significant and important in the context of the song. The “prophets” can perhaps be interpreted as ancestors or previous leaders of the people being described in the song. These “prophets” were perhaps trying to convey the very message the author is desperately trying to tell the people. It can be imagined that the people refused to listen, forcing the prophets to document their “words” or teachings on the ideal representation of the urbanization that the people crave, hence the “subway walls”. The penultimate line is sung with a significant decrescendo, taking on a placido, almost pietoso musical direction. It also reverts back to the original closely knitted harmony of the two singers. This reversion and drop in emotion suggests the author exhausting any form of energy left, indicating that the author has completely given up hope on the people, amplifying his disappointment and sadness. This short line is a continuation of the observation being narrated in the previous line. The “words of the prophets” are not just “written on the subway walls”, but on the “tenement halls” as well. These “tenement halls” are perhaps places that the people used to patron. The final line has an obvious calando, signifying the end of the song. The line is also sung with the dominant note Bb, resolving in a perfect cadence to the root note Eb. This musical cadence further emphasizes the feeling of finality and conclusion. The author reveals the final place where the “words of the prophets” are being published. Unlike the previous two lines that suggest the “words” being “written”, the final line narrates the “words” being “whispered”, conveying secrecy and the ubiquity of the “words of the prophets”. This idea suggests that the people are able to hear if they only take the effort to listen. The line concludes with the phrase: “in the sounds of silence”. This not only brings the subject back to the title of the song, but also signifies how the prophets’ teachings seem to resonate within the people. It can further be inferred that the people are aware of this message, but blithely choose to ignore it. The song ends with a drop in dynamics and a dragging of the last syllables; signs of finality and conclusion. This could be interpreted as the death of any hope left, an acceptance of the perdition and decadence that has engulfed the people, a resignation to leave them to drown in their own artificial and engineered way of living.

Thoughts
This song was written in 1964 in the aftermath of the Kennedy assassination. While this coincidence may be a hint as to the allusions and message in the song, I prefer to identify it within and only within its musical and lyrical context.

I feel it is, on many levels, a very personal work of music. Unlike most other pop releases, this song tends to show the introverted and closed-up personality of Paul Simon. The way it is performed on the record, with fluctuations in emotion and feeling, presents a powerful message in a docile and benign manner. It is neither complacent nor pretentious, and seems to exist solely to convey its message and meaning. That is its only purpose.

The use of closely knit homophonic voice parts, accompanied only with an acoustic guitar, contributes to the song’s deceptive simplicity. Its 4/4 time signature and straightforward minor key progression further testifies to its simplicity. Unlike other Simon & Garfunkel records, little finger-style (a technique well mastered by Paul Simon) is employed. Only simple and amateur strumming patterns are used throughout the chord progressions. This is, musically speaking, very much a beginner level piece of music. I feel this ironically gives it its uniqueness. The song chooses simply to remain approachable and down-to-earth.

The song also makes use of paradox and contrary devices. The title itself gives evidence to this; the oxymoron: ‘sounds of silence’. Further examples of this is given in the third verse, where the author describes seeing “people talking without speaking”, and “people hearing without listening”. The author makes use of dramatic contrast and comparison, as highlighted in verse four. “Silence” is described to be a “cancer” that “grows”. This is also the use of hyperbole to emphasize his point. Another example of contrast and comparison is where the author describes his “words” to be “like silent raindrops” that “fell”. Such imagery emphasizes the bleakness and abysmal hopelessness of his situation; his desperation to save the people goes unnoticed.

Many themes run throughout the song, most distinct of all being the social impact of urbanization and evils of technological advancement. The “neon god” represents the technological infrastructure built by the people. Other supporting themes include miscommunication and bureaucracy, as shown in the two powerful lines: “people talking without speaking, people hearing without listening”.

The song draws several similarities to dystopian fiction. The “neon god” alludes to Big Brother in George Orwell’s1984: an unseen but omnipresent entity fashioned out of the progression of society; all-knowing, all-powerful, and bent on dominance and control of the human psyche. The author has many similarities to 1984’s protagonist; despite living in a sheep-like society, he embraces his own ideals and chooses to rebel against the teachings his fellow citizens have come to submit to. These themes also echo the famous Milgram Experiment, with similarities in their observations of conformism, obedience and authoritarian ideals.

I feel the song’s dark ideas are very much significant and relevant in today’s context. Although written nearly 40 years ago, this song is now more important than ever to remind us of what it means to be human and possess the human attributes of emotion, empathy and thought. The song’s story-like sequence, together with its edifying tone does not try to change or disrupt our lifestyle, but simply wants us to listen and understand what it is trying to convey. I feel its lyrics carry much food for thought; endowing in us the awareness and understanding if we only choose to take a step back and listen.

Indignhadas- Dr. Subodh Prabhu

An  orginal Spanish poem very touching indeed  --translated to English ,Marathi by me from the translated French version of the poem (I do not know Spanish )

Hope you like it

Subodh  1 st December

​original

¡Qué suerte no ser una madre palestina,
ni una madre siria, ni una madre afgana,
ni una madre kurda,
ni una madre del cuerno de África !
Qué suerte no tener que... sostener
la muerte de mi hijo en mis brazos…
ese pequeño cuerpo
que se ha muerto sin más,
de hambre, de sed,
desangrado,
atravesado, zas, por una bala!
¡Qué suerte no tener que abrazar a mi hijo muerto
mientras mis ojos se resecan, lentamente,
de dolor, de impotencia,
de rabia contenida!
¡Qué suerte no tener que sortear cada día
el rostro enjuto y oscuro de la Parca,
y regalarle, esconderle, ocultarle
los rostros malditos de mis hijos,
que han nacido donde nada importan,
donde nada valen, donde nada son…!
Qué suerte, me repito cada día, qué suerte,
mientras mis hijos, tranquilos, duermen su infancia merecida.

Marisa Peña.
Poema publicado en el libro colectivo “ Indignhadas “
de Unaria Ediciones
 l.

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English

What luck! not (to be )  a Palestinian mother,
Nor a mother Syrian, nor a mother Afghan,
Nor a mother Kurdish
Nor a mother in the horn of Africa! (at Cape of good hope in Africa)

 lucky you I  don't ...have to hold
The death of my son in my arms...
That little body
That has been dead

no more, hunger, no  thirst,
Bled out,
 in a crosswire then bang -a bullet (ref to child being targeted at )

 Lucky You I don't have to hold my dead son
While my eyes are wilting (getting dry -helpless), slowly,
Of pain, impotence,
impotence of a pent-up anger!

 Lucky you  I don't have to face each and every day
The face lean and sinister 

 of the grim reaper,(grim reaper ---alludes to death /terrorist  )
And then  give up , Hide, hide
the bleeding faces of my children.
 The children born   born where nothing matters ,

 Where nothing is  worth, where nothing is...!

 What luck, I repeat every day, what luck.
While my son is quiet, Yours sleep (peacefully ) the way  his childhood deserves

Poem by :Marisa Peña.
Poem published in the book "Indignhadas" Collective
Unary  editions

किती  भाग्यवान तू  ग   बाई 

तू नाहीस एक प्यालेस्तिनी आई 

किवा सिरीयन ,अफगाण ,कुर्दिश 

आफ्रिकन किवा तत्सम काही !

भाग्यवान तू बाई 

माझ्या मृत बाळाला हातावर 

माझ्यासारखे झेलावे लागत नाही 
ते छोट बाळ 
मरून झालाय काही काळ 
आता भूक नाही ,तहान नाही 
रक्त ठिबकून ठिबकून काही उरलच नाही !
एक निशाणा ,एकच नेम ,ब्यांग- एक गोळी .बाकी काहीच नाही !!

 भाग्यवान तू बाई 
माझ्या मृत मुलाला हातावर झेलत 
डोळे असे  दूक्खाने   षंढ रागाने पाझरत 
दृष्टी मलूल कोरडी  बनत जाई 
ते तुझ्या नशिबी नाही !

भाग्यवान तू बाई 

प्रत्येक दिवशी मृत्यूचा करडा कोरडा चेहरा 

येत नाही असा  तुझ्या सामोरा 

आणि मग असहाय शरणागती ,त्याचाय्पासून पळ्ण 

मुलांचे रक्ताळलेले चेहरे  त्याच्यापासून लपवण 

मुल जी उपजली   जिथे  काहीच महत्वाचे उपजत नाही 

जिथे कशालाच मुल्य  नाही ,खरच  अगदी कशालाच नाही !

काय भाग्य !दिवसरात्र मी म्हणते  काय भाग्य तुझे बाई 

इथे माझा मुलगा 'शांत 'तुझा तिथे हक्काने

निवांत झोपी जाई !!

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English Translation and Marathi  Transformation by  Subodh  Bangalore Dec 15

note :Please mention original poet (not the translator )if you intend to share this poem with others

note :some liberty is used while putting words in English and Marathi to complete the  meaning

From the diary of SayedJaffrey

must read for all -

From the diary of SayedJaffrey -- the famous bollywood character actor ---
I was 19 when I was married to Mehrunima who was 17. As I grew up, I was very fascinated by the british culture in colonial India. I learnt to speak English fluently, wear suits with grace, and developed impeccable etiquettes. But Mehrunima grew up to be my complete opposite - homely, a typical housewife. All my advices and admonishments couldn't change her basic personality - an obedient wife, a doting mother and a good homemaker. But she was not what I wanted. More I tried to change her, more we drifted apart. Gradually she metamorphosed from a cheerful affectionate young girl into a quiet insecure woman. Meanwhile I started getting attracted to a co-actor of mine who was all what I wanted in my wife. After 10 years of marriage, l divorced Mehrunima, left my home and married my co- actor. I had ensured financial security of Mehrunima and my kids . For about 6-7 months everything went well. Then I started realising, my new wife was not caring and affectionate. She was only concerned about her beauty, her ambitions, her wants and desires. Sometimes I missed Mehrunima's caring touch and concern for my welfare.
Life moved on . I and my new wife were 2 persons living in a house, not one soul living in a home. I never went back to find out what happened to Mehrunima and my kids.
After about 6 -7 years of my second marriage, I came across an article on a Madhur Jaffrey, an upcoming famous chef who had recently launched a book of her own recipes. The moment I looked at the picture of the smart elegant lady, I was stunned. It was Mehrunima. But how could it be ??? She had remarried and changed her maiden name too.
I was shooting abroad at that time. She lived in US now. I caught the next flight to US. I inquired about her where abouts and went to meet her. She refused to see me. My daughter who was 14, and son who was 12, told her they wanted to talk to me one last time. Her new husband was by her side. He was also my children's legal father now.
To this date, I cannot forget what my children told me.
They told me that their new father knows the meaning of true love. He accepted Mehrunima as she was and never tried to change her into what he himself was, because he loves her more than he loves himself. He let her evolve at her own pace and never tried to force his wishes on her. He accepted and enjoyed her person as it was.
And she has bloomed into a confident loving affectionate self reliant lady today under her second husband's selfless love and acceptance.
Where as his selfishness, demands and unacceptance of her persona had crushed her and then in his selfishness he had discarded her.
He Never Loved Her, He Had Always Loved Himself ,
And Those Who Love Themselves, Cannot Love Others.

हुजूर इस कदर भी ना इतराके चलिये-गुलज़ार

🌹A tribute to Said jafery🌹

हुजूर इस कदर भी ना इतराके चलिये
खुले आम आँचल ना लहरा के चलिये

कोई मनचला अगर पकड़ लेगा आँचल
ज़रा सोचिये आप क्या कीजियेगा
लगा दे अगर बढ़ के जुल्फों में कलियाँ
तो क्या अपनी जुल्फे झटक दिजीयेगा

बड़ी दिलनशी है हँसी की ये लडीयाँ
ये मोती मगर यूँ ना बिखराया कीजे
उड़ा के ना ले जाए झोंका हवा का
लचकता बदन यूँ ना लहराया कीजे

बहोत खूबसूरत है हर बात लेकिन
अगर दिल भी होता, तो क्या बात होती
लिखी जाती फिर दास्ताँ-ए-मोहब्बत
एक अफसाने जैसी मुलाक़ात होती

गीतकार : गुलज़ार, गायक : भूपेंद्र -सुरेश वाडकर, संगीतकार : राहुलदेव बर्मन, चित्रपट : मासूम (१९८२) / Lyricist : Gulzar, Singer : Bhupendra - Suresh Wadkar, Music Director : Rahuldev Burman, Movie : Masoom (1982
.

मॅडम अस ठुमकत नका चालू
सर्वांसमोर पदर नका घसरू देऊ

एखादा वेडा होऊन कदाचित पदर पकडेल
जरा विचार करा की मग काय कराल?

कदाचित तुमच्या केसांमध्ये अचानक फुले भाळेल
मग काय केस झटकून टाका

तुझे हास्य म्हणजे स्वर्गीय मोत्यांची माळ
प्रिये हे मोती असे सहजा सहजी सांडूं देऊ नको

एखाद्या हवेच्या झोक्यांने सुद्धा
ही लचकणारी काया उडून जाऊ शके

प्रत्येक गोष्ट इतकी सौदर्य पूर्ण आहे परन्तु
तुझे हृदय तसे असते तर काय मजा आली असती

 आपल्या प्रेमाची कहाणी सर्वत्र चर्चिली गेली असती
अन आपली मुलाखत एखाद्या परिकथे प्रमाणे झाली असती

करोगे याद तो हर बात याद आयेगी-बशर नवाज़

करोगे याद तो हर बात याद आयेगी

गुजरते वक्त की, हर मौज ठहर जायेगी

ये चाँद बीते जमानो का आईना होगा

भटकते अब्र में चेहरा कोई बना होगा

उदास राह कोई दास्तां सुनाएगी

बरसता भीगता मौसम धुआँ धुआँ होगा

पिघलती शम्मो पे दिल का मेरे गुमा होगा

हथेलियों की हिना याद कुछ दिलायेगी

गली के मोड़ पे सूना सा कोई दरवाजा

तरसती आँखों से रस्ता किसी का देखेगा

निगाह दूर तलक जा के लौट आयेगी

फिल्म-बाज़ार...1982..
गायक-भूपेन्द्र...
गीत-बशर नवाज़...
संगीत-खय्याम

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

आठवशील तर प्रत्येक गोष्ट आठवत जाईल

चाललेल्या काळातील प्रत्येक मौज थांबून जाईल ……

हा चंद्र  हरवलेल्या भूतकाळाचा आरसा असेल

विहरणाऱ्या ढगांमध्ये कोणाचा तरी चेहरा दिसत असेल

उदास रस्ता एखादी कहाणी ऐकवेल…..

पाऊसाने भिजवणारा मौसम धूर धूर होईल

ए खाद्या  वितळ नार्या  मेणबत्ती वर  माझे हृदय जळून जात असेल

हातावर असलेले अत्तर एखादी आठवण सांगून जाईल …..

गल्लीच्या वळणावरचा एखादा रिकामा दरवाजा

पाणावलेल्या डोळ्यांनी कोणाचीतरी वाट पाहत असेल

नजर दूरवर जाऊन परत येईल….

हज़ार राहें मुड़ के देखी-गुलज़ार

हज़ार राहें मुड़ के देखी, कहीं से कोई सदा ना आई 
बड़ी वफ़ा से निभाई तुमने, हमारी थोड़ी सी बेवफ़ाई

जहाँ से तुम मोड़ मुड़ गये थे, ये मोड़ अब भी वही पड़े हैं
हम अपने पैरों में जाने कितने भंवर लपेटे हुये खड़े हैं

कहीं किसी रोज यूँ भी होता, हमारी हालत तुम्हारी होती
जो रात हम ने गुज़ारी मर के, वो रात तुम ने गुज़ारी होती

तुम्हें ये ज़िद थी के हम बुलाते, हमें ये उम्मीद वो पुकारे
है नाम होठों पे अब भी लेकिन, आवाज़ में पड़ गई दरारें
गीतकार : गुलज़ार, गायक : लता - किशोर, संगीतकार : खय्याम, चित्रपट : थोडीसी बेवफ़ाई (१९८०)

ओझरती दिसलिस आणि माज़ी शुद्ध  पुर्ण घालवलिस

मला  तुझ्यापासून वेगळ करुन् टाकलस।

 

माझ्यासाठी आयुष्यभर प्रार्थना करत गेलीस

आम्ही स्वतचा अधपात् करण्याचा हक्क बजावत गेलो।

 मी तुजी अशी प्रार्थना  आणि स्तुती करत राहिलो

की लोकांच्या नजरेतून तुला देवत्व प्राप्त जाले।

 तुझ्या जवळ यावे अशी  ओढ़ खूप होती

  मात्र तुझे जाणे मला रक्तबंबाळ करुंन गेले।

दिखाई दिए यूं के बेखुद किया-मीर तकी मीर

दिखाई दिए यूं के बेखुद किया
हमे आप से भी जुदा कर चले

जबीं सजदा करते ही करते गई
हक़-ए-बंदगी हम अदा कर चले

परस्तिश किया तक के ऐ बुत तुझे
नजर में सबो की खुदा कर चले

बहोत आरजू थी गली की तेरी
सो या से लहू में नहा कर चले

गीतकार : मीर तकी मीर, गायक : लता मंगेशकर, संगीतकार : खय्याम, चित्रपट : बाज़ार (१९८२) 

मन क्यों बहका- वसंत देव

मन क्यों बहका री बहका, आधी रात को
बेला महका री महका, आधी रात को
किस ने बन्सी बजाई, आधी रात को
जिस ने पलकी चुराई, आधी रात को

झांझर झमके सुन झमके, आधी रात को
उसको टोको ना रोको, रोको ना टोको, टोको ना रोको, आधी रात को
लाज लागे री लागे, आधी रात को
देना सिंदूर क्यों सोऊँ आधी रात को

बात कहते बने क्या, आधी रात को
आँख खोलेगी बात, आधी रात को
हम ने पी चाँदनी, आधी रात को
चाँद आँखों में आया, आधी रात को

रात गुनती रहेगी, आधी बात को
आधी बातों की पीर, आधी रात को
बात पूरी हो कैसे, आधी रात को
रात होती शुरू हैं, आधी रात को

गीतकार : वसंत देव, गायक : आशा भोसले - लता मंगेशकर, संगीतकार : लक्ष्मीकांत प्यारेलाल, चित्रपट : उत्सव (१९८४)

साँझ ढ़ले, गगन तले हम कितने एकाकी- वसंत देव

साँझ ढले, गगन तले हम कितने एकाकी
छोड़ चले, नैनों को किरणों के पाखी

पाती की जाली से झांक रही थी कलियाँ
गंध भरे गुनगुन में, मगन हुयी थी कलियाँ
इतने में तिमीर धसा सपनीले नैनो में
कलियों के आंसू का कोई नहीं साथी

जुगनू का पट ओढ़े आयेगी रात अभी
निशीगंधा के सुर में कह देगी बात सभी
तपता है मन जैसे डाली अंबुवा की

गीतकार : वसंत देव, गायक : सुरेश वाडकर, संगीतकार : लक्ष्मीकांत प्यारेलाल, चित्रपट : उत्सव (१९८४) / 

मेघा छाये आधी रात---नीरज

मेघा छाये आधी रात, बैरन बन गयी निंदिया

मेघा छाये आधी रात, बैरन बन गयी निंदिया 
बता दे मैं क्या करू ?

सब के आँगन दिया जले रे, मोरे आँगन जिया
हवा लागे शूल जैसी, ताना मारे चुनरीयां
आई हैं आँसू की बारात

रूठ गये रे सपने सारे, टूट गयी रे आशा
नैन बहे रे गंगा मोरे, फिर भी मन हैं प्यासा
किसे कहू रे मन की बात

गीतकार : नीरज, गायक : लता मंगेशकर, संगीतकार : सचिनदेव बर्मन, चित्रपट : शर्मिली - 1971

अर्ध्या रात्री ढग दाटून आले आहेत , 
झोप वैरीण झाली ; सांग मी काय करू ?

सगळ्यांच्या अंगणात दिवा तर जळतोय माझ्या अंगणात जीव

हवा लागतीय शुळासारखी; माझीच ओढणी टोमणे मारतीय

आसवांची बारात आली आहे

सगळी स्वप्ने नष्ट झाली ; सर्व आशा संपून गेल्या

डोळ्यातून गंगा वाहतेय पण मन तहानलेले आहे!

कोणाशी बोलू रे मनातल्या गोष्टी

Always Amrita, Always Pritam---Gulzar Singh Sandhu

Always Amrita, Always PritamShe put Punjabi literature on the world map. No other writer is as synonymous with Punjabi literature as Amrita Pritam (1919-2005), a familiar name even for those not acquainted with Punjabi. She cocked a snook at convention and defied social norms. There was no split between life and literature for Amrita because literature was her life. Gulzar Singh Sandhu on the Grand Dame of Punjabi letters

YOUR life could be contained on the back of a revenue stamp" was Khushwant Singh’s cynical remark about the autobiography Amrita Pritam was planning to write. A writer of uncommon passion, Amrita responded to the provocative challenge with an aptly titled Rasidi Ticket (Revenue Stamp). The account of her life became so popular that it was translated into half a dozen Indian languages. This much-maligned story of a Punjabi rebel is adored for the manner in which she says what her readers may decry from the core of their hearts. Reading the story one feels that in the male-dominated world, a woman is more sinned against than sinning.

Ajj akhan Waris Shah nu Kitte kabran vichon bol Te ajj kitab-e-ishq da Koi agla varka phol Ik royi si dhi Punjab di Tu likh-likh mare ven Ajj lakhan dhian rondiyan Tainu Waris Shah nu kehan (I call out to Waris Shah today To speak out from the grave And open another leaf From the book of love When one daughter of Punjab had wept You wrote a million dirges Today a million daughters are weeping And they are looking up to you, Waris Shah, for solace)

The novelist in Amrita Pritam was at her best in Pinjar (The Skeleton). The younger generation was introduced to Amrita’s work through this novel which was made into a film sometime back. It is the story of a Hindu girl, Pooro, abducted by a Muslim boy Rashid. Her parents refuse to recover a ‘defiled’ woman. Unable to resist the circumstances she was thrown into, Pooro settles down as a bride and bears Rashid a son. In 1947, nostalgia for the life missed by Pooro makes the couple save Hindu and Sikh women from their Muslim abductors and send them to the security of evacuee camps meant to take them to their kith and kin.

Born in a traditional Sikh family of undivided Punjab in 1919, in Gujranwala and brought up in Lahore, Amrita was the product of the other side of Punjab and she religiously remained so till her end. It was from there that she had been drawing her strength and symbols with all the sublimity embodied in the works of great Sufi poets and saints. It is no wonder she was known in the present-day Pakistan much move than her contemporaries i.e. Mohan Singh and Shiv Kumar Batalavi.

Her attitude to worn out social norms and traditions was so candid that she earned the wrath of many an established institution but never faltered from the path she chose. She rose to be the voice of the entire Indian womanhood and sowed the seeds of rebellion in the minds of her readers against values that were wrong and unjust, according to her.

She started writing poetry in her teens under the influence of her father Kartar Singh Hitkari and became the proud author of a collection of poemsAmrit Lehran in 1936. Such was the grip of the muse in her soul that she churned out half a dozen collections of poems in as many years between 1936 and 1943. The tone of her poetry was ethical, didactic and romantic, clouded in platonic overtones, with a degree of elasticity in form and diction.

It did not take her long to jump on to the band-wagon of the Progressive Movement and her very next collection titled Lok Peed and published in 1944 spoke of the war-torn economy born out of Great Famine of Bengal of 1943 which threw out millions yearning for loaves and love.

This was the time that she took to attack the old social fabric questioning the morality of traditional love and even that of conjugal rights and duties. She did not hesitate to term the husband as a mere bread-winner who wanted nothing but physical pleasure.

Amrita presenting a programme on Radio Lahore.

Amrita was married to Pritam Singh in 1939. That made her change her name from Amrita Kaur to Amrita Pritam. Life was thrown out of gear by the Partition of the country in 1947. So fierce was the trauma of the holocaust on her poetic mind that she had to charter out an entirely new path for herself and her people embracing the sorrows of the community as a whole. So heart-rending was the cry in herOde to Waris Shah that she earned the title of The Voice of Punjab. She emerged as one who had the mind and the power of the pen to record the sufferings of Heer as she could fathom the depth of trauma undergone by the hundreds of girls in Punjab at that time.

Amrita Pritam was at her best in Sunehe(Messages) published in 1955 in which she mixes the romantic and the sentimental within with the progressive callings outside. It was also the time when she was moving away from conjugal bindings. This collection won her the Sahitya Akademi Award, followed by invitations from a host of literary societies. She was also awarded honorary doctorates from more than one university. Her national and international acclamation soared to the skies. At this point, her prose writings, especially fiction, got the better of her mainly because of the instant popularity of this genre amongst the Hindi-reading public.

Awards and honours came her way aplenty

With her seasoned craft of weaving a plot and creating motivated characters, her acceptance as a novelist was all-pervasive among the women. The lustre of her poetic expression in prose was a boost to her receptivity amongst readers of all ages, irrespective of the caste and creed they belonged to.

In her very first novelette, Jai Shri, she made the heroine of the same name reject all young men offering her conventional proposals of marriage to pick up a bridgegroom of her choice in Suresh who turns out to be a sincere and true lover.

Good people becoming the victims of violence and misery is the theme of Alhna (The Nest) and other works of fiction by her. Amrita was a sensitive writer who highlighted the problem of Indian womanhood both in her poetry and fiction.

Amrita incarnates herself, through Pooro, to express her hatred for social conventions and male lust. Resigning themselves their fate is what lies in store for the entire womanhood of India, according to Amrita. Throughout her life, Amrita had been a symbol of liberation for contemporary women writers. Amrita has ardently highlighted man’s disaffection with woman. A poem titled Kumari (Virgin) in her Jnanpith Award-winning Kaghaz Te Canvas depicts the modern girl as follows:

When I moved into your bed

I was not alone — there were two of us

A married woman and a virgin

To sleep with you.

I had to for the virgin in me

I did so

This slaughter is permissible in law

Not the indignity of it

And I bore the onslaught of insult.

Amrita has succeeded in presenting such themes with all the sophistication of a protagonist seeking to change social values. She has been in the forefront when it came to defying all that was outworn and obsolete in society. One may not agree with her solutions but one has to accept that her writings did set the ball rolling in so far as challenging wrongs in society was concerned.

Amrita brought out a monthly literary magazine Nagmani that was profusely illustrated by Imroz, her artist friend and companion in the second half of her life. The magazine made her accessible to the newest of Punjabi writers who flocked to her residence in Hauz Khas in New Delhi, with or without their spouses carrying suitable gifts and souvenirs to be presented to her. She was quick in introducing ever-fresh themes as new columns on such varied subjects as readings from palmistry and star talk.

Of the 100-odd books penned by Amrita, more than a dozen are available in English today. She has been lucky in her translations as well. Khushwant Singh had picked up her novelette Pinjar for translation while he was to travel to London by sea for a change.

He was interested in a shorter work that could be translated in the three weeks that he was aboard the ship. I had suggested one out of Doctor Dev and Pinjar and he had chosen the latter. This was her first introduction to English readers when not many of them were aware that she wrote fiction too. The Indian film industry and Doordarshan did not lag behind in presenting her works on the screen, big and small.

Amrita was a person of many parts. She was an extremely good conversationalist and could hold audiences of all shades. Whether she acquired this art from the stint she had with the All India Radio or she was picked up by them because of this talent in her is a matter of debate.

Amrita felt more at home with the mazars of Mian Meer Waris Shah and Bulleh Shah which were as dear to her as the Taj and Roza of Ajmer Sharif. This did not apply to the places of worship of other religions in her case.

With all her honours and acclaim, the heights she reached in her lifetime, including the membership of the Rajya Sabha, bestowed on her by late Prime Minister Indira Gandhi, she carved out a niche for herself amongst the immortals of Punjabi literature. Born in the same year as Indira Gandhi, and perhaps under the same stars, wittingly or unwittingly, she waited for the same date to take leave of the world.

Shy of meeting people and visiting different places, Amrita was fond of cooking at home. Hundreds of visitors from other parts of the country and abroad would remember the lime tea served by her. Those interested in artistic calligraphy may continue to visit her Hauz Khas residence which is full of her writings calligraphed by Imroz on all possible corners.

Four decades of her companionship with Imroz has enabled him to master the art of tea-making and one can be sure of Amrita’s legacy being carried on by him.

Amrita Pritam did not confine herself to the limits and boundaries of this Punjab. She did not belong to either side of the Wagah border or even both sides put together. She was the voice of Punjabis all over the world and hence the voice of hum