G is for Giants....like Ghalib and his Ghazals

Ghalib, Mirza Asadullah Baig Khan (1797-1869)

Mirza Ghalib was the preeminent Indian poet of the Mughal era, writing in Urdu and Persian.  I think of him as a Shakespeare of Urdu - people quote him in everyday conversations without knowing the exact source, anecdotes about his life and sayings have passed into legends and idioms, and he continues to mesmerise readers and influence poets, songwriters and singers more than a century after his death. His work remains popular among connoisseurs of Urdu poetry not just in the subcontinent, but worldwide among the diaspora.  Here I am responding to his ghazal aah ko chahiye ek umr asar hone tak with a sonnet.  For those who don't follow Urdu, a rough translation of the ghazal is given at the end of the post. 

A different candle

My candle throws off its obligations long before dawn,

the darkest hour circles outside and here a wisp of smoke,

the acrid smell of burnt wax pummels each sharp breath drawn,

and silence hangs in forbidding folds like a heavy cloak.

I had thought all suffering stops once your gaze touches me.

And it’s true enough that you glanced briefly towards my face

too short to make out whether it was in reciprocity.

Nothing self-destructs in love, even when touched by grace.

The candle went out sometime ago, I am burning still -

that flame danced its last dance and fell with its skirts in a heap

one by one the guests stepped out, the dawn winds blew chill,

one by one stars clenched their fists over alleyways still asleep.

And far away the reptile teeth still seethe under the ocean.
A speck rubs into the seashell but nothing pearl is woven.



(You can totally stop reading here if your patience runs out after 300 words. If not, here's the translation of the prompt below)

~~~

A sigh needs a lifetime to make its impact felt

Who lives to see your hair finally untangled and dressed?

A hundred mouths of sea-creatures make traps of every wave

See what the speck endures before it becomes a pearl!

Love calls for patience and desire is always a rush

What colour shall I assign my heart till it’s mauled blood red?

I admit that you might not ignore my existence but

I will burn to ashes before the word of it reaches you.

Sunrays teach the dewdrop how to self-efface in love -

I too exist only till the favour of your gaze brushes me.

One flashed glance can be the chance of a lifetime, O remiss one

the warmth and company last but one dance of the flame.

What cures this disease of sorrows of life, Asad, except death

the candle is obliged to burn regardless till the dawn breaks.

G is also for G+.  Much as I love Google, G+ is not one of the Greatest. One wants to return a comment, one clicks on the name, and gets onto a profile without any links, any discernible way to find the blogger. G- more like it. And Gobsmacked! not in a Good way.  Do you know a solution? Please tell me if you do.

and


According to commenters here yesterday, poetry can be both fact and fiction. It can be a fictional story built around a kernel of truth, or it can be purely imaginary. It can even be wholly true if the poet wishes.  

Posted for the A-Z Challenge 2015