Alfaaz Aur Shayari

There is an inevitable connection between words and poetry. Urdu poets, however, seem entirely oblivious to this bond. To traverse the stages of poetry, the guidance of words is essential. If words do not act as guides, one cannot take a single step forward; yet, mistaking the guide for the ultimate destination is a sign of foolishness. Urdu poets consider the mere juggling of words to be poetry. They mistake the compass for the Kaaba itself, making going astray an inevitable result. As long as beautiful and eloquent words are gathered together, the composition is tight, and the idiom is correct—this is the very pinnacle of their efforts. Meaning emerges on its own, but it is usually highly trite and commonplace:

Qayamat bapa hogi uthega fitna

Woh jora nahi ek bala bandhte hain

[Doomsday will occur, a calamity will rise;

She does not tie a hair-bun, she ties a disaster.]

Qayamat (doomsday), jora (hair-bun), bala (disaster), fitna (calamity)—the appropriate words are all present. The composition is tight and idiomatic. A substantial portion of Urdu poetry consists of exactly this kind of verse, but it cannot be called poetry. It is mere verbal acrobatics. In reality, Urdu poets are illusionists. This illusion is built upon worn-out ideas and worn-out words, yet through their astonishing sleight of hand, Urdu poets present a new miracle every time. The spectator is caught in a web of amazement by this dexterity. The superficial eye is deceived, seeing a new spectacle each time, but the discerning critic understands that it is merely an optical illusion:

Na ho mehsoos jo shay kis tarah naqshe mein theek utre

Shabeeh-e-yaar khinchwai kamar bigri dahan bigra

[How can a thing that cannot be felt be drawn accurately?

I had my beloved's portrait painted; the waist was ruined, the mouth was ruined.]

Likhun kya main wasf-e-dahan-o-kamar

Mujhe ghaib ki toh khabar kuch nahi

[How can I write the praise of her mouth and waist?

I have no knowledge of the unseen.]

The underlying thought is entirely commonplace. It contains neither originality nor authenticity, but verbal jugglery has worked its magic, and ostensibly, two different styles are manifested in these verses. The poets of Lucknow have outstripped all others in this illusionism. The beauty of words is so deeply entrenched in their eyes that they do not even pay attention to any other kind of beauty; consequently, their verses are utterly superficial and devoid of emotional impact. This verbal beauty certainly provides some amusement, but it does not fully satisfy any person of understanding. This beauty, too, is a deception, vanishing the moment it is touched by the light of insight. One form of this mirage-like beauty is ri'ayat-e-lafzi (wordplay). Often, even the poets of Delhi fall into the spell of this wordplay. There is a couplet by Mir:

Khijalat se un labon ke pani ho beh chale hain

Qand-o-nabat ka bhi nikla hai khoob sheera

[Out of shame before those lips, they have turned to water and flowed away;

The syrup of sugar and rock candy has been thoroughly extracted.]

Or as Dard says:

Kaha jab main tera bosa toh jaise qand hai pyare

Laga tab kehne par qand-e-mukarrar ho nahi sakta

[When I said, Your kiss is like sugar, my dear,

He replied, But it cannot be repeated sugar.]

However, such examples are rare. The poets of Lucknow, on the other hand, consider this literary device to be the primary component of their poetry:

Apne honton se jo ek baar laga leta woh

Hai yaqeen saghar-e-mai chashma-e-haiwan hota

[Had he touched it to his lips just once,

I am certain the wine goblet would have become the Fountain of Life.]

Aatish expresses this same hackneyed theme in this way:

Bosa us lab ka hai quwwat-bakhsh-e-rooh-e-natawan

Aisi yaqooti muyassar ho toh khaya chahiye

[A kiss from those lips gives strength to the feeble soul;

If such a ruby-red electuary is available, one must consume it.]

Because of this very wordplay, bizarre and unbelievable results emerge:

Ustura munh par jo phirne nahi deta hai baja

Maho deendar se kyon kar khatt-e-Quran hota

[It is right that he does not let the razor touch his face;

How could a pious person erase the script of the Quran?]

Some poets play with a specific category of words. These words are associated with the real or artificial adornments of the beloved's beauty. They seem entirely absorbed in the imagery of kakul (tresses), maang (hair parting), choli (bodice), khaal (beauty mark), missi (tooth-tint), paan (betel leaf), mehndi (henna), mahram (halter), and jewelry.

Kakul (Tresses):

Panja-e-wahshat se hota hai gareban taar taar

Dekhte hain kakul-e-janaan mein jab shane ko hum

[By the claws of madness, the collar is torn to shreds,

Whenever I see the comb in the beloved's tresses.]

Paan and Missi (Betel leaf and tooth-tint):

Paan bhi khao jamai hai jo missi ki dhari

Shaam toh dekhi shafaq ko bhi dikhaya chahiye

[Chew some betel leaf too, now that you have applied the dark line of missi;

We have seen the evening, now you should show us the twilight.]

Mahram (Bodice):

Kisi ke mahram-e-aab-e-rawan ki yaad aayi

Hubab ke jo barabar koi hubab aaya

[I was reminded of someone's bodice made of flowing water,

When one bubble appeared right next to another bubble.]

Hina (Henna):

Dekhe jo tere dast-e-hinai ke rang ko

Sharmindagi se rang ho neela shahab ka

[If it were to see the color of your henna-dyed hands,

The red meteor would turn blue out of shame.]

These were just a few examples. There is neither the need nor the space to write more. This universal obsession with the beauty of words is also present in Gulzar-e-Naseem. Regarding this masnavi, I have written elsewhere: There are some poets whose sensory perception is limited, who are not moved by the observation of the world. If they ever feel emotions, it is through words. They derive a particular pleasure from the juggling of words, their pursuit, and their arrangement. Such a poet is completely unmoved by the beauty of a rose, yet a beautiful word exerts a tremendous impact on him. He is unacquainted with the genuine experiences of the heart, but he deeply feels the elegance of a refined idiom; he is not delighted by a beautiful concept, but grows restless at the mere thought of a clever wordplay. Naseem was exactly this kind of poet.

Naseem was moved by the conception of this poem, and especially by its writing; therefore, he manages to move the hearts of others as well. His heart grows restless upon seeing beautiful and elegant words or similes, which is why he makes his readers restless too. However, if the intellect and perception seek anything beyond this verbal beauty, there is nothing but disappointment. This beautiful statue is cold and lifeless. Some ghazal poets do not even possess a grasp over this specific and limited emotional impact; similarly, they do not employ genuine feeling in their selection and arrangement of words. For this reason, the ghazals of the Lucknow poets lack even that limited, fleeting impact found in Gulzar-e-Naseem.

This same verbal jugglery also manifests itself in another form. Instead of eloquence, clarity, fluency, and idiomatic expression, there is an excess of grandeur, awe, and bombast. Magnificent words overwhelm the heart with their glitter, their majesty, and their resonance. Their onslaught paralyzes the mind, and even the thought of meaning vanishes from the brain. Such verses are not entirely meaningless like this couplet by Hudhud:

Markaz-e-mehwar-e-gardoon ba-lab-e-aab nahi

Nakhun-e-qaus-e-qazah shibha-e-mizrab nahi

[The center of the axis of the heavens is not at the water's edge;

The nail of the rainbow is not like a plectrum.]

But the words used in them are of the exact same hue. Generally, these words are unusual, unfamiliar, and heavy:

Tarz-e-khamoshi nawa-sanj aur main khamosh hoon

Parda-e-meena mein goya baada-e-sar-josh hoon

[The manner of silence is singing, and I am silent;

As if I am the boiling wine within the veil of the decanter.]

Ahl-e-mehfil ko mubarak lazzat-e-masti ke main

Mahw-e-zauq-e-neesh hoon, na-aashna-e-nosh hoon

[Congratulations to the people of the gathering on the pleasure of intoxication, for I

Am absorbed in the taste of the sting, unacquainted with the drink.]

Sihr-kari-haye rang-amezi-e-fitrat na pooch

Khaar-zar-e-ibrat-e-hasti hoon aur gul-posh hoon

[Do not ask about the enchantments of nature's coloring;

I am the thorn-field of existence's warning, yet I am covered in flowers.]

Tu agar hai be-niyaz-e-shikwa-e-bedad-e-naaz

Main bhi zabt-e-dard ka ek paikar-e-khamosh hoon

[If you are indifferent to the complaint of the injustice of coquetry,

I, too, am a silent embodiment of the suppression of pain.]

The grandeur of words is evident in these verses. The poet's objective is to present ordinary thoughts in the mold of forceful and awe-inspiring words. Words assume greater importance than meaning. The tone and tenor are elevated above the ordinary level. Words—magnificent words—distinguish these verses from everyday speech. The poet's entire focus is tied to the pursuit of this very distinction. This same flaw is commonly seen in Urdu qasidas. In imitation of Persian, verbal pomp and show became the primary component of the qasida. Therefore, with the idea of elevating the qasida, magnificent, unusual, and forceful words were used everywhere:

Uth gaya bahman-o-day ka chamanistan se amal

Tegh-e-urdi ne kiya mulk-e-khizaan musta'sal

[The rule of the winter months of Bahman and Day has been lifted from the garden;

The sword of spring has uprooted the kingdom of autumn.]

This was a verbal labyrinth. However, if the meanings are new, the use of unfamiliar words becomes inevitable:

Tanaza-lil-baqa jaari hai toh maidan-e-hasti mein

Na ho jis ki sipar, aisi koi talwar paida kar

[If the struggle for survival is ongoing in the battlefield of existence,

Then forge a sword for which there is no shield.]

The term Tanaza-lil-Baqa (struggle for survival) is unfamiliar and seemingly cumbersome in Urdu, yet it is impossible to express this concept with such clarity, brevity, and force in any other way. However, if an idea can be conveyed in clear, simple words, resorting to such heavy vocabulary reveals a flaw in craftsmanship. In any case, disregarding words in the pursuit of meaning contradicts the very essence of poetry.

Hum ne khud shahi ko pehnaya hai jamhoori libas

Jab zara Adam hua hai khud shanas o khud nigar

Karobar-e-shehryari ki haqeeqat aur hai

Yeh wajood-e-meer o sultan par nahin hai munhasir

[We ourselves have dressed monarchy in democratic attire,

Now that man has become somewhat self-aware and self-observant.

The reality of the business of governance is something else,

It is not dependent on the existence of lords and sultans.]

These two couplets by Iqbal fall short of poetic standards simply due to this disregard for words. A poet is essentially a craftsman; without craftsmanship, poetry cannot exist.

Ashiya mein phail kar bhi woh hairat faza raha

Kya poochna hai uss ke farogh-e-jamal ka

[Even while spreading through all things, He remained a source of wonder,

What can be said of the radiance of His beauty!]

The thought is lofty, but the couplet lacks any real impact. Rasikh expresses the exact same idea as follows:

Kis qadar boo-qalamoon jalwa hai apna mehboob

Koi bhi uss ki tajalli nahin takrar ke saath

[How multicolored and diverse is the manifestation of my beloved,

None of His revelations ever repeat themselves.]

The phrase boo-qalamoon jalwa (multicolored manifestation) is the soul of this couplet. Rasikh selected the perfect words after profound contemplation. The phrase farogh-e-jamal (radiance of beauty) can occur to anyone, but boo-qalamoon jalwa is Rasikh’s unique innovation. Ultimately, no matter how lofty and invaluable the meaning, it loses its worth if it does not take the form of beautiful words. Words are an integral component of poetry, but if their importance overshadows the essence of the poetry itself, then poetry ceases to be poetry. Just as an obsession with beautiful words can lead poets astray, an overemphasis on meaning often results in failure as well.

Poetry is the beautiful, complete, and rhythmic expression of refined and invaluable experiences. A poet is driven to write by an overwhelming emotion, but initially, this emotion is somewhat ambiguous and undefined. To articulate it, words, imagery, and meter are required. However, these elements are not mere embellishments like clothing or jewelry. A poet unconsciously selects specific words for every experience. If a poet lacks craftsmanship or disregards words, they cannot succeed; their experiences will fail to manifest in the most complete and beautiful language. If the aesthetic quality of the words in a couplet is flawed, or if there remains any room for alteration, that couplet cannot be deemed a success. The presence of filler words also disrupts a poem's beauty, yet the mere presence of beautiful words is not enough on its own.

Jo meethi meethi nazron se woh dekhe

Kahoon aankhon ko main badam-e-sheereen

[If she looks at me with sweet, sweet glances,

I would call her eyes sweet almonds.]

In this couplet, beautiful words have been used to convey a specific thought, yet it still does not deserve to be called poetry. If the thought, emotion, or experience being expressed lacks authenticity, then true poetry is impossible. Consider this couplet by Nasikh:

Dil ab mehv-e-tarsa hua chahta hai

Yeh Kaaba kaleesa hua chahta hai

[The heart now wishes to be absorbed in the Christian beloved,

This Kaaba is on the verge of becoming a church.]

Here, we find an assembly of beautiful and rhythmic words, but it lacks impact because authenticity is missing. In contrast, the following couplet possesses authenticity, which is precisely the source of its profound effect:

Dil uss but pe shaida hua chahta hai

Khuda jaane ab kya hua chahta hai

[The heart is about to fall madly in love with that idol,

God knows what is about to happen now.]

Similarly, if the quality of the experience is low—if it is trite or vulgar—then hoping for success, despite authenticity and beautiful wording, is merely a vain illusion:

Dekhi shab-e-wasl naaf uss ki

Roshan hui chashm aarzoo ki

[I saw her navel on the night of union,

The eye of desire was illuminated.]

The experience depicted in this couplet is crass. A good poet’s experiences are refined and invaluable; it is these very experiences that distinguish them from the masses. If a poet's experiences are also vulgar, then their chances of success are virtually nonexistent! Mir says:

Faqeerana aaye sada kar chalay

Miyan khush raho hum dua kar chalay

[I came like a beggar, called out, and departed,

Be happy, my friend, I leave you with a prayer.]

On the surface, there appears to be nothing extraordinary about this couplet—no grandiose vocabulary, no profound philosophical thoughts—yet it pierces the heart like a lancet. The source of this impact is the sheer authenticity of the emotion. Mir possessed an incredibly sensitive disposition. He felt his emotions with an intensity that is beyond the capacity of ordinary people. The words used are simple and everyday, yet no better words could possibly replace them. Even the slightest alteration would destroy the couplet's beauty. The same holds true for the following verses:

Ab toh ghabra ke yeh kehte hain ke mar jayenge

Mar ke bhi chain na paya toh kidhar jayenge

(Zauq)

[Now, in my distress, I say that I will die,

But if I find no peace even in death, where will I go?

- Zauq]

Tum mere paas hote ho goya

Jab koi doosra nahin hota

(Momin)

[It is as though you are right beside me,

Whenever there is no one else around.

- Momin]

Munhasir marne pe ho jis ki umeed

Na-umeedi uss ki dekha chahiye

(Ghalib)

[One whose only hope rests upon dying,

Imagine the depths of his despair.

- Ghalib]

These examples clearly illustrate the inevitable connection between experiences and words. A poet unconsciously selects the perfect words for their experience, arranging them with optimal order and harmony. If an experience is vulgar or immature, or if its articulation is flawed, both types of defects will manifest in the wording. This is why a literary critic, setting aside meaning and emotion for a moment, first focuses on the words themselves. The words serve as a guide, leading the critic to their ultimate destination—that is, revealing the inherent beauty or the underlying flaws of the verse.

Words are living entities. Every word contains an entire world within itself—a world that is not confined merely to its literal meaning. A poet is not only aware of the definitions of words but also senses the unique atmosphere surrounding each word, utilizing it to full effect. This atmosphere is cultivated gradually over time. Everyday usage, literary and social influences, and the creative innovations of poets all contribute to its unique coloring. A poet understands this nuanced coloring and leverages it to generate entirely new meanings within their verses. Every word is, in itself, a tumult of thoughts and impressions; when a word is used, this tumult manifests vividly in the mirror of the poem.

Dil har qatra hai saaz-e-ana al-bahr

Hum uss ke hain hamara poochna kya

[The heart of every drop is the instrument declaring I am the sea,

We belong to Him, what need is there to ask of us?]

Asghar has also versified this very theme in one of his couplets:

Yeh ishq ne dekha hai, yeh aql se pinhaan hai

Qatra mein samandar hai zarra mein biyabaan hai

[Love has seen this, it is hidden from the intellect:

There is an ocean in the drop, and a desert in the speck of dust.]

In his first line, Ghalib essentially says the same thing: there is an ocean in the drop. However, his use of the words dil (heart) and saaz (instrument) completely transforms the universe of his verse. The heart is a physical organ in the human body—that is its literal definition—but the entirety of Urdu poetry serves as its backdrop. Using this word draws in all the emotional resonances that have gradually become associated with it over time. The same profound effect emanates from his use of the word saaz. Because of this, the simple phrase there is an ocean in the drop feels quite inferior when compared to Ghalib's line. If a poet were to use the Hindi word hirday instead of the Urdu dil in a verse, it would fail to stir any emotional tempest in the minds of an Urdu-speaking audience. Ultimately, words and idioms carry their own distinct atmospheres. The specific vocabulary and the colloquial idioms of women that Mirza Shauq employs in his masnavis (narrative poems) could never fit into a ghazal, because their linguistic atmosphere is entirely different:

Kuch samajhta hai aur na boojhta hai

Phooti aankhon se kuch bhi soojhta hai

Charbi aankhon pe teri chhayi hai

Kuch nigoray ki shamat aayi hai

[He neither understands nor comprehends a thing,

Can he even see anything with those blind eyes?

A layer of fat has clouded your vision,

Some wretched misfortune has befallen this doomed one.]

Jaan halqaan ho gayi ba-khuda

Chhor ghaarat gaye mera peechha

[By God, my life has been utterly exhausted,

Stop chasing me, you wretched one!]

Similarly, if the words and idioms found in Rekhti were to be introduced into Qasaid, it would produce a bizarrely comical effect. However, most poets fail to keep this in mind. Due to this lack of awareness, they frequently commit errors, and the world of their poetry becomes limited.

There is an inevitable connection between words and poetry. Urdu poets, however, seem entirely oblivious to this bond. To traverse the stages of poetry, the guidance of words is essential. If words do not act as guides, one cannot take a single step forward; yet, mistaking the guide for the ultimate destination is a sign of foolishness. Urdu poets consider the mere juggling of words to be poetry. They mistake the compass for the Kaaba itself, making going astray an inevitable result. As long as beautiful and eloquent words are gathered together, the composition is tight, and the idiom is correct—this is the very pinnacle of their efforts. Meaning emerges on its own, but it is usually highly trite and commonplace:

Qayamat bapa hogi uthega fitna

Woh jora nahi ek bala bandhte hain

[Doomsday will occur, a calamity will rise;

She does not tie a hair-bun, she ties a disaster.]

Qayamat (doomsday), jora (hair-bun), bala (disaster), fitna (calamity)—the appropriate words are all present. The composition is tight and idiomatic. A substantial portion of Urdu poetry consists of exactly this kind of verse, but it cannot be called poetry. It is mere verbal acrobatics. In reality, Urdu poets are illusionists. This illusion is built upon worn-out ideas and worn-out words, yet through their astonishing sleight of hand, Urdu poets present a new miracle every time. The spectator is caught in a web of amazement by this dexterity. The superficial eye is deceived, seeing a new spectacle each time, but the discerning critic understands that it is merely an optical illusion:

Na ho mehsoos jo shay kis tarah naqshe mein theek utre

Shabeeh-e-yaar khinchwai kamar bigri dahan bigra

[How can a thing that cannot be felt be drawn accurately?

I had my beloved's portrait painted; the waist was ruined, the mouth was ruined.]

Likhun kya main wasf-e-dahan-o-kamar

Mujhe ghaib ki toh khabar kuch nahi

[How can I write the praise of her mouth and waist?

I have no knowledge of the unseen.]

The underlying thought is entirely commonplace. It contains neither originality nor authenticity, but verbal jugglery has worked its magic, and ostensibly, two different styles are manifested in these verses. The poets of Lucknow have outstripped all others in this illusionism. The beauty of words is so deeply entrenched in their eyes that they do not even pay attention to any other kind of beauty; consequently, their verses are utterly superficial and devoid of emotional impact. This verbal beauty certainly provides some amusement, but it does not fully satisfy any person of understanding. This beauty, too, is a deception, vanishing the moment it is touched by the light of insight. One form of this mirage-like beauty is ri'ayat-e-lafzi (wordplay). Often, even the poets of Delhi fall into the spell of this wordplay. There is a couplet by Mir:

Khijalat se un labon ke pani ho beh chale hain

Qand-o-nabat ka bhi nikla hai khoob sheera

[Out of shame before those lips, they have turned to water and flowed away;

The syrup of sugar and rock candy has been thoroughly extracted.]

Or as Dard says:

Kaha jab main tera bosa toh jaise qand hai pyare

Laga tab kehne par qand-e-mukarrar ho nahi sakta

[When I said, Your kiss is like sugar, my dear,

He replied, But it cannot be repeated sugar.]

However, such examples are rare. The poets of Lucknow, on the other hand, consider this literary device to be the primary component of their poetry:

Apne honton se jo ek baar laga leta woh

Hai yaqeen saghar-e-mai chashma-e-haiwan hota

[Had he touched it to his lips just once,

I am certain the wine goblet would have become the Fountain of Life.]

Aatish expresses this same hackneyed theme in this way:

Bosa us lab ka hai quwwat-bakhsh-e-rooh-e-natawan

Aisi yaqooti muyassar ho toh khaya chahiye

[A kiss from those lips gives strength to the feeble soul;

If such a ruby-red electuary is available, one must consume it.]

Because of this very wordplay, bizarre and unbelievable results emerge:

Ustura munh par jo phirne nahi deta hai baja

Maho deendar se kyon kar khatt-e-Quran hota

[It is right that he does not let the razor touch his face;

How could a pious person erase the script of the Quran?]

Some poets play with a specific category of words. These words are associated with the real or artificial adornments of the beloved's beauty. They seem entirely absorbed in the imagery of kakul (tresses), maang (hair parting), choli (bodice), khaal (beauty mark), missi (tooth-tint), paan (betel leaf), mehndi (henna), mahram (halter), and jewelry.

Kakul (Tresses):

Panja-e-wahshat se hota hai gareban taar taar

Dekhte hain kakul-e-janaan mein jab shane ko hum

[By the claws of madness, the collar is torn to shreds,

Whenever I see the comb in the beloved's tresses.]

Paan and Missi (Betel leaf and tooth-tint):

Paan bhi khao jamai hai jo missi ki dhari

Shaam toh dekhi shafaq ko bhi dikhaya chahiye

[Chew some betel leaf too, now that you have applied the dark line of missi;

We have seen the evening, now you should show us the twilight.]

Mahram (Bodice):

Kisi ke mahram-e-aab-e-rawan ki yaad aayi

Hubab ke jo barabar koi hubab aaya

[I was reminded of someone's bodice made of flowing water,

When one bubble appeared right next to another bubble.]

Hina (Henna):

Dekhe jo tere dast-e-hinai ke rang ko

Sharmindagi se rang ho neela shahab ka

[If it were to see the color of your henna-dyed hands,

The red meteor would turn blue out of shame.]

These were just a few examples. There is neither the need nor the space to write more. This universal obsession with the beauty of words is also present in Gulzar-e-Naseem. Regarding this masnavi, I have written elsewhere: There are some poets whose sensory perception is limited, who are not moved by the observation of the world. If they ever feel emotions, it is through words. They derive a particular pleasure from the juggling of words, their pursuit, and their arrangement. Such a poet is completely unmoved by the beauty of a rose, yet a beautiful word exerts a tremendous impact on him. He is unacquainted with the genuine experiences of the heart, but he deeply feels the elegance of a refined idiom; he is not delighted by a beautiful concept, but grows restless at the mere thought of a clever wordplay. Naseem was exactly this kind of poet.

Naseem was moved by the conception of this poem, and especially by its writing; therefore, he manages to move the hearts of others as well. His heart grows restless upon seeing beautiful and elegant words or similes, which is why he makes his readers restless too. However, if the intellect and perception seek anything beyond this verbal beauty, there is nothing but disappointment. This beautiful statue is cold and lifeless. Some ghazal poets do not even possess a grasp over this specific and limited emotional impact; similarly, they do not employ genuine feeling in their selection and arrangement of words. For this reason, the ghazals of the Lucknow poets lack even that limited, fleeting impact found in Gulzar-e-Naseem.

This same verbal jugglery also manifests itself in another form. Instead of eloquence, clarity, fluency, and idiomatic expression, there is an excess of grandeur, awe, and bombast. Magnificent words overwhelm the heart with their glitter, their majesty, and their resonance. Their onslaught paralyzes the mind, and even the thought of meaning vanishes from the brain. Such verses are not entirely meaningless like this couplet by Hudhud:

Markaz-e-mehwar-e-gardoon ba-lab-e-aab nahi

Nakhun-e-qaus-e-qazah shibha-e-mizrab nahi

[The center of the axis of the heavens is not at the water's edge;

The nail of the rainbow is not like a plectrum.]

But the words used in them are of the exact same hue. Generally, these words are unusual, unfamiliar, and heavy:

Tarz-e-khamoshi nawa-sanj aur main khamosh hoon

Parda-e-meena mein goya baada-e-sar-josh hoon

[The manner of silence is singing, and I am silent;

As if I am the boiling wine within the veil of the decanter.]

Ahl-e-mehfil ko mubarak lazzat-e-masti ke main

Mahw-e-zauq-e-neesh hoon, na-aashna-e-nosh hoon

[Congratulations to the people of the gathering on the pleasure of intoxication, for I

Am absorbed in the taste of the sting, unacquainted with the drink.]

Sihr-kari-haye rang-amezi-e-fitrat na pooch

Khaar-zar-e-ibrat-e-hasti hoon aur gul-posh hoon

[Do not ask about the enchantments of nature's coloring;

I am the thorn-field of existence's warning, yet I am covered in flowers.]

Tu agar hai be-niyaz-e-shikwa-e-bedad-e-naaz

Main bhi zabt-e-dard ka ek paikar-e-khamosh hoon

[If you are indifferent to the complaint of the injustice of coquetry,

I, too, am a silent embodiment of the suppression of pain.]

The grandeur of words is evident in these verses. The poet's objective is to present ordinary thoughts in the mold of forceful and awe-inspiring words. Words assume greater importance than meaning. The tone and tenor are elevated above the ordinary level. Words—magnificent words—distinguish these verses from everyday speech. The poet's entire focus is tied to the pursuit of this very distinction. This same flaw is commonly seen in Urdu qasidas. In imitation of Persian, verbal pomp and show became the primary component of the qasida. Therefore, with the idea of elevating the qasida, magnificent, unusual, and forceful words were used everywhere:

Uth gaya bahman-o-day ka chamanistan se amal

Tegh-e-urdi ne kiya mulk-e-khizaan musta'sal

[The rule of the winter months of Bahman and Day has been lifted from the garden;

The sword of spring has uprooted the kingdom of autumn.]

This was a verbal labyrinth. However, if the meanings are new, the use of unfamiliar words becomes inevitable:

Tanaza-lil-baqa jaari hai toh maidan-e-hasti mein

Na ho jis ki sipar, aisi koi talwar paida kar

[If the struggle for survival is ongoing in the battlefield of existence,

Then forge a sword for which there is no shield.]

The term Tanaza-lil-Baqa (struggle for survival) is unfamiliar and seemingly cumbersome in Urdu, yet it is impossible to express this concept with such clarity, brevity, and force in any other way. However, if an idea can be conveyed in clear, simple words, resorting to such heavy vocabulary reveals a flaw in craftsmanship. In any case, disregarding words in the pursuit of meaning contradicts the very essence of poetry.

Hum ne khud shahi ko pehnaya hai jamhoori libas

Jab zara Adam hua hai khud shanas o khud nigar

Karobar-e-shehryari ki haqeeqat aur hai

Yeh wajood-e-meer o sultan par nahin hai munhasir

[We ourselves have dressed monarchy in democratic attire,

Now that man has become somewhat self-aware and self-observant.

The reality of the business of governance is something else,

It is not dependent on the existence of lords and sultans.]

These two couplets by Iqbal fall short of poetic standards simply due to this disregard for words. A poet is essentially a craftsman; without craftsmanship, poetry cannot exist.

Ashiya mein phail kar bhi woh hairat faza raha

Kya poochna hai uss ke farogh-e-jamal ka

[Even while spreading through all things, He remained a source of wonder,

What can be said of the radiance of His beauty!]

The thought is lofty, but the couplet lacks any real impact. Rasikh expresses the exact same idea as follows:

Kis qadar boo-qalamoon jalwa hai apna mehboob

Koi bhi uss ki tajalli nahin takrar ke saath

[How multicolored and diverse is the manifestation of my beloved,

None of His revelations ever repeat themselves.]

The phrase boo-qalamoon jalwa (multicolored manifestation) is the soul of this couplet. Rasikh selected the perfect words after profound contemplation. The phrase farogh-e-jamal (radiance of beauty) can occur to anyone, but boo-qalamoon jalwa is Rasikh’s unique innovation. Ultimately, no matter how lofty and invaluable the meaning, it loses its worth if it does not take the form of beautiful words. Words are an integral component of poetry, but if their importance overshadows the essence of the poetry itself, then poetry ceases to be poetry. Just as an obsession with beautiful words can lead poets astray, an overemphasis on meaning often results in failure as well.

Poetry is the beautiful, complete, and rhythmic expression of refined and invaluable experiences. A poet is driven to write by an overwhelming emotion, but initially, this emotion is somewhat ambiguous and undefined. To articulate it, words, imagery, and meter are required. However, these elements are not mere embellishments like clothing or jewelry. A poet unconsciously selects specific words for every experience. If a poet lacks craftsmanship or disregards words, they cannot succeed; their experiences will fail to manifest in the most complete and beautiful language. If the aesthetic quality of the words in a couplet is flawed, or if there remains any room for alteration, that couplet cannot be deemed a success. The presence of filler words also disrupts a poem's beauty, yet the mere presence of beautiful words is not enough on its own.

Jo meethi meethi nazron se woh dekhe

Kahoon aankhon ko main badam-e-sheereen

[If she looks at me with sweet, sweet glances,

I would call her eyes sweet almonds.]

In this couplet, beautiful words have been used to convey a specific thought, yet it still does not deserve to be called poetry. If the thought, emotion, or experience being expressed lacks authenticity, then true poetry is impossible. Consider this couplet by Nasikh:

Dil ab mehv-e-tarsa hua chahta hai

Yeh Kaaba kaleesa hua chahta hai

[The heart now wishes to be absorbed in the Christian beloved,

This Kaaba is on the verge of becoming a church.]

Here, we find an assembly of beautiful and rhythmic words, but it lacks impact because authenticity is missing. In contrast, the following couplet possesses authenticity, which is precisely the source of its profound effect:

Dil uss but pe shaida hua chahta hai

Khuda jaane ab kya hua chahta hai

[The heart is about to fall madly in love with that idol,

God knows what is about to happen now.]

Similarly, if the quality of the experience is low—if it is trite or vulgar—then hoping for success, despite authenticity and beautiful wording, is merely a vain illusion:

Dekhi shab-e-wasl naaf uss ki

Roshan hui chashm aarzoo ki

[I saw her navel on the night of union,

The eye of desire was illuminated.]

The experience depicted in this couplet is crass. A good poet’s experiences are refined and invaluable; it is these very experiences that distinguish them from the masses. If a poet's experiences are also vulgar, then their chances of success are virtually nonexistent! Mir says:

Faqeerana aaye sada kar chalay

Miyan khush raho hum dua kar chalay

[I came like a beggar, called out, and departed,

Be happy, my friend, I leave you with a prayer.]

On the surface, there appears to be nothing extraordinary about this couplet—no grandiose vocabulary, no profound philosophical thoughts—yet it pierces the heart like a lancet. The source of this impact is the sheer authenticity of the emotion. Mir possessed an incredibly sensitive disposition. He felt his emotions with an intensity that is beyond the capacity of ordinary people. The words used are simple and everyday, yet no better words could possibly replace them. Even the slightest alteration would destroy the couplet's beauty. The same holds true for the following verses:

Ab toh ghabra ke yeh kehte hain ke mar jayenge

Mar ke bhi chain na paya toh kidhar jayenge

(Zauq)

[Now, in my distress, I say that I will die,

But if I find no peace even in death, where will I go?

- Zauq]

Tum mere paas hote ho goya

Jab koi doosra nahin hota

(Momin)

[It is as though you are right beside me,

Whenever there is no one else around.

- Momin]

Munhasir marne pe ho jis ki umeed

Na-umeedi uss ki dekha chahiye

(Ghalib)

[One whose only hope rests upon dying,

Imagine the depths of his despair.

- Ghalib]

These examples clearly illustrate the inevitable connection between experiences and words. A poet unconsciously selects the perfect words for their experience, arranging them with optimal order and harmony. If an experience is vulgar or immature, or if its articulation is flawed, both types of defects will manifest in the wording. This is why a literary critic, setting aside meaning and emotion for a moment, first focuses on the words themselves. The words serve as a guide, leading the critic to their ultimate destination—that is, revealing the inherent beauty or the underlying flaws of the verse.

Words are living entities. Every word contains an entire world within itself—a world that is not confined merely to its literal meaning. A poet is not only aware of the definitions of words but also senses the unique atmosphere surrounding each word, utilizing it to full effect. This atmosphere is cultivated gradually over time. Everyday usage, literary and social influences, and the creative innovations of poets all contribute to its unique coloring. A poet understands this nuanced coloring and leverages it to generate entirely new meanings within their verses. Every word is, in itself, a tumult of thoughts and impressions; when a word is used, this tumult manifests vividly in the mirror of the poem.

Dil har qatra hai saaz-e-ana al-bahr

Hum uss ke hain hamara poochna kya

[The heart of every drop is the instrument declaring I am the sea,

We belong to Him, what need is there to ask of us?]

Asghar has also versified this very theme in one of his couplets:

Yeh ishq ne dekha hai, yeh aql se pinhaan hai

Qatra mein samandar hai zarra mein biyabaan hai

[Love has seen this, it is hidden from the intellect:

There is an ocean in the drop, and a desert in the speck of dust.]

In his first line, Ghalib essentially says the same thing: there is an ocean in the drop. However, his use of the words dil (heart) and saaz (instrument) completely transforms the universe of his verse. The heart is a physical organ in the human body—that is its literal definition—but the entirety of Urdu poetry serves as its backdrop. Using this word draws in all the emotional resonances that have gradually become associated with it over time. The same profound effect emanates from his use of the word saaz. Because of this, the simple phrase there is an ocean in the drop feels quite inferior when compared to Ghalib's line. If a poet were to use the Hindi word hirday instead of the Urdu dil in a verse, it would fail to stir any emotional tempest in the minds of an Urdu-speaking audience. Ultimately, words and idioms carry their own distinct atmospheres. The specific vocabulary and the colloquial idioms of women that Mirza Shauq employs in his masnavis (narrative poems) could never fit into a ghazal, because their linguistic atmosphere is entirely different:

Kuch samajhta hai aur na boojhta hai

Phooti aankhon se kuch bhi soojhta hai

Charbi aankhon pe teri chhayi hai

Kuch nigoray ki shamat aayi hai

[He neither understands nor comprehends a thing,

Can he even see anything with those blind eyes?

A layer of fat has clouded your vision,

Some wretched misfortune has befallen this doomed one.]

Jaan halqaan ho gayi ba-khuda

Chhor ghaarat gaye mera peechha

[By God, my life has been utterly exhausted,

Stop chasing me, you wretched one!]

Similarly, if the words and idioms found in Rekhti were to be introduced into Qasaid, it would produce a bizarrely comical effect. However, most poets fail to keep this in mind. Due to this lack of awareness, they frequently commit errors, and the world of their poetry becomes limited.