Urdu Ghazal Ki Technique

No matter the art form, it inevitably possesses a technique, structural rules, hidden nuances, a framework, a method of composition, intricate patterns, secrets of its craftsmanship, its molding, its shaping, and layer upon layer of refinement and polish. However, when discussing the trade secret of the ghazal, there is a risk that delving into its details and explanations might render the discussion dry, or that in attempting to untangle the knot, it might become even more entangled.

As far as Urdu is concerned, from its very inception, it has witnessed periods of change, occasional progress, and occasional decline across different eras. However, this cycle of change, progress, and decline is not found in the technique or the fundamental, established rules of the ghazal. Rather, these shifts occur within the soul and meaning of the ghazal, in its intuition, and in its aesthetic concepts. Through their poetic melodies, every great ghazal poet creates a universe that is, as they say in English, unique—peerless and entirely in a class of its own. In the work of imitative poets, one only finds faint and feeble shadows of the universes created by the masters. They possess no universe of their own.

Technique, therefore, can be divided into two parts: external and internal. The skeleton of the ghazal is simply this: composed in any meter, both lines of the opening couplet must rhyme; in the subsequent couplets, the first line is unrhymed, while the second line follows the same rhyme scheme established in the opening couplet. Finally, the concluding couplet typically incorporates the poet's pen name (takhallus).

Beyond this, there are deeper layers of technique. This involves a set of established signs or symbols: the desert, the valley, the caravan, the destination, the evening of the exile, the morning of the homeland, the garden, the thorn and the rose, spring, autumn, the nest, the cage, the hunter, the sky, the day of judgment, the season of the cupbearer, the tavern, the goblet, the wine, the beloved’s tresses and face, the glance, the graveyard of strangers, the prison, the street, the beloved, the beloved's threshold, the idol temple, the holy sanctuary, the gathering, the inner sanctum, existence, non-existence, the hem of the garment, the torn collar, consciousness and intoxication, and the various states and stages of earthly and divine love. Every couplet of a ghazal must possess universality, and its appeal must be broad. The experiences of life are presented within the couplets of a ghazal as comprehensive and complete statements.

Each couplet of a ghazal is, in essence, a complete poem in itself. The external continuity is maintained through the meter, the rhyme, and the refrain. Furthermore, a uniformity of style, mood, or intuitive response creates a harmony within the ghazal, binding it together as a single cohesive unit. Some ghazals possess a thematic continuity, and certain refrains contribute to this as well. For instance, phrases like nowadays, tonight, these days, yet, until now, and countless other similar fragments create a fluid, graceful continuity throughout the poem.

It is the external technique that, through the process of the poet's individual intuition, transforms into the internal technique. For example, there was a couplet by Rind of which he was immensely proud:

Agra'i ka hai guman shak hai mala-giri ka

Rang laya hai dupatta tera maila ho kar

[It gives the illusion of aloe-wood, a suspicion of sandalwood hue,

Your scarf has taken on a beautiful color by becoming soiled.]

However, in the couplet by Saba that I will now recite, the technique of emotion has shifted so drastically that, despite using the same meter and rhyme scheme, an entirely different world emerges. Saba’s couplet is:

Baghban, bulbul-e-kushta ko kafan kya deta

Pairahan gul ka yeh badla kabhi maila ho kar

[Gardener, what shroud could you have given the slain nightingale?

The garment of the rose transformed into one upon becoming soiled.]

Notice how many new layers have been added to the couplet, how many whirlpools and waves have rippled through the voice. Here is a couplet by Wazir:

Tirchhi nazron se na dekho aashiq-e-dilgeer ko

Kaise teer-andaaz ho seedha toh kar lo teer ko

[Do not look at the sorrowful lover with slanted glances,

What kind of archer are you? At least straighten your arrow.]

The couplet by Ghalib that I will now quote is in the exact same meter; only the rhyme and refrain have been changed. But while the musicality in Wazir’s couplet is murdered by a clunky, wooden rhythm, Ghalib compensates for this so masterfully that his couplet sounds like the voice of the goddess of music herself. The couplet is:

Sab kahan kuch lala-o-gul mein numayan ho gayin

Khaak mein kya sooratein hongi keh pinhan ho gayin

[Not all, but a few have manifested in the tulip and the rose,

What beautiful faces there must be in the dust, that remain hidden.]

The truth is that the external technique is itself born from the internal technique. As is the instrument, so is the melody. The conclusion is that a new glimpse and a new resonance—that is, change and progress—in the form, color, or external technique of the ghazal are generated by the internal technique, or the technique of feeling. Even a single thought or a single meaning can have two different techniques. For instance, listen to this couplet by Ameer Minai:

Jab talak the tum kashida, dil tha shikvon se bhara

Tum gale se mil gaye saara gila jata raha

[As long as you were distant, the heart was full of complaints,

You embraced me, and all the grievances vanished.]

Now listen to this couplet by Fani, which carries the exact same meaning. Yet, despite the thought and meaning remaining identical, the emotional world has completely changed:

Dil un ke na aane tak labrez-e-shikayat tha

Woh aaye toh apni hi taqseer nazar aayi

[Until they arrived, the heart was brimming with complaints,

When they came, I only saw my own faults.]

And Hali has bestowed upon this very theme and meaning a nobility of spirit that we might call the ultimate destination of emotional expression. Hali’s couplet is:

Milte hi tum se bhool gayin kulfatein tamaam

Goya hamare sar pe kabhi aasman na tha

[Upon meeting you, all sorrows were forgotten,

As if the sky had never weighed upon our heads.]

Consider the phrases: all the grievances vanished, I only saw my own faults, and all sorrows were forgotten. Have Fani and Hali not turned dust into gold? This is the alchemy of internal technique. A single event, a single thought can become an expression of sorrow, and it can also become an expression of joy. For example:

Sirhane Mir ke aahista bolo

Abhi tuk rote rote so gaya hai

[Speak softly at the bedside of Mir,

He has just now fallen asleep, weeping.]

Sauda ke sirhane jo hua shor-e-qayamat

Khuddam-e-adab bole abhi aankh lagi hai

[When the tumult of Doomsday arose at Sauda's bedside,

The servants of etiquette said, he has just closed his eyes.]

Hoga kisu deewar ke saaye ke tale Mir

Kya kaam mohabbat se is aaram-talab ko

[Mir must be resting beneath the shadow of some wall,

What does this comfort-seeker have to do with love?]

Us ki deewar ka sar se mere saamaan na gaya

Main toh kambakht yahin tha kahin aaya na gaya

[The obsession with her wall never left my head,

I, the wretched one, was right here, I went nowhere.]

After these sorrow-laden couplets by Mir, listen to the uplifting voice of Aatish:

Dhoop mein saya-e-deewar ne sone na diya

Khaak par sang-e-dar-e-yaar ne sone na diya

[In the sun, the shadow of the wall did not let me sleep,

On the dust, the stone of the beloved's door did not let me sleep.]

How joyous and triumphant is the voice of Aatish, even though he is saying the exact same thing as Mir.

There will be no significant change or addition to the external technique of the ghazal, nor is there any need for one. Just as in the English sonnet or English blank verse, where after Gorboduc and Sir Philip Sidney, poets like Marlowe, Shakespeare, Milton, Wordsworth, Shelley, Keats, and Tennyson introduced the new vibrations of their own temperaments and intuitions, similarly, Wali Dakkani, Mir, Ghalib, Aatish, Ameer, Daagh, and the ghazal poets of the twentieth century transformed the internal technique of the ghazal. The changes brought about in the internal technique of the ghazal at the hands of Iqbal are nothing short of revolutionary.

In this context, certain realities must be understood. The Urdu ghazal was born during the declining era of the feudal age. All its subtleties carried the virtues of passivity, although occasionally—as seen in the works of Aatish—the radiant vitality of action would also illuminate the face of the ghazal. Furthermore, despite its comprehensiveness and universality, the Urdu ghazal remained the poetry of a specific class.

There was another aspect of the Urdu ghazal that clashed with the very essence and conscience of India: its disharmony with life and the universe. It has generally been the misfortune of the Urdu ghazal that it failed to embrace life in the manner exemplified by the greatest masterpieces and traditions of ancient Indian literature. I raised my voice against this a quarter of a century ago. Today, I feel a sense of satisfaction in saying that my voice did not go unheard. For some years now, the Urdu ghazal appears to be embracing life and the universe. New ghazal poets are beginning to realize the purity of the elemental, material world. A profound change has occurred in the temperament, the heartbeat, and the very faith of the ghazal. In terms of the ghazal's internal technique, this shift amounts to a complete transformation or a reverse process.

I mentioned earlier that Iqbal's contribution to the realm of the ghazal is nothing short of revolutionary. Iqbal completely uprooted the traditions of passivity and inertia. However, Iqbal's pragmatism or progressivism is fundamentally idealistic and revivalistic. The rise of global proletarian forces is the most significant chapter of contemporary history. It is so monumental that it will fundamentally alter not just politics and economics, but art, literature, philosophy, science, all fields of knowledge, and the very foundational concepts of life itself. Iqbal could not hear the approaching footsteps of this revolution. This phenomenon—the rise of the world proletariat—will transform culture, civilization, and literature entirely. The impact of this revolution is already becoming evident across all genres of Urdu prose, as well as all forms of Urdu poetry, of which the ghazal is one.

The collective and individual pragmatism that is now set to replace passivity within the internal technique of the Urdu ghazal will be entirely distinct from Iqbal's pragmatism. Compared to the elements of human welfare, progress, and universal unity inherent in this new pragmatism, Iqbal's approach will appear deeply flawed. Very few people have grasped the magnitude of the revolution that socialist pragmatism will bring to the ghazal, the countless possibilities it will unlock, and the formidable challenge it will present. This revolutionary concept will infuse the ghazal with new tenderness, new passion, new rigors, new vigor, and a completely new life. Whether it is the ghazal or the nazm (poem), the ultimate subject of both is humanity and human life. When the very landscape and conception of humanity and human life change, the contours of the ghazal will inevitably change as well. Old metaphors, allusions, and vocabulary will begin to yield new meanings. New symbols—such as the laborer, the sickle, the hammer, the tractor, the engine, various machines and inventions, and thousands of facets of practical life—will begin to reflect a new reality. A progressive humanity, triumphing over nature, will completely transform the internal technique of the ghazal. Just as culture and civilization will be liberated from a class-based existence, the ghazal too will become the voice of all human life—the vast majority of which consists of the working class.

I would like to point out one final thing before I conclude. The revolutionary ghazal will by no means be monotonous. The revolutionary ghazal will provide an opportunity for poetic individuality to shine in a way that traditional ghazal writing has thus far failed to offer. Because the ghazal, as Professor Majnun notes, is a highly rigid poetic form, the revolutionary change I have alluded to is currently entering it very hesitantly. However, this transformation can be clearly observed in the Urdu nazm. In today's Urdu nazm—that is, the revolutionary Urdu nazm—poetic individuality is so radiant that such a diversity of individual expression cannot be found in the Urdu nazm of any previous era. Moving forward, this exact diversity and vibrancy will also be witnessed in the Urdu ghazal—a ghazal that will be written for the educated working class, rather than for freeloaders and profiteers. Let it be clear that this ghazal will be of an exceptionally high caliber. Yet, even in this new era, we will continue to appreciate and learn from the profound life values embedded in the poetry of Hafiz, Saadi, Kalidasa, Mir, and Ghalib.

Jo khud murda hain woh murdon ke waris ban nahi sakte

Ke is duniya mein namoos-e-kuhan ke pasban hum hain

[Those who are themselves dead cannot become the heirs of the dead,

For in this world, we are the guardians of ancient honor.]

No matter the art form, it inevitably possesses a technique, structural rules, hidden nuances, a framework, a method of composition, intricate patterns, secrets of its craftsmanship, its molding, its shaping, and layer upon layer of refinement and polish. However, when discussing the trade secret of the ghazal, there is a risk that delving into its details and explanations might render the discussion dry, or that in attempting to untangle the knot, it might become even more entangled.

As far as Urdu is concerned, from its very inception, it has witnessed periods of change, occasional progress, and occasional decline across different eras. However, this cycle of change, progress, and decline is not found in the technique or the fundamental, established rules of the ghazal. Rather, these shifts occur within the soul and meaning of the ghazal, in its intuition, and in its aesthetic concepts. Through their poetic melodies, every great ghazal poet creates a universe that is, as they say in English, unique—peerless and entirely in a class of its own. In the work of imitative poets, one only finds faint and feeble shadows of the universes created by the masters. They possess no universe of their own.

Technique, therefore, can be divided into two parts: external and internal. The skeleton of the ghazal is simply this: composed in any meter, both lines of the opening couplet must rhyme; in the subsequent couplets, the first line is unrhymed, while the second line follows the same rhyme scheme established in the opening couplet. Finally, the concluding couplet typically incorporates the poet's pen name (takhallus).

Beyond this, there are deeper layers of technique. This involves a set of established signs or symbols: the desert, the valley, the caravan, the destination, the evening of the exile, the morning of the homeland, the garden, the thorn and the rose, spring, autumn, the nest, the cage, the hunter, the sky, the day of judgment, the season of the cupbearer, the tavern, the goblet, the wine, the beloved’s tresses and face, the glance, the graveyard of strangers, the prison, the street, the beloved, the beloved's threshold, the idol temple, the holy sanctuary, the gathering, the inner sanctum, existence, non-existence, the hem of the garment, the torn collar, consciousness and intoxication, and the various states and stages of earthly and divine love. Every couplet of a ghazal must possess universality, and its appeal must be broad. The experiences of life are presented within the couplets of a ghazal as comprehensive and complete statements.

Each couplet of a ghazal is, in essence, a complete poem in itself. The external continuity is maintained through the meter, the rhyme, and the refrain. Furthermore, a uniformity of style, mood, or intuitive response creates a harmony within the ghazal, binding it together as a single cohesive unit. Some ghazals possess a thematic continuity, and certain refrains contribute to this as well. For instance, phrases like nowadays, tonight, these days, yet, until now, and countless other similar fragments create a fluid, graceful continuity throughout the poem.

It is the external technique that, through the process of the poet's individual intuition, transforms into the internal technique. For example, there was a couplet by Rind of which he was immensely proud:

Agra'i ka hai guman shak hai mala-giri ka

Rang laya hai dupatta tera maila ho kar

[It gives the illusion of aloe-wood, a suspicion of sandalwood hue,

Your scarf has taken on a beautiful color by becoming soiled.]

However, in the couplet by Saba that I will now recite, the technique of emotion has shifted so drastically that, despite using the same meter and rhyme scheme, an entirely different world emerges. Saba’s couplet is:

Baghban, bulbul-e-kushta ko kafan kya deta

Pairahan gul ka yeh badla kabhi maila ho kar

[Gardener, what shroud could you have given the slain nightingale?

The garment of the rose transformed into one upon becoming soiled.]

Notice how many new layers have been added to the couplet, how many whirlpools and waves have rippled through the voice. Here is a couplet by Wazir:

Tirchhi nazron se na dekho aashiq-e-dilgeer ko

Kaise teer-andaaz ho seedha toh kar lo teer ko

[Do not look at the sorrowful lover with slanted glances,

What kind of archer are you? At least straighten your arrow.]

The couplet by Ghalib that I will now quote is in the exact same meter; only the rhyme and refrain have been changed. But while the musicality in Wazir’s couplet is murdered by a clunky, wooden rhythm, Ghalib compensates for this so masterfully that his couplet sounds like the voice of the goddess of music herself. The couplet is:

Sab kahan kuch lala-o-gul mein numayan ho gayin

Khaak mein kya sooratein hongi keh pinhan ho gayin

[Not all, but a few have manifested in the tulip and the rose,

What beautiful faces there must be in the dust, that remain hidden.]

The truth is that the external technique is itself born from the internal technique. As is the instrument, so is the melody. The conclusion is that a new glimpse and a new resonance—that is, change and progress—in the form, color, or external technique of the ghazal are generated by the internal technique, or the technique of feeling. Even a single thought or a single meaning can have two different techniques. For instance, listen to this couplet by Ameer Minai:

Jab talak the tum kashida, dil tha shikvon se bhara

Tum gale se mil gaye saara gila jata raha

[As long as you were distant, the heart was full of complaints,

You embraced me, and all the grievances vanished.]

Now listen to this couplet by Fani, which carries the exact same meaning. Yet, despite the thought and meaning remaining identical, the emotional world has completely changed:

Dil un ke na aane tak labrez-e-shikayat tha

Woh aaye toh apni hi taqseer nazar aayi

[Until they arrived, the heart was brimming with complaints,

When they came, I only saw my own faults.]

And Hali has bestowed upon this very theme and meaning a nobility of spirit that we might call the ultimate destination of emotional expression. Hali’s couplet is:

Milte hi tum se bhool gayin kulfatein tamaam

Goya hamare sar pe kabhi aasman na tha

[Upon meeting you, all sorrows were forgotten,

As if the sky had never weighed upon our heads.]

Consider the phrases: all the grievances vanished, I only saw my own faults, and all sorrows were forgotten. Have Fani and Hali not turned dust into gold? This is the alchemy of internal technique. A single event, a single thought can become an expression of sorrow, and it can also become an expression of joy. For example:

Sirhane Mir ke aahista bolo

Abhi tuk rote rote so gaya hai

[Speak softly at the bedside of Mir,

He has just now fallen asleep, weeping.]

Sauda ke sirhane jo hua shor-e-qayamat

Khuddam-e-adab bole abhi aankh lagi hai

[When the tumult of Doomsday arose at Sauda's bedside,

The servants of etiquette said, he has just closed his eyes.]

Hoga kisu deewar ke saaye ke tale Mir

Kya kaam mohabbat se is aaram-talab ko

[Mir must be resting beneath the shadow of some wall,

What does this comfort-seeker have to do with love?]

Us ki deewar ka sar se mere saamaan na gaya

Main toh kambakht yahin tha kahin aaya na gaya

[The obsession with her wall never left my head,

I, the wretched one, was right here, I went nowhere.]

After these sorrow-laden couplets by Mir, listen to the uplifting voice of Aatish:

Dhoop mein saya-e-deewar ne sone na diya

Khaak par sang-e-dar-e-yaar ne sone na diya

[In the sun, the shadow of the wall did not let me sleep,

On the dust, the stone of the beloved's door did not let me sleep.]

How joyous and triumphant is the voice of Aatish, even though he is saying the exact same thing as Mir.

There will be no significant change or addition to the external technique of the ghazal, nor is there any need for one. Just as in the English sonnet or English blank verse, where after Gorboduc and Sir Philip Sidney, poets like Marlowe, Shakespeare, Milton, Wordsworth, Shelley, Keats, and Tennyson introduced the new vibrations of their own temperaments and intuitions, similarly, Wali Dakkani, Mir, Ghalib, Aatish, Ameer, Daagh, and the ghazal poets of the twentieth century transformed the internal technique of the ghazal. The changes brought about in the internal technique of the ghazal at the hands of Iqbal are nothing short of revolutionary.

In this context, certain realities must be understood. The Urdu ghazal was born during the declining era of the feudal age. All its subtleties carried the virtues of passivity, although occasionally—as seen in the works of Aatish—the radiant vitality of action would also illuminate the face of the ghazal. Furthermore, despite its comprehensiveness and universality, the Urdu ghazal remained the poetry of a specific class.

There was another aspect of the Urdu ghazal that clashed with the very essence and conscience of India: its disharmony with life and the universe. It has generally been the misfortune of the Urdu ghazal that it failed to embrace life in the manner exemplified by the greatest masterpieces and traditions of ancient Indian literature. I raised my voice against this a quarter of a century ago. Today, I feel a sense of satisfaction in saying that my voice did not go unheard. For some years now, the Urdu ghazal appears to be embracing life and the universe. New ghazal poets are beginning to realize the purity of the elemental, material world. A profound change has occurred in the temperament, the heartbeat, and the very faith of the ghazal. In terms of the ghazal's internal technique, this shift amounts to a complete transformation or a reverse process.

I mentioned earlier that Iqbal's contribution to the realm of the ghazal is nothing short of revolutionary. Iqbal completely uprooted the traditions of passivity and inertia. However, Iqbal's pragmatism or progressivism is fundamentally idealistic and revivalistic. The rise of global proletarian forces is the most significant chapter of contemporary history. It is so monumental that it will fundamentally alter not just politics and economics, but art, literature, philosophy, science, all fields of knowledge, and the very foundational concepts of life itself. Iqbal could not hear the approaching footsteps of this revolution. This phenomenon—the rise of the world proletariat—will transform culture, civilization, and literature entirely. The impact of this revolution is already becoming evident across all genres of Urdu prose, as well as all forms of Urdu poetry, of which the ghazal is one.

The collective and individual pragmatism that is now set to replace passivity within the internal technique of the Urdu ghazal will be entirely distinct from Iqbal's pragmatism. Compared to the elements of human welfare, progress, and universal unity inherent in this new pragmatism, Iqbal's approach will appear deeply flawed. Very few people have grasped the magnitude of the revolution that socialist pragmatism will bring to the ghazal, the countless possibilities it will unlock, and the formidable challenge it will present. This revolutionary concept will infuse the ghazal with new tenderness, new passion, new rigors, new vigor, and a completely new life. Whether it is the ghazal or the nazm (poem), the ultimate subject of both is humanity and human life. When the very landscape and conception of humanity and human life change, the contours of the ghazal will inevitably change as well. Old metaphors, allusions, and vocabulary will begin to yield new meanings. New symbols—such as the laborer, the sickle, the hammer, the tractor, the engine, various machines and inventions, and thousands of facets of practical life—will begin to reflect a new reality. A progressive humanity, triumphing over nature, will completely transform the internal technique of the ghazal. Just as culture and civilization will be liberated from a class-based existence, the ghazal too will become the voice of all human life—the vast majority of which consists of the working class.

I would like to point out one final thing before I conclude. The revolutionary ghazal will by no means be monotonous. The revolutionary ghazal will provide an opportunity for poetic individuality to shine in a way that traditional ghazal writing has thus far failed to offer. Because the ghazal, as Professor Majnun notes, is a highly rigid poetic form, the revolutionary change I have alluded to is currently entering it very hesitantly. However, this transformation can be clearly observed in the Urdu nazm. In today's Urdu nazm—that is, the revolutionary Urdu nazm—poetic individuality is so radiant that such a diversity of individual expression cannot be found in the Urdu nazm of any previous era. Moving forward, this exact diversity and vibrancy will also be witnessed in the Urdu ghazal—a ghazal that will be written for the educated working class, rather than for freeloaders and profiteers. Let it be clear that this ghazal will be of an exceptionally high caliber. Yet, even in this new era, we will continue to appreciate and learn from the profound life values embedded in the poetry of Hafiz, Saadi, Kalidasa, Mir, and Ghalib.

Jo khud murda hain woh murdon ke waris ban nahi sakte

Ke is duniya mein namoos-e-kuhan ke pasban hum hain

[Those who are themselves dead cannot become the heirs of the dead,

For in this world, we are the guardians of ancient honor.]