| |
Shah Hussain's Poetry
Najm Hussainn Syed
In the new Lahore lies buried Shah Husain
and with him lies buried the myth of Lal Husain. Still, at least once a
year we can hear the defused echoes of the myth. As the lights glimmer on
the walls of Shalamar, the unsophisticated rhythms of swinging bodies and
exulting voices curiously insist on being associated with Husain. This
instance apparently defies explanation. But one is aware that an undertone
of mockery pervades the air - released feet mocking the ancient sods of
Shalamar and released voices mocking its ancient walls. Husain too, the
myth tells us, danced a dance of mockery in the ancient streets of Lahore.
Grandson of a convert weaver, he embarrassed every one by aspiring to the
privilege of learning what he revered guardians of traditional knowledge
claimed to teach.
Bulleh Shah in the Light of History
Najm Hussain Syed
In the beginning was the
stone. And man stood before the stone possessed by the need to live and
the urge to be. In the end too, is the stone and man stands before it as
unsatiated as in the beginning. Between these two points there is
movement- movement that cuts and chisels the stone to form the axe, that
strikes two stones against each other to rouse the slumbering spirit of
fire, that smithers the stone to fragments to touch off the multifaced
dance of water, that splits the very being of the stone to release demons
whose dance is infinitely subtler and infinitely mightier. The movement
breathlessly explores the mazes wrought by its own course and then shapes
the stone into forms of pain, pleasure and silence, to envision through
them what is beyond pain and pleasure and silence.
Austere Rythms of Farid
Najam Hussain Syed
Farid's position as the first known Punjabi
poet is a matter of curiosity as well as reassurance. The saintly Bawa
Sahib (1173-1266A.D.) stands at the far end of Punjabi poetic tradition in
an eminent isolation. Nearly three centuries pass before another figure of
any status relieves the curious blank.Farid's renown as a mystic enhances
his isolation as a poet. There is, around the Bawa Sahib, a halo of
revered legends - a halo, which sometimes seems to touch his poetry and
absorb it into itself, and sometimes to focus on the more popular aspects
of sainthood and leave out poetry entirely. The curious student of history
may follow the arbitrary movements of this legendary halo and strain his
eyes between frustrating darkness and suddenly vanishing promises of
light. |
