Social Scientist. v 28, no. 320-321 (Jan-Feb 2000) p. 30.


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SOCIAL SCIENTIST

The tecnique of the stylised metaphor with the same classical motifs has been used by the progressive and revolutionary poets of yrdu along with modern techniques of poetry. We have inherited this tradition. It is not surprising that Hafiz who has been throughout the ages the favourite poet of kings and beggars alike is also the favourite poet of the revolutionaries. Sajjad Zaheer wrote two books in the prisons of Pakistan during five years of his imprisonment in the Rawalpindi conspiracy case. One is the history of the Progressive Writer's Movement called Roshnai and the second on Hafiz Shirazi. The name Roshnai itself is from the poetry of Hafiz Shirazi. During my hospitalisation under a heart attack Diwan-i-Hafiz was my constant companion. It gave me courage and determination to live when I opened the book on my sick bed and read the verse.

Find your medicine in the sweet words of Hafiz,

So you do not need rose and sugar for the treatment.

My doctor who himself was a lover of Hafiz was amused and brought for me the next day the collected works of Sa'adi and told me that good poetry is also like medicine.

Now a revolutionary poet from Bengal has fallen in love with Hafiz and has translated his ghazals into Bengali. I would like to end my article by quoting the lovely metaphysical ode of Hafiz which is engraved on his tombstone. It also expresses a kind of discontent of Hafiz with his times. He has said again and again in his poetry that he does not belong to this world. He is the nightingale of paradise. Yet it is full of zest for life:

Where are the tidings of union? that I may arise-Forth from the dust I will rise up to welcome theel My soul like a homing bird, yearning for paradise. Shall arise and soar, from the snares of the world set free.

When the voice of love shall call me to be thy slave, I shall rise to a greater far than the mastery Of life and living, time and the mortal span:

Pour down, oh Lord! from the clouds of Thy guiding grace The rain of a mercy that quickeneth on my grave,



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