ALI SARDAR JAFRI'S POEMS IN ' SARHAD " OR " BORDER " SERIES CONTAIN AN ELOQUENT MESSAGE OF PEACE . PART 1

                                                                                

AN ELOQUENT MESSAGE OF PEACE … ALI  SARDAR  JAFRI ..

Noted singer Seema Anil Sehgal with poet Ali Sardar Jafri. While Seema Ji sang SARHAD in her mellifluous and scintillating voice , her husband Squadron leader Anil Sehgal wrote the most authentic and resourceful book on poet Ali Sardar Jafri titled “The Youthful Boatman of Joy “ . For Sardar and his family , Seema Ji remained like a concerned daughter .I add lines from a poem under SARHAD series....

"Yeh tank taup ye bombaar aag bandookein, 

 Kahaan se laaye ho kis ki taraf hai rookh in-kaa

Dayaar e waaris o iqbal ka yeh taufa hai ?

Jaga ke jung ke tufaan zameen e nanak se

Uthay ho barq giraane kabir ke ghar par ?

Ghulam tum bhi thay kal tak ghulam hum bhi thay ,

 Naha ke khoon mein aayee thi fasl e aazadi

Abhi tau subah ki pehli hawaaein sanki hain

Abhi shagoofon ne kholi nahin hai aankh apni

Abhi bahaar ke lub par hansi nahin aayee

Na jaane kitnay sitaare bhuji si aankhon ke

Na jaane kitnay fasurda hathhelion ke gulab

Taras rahein hain abhi rang o roshini ke liye

Hamaare pass hai kya dard e mushtareq ke siva

Mazaa tau jab thaa ki mil kar ilaaj e jaan kartay

Khud apnay haathhon se taamir e gulistaan kartay”...      ( Ali Sardar Jafri )

 

My simple English rendering would be ……..

 

"These tanks , canons , bombers , fire and the guns

Where from have you procured all this ?

To which direction are these aimed ?

Is it a gift from the land of Waris Shah and Iqbal ?

From the land of Guru Nanak ,

You raise the  thunder of war hurricanes

 to put Kabir’s dwelling on fire  .

A slave you too were till yesterday ,

A slave we too were till yesterday,

Drenched in our own blood ,

We reaped the crop of freedom .

The morning’s fresh breeze has yet to move past us ,

The new blooms have yet to open their sleepy eyes,

The spring has yet to put a smile on its lips ,

The plentiful stars within our cheerless eyes,

desperately demand a ray of light .

The bountiful roses held in our depressing hands ,

desperately demand the joy of colours .

Other than a common gift of pain and suffering ,

What else we possess ,

Tell me please ?

How beautiful it would have been ,

Had we sought a joint cure for our ailments ?

How beautiful it would have been ,

Had we laid the beautiful garden with our own hands ? ”

 

 ( Avtar Mota )

 

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