Tag : #Ghalib

Ghalib allusions, words, blog

क्या ग़ालिब के शेरों में आए ये लफ़्ज़ आपको भी मुश्किल में डालते हैं?

अच्छी शायरी का मुआमला ज़रा अलग क़िस्म का होता है, इसमें लफ़्ज़ों के परे एक ऐसी दुनिया होती है कि अगर आप उस तक पहुंचने से असमर्थ रहे तो शायरी के असल आनंद से वंचित रहेंगे।

Dard se mere hai tujh ko beqaeraari hai hai Kya hui zaalim teri ghaflat sha’ari hai hai Umr bhar ka tu ne paimaan-e wafaa baandha to kya Umr ko bhi to naheen hai paaedaari hai hai Sharm-e ruswaaee se jaa chhupna niqaab-e khaak mein Khatm hai ulfat ki tujh per parda daari hai hai

The Love-Life of Asadullah Khan Ghalib (1797-1869)

To think of love and life is to think of Ghalib the lover, and Ghalib the beloved. He was not angelic in form and moving, nor a god in his apprehension but he surely was a piece of work, not very noble in reason but infinite in faculty. He was indeed Shakespeare’s ‘quintessence of dust’ who saw his love going to dust with emotional attachment and philosophical detachment.

Rekhta blog Momin Khan Momin

Ishq Naama Banaam Momin Khan Momin (1800-1851):

Momin lived to love and loved to live but he could not have luck with any of his beloveds.

Situated on the eastern bank of river Hooghly, I have had many a name through ages. Some called me Gol Gotha, others named me Kilkila. Some believed I was Kol-ka-hata, others favoured Kalikata. Then came those who concluded I was Khal Kata, but still others chose to call me Kalkata and then Kalikota. Later, I became Calcutta; now I’m Kolkata. I have had many incarnations; each one looking at the other in the spirit of curious camaraderie. What is in a name, or appearance, after all? I’m indeed history; I’m witness. I’m over two millennia old. My tale is long; your time short. In short, I open up to you. You may pass on my tale to others. With many a name, I’ve many a face. I’m a port; I traded in opium. I’m the Nawab of Bengal; I’m the East India Company. I’m the capital of the Raj; a face of the independence movement. I’m Bengal renaissance. I stand partitioned, bombed, starved. I am revolutionary, but stagnated too. I refuse to grow, yet I do. I choke; I breathe; I live on.

Shahr Naamah Banaam Kolkata

I stand partitioned, bombed, starved. I am revolutionary, but stagnated too. I refuse to grow, yet I do. I choke; I breathe; I live on.

Dilli is a generic and archetypal name for a city of many fates and fortunes. It has been called variously and treated unevenly. There are many tales of power-play and politics behind each name it got during the course of its grand survival from period to period. Whatever incarnation it acquired through different periods of its history, Dilli served as a dehleez, or an entrance for many rulers—the Sultanas, the Mughals, the Marathas, and the British. Dilli has been a seat of political power through ages; a base of literary cultures through eons, especially since the Medieval period of Indian history. While it offered a stage for rehearsing the onslaughts of rulers, it gave its people a way with language and a hug with culture. The language it nourished came to be known as Urdu; the culture it established came to be associated with a way of life and letters. The patterns of Dilli’s grand existence and impressive survival changed with time. With time, Dilli acquired a comprehensive identity of its own kind. As it transformed itself from age to age, so did its locational and cultural icons. Its architectural wonders--Quwat-ul-Islam and Jama Masjid--found yet other manifestations in Akshardham and Bahai temples; its Grand Trunk Road gave way to National Highways. Its older icons--Qutub Minar, Old Fort, and Red Fort--stood re-imagined as India Gate, Parliament House, and President House; its bazaars of the earlier periods got succeeded by Dilli Haat and Trade Fairs. Its Phool Walon Ki Sair manifested itself afresh into Crafts festivals; its Diwan-e-Khas got a makeover as India Habitat Centre. Some state of the art icons--Garden of Five Senses and Hauz Khas Village--stand as the modern days’ re-configured marvels of cultural transformation.

Dilli jo aik shehr hai

Kaun jaaye Zauq par Dilli ki galiyaan chod kar

Twitter Feeds

Facebook Feeds