1. Urdu is a Muslim language
Because Urdu is written in the same script as the Quran, it can’t but be a Muslim language. Wait, how then does one explain someone called Rajendra Krishan? Prem Dhawan? Raghupati Sahay (Firaq)? Or Sampooran Singh (Gulzar)? Are they Muslim? Or the fact that Ae dil hai mushkil was written by a Bengali (Amitabh Bhattacharya)? Relevantly then, the highlight of Shaam-e-Urdu was an entire session by Saloo Choudhury dedicated to the recitation of Urdu verse written by Muslim shayars on the Hindu culture of this country — on Gayatri Mantra, Ganges and the Bhagvad Gita.
Saloo saheb comes with impeccable credentials; a Muslim, he translated the Bhagvad Gita into conversational Urdu verse. At Shaam-e-Urdu, he recited Kaifi Azmi’s Farz (Duty) which is Krishna counselling a confused Arjun during the heat of that famous battle: ‘Jang rehmat hai ki laanat, yeh sawaal ab na utha. Jang jab aa hi gayi sar pe to rehmat hogi. Door se dekh naa bhadke huey sholon ka jalaal, Isi dozakh ke kisi koney mein jannat hogi.’
2. Urdu is ‘their’ language
Urdu was born in India. It is as Indian as sarson ka saag and you-know-what. However, something in 1947 represented a watershed in Urdu’s history. At that hour of midnight, even as the world’s second-largest Muslim population (India!) continued to speak what they had always spoken, the language was pencilled out of national priority. Overnight, this became the “enemy’s” language. So, while it was still legit to write Urdu lyrics for Raj Kapoor and Dilip Kumar and hum them, if you needed to prove your patriotism, you needed to enunciate the kind of Hindi that you only now hear Indigo air-hostesses use in memorised monotone. Few have said this with more rubaab than Sahir Ludhianvi. When he attended Ghalib’s centenary in 1968 he came upon every second badge-wearing person in authority bursting in eulogies on Ghalib’s shaan. Sahir took it patiently, then went to his desk to write a sarcasm-laced Jashn-e-Ghalib: ‘Aazaadi e kaamil ka ailaan hua jis din, Maatub zubaan thehri, gaddaar zubaa thehri! Ghalib jisey kehta hai Urdu hi ka shaayar tha, Urdu pe sitam dhaa ke, Ghalib pe karam kyun hain?’ This is what I recited at Shaam-e-Urdu.
3. Urdu is a complex tongue
A disclaimer: the Dilip Kumar version of Urdu is the kind in which if you can comprehend even five words, I would be awed enough to send you the entire faarsi divan of Ghalib at my cost. Sadly, most recall this version and shudder at their own nakaam hasrat. There is another Urdu in circulation: a simpler version. The kind that Gulzar writes. The kind that Javed Akhtar reads. The kind you and I hum. There are hazaar words (yes, even hazaar is Urdu) that we employ in everyday zubaan that are not Hindi-ised Sanskrit; they are Urdu and we don’t even realise it. Blimey, much of the country talks Urdu, shouts Urdu, swears Urdu and all the time they think it is Hindi. Aafreen-aafreen is Urdu (sung at Shaam-e-Urdu by Anurag Poddar). Aage bhi jaaney na tu is Urdu (recited by Rahul Verma). Saare jahaan se achha is Urdu. Yeh duniya agar mil bhi jaaye to kya hai is Urdu. Rahen na rahen hum is Urdu. Waqt ne kiya kya haseen sitam is Urdu. Toba Tek Singh by Manto is Urdu (recited by RJ Praveen at the event). And the amazing part is that we understand every word of it and we give the credit to Hindi. Taa’jjub.
4. Urdu is a dying language
After three decades of relatively junk Hindi cinema lyrics (Goli maar bheje mein, bheja shor karta hai), lo and behold a moajiza! The consumer has spake. And turned sheepishly to the old mistress. Marwari housewives attend ghazal sessions. Sufi nights are sold out. It is fashionable to quote Faiz in cocktail conversations. Anyone who says ‘irshaad’ after a good couplet is considered refined. There is more evidence: when you hum O re piya, you are singing Urdu. When you break into a stray Phir le aaya dil (the Rekha Bhardwaj version, performed at Shaam-e-Urdu by Srijita) you are plying Urdu. When you cry out “yaay” as the DJ turns to Dil, sambhal jaa zara, phir mohabbat karne chala hai tu! (sung by Arijit Paul at Shaam-e-Urdu) that’s India’s sweetest language with the knobs on. The reality: Urdu is alive. Urdu is kicking.
• Kalaams sung at Shaam-e-Urdu
Chehra hai jaise jheel mein hastaa hua kanwal/
Ya zindagi ke saaz pe chhedi hui ghazal/
Jaane bahaar tum kisi shaayar ka khwaab ho/
Chaudhvin ka chand ho…
— Shakeel Badayuni
• Urdu hai mera naam main Khusro ki paheli
Main Meer ki humraaz hoon Ghalib ki saheli
— Iqbal
• Aye mere pyaare watan, aye mere bichhde chaman
Tujhpe dil kurbaan.
— Prem Dhawan
Mudar Patherya
Pictures: Pabitra Das
Shaam-e-Urdu, held at
Rabindra Sarobar on March 26 as part of the Live at Lakes initiative, is a preview for a Urdu literature festival to be organised in Calcutta in November in association with Kolkata Literary Meet
