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| Many secrets |
There was a time when I was much taken with Amrita Pritam. She was fair, petite, pretty, a gifted poet, but a poor story-teller. She wrote only in Punjabi, and was little known outside Punjab. I took it upon myself to translate her works into English so that she could get better known in India and in the English-speaking world. First, I translated her novel, Pinjar (The Skeleton). It was published and went into many editions. Then I translated some of her poems. They were published in the brochure distributed when she was given the Jnanpith Award by Prime Minister Narasimha Rao. I refused to share the royalties she earned. The only thing I asked her was to tell me the truth about her love affairs, as many names were associated with her.
When her turn came to tell me about her love life, she mentioned only one name: Sahir Ludhianvi. And that only through an exchange of correspondence. They decided to meet and consummate their relationship. Sahir came from Bombay to Delhi and booked himself in Claridges Hotel. Amrita went to meet him all prepared to give herself to him. They spent a few hours together but there was no sex. By then Sahir was impotent. I was disappointed by her narration and remarked: “If this was all, I could write your love life behind a postage stamp”. She liked my summing up and her next episode was entitled, Raseedee Ticket.
Amrita’s version of her affair with Sahir is at variance with Anoop Sandhu’s biography: Life and Love of Sahir Ludhianvi. Sandhu has done his homework and produced a definitive account of the poet’s life and work, profusely illustrated by quotations from his poems in Roman Urdu. It is to be launched on Sahir’s 90th birth anniversary on March 8, 2011.
Sahir (magician) was the only son of a prosperous zamindar of Ludhiana through his 11th wife, Sardar Begum. The marriage ended in a divorce. Sahir opted to stay with his mother. By the time I met him first in the house of Rafiq and Fatima Zakaria, he had become the topmost lyricist of Hindi films and lived in a nice bungalow in Juhu.
I sensed he was very touchy and could also be rude. He invited us to dine with him. There, I met his mother and a young woman, who, I gathered, was his mother’s niece. His mother asked me to persuade her son to cut down on his drink. I did not risk doing so, as I was sure he would tell me to mind my own business and turn me out of his house.
Poet and warrior
I have published selections of Gurudev Tagore’s songs and works on many occasions. I have in hand Dilip Kumar Mitra’s translation of Tagore’s eulogy to Banda Bahadur, who won the fort to get the better of the Mughals in Sirhind. He was later captured and executed in Delhi. I quote a few verses from Mitra’s translation entitled Fallen hero:
On the land of five rivers,
Braiding tresses of long hair,
Chanting Guru’s teachings were
steady —
The Shikhs, ruthless, fearless and
battle ready.
‘Hail Guruji’ filled horizon, shouted
by everybody.
The newly awakened Shikh,
They did look at the rising sun and divine blessings seek.
‘Alakh Niranjan’—
The chanting got louder, shackles
were torn.
Naked swords danced in air and all
fear gone —
That day Punjab chanted together,
‘Alakh Niranjan’.
What a day that was, dear.
Lakhs of people ready to die, all
without fear.
Life and death didn’t matter, soul
was full of cheer.
On all the banks of five rivers, what
a day it was, dear.
In Delhi, at the Mughal palace, the
soundly sleeping prince,
Woke up in fear time and again
because of the din.
Whose chantings churned the sky at
the dead night!
On the land of five rivers,
Did blood of the devouts spill and
flow like water!
Like thousand birds rushing
towards nests,
They embraced death with so much
grace.
This on the land of five rivers,
The brave hearts shed blood for
mother.
Take that
“2 get and 2 give creates 2 many problems. Just double it, 4 get and 4 give solves all the problems.”
