Saquib Salim for BeyondHeadlines
Urdu poetry, developed during the late eighteenth to mid-nineteenth century under the patronage of later Mughals like Bahadur Shah Zafar and many other Nawabs, primarily dealt with the themes of love or heartbreak. While for poets, like Ghalib, beloved, heart, love, separation, wine and melancholy could be metaphors taking metaphysical meanings still classical Urdu poetry largely remained a vehicle to express the feelings of love, affection and dejection.
In the early twentieth century Iqbal introduced new metaphors and themes into Urdu poetry. Along with him several poets started writing about the freedom movement, Islamic themes and other social problems. Within a few decades, by 1930s Moin Ahsan Jazbi, Ali Sardar Jafri, Faiz Ahmad Faiz, Kaifi Azmi and many others started revolutionising the Urdu literary space by bringing elements of Marxism into their poetries. These Marxist poets were called progressive poets and dominated the Urdu literary circles during the remaining seven decades of the twentieth century.
Progressive poets talked about a variety of social and political problems. Kaifi, Jan Nisar Akhtar, Sahir, Majaz and many others have raised the voice for women’s rights. Women poets, like Kishwar, also write about the problems faced by the women in our society. These poets have written extensively against religious extremism, exploitation by capitalists of proletariat, corruption, economic inequality and other social problems. But one social evil, and probably one of the most heinous of all, for some strange reasons remained untouched by these progressive poets. This evil is ‘caste system’ and injustice related to it.
Jayant Parmar filled this gap in early twenty first century. In words of famous Urdu critic Balraj Komal Jayant Parmar is the ‘only Dalit Urdu poet’. Writing about his poetry Gopichand Narang writes, “Urdu is a language of minorities and oppressed. But Jayant is oppressed within the oppressed. His voice is of those who live on the margins of our society.”
Jayant was born to a mill worker and a housewife in Ahmedabad. His father was an activist of communist party and the family lived in a poor Muslim-Dalit mixed locality. Economic considerations forced him to start working at a young age of 15. He started drawing miniature paintings for a local studio, only to left work soon as, being a Dalit, he was given a separate water tumbler and glass. Later, he joined Bank of Baroda and retired as a bank official.
A self taught man he bought an Urdu primer from an old books market and learnt the language. A language which he mastered so well that he went on to beg Sahitya Akademi award for Urdu in 2009, for his collection of poetry ‘Pencil aur Doosri Nazme’.
As a dalit himself he declares himself a Dalit poet and his poetry ‘Dalit Poetry’. In one of his poem ‘Dalito ke liye’ (For Dalits), he writes;
Tere dukh ke
Mahakavya ko
Main likhunga
Suraj ki
Jalti chhaati par!
(Epic of
Your sufferings
Will be written by me
On the burning chest
Of the sun!)
In another poem ‘Narak Kund ki Baas’ (The stink of hell-pit) Jayant brings out the treatment that was meted out to his ancestors and he draws a connection between the past and the present. Poem is;
Narak kund ki baas
Mere school talak aati thi
Dhoop ki chhatri ke niche
Nange paanv utarti thi
Narak kund main!
Jaanwaro ke chamde ko
Namak aur pani me bhigo kar
Apne mariyal paaon se kar deti thi saaf
Badle me wo
Gosht ke tukde le aati thi mere liye!
Aaj bhi jab main
office jaane se pehle apne jute ko
Cherry polish karta hu tab
Uski chamak main
Maa ka chehra dikhta hai
Narak kund ki baas
Mere office tak aati hai!
(The smell of hell-pit
used to dog me
right up to my school.
Under the canopy of a scorching sun
she would descend
barefoot
in the hell-pit.
She would
soak
stinking animal hide
in salt and water
and cleanse it
with her numb feet
In return,
she would bring
for me
a few pieces of meat.
Even today
when I polish my shoes
with cherry blossom
before leaving for office
in their glow
I see my mother’s face.
The smell of hell-pit
dogs me
right into my office!)
We can also find the imprints of Periyar’s self respect movement in his writings. For him issue is not only hunger and poverty but for a Dalit it is self respect. In his poem Meri Jang Roti ki Nahi (My fight is not for bread), he writes;
Bhukha brahman
Bhukha kshatriya
Bhukha vaishya
Ladta hai roti ke liye
Chand si ek roti ke liye
Uska sapna roti hai
Mera sapna roti nahi
Achhoot hu main
Mere saaye se bhi tum katrate ho
Main hu tumhari basti bahar
Jahan pe tum hagte ho waha par
Taat ki meri jhuggi hai
Kande se le kar mandir tak
Tumne banayi hain diwaren
Mandir ki unchi diwaren!
Mere hisse me to mila hai
Apni jaati ka imaan
Aur nafrat ki aag!
Meri jang hai uske khilaf
Jo roti se badhkar hai
Meri jang roti ki nahi!
(Hungry Brahmin
Hungry Kshatriya
Hungry Vaishya
Fights for the bread
For moon like bread
His dream is bread
Bread is not my dream
I am untouchable
You avoid my shadow
I am outside your colony
The place where you shit
I have hut of canvas
From logs to temple
You have raised walls
Tall walls of the temple!
I have got as my share
Faith of my caste!
And hatred towards me!
My fight is against that
Which is more important than the bread
I am not fighting for the bread!)
One of his most effective Dalit poem is Subah ki Hwaon (The Morning Breeze) where Jayant has brought out the pain that a Dalit’s soul feels as a result of centuries of inhuman oppression and which give rise to a blood red sun. He writes;
Subah ki hawaon
Meri rooh ke paas ruk jaao
Mujhe do lahoo rang suraj
Jis pe badal ka saya na ho
Jo na dube
Ufaq ke ghane jangalo me kabhi
Jis ko ungli pe rakh
Krishan ke chakr ki tarah
Phekunga un par-
Jinho ne meri jibh ko kaat kar
Yagya ke kund me
Om swaha kiya
Meri phool si
nanhi bachi ka sar kaat kar
Nazr-e-aatish kiya
Meri behan ki chhatiyon se
Bahayi nadi khoon ki
Mere baap ko zinda dafna diya
Din dahade meri maa ko nanga kiya
Meri aag ab thandi hogi nahi
Mujhe do lahu-rang suraj
Subah ki hawao
Mere paas ruk jao
(The morning breeze,
Stay by me;
Give me the blood-red sun,
Never covered by the clouds,
Which never sets;
In the dark forests,
I’ll spin it on my finger
And throw it on them
Like the Krishna’s discus.
I’ll throw it on those,
Who after severing my tongue
Seek blessings from ceremonial fire;
On those who severed
The head of my innocent daughter
And threw her in the fire;
On those who made blood to flow
From the breasts of my sister;
On those who buried my father alive;
On those who undressed my mother
In broad daylight.
My fire will not extinguish.
Give me the blood-red sun,
O the morning breeze,
Stay by me.)
This desire to see a blood-red sun by Jayant might be because of his upbringing by Communist party activist parents. He wants a blood red sun to shine over the heads with this new morning. For the people well versed with Urdu poetry, it is a well known fact that what colour red conveys, as I have also written in my another article about Jaun Elia that what does a poet convey through red colour. Jayant being a Dalit aspires for an egalitarian society where a person is not treated untouchable by others and this leads him to look for the solution in a communist society. Hence, he asks the morning breeze to bring the red coloured sun with her.
(Author is an independent commentator on social and political issues)
