Hassan Dars (1968 - 2011)

2011: A promising Sindhi poet Hassan Dars died after suffering serious wounds in an accident in the wee hours of Thursday. As he lay in his car bleeding to death, Qasimabad and GOR police were busy bickering over jurisdiction which delayed his being taken to a hospital. He was 43. He was later brought to the hospital by participants of a wedding party at around 4am. 2013 LAUNCH OF HASAN DARS’S POETRY COLLECTION Two years ago, Sindhi poet Hasan Dars had been a speaker at the KLF and had mesmerised his listeners. He had read out his poetry’s English translations but was requested to read out the Sindhi as well because people wanted to listen to its rhythm even if they couldn’t understand it. At the fourth KLF, a collection of his poetry titled Hasan jo Risalo was launched, more than a year after his death. It is the first publication of his works. Mohammed Hanif moderated the session while Mazhar Laghari, Masood Lohar and Sardar Shah shared their memories of Dars. Ameer Mandhro read out from his poetry. Hanif said that Dars was a great poet, not only among his contemporaries but also among his seniors. Laghari, himself a well-known poet, said when they all were composing poetry against Zia’s dictatorship, Dars’s poetry was galloping at a horse’s speed. (Dars frequently used the horse as a symbol in his poetry.) Laghari said Hasan was very fond of touring Sindh and used to say that the “whole of Sindh is a reflection of a friend.” Lohar said that Dars was deeply influenced by Sufism and wrote hamds and naats as well. “After his death we compiled his poetry honestly. We could not exclude the hamds and the naats from the collection.” “Hasan never recited the hamds and naats in our private gatherings,” said his close friend Muzaffar Chandio sparking a debate about his Sufi leanings. Iqbal Mallah said that Sufism is a part of our traditions and our Sufi poets raised their voices against injustices of the rulers of their times. Ishaq Samejo was of the opinion that we should not put poets into compartments. Whether Dars was a Sufi or not is a futile question. Dars also wrote a lot on women. He used to say that women would continue to be victimised till they take up arms for their rights. During the question- answer session, people from the audience paid tribute to the poet. The session was so well-attended that many had to stand. REFERENCES: LAUNCH OF HASAN DARS’S POETRY COLLECTION BY Attiya Dawood 24th February, 2013 http://dawn.com/2013/02/24/karachi-literature-festival-in-conversation-with-amar-jaleel/ Poet Hassan Dars dies in accident 17th June, 2011 http://dawn.com/2011/06/17/poet-hassan-dars-dies-in-accident/

Hassan Dars and his verse - 1

Hassan Dars and his verse - 1 by SalimJanMazari

These poems have been translated from the Sindhi by Asif Farrukhi and Shah Mohammed Pirzada

`A Poem For The Cold Season`

Warm waters of love spring from my heart. How cold it is now, It was never so cold before, Not even in the days Of frost and snow, Warm waters of love spring from my heart. Girl beautiful as the birds from a cold climate! My ten fingers Are lit up like lamps Then why does silence reign in the land of your soul And why is it Cold as death? Whatever conversation My hands have With your body Is all fire, Then why are you silent? Why are you not a song? Why are you not an aria? Before you turn into A snow-figure lying at home Let us take a walk to hell.`The Wind Is The Sea`s Lover` You think that marriage Is the ultimate reality Which will take you away from me, But don`t you think it is enough That the sky is a friend of the clouds Trees are the sons of the earth The wind is the sea`s lover Waterfalls are the laughter of the mountains And you are my beloved.

 `Everybody Has A Bit Of The Sea`

Everybody has a little bit of the sea Every lover has a seashore Every sea knows the taste of waiting in vain, In every moment of waiting A wave dances in the rain, Ideas come to everybody Years come to everybody huffing and puffing across centuries, There comes a fear In that fear situations, desires, Away from the fear, the situations, Comes a smouldering language.

 In everyman dances a peacock In everyman lurks a thief, Across everyman`s throat Glitters a whole age of swords, Each age a riddle Everyman has a riddle.

`A Poet`s Homeland` A poet`s homeland Is in his eyes.

 He stands on dry land, Memories seek him out, come to him Like sea waves. He writes a few words He gets angry many times He doesn`t know what he wants. He turns to the village each time And today also He is thinking: in the village`s narrow lanes How good life must be! On a marble grave Moonbeams must be pouring out their light. He is thinking: The barrel of his brother`s gun Must still be warm And a few birds In the throes of death At the edge of the lake, And his brother`s red pony Must be restless at the sound of gunfire. Suddenly he goes further: `Life is elsewhere` It seems that he is walking With Milan Kundera`s silence. He peeps inside a Prague home Where a Czech girl Is curled up naked on the bed with a foreigner. 0 Kundera! You live in Paris But Life is Elsewhere. Yes, it is at the point From where Solzhenitsyn`s exile Rises like a sun. Or even further ahead Where the wind sings In a voice sweeter than Umme Kulsoom`s In the date-palm trees once owned by Mahmoud Darwish`s grandparents. He walks As far as his thoughts can take him. He lives As far as his eyes can see. Reference: POETRY: Hasan Dars and his verse 12th February, 2012 http://dawn.com/2012/02/12/poetry-hasan-dars-and-his-verse/ http://epaper.dawn.com/~epaper/DetailImage.php?StoryImage=12_02_2012_467_001

Hassan Dars and his verse - 2


Hassan Dars and his verse - 2 by SalimJanMazari

Out of the blue the other day I received the text message: “Hasan Dars passed away”. I thought it was a joke. How could it be? Hasan was still an adolescent! Maybe it is not the right word, but his energy, his wide, poetry-breathing grin, how could it all have suddenly evaporated into thin air? There was something terribly wrong with the message. It had come from Sharjeel Baloch, our common friend who works for the BBC. I desperately tried to call him but couldn’t get through. I pondered calling Hasan, but changed my mind. I didn’t like the idea that the minstrel who beckoned us to an elusive light of poetry may have quietly slipped out in the dark. I dismissed my fears, reinforced by friends who always knew one thing about Hasan: he was always in a hurry. We could never match his speed; be it poetry or his love affairs — the haste of a man trying to defeat time. Hasan was a restless wanderer, a bard who could’ve easily passed for a film hero. We often joked about it and he would complain that despite his looks, we never tried to bring him stardom and hence the world did not discover him. Laughingly, we’d point out how outrageous it was to imagine him performing silly fight sequences that Shaan or Rambo, or back in the days, Sultan Rahi and Mustafa Qureshi managed. And on such occasions, he would promptly get up, and like a kid, oblige us with his acrobatics.  Hasan would conveniently forget to mention the fact that none of us had ever managed to produce a film despite all our daydreaming. We were losers.

 But it was not about covering up for us, or being polite. It was not becoming a hero that Hasan was interested in. All he had ever wanted was to be a poet and be near those women — those pretty, unreal women. Everything Hasan did was for the love of poetry and life. Despite his manly looks, he had a passionate woman within him. In many ways, that is what set him apart from his contemporaries. Hasan was easy going, always laughing and endlessly speaking to the people, trees and animals around him. He could talk to a horse, a cat or a fish when redundant discussions and meaningless arguments among his friends bored him. Yet, he was considered the best poet after Shaikh Ayaz in Sindh. With his antics, however, we never truly realised that. He preserved a boyishness about him, never taking himself too seriously. It was only when we travelled with him in Sindh that we would often be taken by surprise by his popularity. In some of the remotest places, we have seen his fans asking for a poem and an autograph or being grateful for simply shaking hands with him. Hasan also was not much for political correctness. I remember that in 2002, our journalist friend Owais Tauheed and I were commissioned to produce a documentary about the lives of fishermen. We managed to convince him to write the copy. We shot most of the film in Mubarak Village near Karachi which wasn’t frequented by outsiders in those days. While the objective of the documentary was to raise awareness about the condition of fishermen, sitting by the side of the glorious beach under a blue sky, Hasan recited a poem that wasn’t for the fishermen but for the fish. He had an eye for sensitive detail, but I only a remember part of it and what it said at the end:

On that narrow bank where the fishermen are busy repairing their nets Walks a fisherwoman, gently but happily.

 Yesterday she gave birth to a son.

 But she has not given birth to a son,

She has given birth to a net.

 In the course of passing years, we would only bump into each other on social occasions. We were not used to exchanging pleasantries though. We would hug, complain, swear at each other, and joke about our slavery to our day jobs and families; and then promise to ‘meet’. Hasan had once made a plan to invite all his friends to Keenjhar Lake and spend a night there. He had read about Pablo Neruda’s birthday party in London on a boat on the Thames in a literary magazine. Similarly, Hasan wanted us to meet on a full moon night at Keenjhar. He had planned it in detail. All the friends — Mohammed Hanif, Khalid Ahmed, Sharjeel Baloch, Owais Tauheed, Munir Shah, Hasan Mujtaba and Khatao Mal — were going to be there. We were going to have a fabulous party. I was to bring a baja or a guitar or an ektara; we were going to sing, have dinner and sing more, and return when we felt like it. But when the trip was organised, I could not go because of a personal engagement. I have lived to regret that. Now, I guess I am going to have to regret it forever. Such thoughts make the rounds in my head as I switch on the TV and one Sindhi channel after the other confirms the bad news. I think to myself, “So this is it. Hasan has moved on leaving us with our sagging double chins and useless worries of a lost and bitter homeland. Good for him. He was in a hurry, he knew better.” Then I sit down to pen my thoughts. I am able to overcome my grief and loss when I remember that Hasan never liked clichés. Had he been sitting with me to grieve his own death, he would have brought a lot of booze and invited as many friends as he could. He would have celebrated life and joked about our failure to bring him stardom. He may have grieved to find a new way of connecting with his own death; but even if he had been badly hurt physically in that horrible accident at four in the morning, he would have never thought of it as the end. He would have used liquor as a sedative, and thought of it as the beginning of a new journey. No wonder he wrote:

 Life is but one of the small pieces of Rilli

If you won’t sit on it,

I better fold it.

Musadiq Sanwal recalls the life and ways of a dear poet friend, Hasan Dars - Yaar zinda, sohbat baaqi 26th June, 2011 http://dawn.com/2011/06/26/cover-story-yaar-zinda-sohbat-baaqi-friend-lives-reunion-stays/

Hassan Dars and his verse - 3



Hassan Dars and his verse - 3 by SalimJanMazari

In the orgy of bloodshed that this country is going through, there is one death that can’t be blamed on the militants or the military or drones. Hasan Dars didn’t die at the hands of dacoits, nobody abducted and tortured him. There was a car accident, there were heartless police officers who couldn’t make up their mind whether it was a part of their job to help a car crash victim or not. There is something about the death of a young, beautiful poet in his prime that makes one reach for the clichés that the poet himself fought all his life. Tragic, we often say, or untimely, as if there is such a thing as a timely death. “Hassu’s demise is not tragic,” a common friend called to say. “But his death has made all our lives tragic.” People of Sindh saw Hasan give his first public recital in 1987, at a literary gathering of Sindhi Adbi Sangut. Shaikh Ayaz, the doyen of Sindhi poetry, after his long silence through the Zia years, was making a rare public appearance. Hasan read his epic poem “Nange Sarmad je Hazoor” (In the Court of Naked Sarmad). And immediately it was decided that he was the rightful heir to Ayaz. For the next 23 years, Hasan became a legend of sorts. Students framed his poems and hung them in their hostel rooms; every new piece of poetry he wrote was considered an event. Nobody knows how and when it was decided, but for all practical purposes he was crowned Sindh’s national poet. And he never even published a single collection of his work. As a poet Hasan wasn’t just liked or loved, he was worshipped. 

Grown men adored him, married women were ready to ditch their beloved families for a few hours of his company; there were times when pistols were drawn to decide who will get to host Hasan for the evening. Hasan was a one man travelling mushaira, a rock star always on the road, a fakir with a taste for finer things in life. All he had to do to start a party was to drive into town and people would start pouring out. He was the centre of a league of men who sat by a lakeside or in a smoke-filled room reciting poetry all night, recounting stories of lost comrades who spent half their lives underground. The cult was tentatively called Qatilan-i-Shab, or assassins of the night, its sole aim to wage a war against time, against sleep, against predictability. And when the sun started to come up, it would always be Hasan reciting his new poems. Sometimes he would recite one line and his audience would recite the next one. It was always his voice but there was something about his diction and his stylish rendering that the audience believed the illusion that it was an act of collective creativity. Since there was never a published book to be read, his poetry travelled seena-ba-seena, from heart to heart. He was a proud flâneur, stopping only to spend the night with a group of friends. He was like those Sindhi gents you see spending all day in a chai khana. City dwellers often wonder why they aren’t more productive, why they don’t do something more with their lives? As far as Hasan was concerned, what could be more productive than talking to one’s friend, watching the world go by, and composing poems? He was always on a mission to show his city friends that side of life. His invitations always arrived with promises of moonlit nights on Keenjhar Lake and new poetry. Hasan was a bridge between Sindhi and Urdu intellectuals, writers and well-read youth from both sides of the ethnic divide, especially at times of ethnic strife in Sindh. If he was reading for friends who didn’t understand Sindhi, he would patiently explain every line he recited. “Karachi, we are your sunflowers and you are our Sun,” reads one of his poems about the city. There are many Karachi residents who only saw Sindh on their travels with Hasan. And although he loved listening to and reciting poetry, Hasan had no interest in being among the literati. His circle of friends included professional thieves, outlaws on the run, intellectuals, prostitutes, fakirs and politicians. Hassan had a passion for horses. When he started a project to raise a breed of local horses his friends managed to persuade him to apply for a small grant. “How will your community benefit from this project?” he was asked. “I don’t know about my community, but I can bet the community of horses will definitely benefit from this,” he replied.

In the heart of every man, there is a horse leaping

 In the heart of every man, there is a piece of sea

And every sea has a shore On every shore is the eternal wait.

 Rest in peace, Hasan. Horses and humans, we all will miss you.

Reference: ‘We are your sunflowers and you are our Sun’ by Mohammed Hanif and Hasan Mujtaba 27th June, 2011 http://dawn.com/2011/06/27/we-are-your-sunflowers-and-you-are-our-sun/

تو کیا جانے درد جدائي کیا ہوتا ہے حسن مجتیٰ http://www.bbc.co.uk/urdu/pakistan/2011/06/110616_mujtaba_dars_ha.shtml

Tribute to Legendary Faqueer Abdul Ghafoor (1910-1986)

A gaunt, regal saffron turbanned figure, yaktaro held aloft, steps onto the stage. Beside him is a smaller, younger man; several other saffron-robed faqirs follow, and as the full throated, open roar of Faqir Abdul Ghafoor rents the night air, they move around him in rhythmic union, echoing the words of the kafi he is singing. It is an unforgettable experience and one that can never be repeated, for Faqir Abdul Ghafoor died last month. (Article was written in 1986 and this post is posted in 2011)

Ant Bahar Di Khabar by Late. Faqueer Abdul Ghafoor



 Chalo Way Sayan by Late. Faqueer Abdul Ghafoor

 

 With his passing, a long chapter in Sindh’s cultural history drew towards a close. It seems tragically symbolic that the greatest surviving Sindhi folk singer should die at a time when monumental changes are taking place in his beloved homeland: changes which will sweep away the society and culture which shaped his musical career.

Sohnay Yar Di Gharoli by Late. Faqueer Abdul Ghafoor

 Faqir Abdul Ghafoor was born into that environment: the feudal society of Sindh, with its rural base, its village culture, its havelis and autaqs and, most important of all as far as the music is concerned, its dargahs and pirs and faqirs. He grew up surrounded by the sounds of the dargah and the kalam of the sufi poets, and took up the study and practice of music at an early age. At that time, the music of the dargah was the dominant form of musical expression at the popular level, and it was inevitable that the young Ghafoor would gravitate towards a murshed.

Kalangi Walra 2 by Late. Faqueer Abdul Ghafoor

His choice was Sachal Sarmast, and it was at his dargah at Daraza (near Khairpur), that Faqir Abdul Ghafoor received his early training. Sachal’s shrine was the gathering place for many great singers of his kafis, and Ghafoor gained invaluable experience, listening to them and storing away their particular styles and approach. He presided over the annual ceremony at which a special chadar was laid on the tomb of the saint, and sang the kafi associated with this occasion, and sung only once in a year.

Bar Sudagar by Late. Faqueer Abdul Ghafoor



Ghum Charakhra by Late. Faqueer Abdul Ghafoor

The range and power of Faqir Abdul Ghafoor’s voice had already marked him out as an exceptional kafi performer, but his scope was not limited to the dargah. His intense interest in the politics of Sindh was seldom far from his music. During the period of agitation against One Unit, Ghafoor performed at a students’ function at Liaquat Medical College, Hyderabad. His choice of a Shaikh Ayaz’s wai brought the house down:

Sahando ker mayar o’ yar

Sindhri ta’an ser ker na deendo

(Who among us, my friend, would bear the shame

Of not sacrificing himself for Sindh when the call comes?).

Muhinjey Ranay Khey Raham Paway by Late. Faqueer Abdul Ghafoor

After this performance, no Sindhi cultural occasion was considered complete without Ghafoor singing Sindhri... A close friend of Ghafoor’s once recalled that, ”Whenever Ghafoor has stepped onto a stage in Sindh during a period of political turmoil, he has always been called upon to sing Sindhri. In fact, the emotions aroused by his performance were so powerful that the authorities banned him from singing this wai on public occasions. They allowed others to sing whatever they wanted to, but Ghafoor was too much for them to handle.”

Nahay Barochal by Late. Faqueer Abdul Ghafoor

Ghafoor pioneered and popularised many other now-famous folk songs and kafis, including Dama dam mast Qalandar, Gharoli and Rano. His performance of Rano was a special favourite of the late Prime Minister Bhutto, who often used to call Ghafoor to his home to sing for him. This association between the Prime Minister and the Faqir assumed a special poignance when Mr. Bhutto was in jail, a few months before his death, and Ghafoor sang Rano on the Bhitshah stage: the cry by Moomal (Sindh) that Rano would return, was readily associated by the audience with the then current political situation.

Faqir Abdul Ghafoor’s love of Sindh and his rebellious nature were a natural vehicle for the anti-establishment poetry with which his music was largely associated. But he was much more than just a Sindhi folk musician. His collection of the kalam of various poets and his own development of the songs he discovered during his sojourn at Sachal’s and other shrines, was a unique contribution to the musical tradition of Pakistan. The sufi literary and musical heritage has drawn from a variety of sources; Ghafoor himself was familiar with the poetry of several languages, including Seraiki, Baluchi, Farsi, Gujrati, Punjabi and Urdu/Hindi..

Soorat Jo Sultan by Late. Faqueer Abdul Ghafoor



 Dil Masto Mast by Late Faqeer Abdul Ghafoor

 

 Hithay Nahin To Kithay Nahin Yeh Kaun Piya Bolenda by Faqueer Abdul Ghafoor (Sachal Sarmast)


 Aao Kaanga Kar by Late Faqeer Abdul Ghafoor

 

The environment which produced I. this extraordinary man has now changed so substantially, that it is inconceivable that another Ghafoor could emerge. The spontaneity, lack of artifice and the self-consciousness of Ghafoor’s performance (and that of other Sindhi musicians like Hussain Bakhsh Khadim, his constant companion and co-performer, Allan Faqir and Dhol Faqir) is rapidly becoming a thing of the past. Having moved far away from the open maidans and informal gatherings of village life, divorced from the dargah culture which gave birth to the various schools of sufi music, modern performers are a different breed from Ghafoor. Electronic media and stage performances have created new musical forms and changed the relationship between the singer, the audience and the source of inspiration; the latter is, perhaps, now commercial success and money, rather than devotion to the murshid or participation in a life centred around his dargah. Courtesy: Faqeer Abdul Ghafoor (1910-1986) By Amenah Azam Ali (Courtesy: The Herald, August 1986) http://www.the-reporter.info/2009/feb-march09/memoirs/index.htm

Tribute to Late. Allan Faquir [A Folk Singer from Sindh]

Allan Fakir, A singer in the traditional mannerism of Sindh, Allan’s early career was spent singing in villages and marriage ceremonies. His voice had a high range of vocal expressions. Allan Fakir particularly known for his ecstatic style of performance marked with extreme devotional rhetoric and sufi dance singing. His peculiarly funny body language and distinctively pleasing facial expressions marked with a broad smile, were always amusing for his audience at live performances.

Alaf Allah, Meem Muhammad Aen Ali

URL: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eln_c8XoeXk

Allan Fakir was born in 1932 in the ancient village of Aamari in Jamshoro District, taluka Manjhand, Sindh. His mother died soon after his birth. He spent his childhood in Manjhand, a town between Sehwan and Hyderabad. He belongs to the Mangrasi tribe the Mangarhars are believed to bring happiness and welcomed on festive occasions for their gift of melody. According to the traditions of this caste, Allan Fakir's father used to beat the drum and sing traditional songs at weddings and Faqir's brothers still do the same job.

Allan Faqir, Live stage perfomance, HO Allah ho allah

URL: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I-hIUMU7tTA&feature=related

Fakir is an Arabic word, and implies a Sufi or a mystic. Thus in the real sense of the word, a Fakir is a person, who leads an independent life marked by piety, abstinence from material needs, and contentment in the available resources. It must not be confused with the rather loose usage of the same word implying a begger, in the local languages Urdu, and Sindhi.

Alfee Ishq'a Ji Allan Faqir

URL: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=86XpcoocLwA

When he was only a teenager, Allan Fakir developed a habit of singing melancholy songs which his father did not like. Deprived of a mother's love, he went off in search of someone who could replace that love. He arrived at the tomb of Shah Abdul Latif Bhitai in Bhit Shah and started living there.Faqir's memory was sharp even though he could not read and write. Hearing the traditional Latifi Raag sung every night touched his heart. Encouraged by Faqir Zawar Qurban Ali Lanjwani and Moolchand Maharaj, he began singing Bhitai's poetry at the shrine and ultimately spent twenty years there until meeting Mumtaz Mirza, who introduced him to Radio Pakistan and ptv in Hyderabad and helped him to learn the correct pronunciation of Bhitai's poetry. Eventually, he became a performing legend. In appreciation of his services to folk culture, he was given a job and a small house at the Institute of Sindhology. He was originally appointed as an officer to help promote Sindhi culture, but due to his illiteracy, he was eventually demoted to the post of peon. Allan Fakir received the President's Pride of Performance award in 1980, the Shahbaz Award in 1987, the Shah Latif Award in 1992 and Kandhkot Award in 1993. Allan Fakir died on 4 July 2000. [References: OPF Almanac/Wikipedia ممتاز علي وگهيو http://www.sindhsalamat.com/showthread.php?p=23068]

Allan Faquir - soye kam kareinde

URL: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qUtrG_kqwQU

KARACHI: Sindh's most charismatic son Allan Faqir, who popularised the music of Sindh without letting it lose out on its inherent folk or its intrinsic mystical elements, died in Karachi on Tuesday. He was 64. One of the most celebrated Sindhi folk artist, Allan leaves behind a wife Badan Bibi and five children -- Feroz, Faheem and Waseem and two daughters Farzan and Suhana. His earthly remains were taken to Hyderabad in the evening and then to Bhitshah for burial.

Allan Faqueer - Yaar Wikhu

URL: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n0mTdxMsiZA&feature=related

He lay at the Liaquat National Hospital, very frail, a slight reed of a man and at 64 had few physical reserves left to fight the onslaught of the multiple complications. Last week, Allan Faqir was brought to Karachi from Jamshoro after he suffered a stroke, which was progressive. The blood flow to his brain was insufficient, said the hospital doctors. Allan had a medical history. He underwent a by-pass surgery in 1985. He was a diabetic patient. He suffered from hypertension in addition to his liver condition.

Allan Faquir - BANDA SOI KUM KARAINDAY

URL: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0cx4-hHfONE

The recipient of the Pride of Performance 1987, Life Long Achievement Award 1999, the Bhitai Award in 1991, Allan Faqir had toured China, former USSR, the United States, the United Kingdom, France, Germany, Brussels, Belgium, South Korea, Japan, Turkey and Italy. He grew to be a rage. When touring the USA in the 70s, it was announced via radio that when Alan sang "Rim Jhim Barsay Badal Aaya" it would rain. The meteorological department did not forecast rain, but after Alan sang his piece, it did rain that day. He walked down the Manhattan in New York dressed in his regalia and people thronged the streets behind him awestruck.

Allan Faquir - Echoes Of Sufi Chants

URL: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=axf5Fk_TpUE
Courtesy: Mr. Saqib Tahir

Probably the most celebrated Sindhi folk artist, Allan lay critically ill and totally neglected by the government, according to his admirers. The "Vai" wizard who spun his magic within the country and outside it had been ignored by them, one grief-struck admirer said. No medical facilities were provided to him as a matter of policy, he added. The government has not immediately clarified his admirers' accusation. To his lot fall visitations from eminent people, careful to have their pictures taken but unwilling to make provisions for artistes of his calibre to be looked after when so gravely ill.

Allan Faquir - AA KAR KAHIN JAGAYA

URL: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zCu4EteWGvo&feature=related


URL: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BQ7k1nOMKGo&feature=related

The Federal Health Minister and the Sindh Law Minister Shahida Jameel visited him in the hospital but took no initiative to make provisions for the financial care of this great artist and neither was the provincial government forthcoming with any monetary assistance. The Secretary of the Department of Culture Hamid Akhund was his only benefactor - but that was on a personal level.

Allan Faquir علڻ فقير وائي ٻولي منهنجي


URL: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FL3VbAT_quQ&feature=related

The music wizard with his black flowing hair and beard, flashing eyes, comic gestures and delightful dances lies still. Allan, who mesmerised thousands with his antics, was a mere wisp of a man in a hospital bed. Painter-writer Zafar Kazmi who shares a birthday with this singer of the Bhitai raag has mentioned time and again that he too was nursed by Allan's mother along with Allan when both were babies, and those children nourished by her showed remarkable health and resilience.

Alan Faqueer with Qasim Maka

URL: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lLm6Eb7vz50&feature=related

Born in the little village of Amri near Khairpur [Correction: ancient village of Aamari in Jamshoro District, taluka Manjhand, Sindh], Allan put the hamlet on the map since he began singing on the Bhitshah stage in 1967 clad in his blue ajrak, a black "lathi" with bells jangling at one end in his ring embellished hand, and his Faqir's trademark the "kashkol" around his neck. He was the son of Dayam Ali, a famous "dhol" player.

Allan Faquir - SUBAH MILANDAM SOOMRA

URL: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LsBCX1OIV4s&feature=related

Late. Allan Faqir & Late. Zarina Baloch

URL: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IQQ0o9Yvtfk&p=2FCD454FEFE41146&playnext=1&index=17

The playful Allan was what is called a chakar or a comedian in the early part of his career and his mischievous smile and mannerisms reflected this even as he soared to success singing the Shah's Vai. He sang folk songs at weddings and enacted the various ceremonies that are customary at such functions and gained much popularity and love but it was his renditions of the 'Vai', a lyrical poem, accompanied by the "dhamboor" that gained him appreciation and recognition here and internationally.

Allan Faquir - MO MEN AAHIN TO MUJOOD

URL: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e61fL3Un_A0&feature=related

Report: Allan Faqir's 9th Death Anniversary

URL: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ums-Aeyau-s&feature=fvw

It was Allan's irresistible renditions of the Shahjo raag in his unique style that caught the attention and the imagination. His song "Huma Huma" with Mohammad Ali Sheiki became one of the most popular numbers ever as did his "Rim Jhim Barsa Badal Aaya" penned by Zafar Kazmi and sung with much love. His "sur Sumundi" is incomparable. Allan Faqir's most remarkable contribution is his inimitable way of rendering Bhitai's "Vai" making it easier to understand than that which is sung at the Mazar. REFERENCE: Allan Faqir passes away DAWN/The News International, KARACHI 5 July 2000, Wednesday, 2 Rabi-us-Saani 1421 http://www.karachipage.com/news/Jul_00/070500.html

Extremely Thankful to Saaeen Xafar Sindhi for his guidance 

علڻ فقير سنڌ جي اداس روح جو راڳي

الهه بخش راٺوڙ

ڀٽ ڌڻي جو هي فقير پي ٽي وي جي ڪنهن موسيقي جي پروگرام ۾ جنهن جي ميزبان مهتاب چنا هئي، ان ۾ امر گيت ”اتني بڙي جيون ساگر ۾“ ڳائي رهيو هو، هن اڃا پنهنجو گيت ڳائي بس ئي ڪيو ته کيس ”االله الله ڪر ڀيا“ جي فرمائس ٿي ۽ هو محمد علي شهڪي سان گڏ اهو گيت ڳائي رهيو هو، علڻ فقير ڏانهن مهتاب چنا پنهنجو هٿ وڌايو ۽ چيو فقير منهنجي قسمت جي باري ۾ ڪجهه ٻڌائي سگهين ٿو؟ فقير مسڪرائيندي سندس هٿ ڏسڻ لڳو ۽ پوءِ وري هو ٻيو ڪلام ڳائڻ لڳو، هي ساڳيو علڻ فقير هو جنهن جو سنڌ جي ديسي سرن سان عشق هو، هو ڳائيندو هو ته سندس دلين جي سڀئي راز ان جي مک ۽ نرڙ تي اچي ويندا هئا. ان جي من ۾ جيڪي اداسي، محبت ۽ پيار هوندو هو اهو ڄڻ گيت جي صورت ۾ اوتجي ٻاهر اچي ويندو هو.

علڻ فقير جنهن جو آمري جي ميراثي خاندان سان واسطو هو ان جا وڏڙا شادين مرادين ۾ ڳائي وڄائي پيٽ گذر ڪندا هئا. پر هي فقير ننڍي هوندي کان ئي بي چين ۽ اداس هو. هو اداسي ڀريا گيت ڳائيندو هو، جيڪا هن جي والد کي نه ڀائجندي هئي ۽ کيس تڪليف ٿيندي هئي ته سندس پٽ ايترو ويڳاڻو ڇو آهي ۽ پوءِ علڻ فقير پنهنجي ان اداسي جو علاج ڀٽ ڌڻي جي مزار تي ڳولي لڌو. هو سڄي سڄي رات ڀٽائي جي پڌر تي ويٺي لطيفي راڳ ٻڌندو هو ۽ جڏهن ٽيڙو غائب ٿي ويندو هو ۽ ڪَتي نڪري نروار ٿيندي هئي ته هن جي مک تي هلڪي ٿڪاوٽ ٿيندي هئي ۽ اتي ئي سمهي پوندو هو. هن فقير اهو چلو ڪيترن ئي سالن تائين پچايو ۽ ڀٽائي جي راڳ کي پنهنجي من ۾ سمائيندو رهيو ۽ پوءِ هڪڙو اهڙو ڏينهن آيو جو هن جي نينهن اڇل کاڌي ۽ ڀٽائي جون وايون ڳائڻ شروع ڪيائين. ڄڻ ڀٽائي جا سمورا سر هن جي اندر ۾ پيهي ويا هئا. هن جي موسيقي سان محبت ۽ تڙپ کي ڏسي ڀٽائي جي فقيرن، فقير زوار قربان علي لنجواڻي ۽ مولچند مهاراج هن کي لطيفي رستو ڏيکاريو ۽ هي فقير رواني سان ڳائيندو رهيو. ڪيترن ئي ڏهاڪن تائين هو ڀٽائي جو مهمان بڻجي راڳ جي سيوا ڪندو رهيو ۽ آخرڪار هو ڪنهن جواهري جي ور چڙهيو ۽ کيس پهريان ريڊيو پاڪستان ۽ پوءِ پي ٽي وي تي آندو ويو، هن سنڌي ۽ اردو ۾ گيت ڳايا جيڪي گهڻو ڪري مقبول ٿيا، شيخ اياز جو مشهور گيت ”عشق اسان وٽ آرائين جيان آيو جهول ڀري، آيو جهول ڀري ڪوئي ڪيئن ڪري“ ڳاتو ته ڄڻ سڀني جي من کي آواز ملي ويو.

اداس دل رکندڙ هي فقير دنيا جي ڪنڊ ڪڙڇ تائين وڃي پهتو، هن جي راڳ ٻڌندڙن جو هڪ خاص حلقو پيدا ٿيو، اهي جيڪي ڀٽائي شناسي جا پارکو هئا انهن ته علڻ فقير کي پنهنجي من ۾ ويهاري ڇڏيو، هو جڏهن ”سچل جي وائي تن ۾ الله او من ۾ ا لله “ ڳائيندو هو ته سندس مک جا سمورا ايڪپريشنس ڏسڻ وٽان هوندا هئا، هو پنهنجي سموري جسماني، روحاني ۽ دماغ جي سگهه سان ڳائيندو هو، ائين لڳندو هو ته ڄڻ هو راڳ جي تپسيا ڪري ٿو. راڳ ڄڻ هن جي عبادت بڻجي وئي هئي ۽ ان ۾ ئي هن هر شئي کي ڳولي لڌو هو، هن جي دل کي تڏهن ئي سڪون مليو ٿي، جڏهن هن صوفي شاعرن جي ڪا وائي يا ڪو ڪلام ڳاتو ٿي، هي فقير جنهن سنڌ ۽ هند کان سواءِ ڏيهه ۽ پرڏيهه جي خاڪ ڇاڻي ان کي ايتري ته محبت ۽ پنهنجائپ ملي جو هن جو راڳ سان پيار وڌي ويو، هو سنڌي راڳڻين کي ڳائيندو رهيو ته جيئن دنيا وارن کي اها سڌ پئجي سگهي ته سنڌ موسيقي جي معاملي ۾ ڪيتري نه شاهوڪار ۽ پاڻڀري آهي. پر ان کي سر جي ضرورت هئي جيڪو علڻ فقير جي صورت ۾ ملي ويو.

اڄ جڏهن علڻ فقير جي يارهين ورسي ملهائي پئي وڃي ته ان موقعي تي کيس ڀيٽا ڏيڻ لاءِ شايد اهڙا لفظ نه هجن جيڪي ارپي سگهجن. هن جو ڀٽائي، سچل ۽ ٻين صوفي فقيرن سان محبت جو تسلسل سندس پٽ جي صورت ۾ موجود آهي. علڻ فقير جي پٽ کي وري به شابس هجي جو هو ساڳي خاص ڪاسٽيوم ۽ انداز سان پنهنجي والد جي راڳ کي جاري رکي رهيو آهي پر ماسٽر چندر جهڙو وچولي پرڳڻي جو مها راڳي جڏهن ڀارت هجرت ڪري ويو ۽ هن کي پنهنجي ڌرتي ماتا سنڌ ڇڏڻي پئي ته ان دوران هن پنهنجي پٽ گوپي چندر کي راڳ جي تربيت ته ڏني پر هن کي مايا ايترو ته موهيو جو ڀارت ڇڏي آمريڪا هليو ويو ۽ واپس ورڻ جو نالو به نه ورتائين. پر گهٽ ۾ گهٽ علڻ فقير جي پٽ پنهنجي پيءَ جي لڄ رکي ۽ پنهنجي ان ورثي کي اڳتي وٺي وڃي رهيو آهي. علڻ فقير جنهن کي ڪيترائي ايوارڊ مليا هن کي صدارتي ايوارڊ، پرائيڊ آف پرفارمنس، شهباز ايوارڊ، شاهه لطيف ايوارڊ ۽ ٻيا ڪيترائي ايوارڊ ڏنا ويا، هو هينئر انهن ايوارڊن جي ڪري زنده ناهي پر اها سندس موسيقي سان محبت ئي هئي جنهن کيس هينئر تائين عوام ۾ جيئرو رکيو آهي، هينئر به جيڪڏهن ڪو علڻ فقير جو ڪلام جهونگاريندو آهي ته ٻڌندڙن کان دانهن نڪري ويندي آهي ۽ چوندا آهن ته اڙي هي ته علڻ فقير جو ڪلام آهي. هنن کان ته شاعر ئي وسري ويا آهن ۽ صرف راڳي ياد رهجي ويا آهن. علڻ فقير هينئر به لکين دلين تي پنهنجي سر ذريعي راڄ ڪري ٿو ۽ هن جو ديسي رقص ماڻهن جي اکين اڳيان ڦري رهيو آهي.

(هي پيس علڻ فقير جي ورسي جي موقعي تي لکيو ويو)

Courtesy: Ab Rathore

Sindhi Rano performed by Rajasthani Folk Artists.

The singer above has sung Rano just like Late. Fauir Abdul Ghafoor, that audio was on esnips but no more. Nobody has sung like Faquir Abdul Ghafoor. There was a hint of "PEREN PAWANDI SA CHAWANDI SA RAHI" in between the Kalam. It is a Folk Dance of Rajhastan, India. The singers are "Manganhar of Rajasthan" and singing in Kutchi dialect of Sindhi. Sindhi Folk Dance is quite different.

'Sindhi folktales of Thar', a book written by Dr Kishni Phulwani of Rajasthan, India, and translated from Hindi to Sindhi by Noor Ahmed Jinjhi, is a combination of the colours of the Thar desert, which stretches across the border in both, Pakistan and India. The book has been published by Thardeep Rural Development Programme (TRDP), a non-governmental organisation working for the wellbeing of the desert community, and promoting and preserving the old culture of the politically-neglected region. The book revolves around Manganhars -- the real folktale narrators of the region. The theme was chosen by the author for her PhD from Jodhpur University, India. The Manganhars are common to Sindh and Indian Rajasthan. They narrate folktales to the tune of traditional drums and attract wideaudiences. Dr Phulwani has also touched upon history, geography, languages being spoken in the region, culture, socio-economical conditions and the role of artisan communities. Portraying the scenario, the author almost quoted poetic folktales of several Sindhi poets, especially Sur Marvi by Shah Abdul Latif Bhittai.

Marvi, a symbol of the traditions of the region, was kidnapped by King Omar when she had gone to a well to fetch water. She was brought to a palace, and offered every luxury possible to make her agree to stay there. Marvi, however, spurned all offers by the king and demanded that she be allowed to go back to her parents' makeshift homes. Dr Phulwani recalls the memorable days of her childhood, when her family migrated to India in 1966 from Sindh. Being closely attached with Sufism, her father used to listen to Sufi songs and Bhujans (Hindu religious songs) till late in the night, and would tell stories to his children before sleeping under the starry skies -- on the rooftop of their house. Dr Phulwani obtained her PhD in Sindhi Classical Literature and was very inspired by folk stories. She discusses the similarities among them in her book. Komal Kothari, who has done a lot of work studying the role of the Manganhar community in preserving folktales, has written foreword of the book.

Even after migration to India, Sindhi Hindus continue to organise annual Melas of Sufi saints, whose shrines originally exist in Sindh, Dr Phulwani sayd. She visits these Melas regularly to pay homage to the shrines and to Sufi thought, which inspired her to write her valuable book. The author obtained her Masters degree from Jodhpur University, India, and chose folklore literature as a minor subject. During her study, she went through the contemporary literature of the world. When she showed her desire to continue to work on Rajasthani literature in India and Pakistan, she was advised to meet Komal Kothari, who has done a lot of work to promote Rajasthani music, art and folklore literature and frequently visits both sides (India and Pakistan) to collect information. The author focused on the Dhat region and reviewed literature produced in Dhatki, Marwari, Gujrati, Sindhi and Rajasthani languages. According to her, the area now in India was part of Sindh before the Partition of the subcontinent on August 14, 1947, and the people of these areas from both sides of the border have a very close relationship. The author has raised a question for future researchers regarding the originality of indigenous Sindhi folktales. For instance, the stories of Umar-Marvi, Moomal-Ranoo, Noori-Jam Tamachi, Sassui-Punhoon, Laila-Majnoo, Leela-Chanesar, Sorath-Rai Khanghar, Heer-Ranjho, Sohni-Mehar and Jisman-Oden were sung by poets of the past in similar tones. This question raised by the author may inspire other researchers to clarify the originality of these folktales for future generations. REFERENCE: Music in the dunes of Thar By Jan Khaskheli http://www.jang.com.pk/thenews/aug2009-weekly/nos-23-08-2009/kol.htm#3

سُر مومل راڻو

داستان پهريون
1

ڪالَھه گَڏِيوسُون ڪاپَڙي، بابُو بيکاري؛
سامِئَ سيلو سِرَ تي، مالا موچارِي؛
ڏيئِي ڏيکارِي، ڦَٽي دِلِ فَقِيرُ وِيو.
2
ڪالَھه گَڏِيوسُون ڪاپَڙِي، جَهِڙو ماهُ مُنِيرُ؛
فَيضُ، فِراقُ فَقِيرُ، جوڳِي جاڳائي وِيو.
3

ڪالَھه گَڏِيوسُون ڪاپَڙِي، پَهَرَ سِجَ کان پوءِ؛
پَسو سُونهَن ساميءَ جي، رَتَ وَرنو روءِ؛
جو مُنهِن مُومَلَ جي پوءِ، موٽَڻُ تَنهِن مَسَ ٿِئي.
4

ڪالَھه گَڏِيوسُون ڪاپَڙِي، بابُو بانَ بَرِي؛
سائِي سالَ ڪُلَهنِ ۾، سامِي سونَ سَرِي؛
خَبَرَ ڏي کرِي، ڪا مُومَلَ جي مَجازَ جي.
5

بيکارِيءَ کي بَرَ ۾، وِيو ڪَيفُ چَڙهِي؛
ڳالِهيُون ڪَندي ڪاڪِ جُون، ڳوڙها پِيَسِ ڳَڙِي؛
ڪا جا اَنگُ اَڙِي، جِئَن ڇُٽا ڦَٽَ ڇُڙِي پِيا.
6

سِجُّ سُڀاڻي جا ڪَري، سامِيءَ سائِي رُوءِ؛
اَچي ٿِي عَطُرَ جي، مَنجھان مُگَٽ‎َ بُوءِ؛
سا ڏيکارِيَهُون جُوءِ، جِئان لاهُوتِي لَعلُ ٿيو.
7

جوڳِيءَ تي جَڙاءُ، نِسوروئِي نِينهَن جو؛
پَتَنگَ جِئَن پيدا ٿِيو، سامِي سِجَّ وَڙاءُ؛
آيو ڪاڪِ تَڙاءُ، ڪُنوارِنِ ڪَڪورِيو.

داستان ٻيو
1

آءُ لانگوٽِيا لالَ! ڪَنهِن پَرِ ڏِٺِيُءِ گُجَرِيُون؛
آبُ اَرتو اکِيين، لُڙڪَ وَهائِيين لال؛
ڏِٺَءِ جي جَمالَ، سامِي! ڪُہُ نه سَلائِيين؟
2
گُجَرِ کي گَجميلَ جُون، تارَنِ ۾ تَبَرُون؛
هڻي حاڪِمِيَنِ کي، زورَ ڀَريُون زَبَرُون؛
ڪاڪِ ڪَنڌِيءَ قَبَرُون، پسو پَرَڏيهِيُنِ جُون.
3

گُجَرِ گاروڙِيُنِ، اَچيو اَڏِي اُڀِيي؛
مَٿان پيئِي تِنِ، ٻَڌا ٻاڻَ هَڻَنِ جي.
4

مُومَلَ ماري مِيرَ، آهيڙِيُنِ کي آڪَري؛
سوڍِيءَ گھڻا سَڪائِيا، پَڙهِيا پَڻِتَ پِيرَ؛
هَڻي تِنِ کي تِيرَ، مَڻِيو جن مَٿَنِ ۾.
5

جوڳِيءَ جاڳائي، ماري وِڌو مامِري؛
لَنؤ لُڊُوڻي ڪَنڌِيـين، اَمَيو آهي؛
وَڃو جي ڪاهي، ته نِڪُون پَسو نِينهَن جُون.
6

هَلو، هَلو! ڪاڪِ تَڙين، جتي نِينهَن اُڇَلَ؛
نه ڪا جَھلَ نه پَلَ، سَڀُڪو پَسي پِرِينءَ کي.
7

هَلو، هَلو! ڪاڪِ تَڙين، جتي گَھڙِجي نِينهُن؛
نه ڪا راتِ نه ڏِينهُن، سڀڪو پَسي پِرِينءَ کي.
8

هَلو، هَلو! ڪاڪِ تَڙين، چَرُو جِتِ چَڙَهنِ؛
ڪوڙين رَنگَ رَچَنِ، پانوڙِيءَ پِڪَ سين.
9

آکُون، ڊاکُون، سِرَکَنڊَ شاخُون، جِتِ چَوکا چَندَنَ ڪَؤنرَ؛
مَيي سيئِي ماڻِيا، جِتِ نه ڀِرَنِ ڀَؤنرَ؛
ڪُنوارِيُون ۽ ڪَؤنرَ، ڪاهِ ته پَسُون ڪاڪِ جا.
10

چَڙهِيا چارَئِي يارَ، سُوڌا شِڪارِي؛
فِڪِرَ ساڻُ ڦِٽِي ڪِي، سوڍي سوپارِي؛
وِيا ڪاهِيندا ڪاڪِ ڏي، جِتِ مُومَلِ موچارِي؛
موٽِيا نه مارِي، ڪَؤنرَ لَتاڙي ڪاڪِ جا.

داستان ٽيون
1

جَهِڙا گُلَ گُلابَ جا، تَهِڙا مَٿِنِ ويسَ؛
چوٽا تيلَ چَنبيلِيا، هاها! هُو! هَميشَ؛
پَسيو سُونهَن سَيَّدُ چئي، نِينهَن اچَنِ نيشَ؛
لالَنَ جي لِبيسَ، آتَڻِ اَکَرُ نه اُڄَهي.
2

جَهِڙا پانَنِ پَنَّ، تَهِڙِيون سالُون مَٿِنِ سائِيون؛
عَطُرَ ۽ عَبِيرَ سين، تازا ڪَيائُون تَنَّ؛
مَڙهيا گَھڻو مُشڪَ سين، چوٽا ساڻُ چَندَنَّ؛
سُنهَنِ رُپي سونَ سين، سَندا ڪامَڻِ ڪَنَّ؛
ڪَيائِين لال لَطِيفُ چئي، وڏا ويسَ وَرَنَّ؛
مَنجِھ مَرڪِيَسِ مَنَّ: ”سوڍي سين سَڱُ ٿِيو.“
3

سونَ وَرنِيُون سوڍِيُون، رُپي رانديُون ڪَنِّ؛
اَگَـرَ اوطاقُنِ ۾، کَٿُوريون کَٽُنِّ؛
اوتِيائُون عَبِيرَ جا، مٿي طاقَ تَڙَنِّ؛
ٻاٽَنِ ٻيلون ٻَڌِيون، پَسِيو سُونهَن سَڙَنِّ؛
ٿِيا لاهُوتي لَطِيفُ چئي، پَسَڻَ لَءِ پِريَنِّ؛
اِجهي ٿا اچَنِّ، ڪاڪِ ڪَڪوريِا ڪاپَڙِي.
4

گُجَرِ گَھڻا گھائِيا، پاڻا لَڳُسِ گھاءُ؛
مينڌَري مُلاءُ، لڳَسِ ڪانُ ڪَپارَ ۾.
5

رُوءِ راڻي جي ناهِ ڪو، سوڍو سَڀِنِ سُونهَن؛
لاٿَائِين لَطِيفُ چئي، مٿان دِلِيُنِ دُونهَن؛
ڪانهي ٻِي وِرُونهَن، ٿِيو مِڙوئِي مينڌِرو.
6

ڪاڪِ نه جَهـلِيا ڪاپَڙِي، موهِيا نه مَحلَنِّ؛
ٻايُنِ ۽ ٻانِهِيُنِ جي، ٻَنڌَڻِ ڪِينَ ٻَجَھنِّ؛
لکين لاهُوتِينِ، اَهِڙِيُون اورِيان ڇَڏِيُون.
7

ڪاڪِ نه جَھـلِيا ڪاپَڙِي، موهِيا ڪَنهِن نه مالَ؛
سوڍِيُون سِجھائي وِيا، هَهِڙا جَنِين حالَ؛
جي ڇورِيُنِ ڏِنا ڇالَ، تَپِ لاهُوتِي لَنگھي وِيا.

داستان چوٿون
1

شَمَعَ ٻاريندي شَبَّ، پِرِهَ باکُون ڪَڍِيُون؛
موٽُ، مَران ٿِي مينڌِرا! راڻا! ڪارڻِ رَبَّ؛
تُنهِنجِيءَ تاتِ طَلَبَّ، ڪانگَ اُڏايَمِ ڪاڪِ جا.
2

اُڀي اُڀارِيامِ، نَکَٽَ سَڀِ نَـئِي وِيا؛
هِڪُ مَيو، ٻِيو مينڌِرو، سَڄِي راتِ سارِيامِ؛
ڳوڙها ڳَلِ ڳاڙِيامِ، سُورَجَ شاخُون ڪَڍِيُون.
3

ڪَتنِ ڪَرَ موڙِيا، ٽيڙُو اُڀا ٽيئِي؛
راڻو راتِ نه آئِيو، ويلَ ٽَري ويئِي؛
کوءِ سا کاڻِي راتِڙِي! پِريُن ري پيئِي؛
مُون کي ڏَنءُ ڏيئِي، وڃِي ڍولو ڍَٽِ قَرارِيو.
4

راڻو ڪا راتِ ويو، ڳُجِھي ڳالھه ڪَري؛
سوڍي رِءَ، سَرتيُون! هَڏ نه ساهَ سَري؛
وَڃِي، مانَ وَري! آسائِتِي آهِيان.
5

سوڍي سُتي لوءِ، ڪا جا مون سين ڳالھ ڪَئِي؛
سا جي پَڌَرِ پوءِ، ته سَرتِيوُن ڪانه سُمِهي.
6

راڻا! تُنهِنجي راهَ تي، ڏيهاڻِي ڏيکان؛
راڻي جِيءَ رِهاڻِ جُون، رُوحَ اندَرِ ريکان؛
مُحَبَتَ جُون ميکان، تو سين، لالَ! لَپيٽِـيُون.
7

آءُ، راڻا راحَتَ! ڌاڃَ ڌَرتِيءَ جا ڌَڻِي!
سِڪَنِ ٿِيُون سُهاڳِڻـيُون، سوڍا تُنهِنجي سَٿَ؛
مون تان لاهِ مَ هَٿَ، ڪامِلَ ڌڻِي ڪاڪِ جا!

داستان پنجون
1

سَڱُ ڪري سين سِينهَنِ، ڪَنڌُ مَ ڦيرِجِ ڪيڏَهِين؛
رَمِج راڻي پُٺِ ۾، نِرتُون مَنجھان نِينهَن؛
اِنءَ مَ وَسجِ عامَ تي، جِئَن مُومَلَ! وَسَنِ مِينهَن؛
سندي حَشَرَ ڏينهَن، سوڍو سارِيندِينءَ گَھڻو.
2

جا ڀُون پـيرين مُون، سا ڀُون مٿي سَڄڻين؛
ڌِڱَ لَٽِبا ڌُوڙِ ۾، اُڀي ڏِٺا سُون؛
ڏِينهَن مَڙيئِي ڏُون، اُٿي لوچِ لَطِيفُ چئي.
3

راڻو ڀانيو راندِ، ڪِئَن وِڙُ رائِيـين؟
وَرُ وِڏُوڻو اِيَهِين، جِئَن پَرُ پُڄِتوءِ پاندِ؛
هَيءِ! ڀَڳِيَءِ هيڪاندِ، سوڍو سارِيندِينءَ گَھڻو.
4

ڪاڪِ ڪَڙهِي وَڻَ وِيا، جلِي مُنهِنجِي جانِ؛
رَکِي ڪامَ ڪِڻِڪِيو، مارِيَس تَنهِن گُمانَ؛
هَڏِ نه جِيان هاڻ! سِگھو موٽِجِ سُپِرِين!
5

ڪاڪِ ڪَڙِهي وَڻَ وِيا، ٻَرِيا رَنگَ رَتولَ؛
تو پُڄاڻا سُپِرِين! هِنئَڙي اَچَنِ هولَ؛
جي مون سين ڪَيَءِ قولَ، سي سِگھا پارِجِ، سُپِرِين!
6

حال قُربانُ، مالُ قُربانُ، گھورِيان لُڊاڻو؛
فِدا ٿِئَ فَقيرِ جو، شَلَ رُسي مَ راڻو!
مُيَنِ سين ماڻُو، مُناسِبُ نه، مينڌِرا!

داستان ڇهون
1

نه وارِثُ نه وَلَھو، نه سَڱُ، نه سِياڪو؛
تو پُڄاڻا، سُپِرِين! آيُمِ اولاڪو؛
پانڌِيا! پاراپو، ڏِجانءِ ڍاٽِيءَ ڍولَ کي.
2

ڪَرَهو ڪَمِيڻيءَ تي، سوڍا! وارِ، سُڄاڻَ!
ڪُہُ ڪَرِيان ڪاڪِ کي؟ تَنَ توهِين ڏي تاڻَ؛
لاهي غيرَ گُماڻَ، اَڱَڻِ آءُ اُڪَنڍِيـين.
3

اَڱَڻِ آءُ اُڪَنڍِيـين، پرچِي پِيارا!
پَلَڪَ پَراهُون نه سَهَنءِ، جِيءَ جا جِيارا!
نِينهان نيزارا، سَڃِ، ته مانَ سُورُ لَهي.
4

پَسُ توشَڪُون، تَڪِيا، سيئِي وِهاڻا؛
پَسِيو هَنڌَ، پَچي هِنئون، جي حَبِيبَنِ هاڻا؛
هِڪُ ڏُنگا ڏاڏاڻا، ٻِيو موٽِيو تان نه مينڌِرو.
5

سوڍا! سُورَ سُڪائِـيُون، اَکِـيُون آبُ نه ڪَنِّ؛
راڻي جِيءَ رِهاڻِ کي، وِرُوڻِـيُون وَڃَنِّ؛
سي ڪِئَن، مينڌِرا! مَچَنِّ؟ جي تو سُورِيءَ چاڙِهيُون.
6

مُون گَھرِ اچِي جي ٿِئي، مينڌِرو مِهماڻُ؛
آڻي جھوڪِيان آڳِ ۾، ڄيري وِجھان ڄاڻُ؛
تاڻي تَـنُورَنِ ۾، ڀيري هَڻان ڀاڻُ؛
پيڪَنِ سُوڌو پاڻُ، گَھرُ تَڙُ گھورِيان پِرَ تان.
7

کوڙَ قناتوُن ڪاڪِ ۾، راڻا ويہُ رَهِي؛
ماڙهُو جي مَحلاتِ جا، سوڍا ڪَجِ سَهِي؛
وِيندِيَءِ ڳالِھ وَهِي، وِڪَرِ پَوَندين وَلھا.

داستان ستون
1

ڍَٽِ مَ وَڃِجِ ڍولَ! ڪاڻِياري ڪاڪِ ڪَري؛
آءٌ اَڳَهين آهيان، ٻَڌِي تُنهِنجي ٻولَ؛
توکي ساري، سُپِرِين! رُنُمِ مَنجِھ رَتولَ؛
ٽِڪاڻا ۽ ٽولَ، وِسَہُ مُون وِهُ ٿِيا.
2

سوڍي سِرُ نِيو، هِتِ ڪَرَنگَھرُ سَکڻو؛
راڻي جي رِهاڻِ کي، سِڪي ساهُ پِيو؛
پَسان ڪِينَ ٻِيو، تو رِءِ اَکَڙِيُنِ سين.
3

راڻي رِڻُ ڪَيو، جيڏِيُون! مُنهِجي جِيءَ سين؛
مَنُ مينڌِري وَڍِيو، ڌُٻِي ڌَڙُ پِيو؛
ٻُجھان، ٻَهَرِ وِيو، هِنئون هَنڌِ نه هيڪِڙي.
4

رُئان ٿي، راڻا! هَنڌَ نِهاريو حُجِرا؛
پيئِي کِہَ کَٽُنِ تي، ٿِيا پَلَنگَ پُراڻا؛
ڌَرِيائِي ڌُوڙا ٿِيا، وَرَ رِءَ وِهاڻا؛
جايُون، گُلَ، جَباتَ، وَڻَ، تو رِءَ ڪُوماڻا؛
مينڌِرا! ماڻا، تو رِءَ ڪَندِيَسِ ڪِنِ سين.
5

جِئَن ايندي ئِي موٽِئين، مينڌِرا! وَڏِي جاڙَ ڪِياءِ؛
وَرُ نه هُئين؟ وَلَھا! هُوندَ جٽِي مون جاڳاءِ؛
ته سُتي جي ساڃاءِ، سوڍا! سِگِھيائي ٿِيَءِ.
6
جڳ جِئَن تِي چوءِ، سوڍو تِئَن نه سِکِيو؛
راڻو تِئَن نه رُوءِ، ڳوڙهو جِئَن ڳَلِ ڳَڙي.
7

تِنِ باغَنِئُون بَسِّ، جي ڪَنڌِيءَ ڪاڪِ ڪَڪورِيا؛
سوڍي رِءَ سَرِتيُون! ڪاڪِ نه اچي ڪَسِّ؛
راڻي پائي رَسِّ، تَنُ ٻيڙِيءَ جِئَن تاڻِيو.

داستان اٺون
1

ڪِينَ ساڱاهِيُمِ، سُپِرِين! جاڙُون ڪَيُمِ جالَ؛
سوڍا! مون کي ڪالَ، موٽِي مُنهَن ۾ آئِيُون.
2
خاموشِي خَبَرَ جِي، مُومَلِ ٿِي مَتِّ؛
صَبرُ ٿِيو سُپَتِّ، مُنهِنجي حَقِّ، مينڌِرا!
3

ڍولي ڍَڪِي آهِيان، هُيَسِ اُگھاڙِي؛
ڏيئِي لِکَ لاڙِي، ڪَڪَرُ ڪَيائِينمِ ڪاڪِ جو.
4

سوڍا! صَبرُ تُنهنجو، مَرَڪُ لَڄايُنِّ؛
چُپ سين جي چَوَنِّ، اَدَبُ ڪجي اُنِ جو.
5

سوڍا! صَبرُ تُنهنجو، سيکاري سَهَسَ؛
پُڄِي تِئان پَهَسَ، مون کي نَصِيبَ نيئِي جَھليو.
6

سوڍا! صَبرُ تُنهنجو، بي عَقُلَ آڻي بازِ؛
سندي صَبُرَ سازِ، توبَہَ ڪارِيَمِ تَڪڙِي.
7

جنين سندي مُنهَن ۾، نِهائِيُون نَڪَنِّ؛
تِئان وَڍِيو هيڪِڙو، ته ڪَهڙو ٿورو تَنِّ؟
سي مَرُ سُڃا ئِي سُونهَنِّ، جن ڀـلِي ڀِينگَ ڀَرَمَ جِي.

داستان نائون
1

راڻي جي رِهاڻِ مان، ڪو آديسِي آيو؛
چوڏِهِينءَ ماهَ چَنڊَ جِئَن، ڪَيو سامِيءَ سَهائو؛
لَٿو اُونداهو، جوڳِيءَ سَندِيءَ جوتِ سان.
2

راڻي جي رِهاڻِ مان، ڪو آيو آديسِي؛
کَٿُورِيءَ خوشِبُوءِ سين، وِلاتَ سَڀِ واسي؛
سُوڌو سَناسِي، اُتانهِين ٿي آيو.
3

نَئون نِياپو آيو، راڻي مُلان راتِ؛
لَڌِيسُون لَطِيفُ چئي، ڪَنان ڏاتَرَ ڏاتِ؛
ڪَهڙِي پُڇين ذاتِ؟ جي آيا، سي اَگِھيا.
4

ڪيڏانهُن ڪاهِيان ڪَرَهو؟ چَؤڏِسِ چِٽاڻو؛
مَنجِھين ڪاڪِ ڪَڪورِي، مَنجِھين لُڊاڻو؛
راڻو ۽ راڻو، رِءَ راڻي ٻيو ناهِ ڪو.

5

ڪيڏانهن ڪاهِيان ڪَرَهو؟ چِٽاڻو چؤڌارَ؛
مَنجِھين ڪاڪِ ڪڪوري، مَنجِھين باغَ بَهارَ؛
ڪانهي ٻي تَنوارَ، ٿِيو مِڙوئي مينڌِرو.

Courtesy: عبدالماجد ڀرڳڙي [Mr. Abdul Majid Bhurguri] شاه سائين جو رسالو
ڪلياڻ آڏواڻي جي مرتب ڪيل رسالي ۾ بيتن تي شامل پهرين اليڪٽرانڪ انٽرنيٽ ايڊيشن
http://www.bhurgri.com/bhurgri/sd_shah.php

Mumal and Rano-XXI

I

1

With love, all unalloyed, is dight

Yogi entirely-

Like image at rising sun

he flutters, he Kak, where with delight

virgins enlivened him.

2

The yogi looks like sun so fair,

when scaling morning-skies

Such sweet entrancing fragrance pours

from out his silken hair;

Show us the land, where fragrance rare

O yogi you obtained!

3

O loin-clothed, one, let us know,

the way you virgins met

Why from your eyes continuously

the tears of blood do flow?

O Sami! on us light bestow

of beauty that you found!

4

"Go, go, to waters of Kak go

where love is made, they say;

Where there is neither night nor day

all shall Beloved see!

5

Resplendent diamondss gleam within

Magnetic Mumal's eyes...

Common or uncommon, who tries

to see these eyes, is slain.

6

O camel, for such enterprise

master bred you with care;

With vigilance cross over now

to where Ludhana lies;

Mumal we have to face this eve,

or when the sun doth rise;

With her consent on Kak's supplies

of blossoms you may browse.-

7

Beautiful like the roses sweet

are robes of damsels fair...

In Jasmin-fragrant coiffuers they

have piled their long, fine hair.

From Beauty so entrancing, love

is kindled everywhere;

Wondrous show, damsels spinning there

on-lookers dumb-struck gaze.

8

Like fresh pan-leaves are shawls they wear

of shimmering emerald silk-

Their bodies all refreshed with atter

and ambergris rare;

From fullsome platis sandle and musk

perfume all round the air;

And delicate ears, dainty ware

of glistening gold do hold-

Today Mumal's in glorious from

rejoicing, free from care;

Because Rano without compare,

her fiansee hath become!...

9

Mumal had wounded many, lo

she's wounded now instead-

A pointed arrow struck her head

from knightly Rano's bow.-

II

10

Although Rano not destined is

Mumal to be with thee-

This will be clear from Rano's love...

still not resentful be,

Weep not, but bear it patiently,

Be true to kinship new.

11

Kak could not hold those wanderers

Castles not tempt their mind...

No maid or mistresses their hearts

with magic strings could bind

For e'er Lahutis left behind

myraids of maids as these.-

12

Kak could not hold those wanderers

for wealth they did not care,-

It was by men of such a mould

royal virgins wounded were-

Lahutis they could not ensnare

with all their coquetry.

13

They passed Kak at the corner, long

that corner turned have they...

To those who are now far away

what shall some 'Natir' do?

III

14

Ludhana is a hell mere

without Beloved mine;

Friends, Rano took offence last night

and left me torture here...

And Kak to me is poison sheer

the moment he is gone.

15

O Rano, hardly had you come,

you turned and went away

But were you not my spouse? why not

to wake me did you stay?

Then soon you would have known who lay

beside me on the bed.

16

Whole night my lamp did burn, but see

the dawn is breaking now;

Rano without thee I shall die-

In God's name come to me

Oh-all the crows of Kak to thee

as messenger I sent.-

17

I trimmed the wick, again, again,

oil is consumed at last

Stranger-beloved, do return

riding a camel fast;

Weeping for Rano, night is past,

the whole of night I wept.

18

Orion stands above my head;

pleiades have declined...

The time is past...he did not come

Rano, for whom I pined-

Fie on cursed night, without my love

it passed, and left me woe-confined-

To give me hell, he did not mind

now rests he in his dhat.-

19

Rano, I weep when I behold

the empty places here

Dust settled on beds and divans

so drab looks all and cold;

Unused by master pillows lie,

and nought but dust they hold-

Without you, trees and flowers fade

and never more unfold...

Who would bear my freaks mainfold

but my Mendharo dear?

20

Continuously I watch your way,

mine eyes are at the door-

May you come back to me Rano,

I heaven do implore;

You hold my life, else many more

of Rano's world contains.

21

I did not realize my sweet,

the faults I did commit;

They now recoil on me, and hit

me justly in the face.

22

't was by your patience, I became

a human being dear-

't was through a whim of mine, my name,

myself, you came to know.

23

If Mendharo to my own house

would come as guest, to stay with me-

To flames I'd give self-consciousness

my knowledge and my ancestry;

Pride egoism I would throw

Into the stove, most certainly

My sacrifice for loved-one be

the home, parents, myself.

24

Who with a lion doth ally

herself, must steady be-

Affectionate and vigilant

In Rano's wake do lie-

O Mumal, not like rain do pour

On all that you come by...

When resurrection day is nigh

you will of Rano think.

25

Go straight ahead, and look not back

nor turn this side or that,

Or else, a temple-turning smack

unwar'ly you receive.

IV

26

A messenger! in haste he is

By he is sent;

With promise: "one you love will reach

Ludhana for your bliss;

The speedy camel will not miss

to enter Kak at Dawn."

27

A message great and new arrived

from Mendharo last night;

We have received a gift divine,

from Giver of all light-

"Ask not for caste-all we invite

all are accepted here."

28

Where need I drive the camel? when

Glory all round is beaming?

Kak in my being doth radiate,

In me's Ludhano gleaming;

Of Rano sweet my soul is dreaming

there is none else but 'He'.-

29

Where need one drive the camel? when

great radiance reigns all round?

In my being is Kak...in me

gardens and springs abound;

There is no other voice or sound

But all is 'Mendharo'.

REFERENCES: Mumal and Rano-XXI by Late. Elsa Qazi http://www.oocities.com/thebhittai/lateef21.html Mumal and Rano-XXI Chapter-I [Shah Jo Risalo by Late. Shah Abdul Latif Bhitai Translated by Late. Elsa Kazi http://www.maktabah.org/attachments/055_Shah-Elsa%20Kazi.pdf

I am extremely thankful to Mr Xafar Sindhi who helped me in this post.

Tribute to Late. Anwer Pirzado.

KARACHI/LARKANA, Jan 7: Leading Sindhi poet and journalist Anwer Pirzado died of lung cancer at a hospital in Karachi on Sunday morning. He was 61. He was admitted to the Liaquat National Hospital about two months ago. He is survived by his wife, three sons and a daughter. He was admired for his precious contributions to poetry and journalism. Late Pirzado was born in the tiny village of Balahreji of Larkana district on Dec 25, 1945, to labourer Shafi Mohammad. He received his early education in Larkana and later moved to Karachi. He topped his masters in English literature from the University of Sindh, Jamshoro, as an external candidate. He also served as a lecturer at the university. REFERENCE: Anwer Pirzado passes away Dawn Report January 08, 2007 Monday Zilhaj 17, 1427 http://www.dawn.com/2007/01/08/nat2.htm [Courtesy Daily Dawn]

Anwer Pirzado: Importance of Sindh


ANWAR PIRZADO SPEACH ON NAZIR ABASI

URL: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q7rB_kRwdUc

ڈھاکہ یونیورسٹی کے بعد شاید سندھ یونیورسٹی ہی تھی جنکے اساتذہ، طالب علم اور پروفییسر حکومتی اداروں کی ’فہرست، پر تھے- ڈاکٹر غلام علی الانا، پرفیسر ارجں، نندلال وریانی اور دیگر طالب علم رہنما گرفتار کیے گۓ- یہاں تک کہ سندھ یونیورسٹی کے وائس چانسلر سید غلام مصطفی شاہ کی بھی نقل و حرکت پر پابددی ڈال کر غیر اعلانیہ طور پر انہیں انکی سرکاری رہائش گاہ پر ایک طرح سے نظربند کیا گیا- آج کے سندھی شاعر اور صحافی انور پيرزادو کو بھی سزا ہوئی۔ وہ تب پاکستان فضائیہ میں پائیلٹ تھے اور ان کو ایک دوست کو خط میں بنگالیوں کے ساتھ ہونے والی ہولناک کارروائیوں کا ذکر کرنے پر کورٹ مارشل کی سزا سنائی گئی-

سندھی رہنما اور دانشور رسول بخش پلیجو نے بنگال پر پاکستانی فوج کشی کے خلاف بیرون ملک شائع اور نشر ہونےوالی رپورٹوں کو منتخب اور سندھی میں ترجمہ کرکے ’جیکی بنگال ساں تھیو‘ ( یعنی ’جو بنگال کے ساتھ ہوا‘) کے عنوان سے کتاب شائع کی جو پاکستان میں بنگلیوں کے قتل عام پر پہلی اور واحد دستاویز تھی جس پر بعد میں بھٹو حکومت کی طرف سے ان باقی جالیس کتابوں اور جریدوں کے ساتھ پابندی لگادی گئی-‬

سولہ دسمبر کا دن، اور کچھ یادیں

حسن مجتبیٰ

سان ڈیاگو، کیلی فورنیا

وقتِ اشاعت: Thursday, 16 December, 2004, 15:13 GMT 20:13 PST

http://www.bbc.co.uk/urdu/miscellaneous/story/2004/12/041216_hasanmujtaba_uk.shtml

He was commissioned as a pilot with the Pakistan Air Force in 1970 but was court-martialled after he wrote a letter to a friend in which he praised Sheikh Mujeebur Rehman of the former East Pakistan as a ‘true leader’. He was sentenced to one year in jail. Later, he joined Russian embassy in Karachi as a translator and also edited the economic and business edition of Tullu. He served as the secretary of the Karachi branch of the Sindhi Adabi Sangat in 1976-1977. As a journalist, he worked for Dawn and The Star in Sukkur during 1980s. He was arrested in 1983 during the Movement for the Restoration of Democracy. REFERENCE: Anwer Pirzado passes away Dawn Report January 08, 2007 Monday Zilhaj 17, 1427 http://www.dawn.com/2007/01/08/nat2.htm [Courtesy Daily Dawn]

Anwer Pirzado on Bhittai

URL: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rf9FxKn_bpw&feature=related
Anwer Pirzada:Legendery sindhi figure. Best sindhi speaker.

He is considered to be the founder of Sindhi blank verse and his geets and nazms earned him applause. He never bothered to publish a collection of poetic works and it was only in 2005 that some admirers compiled his poems and published ‘Aay Chand, Bhitai Khey Chaijan’ (Oh moon! tell this to Bhitai).

Anwer Pirzado speaks in kachehry

URL: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=062b4O9pL7Y&feature=related

Anwer Pirzado speaks in kachehry-Part 2

URL: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=we8n2JVUnzo&feature=related

Veteran intellectual and political activist Sobho Giyanchandani said his death was a great loss to Sindhi literature, journalism and archaeology. “Sindh has lost an illustrious son today,” he said. Poet Anwer Abro said late Pirzado believed in charity at home, and introduced women education in his village, converted criminals into political activists. Because of his efforts, his village was once known as ‘Little Moscow’. Prominent literary figures Taj Baloch, Shamsheerul Hyderi, Rauf Nizamani, Dr Zulfiqar Siyal, secretary-general of the Sindhi Adabi Sangat, Chander Keswani, Jan Khaskheli, Imdad Solangi, Rakhial Morai and Imdad Hussaini also mourned the death of Anwer Pirzado. Pirzado’s body was taken by his family to Larkana where he was buried in his ancestral graveyard of Sakhi Shah Jamal in Balahreji village on Sunday evening. REFERENCE: Anwer Pirzado passes away Dawn Report January 08, 2007 Monday Zilhaj 17, 1427 http://www.dawn.com/2007/01/08/nat2.htm [Courtesy Daily Dawn]

Anwer Pirzado was an enthusiastic and creative writer, poet, journalist and research scholar of the Sindhi and English language. Throughout his life he gave little thought to his personal life and prosperity, instead he struggled for the prosperity and progress of Sindh. He remained associated with Karachi’s English-language newspapers as a staff reporter for couple of years. Later, he worked with some Sindhi and regional English-language newspapers and periodicals as editor and contributed his time to several literary, cultural and social organisations. During this long association with journalism he focused on the fundamental issues and rights of Sindh. He also tried to discover Sindh of the past, made efforts for the protection and preservation of Mohenjodaro, conducted expeditions to the Indus River and Indus Delta and collected data about the land, its people, history and culture.

When he left this world, Pirzado left behind a vast treasure of writings which are now being published by the Anwer Pirzado Academy that is headed by his sons Zarar, Zaid and Amar. Out of the three books that were published posthumously, the following two were published in 2008:

Anwer Pirzado, the author of the book titled Bhittai was known as a modern interpreter of the poetry of Shah Abdul Latif Bhittai. His research work on Shah Latif’s poetry is spread over almost four decades (from 1970s to 2007). He always remained in search of new baits of Shah Latif, the correct meaning of words used in his poetry, the true picture of his images and the true elaboration of his thoughts.

Shah Latif’s poetry was part and parcel of Anwer Pirzado’s blood and soul. His conversation and writings were considered incomplete without baits from the poetry of Shah. He, despite loving Shah Latif spiritually by going to his shrine once a week, logically and scientifically explained the Sufi poet’s philosophy.

Anwer Pirzado Report by manzoor-Part 1

URL: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5JWQeRI09Gk&feature=related

It is true that the poetry of Shah Latif remains a great source of motivation and a force for all thoise who want social change and freedom from tyranny.

His poetry has proved to be a healing element in the days of political, social and personal tragedies. He guides each and every person whether free or imprisoned, religious or secular, man or woman, young or old.

All sections of society can receive inspiration from his verses.

Anwer Pirzado calls Shah Latif ‘the poet of the past, present and future of Sindh. In his book Pirzado has discussed the diversity of Bhittai’s thoughts on feudalism, class difference, social disparity, politics and democracy.

No doubt, the romance of martyrdom, romance of struggle and the romance of sacrifice are major subjects of Shah’s poetry. The author has elaborated on these aspects by relating them to the geo-political situation of the country.

Anwer Pirzado Report by manzoor Part 2

URL: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pqn86h2cXFA&feature=related

Anwer Pirzado finds in Bhittai’s work solutions for all problems facing society and the people. The author maintains that Bhittai was the poet of love and revolution but advocated non-violence.

All the chapters (surs) of Shah Latif’s poetry revolve around the characters of aashiq (a highest stage of involvement in love) and sacrifice. The author selected such heroic characters of Shah’s poetry and presented them before readers as the ‘heroes of all times.’

Pirzado presented his viewpoint of various issues in a series of lectures delivered on Radio Pakistan, Karachi’s weekly programme Risalo under the title ‘War’u Wai Jo Jey Laheen’.

He tried to prove that Shah Latif upheld the rights of women in his Sur Suhni and protested the abduction and imprisonment of Marvi by Umar Soomro who was trying to tempt her with the lavish lifestyle at his palace. It is interesting to note that Shah Bhittai used the word nazarbandi (house arrest) in his poetry some two and a half centuries ago. This makes his poetry, which was composed between 1689 to 1752 CE, in many respects just as relevant today. He gives voice to suppressed, degraded and exploited people. Suhni might be declared Kari according to the customs that are unfortunately still in practice today, but Bhittai made her a heroine and supported her love for Mehaar.

Anwer Pirzado Interview in Parakh-PTV by Aslam Azad

URL: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wlz8uffA3DM&feature=related

Anwer Pirzado’s book offers a new window through which to look at the poetry of and philosophy of Shah Abdul Latif Bhittai.

Anwer Pirzado was also an avid tourist. He visited each and every part of Sindh during all its seasons. He visited the Thar Desert in time of famine and on rainy days. He visited Khirthar Hill Rang in the scorching month of July, as well as the Katcha area in times of floods and during the winter.

Anwer Pirzado in Parakh part 2

URL: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cy8J0Z4wuKY&feature=related

Mohenjodaro is situated close to his native village Balhreji where he participated in the excavation work carried out by the famous archaeologist John Dales in 1965.

The first time Pirzado stepped out of his native land was when he visited Mumbai as a member of the delegation of South Asia Free Media Association (SAFMA) led by journalists Imtiaz Alam and Dr Jabbar Khattak. The delegation visited Mumbai in May 2006 and comprised of 30 businessmen, journalists, educationists and social activists from all parts of the country.

After his return from Mumbai he wrote a travelogue for the Sindhi daily Awami Awaz. His work was published in book from in 2008. The travelogue was divided into 13 parts which cover topics such as the historical relationship of Sindh and other parts of India, the relationship of Karachi and Mumbai cities, the migration of Sindhi Hindus, the role of Sindhi Hindus in the economical development of India, and free trade between Pakistan and India.

He has also written in detail about the social and economical conditions of Sindhi Hindus who migrated to India during the partition. He says that Sindhi Hindus living in India are prosperous and retain a strong hold on business and trade in Mumbai and other parts of India, but they have never forgotten the land of their ancestors.

Their yearning for the motherland often makes them misty-eyed. Pirzado claims ‘during the partition about 1.2 millions Sindhi Hindus migrated from Sindh. Now, their population in India is about 4 million. Some say they are 8 million. Ulhas Nagar in Mumbai is popularly known as the community’s residential base.’

He writes that Mumbai is at a distance of about 200 nautical miles south-east from the coastal belt of Karachi. He suggests ferry services between Pakistan and India through the Indus Delta. But before that can happen, he advocates cordial and peaceful relationship between the two neighbouring countries.

The author mentions the debates and discussions held between the businessmen of Pakistan and India on the subject of free trade between the two countries during the visit. Referring to the long-time PPP leader he writes, ‘Taj Hyder’s point of view was that there is no harm if the capitalists of Pakistan and India get more profit from free and direct trade, but they must also keep the interest of the poor consumer in mind.’

Writing sbout the old navigation system of Sindh during the days of the Indus Valley Civilisation and after it, he says that Debal was at one time the busiest port of Sindh, just like Karachi port is today.

The author has compared Karachi and Mumbai in terms of their population and civic facilities. He writes that ‘Karachi has enough land, but Mumbai has no land. That is why, it is comprised on seven islands that were filled with mud and then Mumbai city was established on it. There are sea banks within the city and marine drives. Mumbai’s area is just 4,355 square feet.

Karachi and Mumbai are among the 20 biggest cities of the world. More than half of the population of Mumbai lives in katchi abadis, while 6.5 million people live alongside roads and beneath the open sky.’ He further adds that Mumbai has four districts, seven corporations, 13 municipal councils, seven city centers and 950 villages. The author has written the travelogue in an analytical form rather than in diary form. That is why it is highly informative in addition to being entertaining. REFERENCE: IN MEMORIAM: The world of Anwer Pirzado Reviewed by Anwer Abro Tuesday, 06 Jan, 2009 | 02:40 PM PST | http://www.dawn.com.pk/wps/wcm/connect/dawn-content-library/dawn/in-paper-magazine/books-and-authors/the+world+of+anwer+pirzado [COURTESY DAILY DAWN]