Ghalib – 20: Leaders and Followers

How do we decide whom to follow? Ghalib has some advice:

laazim nahiiN ke kih Khizr kii ham pairavii kareN
jaanaa kih ek buzurg hameN ham-safar mile

it is not necessary that we follow in the footsteps of Khizr
we consider that we have a venerable-elder as a fellow-traveler

Hazrat Khizr is the most revered guide to the lost in Islamic folk tradition and Ghalib is saying that we do not need to follow in the footsteps of Khizr. Why?

Ghalib has faith in the individual; he wants every human being to use his or her mind first. Ghalib is not rejecting advice but he wishes the advice to be just another input into our decision-making as we proceed on our journey through life. A knowledgeable fellow traveler is fine, but a leader to be followed blindly is not recommended.

What do you think of the advice of Ghalib?

Well, it is clear that Ghalib would not wish us to follow his own advice blindly but to reflect upon it and use it as a venerable-elder’s contribution to our stock of knowledge.

So let us reflect upon his advice and see how we can interpret our recent past in its light.

Consider the advice of international agencies to developing countries. Almost all countries accepted the loans but only those that used the funds according to their own visions and priorities benefited from their use. Most East Asian countries that succeeded belong to this category – think of China with its prescription of ‘Socialism with Chinese Characteristics’. On the other hand, all countries that followed the advice uncritically and allowed the agencies to sit in the driving seat, Pakistan being the major example in South Asia, did very poorly indeed.

Or consider the time when many young idealists in South Asia became the followers of Karl Marx? They went into the countryside boxing people into Marxist categories like kulaks, middle-peasants etc., and declared religion to be the opiate of the masses. A little reflection might have suggested that the social conditions of Europe that gave rise to Marxism were quite different from those that prevailed in South Asia. Marxism could not be copied blindly; it needed intelligent adaptation to local conditions if its goals of social justice were to be achieved.

And now we have Osama bin Laden and Mullah Omar as our modern-day Khizr’s. Is there a case for following their pronouncements blindly even if they argue they are relying on the highest authority for what they proclaim?

And do they even count as venerable elders? There was no doubt about the intellectual credentials of Marx but are bin Laden and Mullah Omar in the same category?

So we actually need to start a step earlier. We have first to decide whether we are dealing with a venerable elder as a fellow traveler or with a charlatan peddling snake oil. Only after we get past this test should we even consider the advice we are being asked to follow.

I feel Ghalib is giving us sound advice. What do you think?

On this theme, see also Ghalib – 9 on leadership. For a literary interpretation see the parallel post on Mehr-e-Niimroz.

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Ghalib – 19: New Year Thoughts

One would expect Ghalib to have a unique way of welcoming the New Year:

dekhiiye paate haiN ushshaaq buton se kya faiz
ik barahman ne kahaa hai kih yih saal achchhaa hai

let’s see what favors lovers find from idols
a Brahman has said that this year is good 

This is indeed a very clever and witty she’r, as the interpretation at Mehr-e-Niimroz will make clear. The play is on the word but which in Urdu, in the context of the lover, signifies an extremely beautiful woman. But but also means ‘idol’, and that pairing with Brahmin is perfect in the second line. Who would be a better authority on the behavior of ‘idols’ than a Brahmin (who is an ‘idol-worshipper’ in the eye of a Muslim)?

[A digression. Here is Marco Polo on his stop in India on the way back from China in 1292 AD describing the people: They ‘pay more attention to augury than any other people in the world and are skilled in distinguishing good omens from bad.’ They rely on the counsel of astrologers and have enchanters called Brahmans, who are ‘expert in incantations against all sorts of beasts and birds.’] 

Now consider the she’r as a totality: it is a comment on the myopia, the parochial self-interestedness of the lover. The astrologer has augured that this would be a good year and the lover immediately takes that to imply that the beloved would bestow favors upon him. For all we know, the astrologer could well be predicting that there would be no wars or terrorist attacks in the New Year. The astrologer may not even be aware of the existence of this particular lover. But the lover is only interested in taking the meaning that advances his suit.

But this is a layered she’r and this is where you have to acknowledge the genius of Ghalib. In 18 words, he rips the hypocrisy of human beings to shreds and leaves them naked, shorn of all their righteousness and moral pretensions.

Consider this as the classic interaction of two ‘Others’ – in this case, Muslim and Hindu. Now imagine a Hindu soothsayer offering to make the ultimate dream of the Muslim come true. How many Muslims would there be who would reject the offer because the benefactor is the ‘Other’, an infidel, an unbeliever, one who should be put to death instead?

Suppose instead that the two have a difference of opinion on the distribution of an asset. How soon is this likely to turn into an issue of historical injustices and oppression, of having nothing in common except an intense hatred of the ‘Other’s’ ancestors? How soon would there be cries to bomb the ‘Other’s’ entire community into oblivion?

So, Ghalib has proven it to you – there is nothing principled in these righteous positions that people take; the positions are taken in the service of selfish and parochial material interests.

[I am waiting for someone to come after me for being a Muslim-hater. Rest assured, the process of ‘Otherizing’ is entirely symmetric. Switch the religions of the soothsayer and the client and nothing much changes (or does it?) except that the story gets weaker – Brahmins, as Marco Polo noted, are justly reputed to be the best soothsayers with a greater knowledge of idols. From which, of course, follow the associations employed by Ghalib who knew such things well.]

And this brings us to the Partition in which a million people died and ten million had to leave their homes. It turned on a difference of opinion on the mode of governance that would best meet the concerns of all the stakeholders. It became a battle of the ‘Others’ who convinced themselves they had nothing at all in common after having lived together for a 1000 years, who were not willing to compromise on anything to prevent a million deaths.

We have mentioned in an earlier post that the situation in Malaysia was more complex – not only were there Hindus and Muslims but Chinese as well who owned most of the wealth. But people sat down and compromised and found a way out. It can be done. It can be done when we look upon the person across the table not as the ‘Other’ but as someone we would eagerly embrace if he offered to unite us with the beloved.

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Ghalib – 18: Beyond Symbols

We need someone to shake us up at this time and Ghalib does it with panache:

ka’be meN jaa bajaaeNge naaquus

ab to baaNdhaa hai dayr meN iHraam

we will go beat the gong in the Ka’bah

we have tied the holy cloak in the temple

The conventional associations between Ka’bah/iHraam and dayr/naaquus are obvious and Ghalib’s intention to provoke us into rethinking the conventions is also obvious in his iconoclastic mixing of the associations.

The detailed interpretation of the sh’er can be found at Mehr-e-Niimroz. Here we raise some questions triggered by the images that came to mind on reading this verse.

The image is of a Montessori where the teacher has given a class of six-year olds a set of four picture blocks to mix and match – Ka’bah, iHraam, dayr, naaquus. One would expect most children, home-schooled in their religious traditions, to make the obvious pairings.

Now, the teacher mixes up the blocks and asks the students to think about the new pairings. One can imagine the doubts, the misgivings, the bewilderment, and the confusion at seeing what is not supposed to be. (Note, we have not mentioned the emotion of anger – that, and the charges of blasphemy, come at a later age.)

The student who thinks outside the box would certainly have cause to wonder. If Ka’bah and dayr represent the places where you seek the Truth and the iHraam and the naaquus are the means to that Truth, does it really matter how you seek the Truth? Is there only one way of loving the Beloved?

Here we see the distinction between the external, ritualistic, aspect of religion and the internal search for Truth; between being tied to the way we think things ought to be and the essence of what we are really after. Ghalib continuously reminds us of the difference between the superficiality of the priest and the depth of the sufi.

Ghalib is also continuously reminding us to rise beyond our exclusivities and particularities and realize the common humanity at the core of our being. Today, in this crowded global village where we are thrown together, often against our wishes, this message is all the more important. After all, we ourselves have realized that we need to transcend the exclusivities of caste and sect – it has become acceptable to concede that point; in fact we are being encouraged to do so. Where then is the logic of drawing the hard line at religion and sticking adamantly to that exclusivity?

Ghalib certainly does not intend us to actually violate the sanctity of customs but he wishes us to see through and beyond them, to think of why we do what we are doing. If a Hindu and a Muslim both desire peace, what is it that matters more – the desire for peace, or the difference of religion?

Ghalib would have endorsed this maxim from the student revolution in France (1968): “We do not live to change the world; we change the world so as to live.” For the same debate being played out in the US (2008), see here: “In a country marked by graphic religious diversity and deeply entrenched religious pluralism, how does one mark out common ground? Is it even possible? The answer is Yes!”

There is a second question related to this topic and that pertains to the reaction we said comes at a later age – the charge of blasphemy and the emotion of anger. Keep in mind that at the level of the collective, we hold Ghalib in very high esteem – one of the giants of world literature, in the same league as Shakespeare and Milton, an icon of our tradition and heritage.

Here is the question: If Ghalib had been our contemporary in present-day South Asia, would he have been alive today? Would he have been killed by some jihadi or lashkari or would he have been hiding in Dubai like MF Hussain?

Let us not prejudge what the answer represents. For some, we have stumbled on the road to tolerance; for others we have ascended the heights of purity.

And another thought – Would the silencing of Ghalib have put an end to these questions? I can think of Ghalib himself responding to that question:

Ghalib-e khasta ke baghair kaun-se kaam band haiN

roiiye zaar zaar kyaa kiijiye haay haay kyuuN

without broken-down Ghalib, which tasks are ended?

why do you weep bitterly? why do you lament?

It would be interesting for readers to weigh in with their opinions.

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Thanks to Dr. Moazzam Siddiqi for explaining the meaning and intent of the sh’er. The onus of the liberties we have taken is on us.

Ghalib – 17: On Mumbai?

We wondered what Ghalib might have said post-Mumbai?

ham muvahhid haiN hamaaraa kesh hai tark-e rusuum

millateN jab miT gaiiN ajzaa-e iimaaN ho gaiiN

we are monists, our religion is the renunciation of customs

when communities are erased they become parts of the faith

Remember that Ghalib lived in an age of decay, chaos and conflict – he must have been very alive to the issue of divisions. The Mutiny against the British was a united initiative of many communities; the punishments were meted our very selectively to sow the seeds of division. These divisions are still with us and we continue to pay a very heavy price for them.

All the more reason to pay heed to Ghalib. The bottom line in this verse is that our fundamental humanity is common; our practices may differ. Only when we rise above the differences in our practices do we discover that deep down we are the same.

Of course, there are subtleties typical of Ghalib. We have to be different first to be able to see that these differences are superficial. We need to reflect on the differences in order to see that they can be transcended. We have to work to realize that true faith lies beyond the practices of specific geographically and temporally bound communities.

How do these differences arise? Let us take just one illustrative example. In a desert where land is abundant and trees scarce, it makes sense to bury the dead; in an agricultural community, where land is scarce and trees abundant, cremation makes a lot more sense. Such examples can be multiplied.

Most commentators translate the word muwahhid as monotheist. We prefer monist. Monotheism is contrasted with polytheism (belief in many gods) to signify belief in one God. But this God could still mean a dualistic structure in which the creator is different from the created. Monism, on the other hand, is the belief that the universe is just one being (or underlying principle) despite its many appearances and diversities. Monism may be considered more fundamental than any religious philosophy while taking religion and spirituality as sources of wisdom. This would be one interpretation of the second line of Ghalib’s verse.

“Monism is found in the Nasadiya Sukta of the Rigveda, which speaks of the One being-non-being that ‘breathed without breath’. The first system in Hinduism that unequivocally explicated monism was the non-dualist philosophy of Advaita Vedanta as expounded by Shankara. In short, Advaita declares – All is Brahman.” Monism is a tenet of both Hinduism and Buddhism. “In Hinduism each element of reality is part of maya or prakriti, and in Buddhism all things ultimately comprise an interrelated network.”

In Islam, many followers of Sufism advocated monism, most notably the 13th-century Persian poet Rumi. In the Masnavi, Rumi says “in the shop of Unity (wahdat); anything that you see there except the One is an idol.”

Thus it is not surprising that Indian poets like Ghalib and Kabir espouse a monist philosophy and are strong advocates of mutual understanding and peaceful coexistence.

Is there anything we can learn from Ghalib that would help us through these times?

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As always, for a literary interpretation of this verse see the entry on our companion blog, Mehr-e-Niimroz. For more on monism, see the entry on Wikipedia.

Ghalib – 16: On Monarchy and Democracy

Only Ghalib could pack so much meaning in a mere ten words:

saltanat dast bah dast aaii hai

jam-e mai khaatim-e Jamshed nahiiN

the kingship has come from hand to hand

the glass of wine; the seal of Jamshed is not

Even the well-known Ghalib scholars have pondered over the many possible meanings as mentioned in A Desertful of Roses and in our companion blog Mehr-e-Niimroz.

In this post, we use the verse as a mirror to reflect on the state of governance in South Asia today.

Ghalib has tossed three balls in the air for us to ponder – the metaphors of kingship, the glass of wine, and the seal of Jamshed. If we translate dast bah dast as hand to hand, an interpretation would be that both kingship and the glass of wine are passed from hand to hand while the seal of Jamshed belongs to Jamshed alone.

But it would be quite unlike Ghalib to be so simple. The complexity is embedded in dast bah dast: It does mean hand to hand but the Persian dast bah dast amadan also indicates acquiring by force.

And this is where Ghalib seems to be making the crucial distinction. Kingship can be acquired by force or ruse or trickery while the glass of wine loses its meaning when it ceases to be circulated from hand to hand. The contrast is between the lack of any moral rules in the acquisition of kingship and the democratic mores that govern the assembly of the tavern which itself was a common metaphor for the sufi order.

The bottom line is that kingship can easily go to the undeserving or the rogue or the strongman while entry into the company of mystics is both meritocratic and democratic. In this sense the latter is to be preferred to the former – the glass of wine is superior to the crown. And both are distinct from the seal of Jamshed which is private property.

This observation must have made abundant sense in Ghalib’s age, the declining years of the Mughal Empire, when all sorts of knaves and fools and musclemen laid claim to the throne of Delhi while the sufi orders retained their scholarly eminence and mass respect.

When we look at contemporary politics we see still the shadow cast by Ghalib’s age. All sorts of charlatans keep ascending to the throne, at times with the help of guns, at others with glib rhetoric, at yet others with faked inheritances.

Contrary to all appearances, in South Asia we are still in the age of monarchy and very far from any notion of democracy. That is why we continue to be burdened by incompetent, undeserving and uncaring rulers who do not command the respect of the ruled. And an honest person would much rather enter the tavern than the world of politics.

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Ghalib – 15: The Scream of Silence

This week’s verse requires us to remind readers that on The South Asian Idea we do not aim to provide an interpretation of the selected she’r. Rather, we use it as a point of departure to discuss the contemporary relevance of issues suggested by the verse.

Of course, for the sake of completeness, we do provide links to the most complete and accessible literary interpretations at A Desertful of Roses and to ones that explore related themes on Mehr-e-Niimroz, our companion blog in the Ghalib Project.

This week’s choice is the following:

kyuuN nah chiikhuuN kih yaad karte haiN

mirii aavaaz gar nahiiN aatii

why should I not scream because I am only remembered

if my voice is not heard

Let us use this to explore relations between the rulers and the ruled in our land today.

The majority of the ruled are voiceless. When they do raise their voices, they are either ignored or labeled as a handful of miscreants who need to be dealt with an iron hand.

When they remain silent, their silence is taken as a sign of approval – they are trumpeted as the Silent Majority that fully supports the policies of the day.

Thus the ruled find themselves in a no-win situation. It is not that they do not have grievances but voicing or not voicing them in public makes little difference to their fate. So they voice them silently telling whoever cares to listen that no one cares about them. These are the screams of silence. But those who control the reins of power do not listen to the screams of silence.

What is the way out of a no-win situation of this sort? Why, in an electoral system, is there no political party that gives voice to the voiceless? Why are huge numbers of the Silent Majority so irrelevant in a system based on the vote of every individual? How is such an outcome possible in a democratic system? Why are the screams of silence falling on deaf ears?

Is there a role here for the Civil Society that exists between the deaf rulers and the silent majority?

Is there a model in the American Civil Rights Movement of the 1960s that gave voice to marginalized blacks whose screams had failed to make an impression on the WASP elites? Is there a parallel between the Black Panthers and the Dalit Panthers? Was there a relationship between the Civil Rights Movement and the Black Panthers movement?

Is Barack Hussein Obama, born out of those mix of movements, saying something to South Asians?

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Ghalib – 14: Who Goes to Heaven?

Last week we left off with the comment that Ghalib did not have a high opinion of people who thought they would go to heaven. Here is the she’r we had in mind:

kam nahiiN jalvah-garii meN tire kuuche se bihisht

yihii naqshah hai vale is qadar aabaad nahiiN

it’s not less in splendor than your street, paradise –

the layout is the same, but it is not as flourishing

The following interpretation by Faruqi explains it best:

“Those who long for paradise, and those who enter it — the poor things are dried-out ascetics. Little do they know that paradise is present in the world itself. Only a handful of fools follow them on the road to paradise. The axis of the people is the beloved’s street.”

The underlying question is: Who goes to heaven?

Ghalib is quite consistent in voicing his opinion that those who are absolutely sure they would go to heaven and everyone else would go to hell are quite insufferable.

Is Ghalib correct in his opinion? What is it that merits the reward of paradise?

It is relevant to note here that Ghalib had no doubt that he himself would go to heaven:

kyaa hii rizvaaN se laRaaii hogii

ghar tiraa khuld meN gar yaad aayaa

what a fight there will be with Rizvan

if your house, in Paradise, would come to mind

Josh has the following interpretation:

“Two things in this verse are very praiseworthy. One is that the poet has complete confidence about going to Paradise. The second is that in Paradise he has no hope of seeing the radiance and flourishingness of the beloved’s house.”

I am reminded of the story, perhaps apocryphal, of the Inca king who was condemned to death by the Dominican friars from Spain for refusing to convert to Christianity. At the moment of death, the king was given one last chance with the consolation that he would go to heaven if changed his mind. The king refused with the following words:

“I do not wish to go to your heaven because there I would meet more people like you.”

Can your heaven be different from mine? And what if I find your heaven unattractive? Do I really wish to run into you again in paradise? You and paradise?

For another take on these issues see the discussion on Mehr-e-Niimroz.

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Ghalib – 13: On the Reality of Paradise

This week we use a popular she’r by Ghalib to explore some ideas about paradise:

ham ko ma’luum hai jannat kii haqiiqat lekin
dil ke khush rakhne ko Ghalib yih khayaal achchhaa hai

we know the reality of Paradise, but
to keep the heart happy, Ghalib, this idea is good 

The tension in the verse is created by the play between haqiiqat and khayaal, between reality and imagination.

The fundamental question being asked is: What is Paradise?

One can think of paradise as a home – one of the possible homes after death. Just as the feeling of being without a home on earth can be very unsettling, the thought of being without one after death could be equally so.

Thus it is not a surprise that it could be comforting to imagine a home after death. Is paradise then an imagined reality? Or is it a reality?

When Ghalib says, “we know the reality of Paradise,” he does not specify what that reality is. And, if it is an imagined reality, we are free to imagine it in a way that keeps our heart happy.

This is a happy situation because our imaginations are personal and they do not have to conform to any one ‘prescribed’ description of our home in the next world. It serves us well, for example, in a melting pot like the US where people of many different religions and cultures live in close proximity.

On the other hand, if we think of it as a well-defined ‘reality’ it can keep our heart happy while simultaneously wanting us to kill those who do not subscribe to that description of reality. This would smooth our path to ‘our’ heaven while sending the non-believers to ‘our’ hell. This notion of personal bliss and social viciousness do not hang well together.

Of course, one need not subscribe to this conceptualization of a ‘home after death’ at all. One might think in terms of coming back to the same world in a better or worse form depending upon our deeds in the previous life. There is only one home in that alternative conceptualization.

Which suggests that we might be better off thinking of paradise as an imagined reality leaving the details of the reality to the needs of our imaginations. This is one possible interpretation of Ghalib’s she’r. 

We do know that Ghalib did not have a high opinion of people who thought they would go to paradise. He felt they were too dry and took themselves way too seriously. We will pick up on this theme in a subsequent post.

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This she’r showcases an essential quality of Ghalib – every word is exceedingly simple, yet the verse is so rich in its multiple meanings (see the interpretations at Mehr-e-Niimroz).

Ghalib – 12: On the Object of Worship

Religion was supposed to fade away in the 1960s and yet religion, radical religion, is all around us now. The fading away of religion did not take us to a more humane society and the return of religion does not seem to be doing any better.

Let us turn to Ghalib for guidance:

hai pare sarhad-e idraak se apnaa masjuud


qible ko ahl-e nazar qiblah-numaa kahte haiN

beyond the limit of the senses is the object of our worship

people of vision call the Qiblah, the ‘Qiblah-pointer’

At the very least, Ghalib is saying that we should not take the rituals of religion too literally. We should look beyond the rituals and try and envision the real purpose of worship. What should the act of worship be pointing us towards? Is it an end in itself or a means to an end? If the latter, what exactly is the end? Should one really be thinking in terms of an end?

Is Ghalib reiterating the Sufi/Bhakti recognition that god lies within us rather than in the worship of any godhead, an interpretation that would provide an answer to the problem of infinite regress (that of looking for the end beyond the end) posed in our parallel post on Mehr-e-Niimroz?

moko kahaaN dhuunde re bande main to tere paas huuN

na mandir meN na masjid meN na kaabe kailaash meN

khoji hoye turat mil jaooN ik pal kii talaash meN

kahat Kabir suno bhaii saadho main to huuN vishwaas meN 

Let us now interpret Ghalib’s observation in the context of today’s Pakistan.

Every leader dashes off to Makkah to perform Umra at the drop of a hat. Yet, his or her political behavior shows no perceptible change. The same level of dishonesty continues to pervade our politics.

Many would argue that the judgment is too generous. In fact, the level of justice and honesty in Pakistani society has continued to slide just as the number of mosques and the number of people praying has mushroomed.

And the level of violence has increased in direct proportion to the increase in the number of madrassahs.

So, clearly, worship has attained some instrumental function in our lives. It has become the pathway to a material end. It has lost sight of what might be the real objective of worship.

It seems that whether religion fades away or becomes more prevalent, societies run into problems if some larger ultimate purpose of life is forgotten.

Where are the people of vision who can see beyond and through the material uses of religion in our times and ascertain the contours of that larger purpose? And what should they be doing in this situation?

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Ghalib Says – 11

Justice delayed is justice denied:

ham ne maanaa kih taghaaful nah karoge lekin

khaak ho jaaeNge ham tum ko khabar hote tak

we accept that you will not show negligence, but

we will become dust by the time of the news reaching you

In the conventional reading, the lover (ham) is addressing the beloved (tum) and a number of ways of interpreting the text are possible as described by Frances Pritchett in A Desertful of Roses.

We will transpose the domain of the verse and let ham represent the citizen and tum the state. What does that yield us?

Well, for one, we can explore the entire gamut of the relationship between the citizen and the state in South Asia in modern times.

Does the citizen (really) believe that the state acts in his or her interest?

Does the citizen believe that the state knows what his or her interests really are?

Does the citizen believe that if the state knew what his or her interests were, it would not neglect them?

If the citizen believes that the state is negligent of his or her interests, what are his or her options?

How long ought the citizen to wait for the state to respond to his or her needs?

Is it the fate of the citizen to turn to dust unrequited?

At what point does enough become enough?

Now replace the citizen with the minority citizen and the entire picture of South Asian governance would be crystal clear before your eyes.

Call it the magic of Ghalib.

The question is: How do you look upon the state now and what can you do about it? Remember that, unlike the lover, the citizen does not need to suffer alone and in silence.

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As always, there is another take on this verse at Mehr-e-Niimroz, our partner in the Ghalib Project.