Habib Jalib

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Rating: 4.67

Habib Jalib Poems

Our eyes yearn for greenery
The garden is a bloody mess
For whom should I sing my songs of love
The cities are all a wilderness
...

Too long I have heard you preach and prate, Maulana
But so far there has been no change in my fate, Maulana
Keep to yourself your preachings of gratefulness
My heart, like an arrow, they penetrate, Maulana
...

The lamp of which lights only in palaces,
That that gives happiness only to a few people,
That that flourishes under the shadow of considerations,
...

Hindustan belongs to me and Pakistan belongs to me
Both of these, however, are under American hegemony
...

The light which shines only in palaces
Burns up the joy of the people in the shadows
Derives its strength from others’ weakness
That kind of system,
...

Bread, clothes and medicine
A little house to live in
Free education, as may right be seen
A Muslim, I, too, have always been
...

If the dacoit had not had
The village guard as his ally
Our feet would not be in chains
Our victory would not defeat imply
...

O the sons of decrepit system!
O the children of dark night!
...

Endangered are the idle rich, bursting with cash
Crumbling walls about to crash
All the centuries’ mish-mash
Islam is not in danger
...

(1)
The brand is that of Harnam Das, but the benefit goes to America
The fools are trying that the sun of America does not set.
The poor had tears in their eyes in the past, they are still in sorrow.
...

Addressed to religious hucksters of any denomination and the system they defend – translator’s note
God is not yours, to Him we have access
He does not look kindly on those who oppress
...

One is obliged to the British, the other is a slave of dollars.
Their heartbeats are in chains, but the name of liberty on their lips.
How could they know, how do the people live?
These honourable ministers.
...

The nation is not in danger, but the system of capital is.
In fact, the marauder in the garb of leader is in danger.
...

She cannot say it, but then
My little one manages to say
Father, come home
Father, come home
...

When we arise to wake the poor, the have nots
A beeline to the police station they make, these wealthy sots
...

The children were shot dead
The mother, in fury, said
These pieces of my heart
Should cry and I stand apart
...

Habib Jalib Biography

Habib Jalib was a Pakistani revolutionary poet. A left-wing activist and politician, he was a staunch democrat who opposed martial law, authoritarianism and state oppression. Early Life Habib Jalib was born as Habib Ahmad in a village near Hoshiarpur, British India. He migrated to Pakistan after partition and worked as a proofreader in Daily Imroze, Karachi. He was a progressive writer and soon started to grab the audience with his enthusiastic recitation of poetry. He wrote in plain language, adopted a simple style and addressed common people and issues. But the conviction behind his words, the music of his voice and his emotional energy coupled with the sensitivity of the socio-political context is what stirred the audience. Political Views He was a Marxist-Leninist and aspired to the ideals of Communism. He was a member of the Communist Party of Pakistan; later when the Communist Party was banned and started working under the banner of National Awami Party (NAP), Jalib joined the NAP. Due to his blunt expression of his beliefs, he suffered hard time all his life and spent most of time in Jails. Ayub Khan's Martial Law Habib Jalib was first imprisoned during the martial law regime of Ayub Khan due to his defiant views on Ayub Khan's capitalistic policies. He wrote his legendary poem "Dastoor" during those days.Criticizing those who supported Ayub Khan's regime, he wrote: "There is smoke of teargas in the air and the bullets are raining all around How can I praise thee the night of the period of shortsightedness." A humble man with limited means of livelihood, Jalib could never reconcile with the dictatorship of Ayub Khan. So when Ayub enforced his tailor-made constitution in the country in 1962, which a former prime minister Chaudhry Muhammad Ali likened to the Clock Tower of Lyallpur, Jalib wrote a poem against it. Due to his daring revolt against the order of the day, Jalib was banned from official media but he remained undeterred. He rather started a tirade against the tyranny with more resolution. It reached its zenith when Fatima Jinnah decided to contest elections against Ayub Khan. All democratic forces rallied around her and at her election meetings, Jalib used to recite his fiery poems in front of an emotionally-charged crowd. His most popular poem at that time was: "The paradise is under the feet of the mother. So come into her fold." Bhutto's Government In 1972 when Zulfikar Ali Bhutto came to power, many of his colleagues were able to hit fortunes. He, on the other hand, kept his integrity and stuck to ideology. According to sources close to Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto, one day Habib Jalib went to Bhutto's place to meet him. Bhutto on seeing him said that when are you going to come (referring to joining his political Party) Jalib said, "Have the oceans ever fallen in rivers". Zia-ul-Haq's Martial Law During General Zia-ul-Haq's dictatorship, Jalib joined movement for democracy. He wrote the famous poem on Zia, where he asked how he could write darkness as Zia ( Zia literally means light in Urdu). "How can I write a human as God?" Benazir Bhutto's Government In 1988, General Zia-ul-Haq died in air crash and general elections were held. Benazir Bhutto came into power and released Habib Jalib. Fortunes were distributed to those who supported the government rather than those who supported democracy. Disappointed at the state of the nation, when asked if he felt any change after democracy, he said: "The status of the poor is still the same the days of the ministers have indeed changed every Bilawal (name of the only son of Benazir Bhutto) of the country is under debt while Benazirs (literally the poor) of the country walk without shoes ." Poetry Jalib’s poetry reflected his vision and approach to life. He never deviated from his chosen path. His love for humankind, his sympathy for the underdog and his passion for the fellow-beings were reflected in his verses. What is quite significant and somewhat rare in a poet who is also charged with political ideology is his capacity to suppress his anger against the injustices and tyrannies that he witnesses in life. Jalib himself remained a victim of a cruel social order. He was imprisoned for some time after being wrongly implicated in various crimes. With no regular source of income, he had a rootless existence, but he never considered compromising with his tormentors and coming to terms with established order. And yet Jalib’s poetry only reflects his anguish. It is not an expression of his anger or frustration. At times it is pensive, couched in sarcasm, but his typical soft melodious tone is always there. He believed that the Pakistani leaders should stop obeying the Westerners. His following poem reflects this. "Farangi ka jo main darbaan hota Tho jeena kis kadar aasaan hota Meray bachay bhi amreeka may parthay Main Har garmi may main Inglistaan hota Meree English bhi balaa ki chusth hotee Balaa say jo na main Urdu-daan hota Sar jhuka kay jo ho jaata sir main Tho leader bhi azeem-u-shaan hota Zameenain meree har soobay may hoteen May wallah sadr-e-Pakistan hota" Death Habib Jalib died at Lahore, Pakistan. His family refused the offer of the then government to pay for his funeral expenses.)

The Best Poem Of Habib Jalib

The Garden Is A Bloody Mess

Our eyes yearn for greenery
The garden is a bloody mess
For whom should I sing my songs of love
The cities are all a wilderness
The garden is a bloody mess

The rays of the sun, they sting
Moonbeams are a killing field, no less
Deep shadows of death hover at every step
Life wears a skull and bone dress
All around the air is on prowl
With bows and arrows, in full harness
The garden is a bloody mess

The battered buds are like a sieve
The leaves drenched in blood smears
Who knows, for how long
We’ll have this rain of tears
People how long do we have to bear
These days and nights of sorrow and distress
This oppressor’s blood bath is a frolicsome play
For the mighty of the world, a mark of their prowess
The garden is a bloody mess

Not: This poem is about the oppression in East Pakistan (Bangladesh) in 1971.

[Translation of Urdu Poem 'Bagiya Lahoo Luhan']

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