"Musht-e-Noor"

Thundering monsoon clouds and the noisy downpour reminded me of the day when more than 4 decades ago, I had etched some kind of history in romance at a time when such an act was unthinkable and considered treason in the sensitive fabrics of our conservative minded Indian societies and Hindu culture.

One afternoon, I was playing golf and was nearing the 12th hole, when suddenly a thunderstorm broke. The sky turned into a canopy of dark grey clouds, the flag on the green ahead began to flutter violently in the furious rain filled wind, everything came to a halt. Me and my caddie Balram, bolted from the fairway and took shelter under the Pilkhan tree. Drenched completely, we stood helplessly under the tree watching the fury of nature. The relentless onslaught of wind blew off my cap which sailed away like a feather and vanished from our sight.

It was the time when I had just about finished writing my book “An untold saga” and was still toying with the thought of maybe adding one more chapter towards its end, but had finally decided against it.

That afternoon it seemed we were trapped in one spot by the thunderstorm, with nothing else to do my mind began to wander. The book is almost done, what next??, I began to ask myself. By the time I carted back to the club house roughing through slush and soggy grass, I had more or less settled with the answer. It was to be for me some kind of an experiment, one that I would enjoy indulging in for the first time. I realised there was no risk involved, in any case, considering that I had no name or any kind of repute as writer or a poet for that matter, I had nothing to loose. I choose to go ahead. Let the devils or the angels decide the rest, I told myself.

I had maintained another notebook (other than the black Moleskine diary mentioned in my book - “An untold saga”), this old notebook had been resting inside my Oakwood cupboard unopened for quite a while. I began to recall - on its old pages I may have something engaging to share with people, who probably saw me as someone who only wrote English prose. A new exciting initiative began to take shape.

This notebook had also been my travelling companion since long. I had been using it sometimes to capture a thought or an emotion at certain moments. It was always a spontaneous prompt and I would feel the urgency to express which would urge me to record it on its vacant pages before the sensitive feel of the moment escaped my grip.

That same night after the storm had subsided and a few stars had began to appear in the night sky, I sat on my terrace thinking about the fragility of human life and its finite span on our planet’s unscaled timeline. This realisation has never failed to reawaken and motivate me, it reminds me of the non-stop flow of time and often commits me to attempting ideas still hibernating in my thoughts. That night, I decided to pick out some compositions from this notebook and share them with you in the form of a handy book.

This small compendium which I have put together is called; “Musht-e-Noor” (A handful of radiance). It strives to capture some deeper thoughts and reflections that we as humans are likely to encounter at some point in our life. I hope you will be able to feel the gentle glow and essence of these verses and the emotional experience each one carries you through. I am hopeful you will embrace the challenge they draw on the canvas of your mind and savour the thoughtful tranquillity they may drown you in. I will feel fulfilled, if for a while they can take you away from the stress filled selfish commercial world into another one which is enveloped in timeless silence, where you live with your deeper inner being to explore its untouched realm.

I admit without hesitation or regret, that I am a novice in this genre of writing. However this work is a consequence of my somewhat poetic attempts at different times, in different places. It is perhaps an unpolished and primitive exhibit of the strange and passionate romance between the eager nib of my Montblanc pen and the worn-out pages of this faithful old notebook.

In some ways perhaps it is my hopeful attempt to introduce the priceless spell of poetry and verse to the corporate fraternity, my friends and many others, who forever remain burdened and occupied, meeting the demanding responsibilities and mundane routines of their high-flying corporate jobs.

In my mind there was never any doubt that there is so much more to human life than our businesses alone. The need to realise this is even more now than it was ever before. The pace and dynamics of our modern day living, leave us no time and thought for this bygone treasure which for centuries has brought healing and solace to those who seek it.

“Musht-e-Noor" is likely to provide you an unexpected relief and a sense of elation. It might even get you started off towards a new trail of self discovery, the silent alchemy of which you can begin to feel in your rushed lifestyles. It can be a revealing companion for you during your long haul flights and business journeys.

This uplifting form of written wizardry is slowly dwindling away from our lives. Today, we seldom hear of evenings ignited in shayari and poetry. The cloak of modernisation and material mindsets has taken over almost completely. Those glorious times have mostly been replaced by small talks, gossips and malice towards others, unlike in the days of my childhood when the evenings in our sitting room were often vibrant with my father’s friends and guests. I can still easily recall the soulful ambience in the room when verses were exchanged and poetry recited amidst the tinkling crystal glasses of Black dog or Dimple whiskies. It was an altogether another kind of ethereal high, subtle and engaging, the charm and glow of which escapes many today.

The idea was to present you with a random collection of my works from this old notebook. It includes Poetry, Shayari, Rubai, Ghazal, Nazm and also some Haiku. In my elementary understanding these are all different forms of human expression or thoughts or narration which have evolved across the centuries from different geo-cultural rootings and fields of thought. Records or history can only take us back till a pre-determined time or era, after which the absence and ambiguity of more evidence disallows us to go any deeper. 

Despite of many claims we read about, I believe this art of human communication goes even further far back into time than the historical records prompt us to believe. Different views exist today about this and I am not competent enough to support or dismiss any of these views, considering the limited knowledge I have yet on this. In general most people seem to have accepted a common history. Any lingering doubts or debates that existed have nearly vanished with time.

However the genesis of poetic sounds and compositions can be traced back to very ancient times in the timeline of human evolution. It seems at some stage, the evolving human mind started to feel the need for some kind of a mnemonic assistance to memorise important informations and other elements vital for cohesive community survival and social bonding. The basic use of rhyme and rhythm thus seems to have come into play to facilitate human memory. This may have resulted in the origins of something which we today call poetry.

One of the oldest recorded compositions found in the archives is the ‘Epic of Gilgamesh’. It dates back to around 2100 BCE and was written in cuneiform script on clay tablets. It originated in the Sumerian culture in ancient Mesopotamia, these can be found inside the Sulaymaniyah Museum in present day Iraq. The poem imprinted on them with a stylus made of reed, expresses the story of Gilgamesh who was the king of Uruk.

Compositions of poetic character and flow were used to inspire common people and in praise of the kings and warriors or in religious contexts. Poetry has existed for many centuries and has been used in different avatars including as a form of social protest capable of delivering hidden political messages or satire wrapped within seemingly innocent rhyming of words.

English Poetry came into play as a way of memorising history or genealogy or a prayer. It originally existed in the forms of hymns and chants around the 7th century during the Anglo-Saxon period and was a verbal art. It began to evolve thereafter into different styles and forms including Sonnet, Elegy, Epic and Lyric. Poesy (the art of poetry creation), was the actual term in use prior to the 20th century. Poets of great competence and influence have contributed to the verve of history and the cultural panache of societies of those times.

The mesmerizing treasure of Shayari which has stemmed out of the Persian language finds its earliest traces in the times of mystic poet Sant Kabir (1440-1518 CE). It began to evolve into a subtle form of structuring during the 15th century and by mid 18th century it reached its zenith. It is a cherished part of today’s North Indian and Pakistan’s culture. A Rubaiyat, expressed generally in a quatrain form, also owes its origin to Persian.

In the 12th century after the Mughal invaders had begun to settle in the Indian subcontinent leading to the Hindu Muslim mingling, the process had already made a start. Infused with a sensitive fusion of expressional elements in literary styles, its golden era had commenced. The society’s appeal of the Urdu language and the soul it granted to Shayari began to diffuse the limitations of linguistic barriers and the use of Hindustani together with Urdu gradually came to be accepted. By the later half of the 18th century this style of language use in creation of Shayari turned into common practice in various parts of Hindustan.

During the 13th century the brilliant and versatile poet Amir Khusrau had already written the first couplets that appealed to the people and triggered the culture of reciting verses in social gatherings especially amongst those of the elite.

The dynamics and influences of the literary movements across the centuries offers us a closer glimpses of the social journey and the flowering stages of Shayari from its earliest times to its present forms. Perhaps there exists no precise count of the numerous poets and people who have contributed to its blossoming in some way or another. Its flaming mashal has kept burning across the course of history and despite of the occasional quirks and eccentricities of some of them, they have all been a part of its enrichment.

There were also several extraordinary and distinguished ones who added a rare flavour to Urdu verse and poetry. I am tempted to mention the names of Abdul Qadir Bedil (1642 to 1720) the Indo-Persian poet and Sufi philosopher who rose to prominence in the Persian speaking societies with his depth and complexity of verse, Mirza Asadullah Khan Ghalib (1797-1869) of Turk ancestry, Muhammad Ibrahim Zauq (1790–1854) the poet laureate of the Mughal Court in Delhi, Mir Taqi Mir (1723 -1810) also a Poet of Mughal India, Momin Khan Momin (1800-1852) who was known specially for his Ghazals.

We also had Nawab Daagh Dehlvi (1831–1905) the master of romantic Ghazals who belonged to the Dabistan-e-Dehli (Dehli school of thought), Dr Muhammad Iqbal (1877–1938) the Philosopher poet, Faiz Ahmad Faiz (1911–1984) the Pakistani poet and Firaq Gorakhpuri (1896 -1982) a pre-modern poet.

Stepping even further back into time, we are reminded of the distinguished works of Omar Khayyam (1048-1131) a genius Polymath and Jalāl al-dīn Muhamad Rumi (1207–1273) the Sufi philosopher and poet. The works of every one of them have become immortal with the passage of time.

Originating from Qasidas in Arabic poetry, Ghazal seems to have already originated in the 7th century. Its compositions began to gain momentum during the late 9th century and by 12th century under the influence of Sufi mystics, ghazal began to evolve into the most superior form of expression in poetry of the subcontinent. Nazm was another genera of the same form, it was a kind of descriptive poetry which ended with a certain conclusion written in rhymed verses. It can also be traced back to Arabia.

Haiku, a form of Japanese poetry began around the 13th century and took wings in the 17th centaury. By the 19th centaury it became a revered form of poetry in Japanese literature and a brilliant answer to long poetry traditions. It focused on brief moments in time to paint images and a climax message.

A few compositions in the book are in English which I can speak, read and write. Some are partly in Hindi which I can speak but can sparingly write, while some are in Urdu which I can neither read nor know how to write, but can manage to express in elementary vocabulary fused with the traditional Hindustani. The prompt and concern was to ensure that everybody could understand, especially the English speaking Indian reader not familiar with Urdu, therefore I have used simple everyday Urdu words. The decision also suited me, considering my own limitations of Urdu language.

The linguistic sensitivity and feel of Urdu I seem to have inherited from my late father (an aficionado of Persian poetry and verse who had translated the Quran, the Baburnama and several other Persian works into the English language for my closer understanding of history). I realise today his imprint on my inclinations are unmistakable.

Poetic or not, every composition that appears in “Musht-e-Noor” was inspired by a certain state of mind or a specific situation, a thought or a particular mood in those moments. These were written across the years from as early as 1979 till the recent years at different places during my many travels.

Some got created at places as remote as the middle of Mediterranean Sea or at a deserted rail station somewhere in the European countryside or on an abandoned airstrip sitting inside an ultralight flying machine, while some were penned sitting inside a Doom Tent surrounded by a blizzard and tearing winds or resting on the mud floor of a hut in an Indian village or while waiting on a broken bench outside a festive temple. Some were written in the sitting room of my tranquil little home or some in isolated wilderness amidst untamed wild animals and undisturbed nature. There are many other locations, the names of which I had pencilled down alongside each one of them in my diary, but over the years many of their names have faded gradually as does a man’s history with time.

The contrast of locations where each has been penned often makes me wonder about the cherished companionship of this old notebook and its journeys across many lands and places. If it had not been with me, I could not have presented you with “Musht-e-Noor”.

The compositions may appear evident in inexperience or odd enough to make anyone wonder at the literary experiments of an otherwise passionate adventurer and a curious traveller, prompted by the random calls of the need to express deeper thought and emotion through verse and poetry.

In my imagination, I think nearly every human has some kind of a poet buried somewhere inside, maybe not always one with a leaning for rhyme, nonetheless a human desiring to express. It would be divine for him to be able to feel liberated by being able to stand aloof from the haze of emotions that constantly flow through his mind but to accomplish that would be quite impossible in present day’s tranquillity starved world.

It is finally the bliss of verse and poetry that grants him the grand window from which to look out at the world and give voice and expression to his emotions, agonies and ecstasies. It is upon him to explore his inner universe that interestingly goes well beyond himself, but he is unaware that it exists. It is his absolute ignorance about its unimaginable presence that he easily gets imprisoned in routines of restless existence.

Once he discovers its presence, he inevitably gets drawn into exploring its silent symphonies. And when this happens, the spell of poetry appears in his life in its mesmerizing forms and a new journey commences, one which can make him travel through unknown infinities and time.

- Neel Thakur (Author) Gurugram

It may sound unusual, but I desire to begin by thanking all those places and the energies surrounding them, which inspired a thought in me and prompted me to reach for my pen and this old notebook. In some strange way each time this happened, wherever it happened, it resulted in some verse or poetry.

A great many thanks to my family for living up with my unpredictable bursts of poetic flows or the cascade of thoughts, which they always endured, often with encouraging calm and humour.

I also owe an unending gratitude to my old friend Gafoor Wahid, who sat patiently at the other end of the phone, listening to each ‘recitation’ with devoted ears. Quietly sitting under the old Chinar tree in the beautiful garden of his home in Kashmir (near the Nageen lake, Srinagar), he helped me to get the first feel of my work from people’s perspective. In doing so, his extraordinary sense of hearing remained sharply alert to the sounds of every word in the verse, its feel, sense and rhyme. I could not have found a better critic nor a truer well wisher than a friend who could feel things deeper than the rest of us, a man endowed with exceptional abilities who could sense humans from their voices. He can only hear us but cannot see us, being visually impaired, having lost his sight completely long ago. An alumnus of the American International school in Chanakyapuri New Delhi, he is in love with every form of poetry or shayari which he has been listening to regularly since many years.

It were his impromptu comments along with those of his wife Ruksana’s, who also sat through our long telephonic sessions over the speaker phone that prompted me into further short listing some of the compositions which appear in ‘Musht-e-Noor’.

A young artist added subtle outline sketches attempting to match the feel reflecting on few pages. Masha’s grasp of my compositions and the essence they communicate is much appreciated.

I am thankful to several other people including friends who encouraged my first attempt to share with people what lay ignored for several decades inside an old notebook. I wish to also thank Bineet and Raja, who were forthcoming in suggesting me to include some of the verses, which I may have otherwise rejected.

It was also in someways a matter of fated circumstances that I began to attend Jashan-e-Rekhta events. It was one winter evening, where I first witnessed the mesmerizing effects of shiyari and verse on the heads and hearts of a large audience. The event was inspiring, I am thankful to the organisers and to the guiding presence of Javed Akhtar Shaib, that evening he reaffirmed my belief that poetry and verse is still alive amongst many a fortunate fraternities and is slowly making a come back into our lives.

My occasional visits to Mazar-e-Ghalib, listening to the poetry filled silence around the glimmering evening lamp in its courtyard or the moments spent at the nearby tomb of Amir Khusrau in the sufi shrine of Hazrat Nizamuddin Auliya, have both played a role in the tide of inspiration to complete this book. I remain for ever grateful to these invisible masters of thought and poetic expressions whose lifetime works live in our hearts today.

I am also grateful to Ameer Shaib, whom I had the fortune of meeting, who invited me to attend the Literary and Poetic Meet organised by the Delhi Urdu Academy at Jamia Millia Isalamia, where I was introduced to veterans of Urdu Shayari. It was the beginning of a serious learning process and the discovery of my own literary limitations.

This acknowledgement cannot be complete without thanking Late Dr. Tabish Mehdi for his blessings and guidance, the afternoon he spent with me over lunch turned out to be invaluable. It gave me a deeper understanding of the sensitive dynamics of thought and verse. I also wish to thank Nizami and Sultanpuri Shaib for their lessons on the finer essence and order in Shayari. A great many thanks to Dehlvi Shaib, who sat patiently on a bench outside the Auditorium at Jamia Millia, listening to my original work and performing the role of an encouraging tutor to get the best out of me.

It was indeed a fascinating experience to compile “Musht-e-Noor”. I am grateful to every person, who helped, either directly or otherwise to bring it to its final stages. This includes those whom I have still not met but who have been interested enough in my works to become my sincere friends and critics from as far away as Windermere and London in the West for my English Poetry and Kyoto in the Far East for the Haiku I wrote.

My sincere gratitude finally to my ‘publisher’ for trusting the experimental work of a debutant, triggered by the compel of expressing some thoughts and life’s situations in verse and poetry.

- Neel Thakur (Author). Gurugram