August, 1947
ye daG-daG ujaalaa, ye shab-gaziidaa sahar
wo intezaar tha jiskaa, ye wo sahar to nahii.n
ye wo sahar to nahii.n jiskii aarzoo lekar
chale the yaar ke: mil jayegi kahii.n na kahii.n
falak ke dashth me.n taaro.n kii aakhirii manzil
kahi.n to hogaa shab-e-sustmoujh kaa saahil
kahi.n ti jake rukegaa safiin-e-gam-e-dil
jawa.N lahuu kii pur asraar shahraaho.n se
chale jo yaar to daaman pe kitne haath paDe
dayaar-e-husn kii be-sabra khwaabgaaho.n se
pukaarti rahii.n baahe.n, badan bulate rahe
bahut azeez thii lekin ruKh-e-sahar kii lagan
bahut karii.n tha hasiinane noor kaa daaman
subuk-subuk thi tamanna dabi-dabi thi thakan
sunaa hai ho bhi chukaa hai firaaq-e-zulmat-e-noor
sunaa hai ho bhi chukaa hai wisaal-e-manzil-o-gaam
badal chukaa hai bahut ahal-e-dard kaa dastoor
nishaat-e-wasl halaal-o-azaab-e-hijr-e-haraam
jigar kii aag, nazar kii umang, dil kii jalan
kisii pe chaar:e-hijra.N kaa kuchch asar hii nahii.n
kahaa.N se aayii nigaar-e-sabaa kidhhar ko gaii
abhii chiraaG-e-sar-e-rah ko kuchch khabar hii nahii.n
abhii garaanii-e-shab me.n kamii nahi.n aaii
nazaat-e-deed’h-o-dil kii ghadii nahi.n aaii
chale chalo ki wah ma.nzil abhi nahi.n aaii
–Faiz Ahmed Faiz, 14th August 1967
Rough draft by Sundeep Dougal, sometime in the 1980s.
The Dawn of Freedom,
August 1947
This scarred, marred brightness, this bitten-by-night dawn –
The one that was awaited, surely, this is not that dawn.
This is not the dawn yearning for which
Had we set out, friends, hoping to find sometime, somewhere
The final destination of stars in the wilderness of the sky.
Somewhere, at least, must be a shore for the languid waves of the night,
Somewhere at least must anchor the sad boat of the heart.
On the sensuous, secretive streets of young blood,
When we set out, friends, who knows how many hands tugged at the sleeves
From the impatient dreamlands of beauty’s pleasure-houses,
Arms persistently reached out and bodies beckoned,
But very dear was the longing for mere dawn,
Very near was the hem of beauteous light:
Desires, delicate and light; languor, suppressed and slight.
It’s claimed that darkness and light are already separated,
It’s claimed that the seeking and the sought have already united,
That the lot of those who suffered has already changed a lot:
The pleasure of union is allowed, torment of separation is banished.
Fire in the belly, longing in the eyes, burning in the heart:
None is affected at all by the anguish of separation
From where came that sweet breeze and where it went,
The street lamp has no inkling yet
The heaviness of the night has not lifted yet
The moment of salvation for the heart and the eyes has not arrived yet
Juvenilia 