Jab Mehfil-E Yazid Mein Dakhil Haram Hue: A Marsiya by Mirza Dabeer
The power that repeating stories holds over people is to make them feel moments so deeply as though they had lived through them. In grief, particularly, tales that resonate most are ones where listeners identify themselves with the characters. Much of the Muharram lamentation draws its uncanny power from this sentiment.
Muharram is the first month of the Islamic calendar and one of mourning for Imam Hussain and his companions who laid down their lives in the Battle of Karbala – a battle that has become emblematic of the proverbial fight between good and evil. Karbala was also a remarkable resistance against power despite the enemies vastly outnumbering the small 72-person army of Imam Hussain, the grandson of the Prophet. Every culture finds its own ways of commemoration and in North India, this takes the form for a marsiya – an elegy mourning the dead set in a poetic format.
One of the leading marisya writers of his time was Mirza Salaamat Ali Dabeer (1803 - 1875) and his rivalry with Mir Anis (read an earlier Daak about him ) is legendary – though their relations seem to have been cordial and pleasant. While stylistically distinct, both were instrumental in developing marsiya as a genre and taking it to the peak in the Urdu literary circle of North India.
Traditionally read aloud or set to the tune of a classical raga of mourning, each marsiya comprises 11 sections – it begins with a chehra, a salutation to God, the Prophet or his family or sometimes a depiction of the majesty of nature; a majrah, an introduction to the main character; rukhsat, farewells as they set out to battle; jung, description of the battlefield and shahdat, their martyrdom, among other sections. While most marsiya depict the scenes of battle, some talk about the plight of the women of the family after the battle was over. Bibi Zainab, the daughter of Imam Ali and granddaughter of the Prophet, is credited for speaking truth to power and as the original narrator of the events of Karbala, kepeing the memory of the battle alive.
This marsiya by Mirza Dabeer depicts her in the court of Yazid, after the martyrdom of her brother, her family and their companions.
Jab Mehfil-e Yazid mein dakhil haram hue
Ghash aaya har qadam pa ye zulm-o-sitam hue
Zainab pukaari haadise aise bhi kum hue
Sar cut gaya Hussain ka sarnange hum hue
Allah ki dohai Nabi ki dohai hai
Zehra ki beti saamne hakim ke aai hai
//
When the caravan of the prisoners entered the court of Yazid,
At every step they faltered because of his evil deeds
Zainab exclaimed, such calamity that no other could exceed
Our veils were snatched, now that Hussain’s head bleeds
In the name of Allah, in the name of his Prophet, Why oh why!
Zehra’s daughter stands alone in front of the tyrant, Why oh why!
Maujood anjuman men sagheer o kabeer hain
Hakim ke gird kursiyon pa sab ameer hain
Khasaan-e zul-jalaal haqir o faqir hain
Mushkil kusha ke khurd o kalaan sab aseer hain
Keh de koi Ali se yeh Darus Salaam mein
Zainab ka dakhila hua darbaare aam mein
//
The court is full of people some are young and some are old
And the notables sit on chairs that are inlaid with gold
Yet the beloved of God are prisoners, the pain takes it toll
The family of Ali who vanquishes trouble is in chains now, behold!
Someone go tell Ali in the abode of peace now
His daughter, Zainab stands in front of a tyrant now
Marsiya in Urdu not only detail the situation and the surroundings, but also adapt laments of the women to those that are familiar to Urdu speakers’ ears – localising this universal grief by expressing it in resonant, vernacular metaphors.
Ay logon Karbala se mere bhai ko bulao
Ay logon mere gesuon wale javaan ko lao
Ay logon mera hadisa Abbas ko sunao
Ay logon yaadgare Hasan se kaho ke aao
Qasim se haai kuch na kumak us ghadi hui
Yeh baal khole kiski dulhan hai khadi hui
//
O People fetch my brother, please call him here
O People fetch my long tressed nephew dear
O people of my travails, Abbas must hear
O people tell the martyred son of Hasan come near
Woe that Qasim could not reach for help at this hour
Who’s widowed bride is withering like a wilted flower
It is no wonder then that the commemoration of Muharram took on a life of its own and became an inclusive expression of not only grief, but also of the oppressed standing up for the truth in the face of tyranny. With the many characters – the young and the old, new brides and young sons, husbands and brothers, mothers and their daughters, brave warriors and new born babies – each listener finds a connection to those whose situation they find mirrored in their own lives.
Yeh kahti theen abhi woh shaheedon ki sogvaar
Nagaah aaya ghusse se wahaan Shimre nabkaar
Boli laraz laraz ke Sakina jigar figaar
Amma kahin chupa mujhe beti tere nisaar
Amma udhaao goshaye chadar Sakina ko
Amma bithao goad ke andar Sakina Ko
//
This was the lament, as the martyrs she did mourn
When suddenly accursed Shimr entered with much scorn
Sakina cried out in panic, such was the pain she’d borne
Hide me O mother for my scarf this man had torn
Hide me O mother please hide me, under your tattered veil
Take me in your arms, O mother, protect me from this gale
Soorat se uski darti hoon Amma main kis qadar
Pehloo main dil larazta hai seene men jigar
Dekho to haath rakh ke paseene mein main hoon tar
Aise na ho tamanche lagaye phir aan kar
Bibi kaheen na mujhpa jafa begunah ho
Ab to main roi bhi nahin tum sab gavaah ho
//
I tremble at his sight mother, I am fearful of his gaze
My heart is broken and now I see nothing but a haze
My tunic is now soaked in sweat, in pain I am ablaze
I remember his cruelty, see, how hand is now raised
You know I am innocent but will he be cruel again
Are you not witnesses? From tears I have refrained!
Translation by Ali Khan Mahmudabad.
You can read the full marsiya, written in the traditional slant here.