Poetry in the Time of War: Faiz’ Poems on Palestine

This week in Daak:

1. Poetry in the Time of War: Faiz’ Poems on Palestine

2. A Space for Your Inner World of Words

3. Daak Recommends

---

1. Poetry in the Time of War: Faiz’ Poems on Palestine

Around the age of two or three, children, on the threshold of sense-making in a chaotic world, start asking ‘why’. Gradually, as they begin to categorize and understand external stimuli, the world starts feeling like a safe and predictable place. Today, we are faced with this same dilemma in adulthood — asking ‘why’ as we watch our world burning and try to make sense of it. Our questions only bring back empty echoes, and we witness death and destruction on a daily basis.

The conflict in Palestine has only been going on for a little over half a century. But this narrative of us versus them seems to be timeless. For many who don’t know enough, when religion, folklore, politics, and historical wrongdoing intersect, it is difficult to take a stance. But it is easy to see the suffering of innocent people and ask, what can I do about this?

Faiz Ahmad Faiz, the gentle poet and revolutionary from Pakistan who was beloved universally, perhaps found himself asking the same question. Faiz had close ties with Yasser Arafat, Palestinian political leader and former chairman of the Palestinian Liberation Organization (PLO), and Mahmood Darwish, the Arab poet from Palestine. In 1978, during his exile in Beirut, he also became the first non-Arab editor of Lotus, a magazine of Afro-Asian writers, after the Lotus editor and Egyptian writer Youssef al-Sebai was assassinated in Cyprus.

Forever marred by his own exile and loss, Faiz penned beautifully heart wrenching poems, giving voice to the pain, anger, and resilience of Palestinians. In “Falastini Bachche Ke Liye Lori” (A Lullaby for Palestinian Children), he sings a lullaby to console (where consolation is impossible!) children orphaned by war.

mat ro bachche 
ro ro ke abhi 
teri ammi ki aankh lagi hai 

mat ro bachche
kuchh hi pahle 
tere abba ne 
apne gham se ruḳhsat li hai 

mat ro bachche 
tera bhai 
apne khvaab ki titli peechhe 
dur kahin pardes gaya hai 

mat ro bachche 
teri baaji ka 
dola pardes gaya hai 

mat ro bachche 
tere aangan me
murda suraj nahla ke gaye hain 
chandarma dafna ke gaye hain 

mat ro bachche 
ammi, abba, baji, bhai
chand aur suraj 
tu gar roega toh ye sab 

aur bhi tujh ko rulavenge 
tu muskaraega to shayad 
saare ik din bhes badal kar 
tujh se khelne laut aaenge

//

Don’t cry child,
your mother has only
just cried herself to sleep.

Don’t cry child,
just a while ago
your father took leave
of all his sorrows.

Don’t cry child,
your brother has gone
to another land chasing
after the butterflies of his dreams.

Don’t cry child,
your sister has married
and left for another country.

Don’t cry child,
in your courtyard
they bathed the dead sun,
and buried the moon,
before leaving.

Don’t cry child,
if you cry,
mother, father, sister, brother,
the moon and the sun, all
will make you sadder.

But maybe if you smile,
they will all return one day
in a different guise
to play with you.

Perhaps, this is the only way to make sense of the brutality of war: to believe that those whom we have lost have found themselves in a better place of dreams and fantasies. This was Faiz’ revenge and homage — immortalizing the fallen and departed in words that will haunt us forever. In another poem “Falastini Shohda Jo Pardes Mein Kaam Aae” (Palestinian Martyrs Who Died Abroad), he consecrates their memory by fusing them with his own voice and activism.

main jahan par bhi gaya arz-e-vatan 
teri tazlil ke daaghon ki jalan dil me liye 
teri hurmat ke charaghon ki lagan dil me liye 
teri ulfat teri yaadon ki kasak saath gai 
tere naranj shagufon ki mahak saath gai
saare andekhe rafiqon ka jilau saath raha 

//

Wherever I go, my beloved land, 
the pain of your humiliation burns my heart.
But there are compensations: 
Your dignity enhances mine, 
your love walks with me, 
the fragrance of your citrus groves breathes through my mouth. 

The ending of the poem reminds us that wounds of this wrongdoing may heal but generations will carry the scars and reminders of their ravaged home.

jis zamin par bhi khila mere lahu ka parcham 
lahlahata hai vahan arz-e-Filistin ka aalam 
tere aada ne kiya ek Filistin barbaad 
mere zakhmon ne kiye kitne Filistin aabad

//

In whichever soil there blossomed a flag from by blood 
There was the standard of Palestine flying 
Your stab may have destroyed one Palestine 
My wound have populated how many Palestines

---

2. A Space for Your Inner World of Words

Looking for a home for your poetic outpourings? Get this writer’s notebook which is interspersed with poetry and quotes on writing — on the art, significance and place of it — from some of our favourite writers and poets from the subcontinent.

---

3. Daak Recommends

Listen to Faiz’s recitation of “Aaj Bazar Mein Paa-Ba-Jaulan Chalo” (Let Us Walk in the Bazaar in Shackles), a powerful poem on defiance and revolution.

Also, read this article for an in-depth history of Faiz’ exile in Beirut.