Taaruf

Ishrat Afreen

mira taaruf

are na puchho

purane zakhmon ko mat kuredo

mira taaruf jo tum samajhte ho vo nahin hai

Introduction

main apni galiyon ki dhuul men khel kar badhi huun

main khvab ki umr men bhi halat se ladi huun

main apne aaba ki qabr par khilne vaali vo khushnuma kali huun

jo apne hone ke jurm men

har saza ko hans hans ke katti hai

Who am I

don’t scratch old wounds

Who am I

Not what you think I am.

I have grown up playing in the dust of my alleyways

I learnt to fight for myself at an age when others

dream dreams

mira taaruf to kuchh nahin hai

mira taaruf to bas vahi hai

jo mujh se pahle aziim ‘ghalib’ ka ‘mir’ ka tha

vo ‘mir’ jis ko khuda-e-sher-o-sukhan ka rutba ata hua tha

magar gada ki tarah mara tha

aziim ‘ghalib’ jo mai ki khairat mangta tha

I am that winsome bud which blooms on my

forefathers’ graves

And must smilingly endure every punishment merely

because it exists

I have no name.

Call me by the name

Of the Great Ghalib* who came before me

By the name of Mir

Mir, who was hailed as the god of Poetics and verse

But who died in poverty

the Great Ghalib

Who had to beg for his wine.