Adarsh Ajit
Name of the book : shabd kun pai
Name of the poet : Makhan Lal Kanwal
Publisher : Pamposh Publications
‘No point to speak truth. Even Socrates was poisoned’
Makhan Lal Kanwal’s book of poetry shabd kun pai is a blend of metaphor, love, prudence, philosophy, satire, irony, sense of loss, pain of separation, desperation and exile. He has used diverse patterns of poetic mechanism. The mix-up of nazams and ghazals with ‘time’ and ‘man’ as two main genres shows the potential authority of Sahitya Academny Award winning poet.
Kanwal has an intense desire for creating and living in a world where the aroma of love is sensed all-around, from time, from men and from nature. But the rejection of human relations makes him melancholic. Yet he intends to carve the ‘love’ on the hostile draught of time. He prays to infinity to give him the passion for doing such an exercise:
lol khana ha dekas ba yath waqtas
jaan-i-jaanana teuth machchar dikhnaa
The frantic search of love has taken him to the burning deserts. He has travelled through the scorching heat and the icy winds. He is in the long wait, in the shadow of death, day and night, just for a look or for having a sole talk with his beloved—imaginative, physical or spiritual.
Poet’s eyes are out of their sockets in the labour of crediting the debits. But he is gravely annoyed on seeing shallow depth of his beloved. He alleges that had his beloved been qualified enough, the stars would have blessed her.
tame agar kenh aayi lolake yaar parimate aasahan
tame ti husnas zotavane kenh laal jarimate aasahan(Had she read the couplets of love, she would have been addition to the beauty of jewels)
The poet is of the firm conviction that the truth has been buried. Falsehood demeans the truth. Kanwal has lost his ‘tomorrow’ in chanting the mantra of ‘present’. In a rhythmic and musical ghazal laba tal shaal Kanwal says:
qadmas qadmas kaal mateo
chui vahravith zaal mateo. (There is the mesh of death spread at every step)
In samyuk shaap Kanwal is fire against the trends which erased and burnt the concept of faith and humanity. In a painful cry he says that the sacred hermitage has been put on fire. Kanwal’s wounds bleed on seeing the cultural identity fading and the ethos ceasing. He fancies the handsome bridegroom of Lal crushed and ground under feet. In a veiled attack on the leadership he also tries to give inquisitive pricks that they have built up mansions in Sidhra but have not left Gupkar. Having strategic approach against the follies he exposes the hidden tyrannical mindset though he knows that even Socrates was not spared for telling the truth
poz wan-nas chaa vaar kanwal
sam suqraatai chov haiyo(No point to speak truth, Even Socrates has been poisoned)
The poet says that for no fault, he has been made to bleed. Despite the unabated assaults his murderer is still not satisfied with the tortures he inflicted.
Kanwal’s poetry has multiple levels, tunes and tenors, and dimensions. He speaks of mundane. He flies to skies. He mixes up with stars. He becomes falcon. He is on the high flight and next time vultures tease him. He keeps pace with the blowing clouds and at the same time, he undergoes a complete post-mortem of his karmas and his mundane exercises. Despite his laborious exercises he finds himself at square one:
chum yi chhaayut Panun laban larith
hay panenken laban lewaan roodus
In a ghazal comprising of nine couplets the poet has worked on a sole topic called ‘snow’, the traces of reminisces of his past. He wants to buy snow but is not available in the market. For him snow is a panacea which cools down his burning pain. He emotionally bursts out and says that the snow in the crematorium would erase the blackness. He wants to rub the snow on every part of his body. But he is largely disappointed on the changing pattern of nature itself. Kanwal says that nowadays the mountain cliffs are without snow:
teli as path wana waataan dale
wane chun-na sangran paanas sheen (Today even the cliffs are bereft of snow but in the past I used to get it as a gift). Kanwal admits that none could have saved him as all the tides were strongly against him. It was utterly out of the control of resistance devices. Thus he portrays the happenings of the valley allegorically:
kya yupis shup dola deth hamihay vullar
zeer vija heund vaaw malaran oasya(It was not simple blowing of air but an aggressive typhoon. There was no escape)
The poet wishes, sometimes positively, but sometimes scornfully, if there was a separate deity of exile who watches lakhs of humans scattered on the mountainous paths, naked and barefoot. Cursing himself as an exile in his own country, the seal on his forehead divulges that he is an alien. He warns his fellowmen to remain silent otherwise he will be a ‘seek-kabaab’ but at the same time he heaves a sigh of relief that the dead bodies would be still able to buy the shroud:
az agarai marakh ta valnai lukh
kafna vuni dastiyaab vaanan pethh
In a nazam marcha pipin Kanwal is revolving round a pivot with a heavy load on his back.
mehvaras peth chus nachaan, atti baari doh chum, zindagi heund gob setthaa(I am moving round an axle and the burden of life is large).
Sometimes on his shoulders are the uncontrolled flames of fire, and the evil handshakes with the unrestrained senses. Then he symbolises himself with the unbridled horse. For him the wheel of time moves fast and all his attempts fail to catch hold of it. Some other time his feet sink in the desert which throws out fire. His blisters reveal his inner self. In kuner he succeeds to spend the night in memory of his beloved but feels uneasy in the crowds. His loneliness will kill him. Recalling his pain and illness, he feels eruption of a new disease that adds salt to his wounds. He searches for the healers but finds everyone like him:
magar haa paana daadee dade heth, yem chi sari laa-alaaj(All are like him bearing the incurable diseases).
At various occasions the poet tries to unfold the secrets of the tickling of the hands of the clock. He believes that the end of the time is the end of the life itself:
chehis pata cheuh, branzis pata brunz chu laaraan, ta khoni hund taam waataan, aawaranebal(A second follows second, minute follows minute and the resultant is the crematorium).
In another nazam nafsa mot the poet says that time makes man pass his life in filling his empty stomach. From birth to death the demon of hunger follows the living.
yaam thana peov, tas borukh babiteund, motthus sorui wadun….awpagah, paana nanavorui, phalen path laari, zan halkarehoon(He forgot the weeping when a nipple was put into the infant’s mouth. Now, he will be after the food like a mad dog until his end).
Mohd Yousuf Teng has written the foreword to the book whereas Rattan Lal Shant has written an enlightened literary essay on the poetry of Kanwal under the caption naveena tajruba ta naveena zubaan. Dr Hamidi Kashmiri, Dr. Amar Malmohi, Ghulam Nabi Aatash and Ranjoor Tilagami have adorned the poetry of M L Kanwal with their opinions.
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