Pash
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Pash (ਅਵਤਾਰ ਸਿੰਘ ਪਾਸ਼, sometimes spelled Paash) was the pen name of Avtar Singh Sandhu (September 9, 1950 - March 23, 1988), an Indian poet. His strongly left-wing views were reflected in his poetry.
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[edit] Biography
He was born in Talwandi Salem, Jalandhar, Punjab, growing up in the struggle between the Naxalite movement and working class, poverty-stricken Punjabs, during the so-called Jujharu (rebellious era). He published his first book of revolutionary poems, Loh-Katha (Iron Tale) in 1970; his militant and provocative tone raised the ire of the establishment and a murder charge was hastily brought against him. He spent nearly two years in jail, before being finally acquitted.
On acquittal, he became involved in Punjab's maoist front, editing a literary magazine, Siarh (The Plow Line). He became a popular political figure on the left during this period, and was awarded a fellowship at the Punjabi Academy of Letters in 1985. He toured the United Kingdom and the United States the following year; while in the U.S., he became involved with the Anti-47 Front, opposing Sikh nationalist violence; in retribution, he was murdered at the hands by a Sikh group in 1988.
[edit] Literary works
- Loh-katha (Iron-Tale) (1970),
- Uddian Bazan Magar (Following The Flying Hawks) (1973),
- Saadey Samiyaan Vich (In Our Times) (1978), and
- Khilre Hoey Varkey (Scattered pages) (1989)
Khilre Hoey Varkey was posthumously published in 1989 after his death, followed by his journals and letters. A selection of his poems in Punjabi, Inkar, was published in Lahore in 1997. His poems have been translated in many languages including other Indian languages, Nepali and English.
[edit] Quotes about Pash
"The best known name in the Left and progressive movements in modern Punjabi literature, Pash followed an old Punjabi tradition of fighting against oppression and it was almost as if he were a reincarnation of one of the renowned Punjabi freedom fighters.""He took the banner of the Naxalite movement to actively participate in radical politics that landed him in jail for a couple of years on a trumped up murder charge, and finally got him brutally murdered in broad daylight at the age of 38."
"The intensity of his passion gave some of the best revolutionary poetry to modern Punjabi literature and an alternative to the romantic poetry of Shiv Kumar Batalvi, whom he had admired as a teenager and then challenged by confronting him personally and in writing, creating a fascinating legend of the clash of two major schools of thoughts of Punjabi poetry.""Paash, a famous revolutionary cultural poet combated communal terrorism through the anti-47 Front. Paash fought till the last breadth against the terrorists, till he fell to their bullets in Jalandhar in 1988."
Samartha Vashishtha says in his essay "Politics in Poetry"--"I'd perhaps have accepted the logic put forward by the veteran writer without doubt, had I not spotted earlier a glaring paradox right in his camp. I translate below part of the prefatory note that Paash (1950-1989), one of the leading poets of the Jujharu (rebel) era of Punjabi poetry; and arguably one of the finest poets (pro-people, should I say?) of the 20th Century, wrote for his third book of poems Saade Samiyaan Vich (In Our Times), 1978: "Of those whose poetry has influenced me the most, Kamala Das is still alive. Kalidas left for heaven long back. As for now, I would like to thank Kamala Das. Neruda and Nazim belong to our own camp. So no need to thank them at all."
[edit] Poems
One of his Poems in Punjabi is given below:
Mainu Chahiday Han Kujh Bol (All I Need Is Some Words)
Mainu chahiday han kujh bol
Mainu chahiday han kujh bol
JinnaN da ikk geet banh sakay
Khoh lavo maiThoN ih bheeRh di taiN taiN
SaaRh devo mainu merian nazmaN di dhooni te
Mainu nahin chahiday Ameen Sayaani de dialog
Saambho Anand Bakhshi, tusiN suno Lakhshmi Kaant
Mein ki karna Indra da bhaashan
Mainu taaN chahiday hann kujh bol
JinnaN da ikk geet banh sakayMere munh 'ch tunn dio Yamlay Jatt di toombi
Mere maThay te jhareeT devo Tagore da Nantional Anthem
Meri hikk te chipka devo Gulshan Nanda de naavalMeri piTth te ladd diO Vaajpayee da bojhal pinda
Mere gall ch paa diO Hemant Basu di laash
Mere....... ch de diO Lala Jagat Naryaan da sir
Chalou..mein Mao vi nai lainda
Per mainu diO taaN sahi kujh bol
JinnaN da ikk geet bann sakay...Ih geet mein ohna goongyaN nu daina hai
JinnaN nu gettaN di kadar hai
Per jinnaN nu tuhaday bhaanay gauna nai puggda
Je tuhaday kol nai hai koi bol, koi geet
Mainu bakanh devo! mein ki bakda haan
Translation of one of his poems by Samartha Vashishtha is given below:
Two and Two Three
I can prove
two and two make three.
The present is liestory.
The human face looks like a spoon. You know â€"
bills and bills of a hundred
move on in courts, bus-stands and parks â€"
writing diaries, taking pictures,
completing reports.
Sons are made to rape their mothers
in the 'Law Protection Centres.'
'Dacoits' toil in the fields.
The declaration of accepting demands
is made by dropping bombs.
That loving your own people could mean
spying for the 'enemy nation.'
And the reward for the greatest treachery
could be the highest seat.
So two and two can make three;
the present could be liestory
and the human face too
can look like a spoon.
Dr. Satnam Singh Sandhu of Punjabi University, Patiala translated Pash's poem below.
The Most Dangerous
Most treacherous is not the robbery
of hard earned wages
Most horrible is not the torture by the police.
Most dangerous is not the graft for the treason and greed.
To be caught while asleep is surely bad
surely bad is to be buried in silence
But it is not most dangerous.
To remain dumb and silent in the face of trickery
Even when just, is definitely bad
Surely bad is reading in the light of a firefly
But it is not most dangerous
Most dangerous is
To be filled with dead peace
Not to feel agony and bear it all,
Leaving home for work
And from work return home
Most dangerous is the death of our dreams.
Most dangerous is that watch
Which run on your wrist
But stands still for your eyes.
Most dangerous is that eye
Which sees all but remains frostlike,
The eye that forgets to kiss the world with love,
The eye lost in the blinding mist of the material world.
That sinks the simple meaning of visible things
And is lost in the meaning return of useless games.
Most dangerous is the moon
Which rises in the numb yard
After each murder,
But does not pierce your eyes like hot chilies.
Most dangerous is the song
Which climbs the mourning wail
In order to reach your ears
And repeats the cough of an evil man
At the door of the frightened people.
Most dangerous is the night
Falling in the sky of living souls,
Extinguishing them all
In which only owls shriek and jackals growl,
And eternal darkness covers all the windows.
Most heinous is the direction
In which the sun of the soul light
Pierces the east of your body.
Most treacherous is not the
robbery of hard earned wages
Most horrible is not the torture of police
Most dangerous is not graft taken for greed and treason.
----- ------------ --------------
pawan verma pkverma5@gmail.com
shanti ate yudh
asi jina ne yudh nahi kita,
tere saaoo putt nahi ha zindagi,
unjh asi sda saaoo banna lochde rahe,
asi do rotiya di mardi jehi rjai badle,
yudh de aakar nu sangodna chaheya,
asi beankhi diya tanda wich aman verga kujh bun de rahe,
asi barchhi de vaang hadda ch khube hoye sala nu umar kahnde rahe,
jad har ghadi, kise bifre shreek wang sir te gadkadi rahi,
asi sandook vich luk-luk k yudh nu taalde rahe......
yudh to bachan di laalsa vich bahut nikke ho gye asi,
kade ta hambe hoye peo nu, ann khane bude da naam dita,
kade fikraan grussi teenvi nu chudel da saya kiha,
sda dishadde tenilami de drish tarde rahe,
te asi subak jahiya dheeyan diya akha wich akha pauno darde rahe,
yudh sade sira te akash waang chhayeya reha,
asi dharti wich putte bhoreya nu morche wich badlan to jakde rahe....
dar kade sade hatha te vagar ban k ugg aya,
dar kade sade sira utte pagg ban k saj gya,
dar kade sade manna andar suhaj ban k mahkeya,
dar kade rooha ch' sajjantai ban gya,
kade bulla te chugli ban k bardeya,
ASI HE JINDGI, JINNA NE YUDH NAHI KITA,
TERE BADE MAKKAR PUTT HAA...
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kalaam mirza (pkverma5@gmail.com) teri v akh suneya surma nahi jhalldi,
suneya tere v vaala to kanghi tarbhkdi hai,
te suneya mera v qatal itihas de aunde safeya te likheya,
par shayad hun,
sab kujh pahle jiha na hove,
ho sakda hai tainu kaddan to pahla,
mainu ROTI udhaal k lai jave,
te main jand di bjaye kise kursi de thalle,
jaagda hi vadd dita java,
ho sakda pahla verga kujh v na hove,
main suneya mere qatal da mansuba,
rajdhani vich,
mere JAMMAN to bahut pahla ban chukkeya c,
te PEELU shayar ,
ajkal vishav-vidiyale wich naukri te lag gya,
shayad oh mere qatal nu,
niguni jehi ghatna karar de dewe te shatabdiya tak,
KIRAYE diya nazma likhda rahe,
te pahla wang hun kujh v na hove,
mere kol teer hun kaagaj de han,
jo 5 sala vich ikko hi chalda hai,
te jihde vajjda hai,
oh pani nahi,
MERA LAHU MANGDA HAI,
mere peo dade ne apna khatteya,
haakma de dhidd ch' paya hai,
ate tu jaandi e,
agle BAAGH han BUKKI nahi,
k sanu DANABAAD pahunchan jaavan,
samay da gaid hunda- aitki tu be-fava nahi bandi,
te main bhrava de hunde-sunde,
unna de sahmne hi mareya jaana,
ese layi main kahna,
k shayad sara kujh pahle jiha na hove,
unjh ta teri v akh ,
kahnde surma nahi jhalldi,
te suneya tere v vaala to kanghi tarbkdi hai,
