Parveen Shakir

Parveen Shakir (1952-1994) has defined the sensibilities of several generations and beyond. At the relatively young age of 42 years, Parveen Shakir died on an empty Islamabad boulevard, as if this was an essential part of her romantic persona. But she had lived a full life where poetry and tragedy intersected each other and became inseparable from her being.



As a young student in high school, I was introduced to Shakir’s romantic poetry, which was best represented by her first collection of poetry ‘Khushbu’. I had won an essay writing competition in Urdu and a delightful award came in the form of this tender volume of poetry. Since then I have always returned to bits and pieces of Khushbu. It may not be according to the cannons of literary theory, but it is spontaneous, fresh and almost dreamlike. Shakir was bearly 24 years old when Khushbu was published and since its first edition, this book has been a best seller wherever Urdu poetry is read or appreciated.
Khushbu turned Shakir into a celebrity. Aside from mushairas, newspapers and public fora, she was ever-present on the Pakistan television, perhaps as its only saving grace during the rigid years of Zia-ul-Haq’s Martial Law. Shakir had a natural talent for public speaking, reciting poetry and just being herself. I remember one monsoon evening in Murree when we were hooked to her presentation on Pakistan’s Independence Day. There was a distinct tenderness in her voice that was in sharp contrast to the platitudes being churned out. Above all she was beautiful. I remember she would read verses from her own work and from the great masters of Urdu poetry with complete ease and immense refinement. In the short period of time that she lived as a poet, Parveen did rather well and was quite prolific. Her later collections comprised Sad Barg (marsh merrygold), Khud Kalami (conversing with one’self), Inkaar (refusal), Maah-e-Tamaam (full moon) and Kaf-e-Aaina (edge of the mirror).




Her raw romanticism runs through her poetry. For instance, yay haseen shaam apni is a love poem of rare beauty; and has always been a favourite of mine. It is composite, taut and melodic; and here is my translation.



This melting evening of ours

Where everything dissolves

The scent of your clothes

The blossoming sprouts of my dreams

A deferred vision, this is

In a little while,

A star will emerge on the horizon

To gaze at you meaningfully…!

Your heart shall then reminisce

The echo of a memory

The tale of a separation,

Of an unfinished moment

Of un-blossomed dreams, things unsaid

We ought to have met

In times, considerate

In pursuit of attainable dreams

On a different sky

On a different earth

We ought to have met



The initial voice of a love struck, yearning Shakir turned serious and questioning before her death. This evolution came about in 1980s when she had to deal with the confines of the Pakistani establishment as a Customs officer. In a later poem, Advice from a senior executive, she opens her heart:



The senior executive in my office

Called me rather unusually to his office one day

And after asking after a file or two

Frowning uneasily he mentioned my un’civil’ pastimes

Shedding light upon the standing of the poetess in a society

The gist of what he said

Was that a poet has the same role in a nation

As an appendix in our bodies

Absolutely Useless, But able at times to cause great pain

So there is only one way of getting rid of it – Surgery!

A faint smile played upon his lips, as he imagined he had rid himself

Of the appendix of my personality



(translated by Rehan Qayoom)



Her poem ‘Working Woman’ also talks of the blurred boundaries and the inevitable double burden. It is well known that Shakir was quite inspired by Fahmida Riaz because Riaz, for the first time in modern Urdu poetry, brought out the powerful feminine voice that was both endearing and challenging to a male dominated society. Fahmida Riaz was not even averse to exploring and expressing her sexuality. Though Shakir never acquired such radicalism, she did manage to establish a niche where the larki (young woman) was pampered. Sometimes this larki would be jealous as to why her lover’s telephone was perpetually engaged and on other occasions this creature laughed with moist eyes. There was however an innate confidence in this young feminine persona: ‘ Iss shart pay khailoon gi piya pyaar ki baazi/Jeetoon to tujhe paoon, haaroon to piya teri ’ (My love, I shall only play the game on one condition/If I win you will be mine and if I lose I shall be yours). Fahmida’s encounter with the poet has been described in these verses:



Parveen, as I watched you read

I remembered my old self

the days when I’d write like you.

But now those poems are faint dreams;

I’ve ‘disowned’ all of them.



(translated by C M Naim)



However, in years to come, Shakir wrote extensively on marital problems, pregnancy, sexuality and much more. One poem, ‘Barafbari ke baad’ is remarkable for its candour.



Notwithstanding her traditional middle class background, Shakir’s espousal of modernity was noticeable. She got married according to the wishes of her parents: an unhappy marriage that culminated in a divorce. This marital choice entailed the greatest of her heartaches when she had to end an intense relationship with a lover who, if I remember correctly, had offered his life just to be with her. This incident was made public after her death when one of her former professors wrote a long piece in an Urdu newspaper stating how the jilted lover was distraught and how Parveen’s romantic ideal had been utterly devastated by a social convention.



Parveen was daring enough to choose a career of her own and bagged a distinguished position in the competitive entry examination for recruitment in the civil services. This became one of the reasons for the divorce, as was related to me by her civil servant friend. Long before single motherhood hit the Pakistani urban landscape, Shakir had become a successful, widely known single mother of her son Murad to whom she addressed a poem ‘Apnay betay kay liye ek nazm ’:



The world expected love from me

As if I had to pay a debt

The coins of my truthfulness

Were trampled in a manner

That if I had not held myself together

We would have been shelter-less

And devoid of social clothing

I have lived in my house

And paid jiziya all my life



(translated by author)



Infinitely brave and individualistic, Parveen was mentored by the legendary Ahmad Nadeem Qasimi. However, with her growing popularity and misunderstandings generated by the people around Qasimi, the two fell out towards the end of her life. 26 December, 1994 was a sad day when Pakistan learnt of her tragic and unexpected death. Never had a Pakistani female poet attained such widespread popularity nor had a death been so untimely. Parveen retained a uniqueness even in death. Fifteen years later she remains intensely popular. If anything, her poetry has been properly reinterpreted and the critics who dismissed her as a poetic lightweight have realized that there was much more to Parveen’s poetic vision than just henna-dyed hands and the broken hearts of adolescent lovers.



Murad must be a confident young man now. I hope he has pondered over this poem “It Has Been Said” translated by CM Naim. I will quote a few moving lines.



… then Zaid cursed Bakar, ‘Your mother

is more well known than your father!’ ”

My son, this curse is your fate too.

In a fathers’ world you too, one day,

must pay a heavy price

for being known by your mother,

though your eyes’ color, your brow’s expanse,

and all the curves your lips create

come from the man

who shared with me in your birth,

yet alone gives you significance

in the eyes of the law-givers.

But the tree that nurtured you three seasons

must claim one season as its own,

to comb the stars, turn thoughts into perfumes,

make poems leapfrog your ancestors’ walls …


Born November 24, 1952

Karachi, Sindh, Pakistan

Died
December 26, 1994 (aged 42)

Islamabad, Pakistan


Occupation

Urdu poet


Nationality

Pakistani


Ethnicity

Urdu speaking


Education
MA [English literature, English language and Bank Administration]; PhD.


Genres

Ghazal; Free verse


Notable work(s) Khushboo

Notable award(s)
Pride of Performance

Adamjee Award

Spouse
Syed Naseer Ali

Children
Syed Murad Ali



Influenced

Parveen Shakir, (Urdu: پروین شاکر) (November 24, 1952 - December 26, 1994) was a Pakistani Urdu poetess, teacher and a civil servant of the Government of Pakistan.

Shakir started writing at an early age, initially under the pen name of Beena, and published her first volume of poetry, Khushbu [Fragrance], to great acclaim, in 1976.[2] She subsequently published other volumes of poetry - all well-received - including Inkaar [Refusal], Sad-barg [Marsh Marigold], Khud Kalami [Conversing with the Self] and Kaf-e-Aa'ina [The Edge of the Mirror], besides a collection of her newspaper columns, titled Gosha-e-Chashm [The Sight Corner], and was awarded one of Pakistan's highest honours, the Pride of Performance for her outstanding contribution to literature.[2]

Shakir died in 1994, as a result of a car accident while on her way to work. On her death the following "Qit'aa-e-Taareekh" was composed:



Surkh phooloN se Dhaki turbat-e-Parveen hai aaj

Jis ke lahje se har ik samt hai phaili khushboo

Fikr-e-taareekh-e-ajal par yeh kahaa Javed nay

Phool ! kah do "hai yahi baagh-e-adab ki khushboo"

1994 A.D.(numerical value)

(From "Dhuwan Dhuwan Chehray",page 183,by Tanwir Phool)

English translation:The tomb of Parveen is covered with red roses today.Her voice was spreading fragrance everywhere.On thinking about the year of her death,the angel told the poet to say "she is the fragrance of garden of literature."



Early career

Shakir started writing at a young age, penning down both prose and poetry, and contributing columns in Urdu newspapers, and a few articles in English dailies.[3] Initially, she wrote under the pen-name, Beena.[2]

Poetry

Shakir's first book, Khushbu (Fragrance), was published in 1976[4] and won Pakistan's Adamjee Award. She subsequently published Sad-barg (Marsh Marigold), Khud kalami (Conversing with the Self), Inkaar (Refusal), Maah-e-Tamam (Full Moon) and Kaf-e-Aa'ina (The Edge of the Mirror), all to great acclaim.[5]

Style

Shakir employed mainly two forms of poetry in her work, one being the prevalent ghazal [plural: ghazalyaat], and the other being free verse. The most prominent themes in Shakir's poetry are love, feminism, and social stigmas, though she occasionally wrote on other topics as well. Her work was often based on romanticism, exploring the concepts of love, beauty and their contradictions, and heavily integrated the use of metaphors, similes and personifications.

Arguably, Shakir can be termed the first poetess to use the word larki(girl) in her works—the male-dominated Urdu poetry scene seldom employs that word, and uses masculine syntax when talking about the 'lover'. Similarly, she often made use of the Urdu first-person, feminine pronoun in her verses which, though extremely common in prose, was rarely used in poetry, even by female poetesses, before her.[6]

Ghazalyaat

Shakir's ghazalyaat are considered "a combination of classical tradition with modern sensitivity,"[5] and mainly deal with the feminine perspective on love and romance, and associated themes such as beauty, intimacy, separation, break-ups, distances, distrust and infidelity and disloyalty.

Most of Shakir's ghazalyaat contain five to ten couplets, often - though not always - inter-related. Sometimes, two consecutive couplets may differ greatly in meaning and context [For example, in one of her works, the couplet 'That girl, like her home, perhaps/ Fell victim to the flood is immediately followed by 'I see light when I think of you/ Perhaps remembrance has become the moon'

Shakir's ghazalyaat heavily rely on metaphors and similes, which are repeatedly and thought-provokingly used to bring force and lyricism in her work. A fine example of this is seen in one of her most famous couplets, "Wo tou khushbu hai, hawaon main bikhar jaye ga/ Masla phool ka hai, phool kidher jayega?" [Translation: He is fragrance and would waft in the air/ the trouble lies with the flower - where shall the flower go?] where Shakir relates 'fragrance' to an unfaithful lover, 'air' to the unfaithful's secret loves, and 'flower' to the person being cheated. Other metaphors Shakir commonly uses are titli [butterfly] for a Romeo, badal [cloud] for one's love, baarish [rain] for affection, and andhi [storm] for difficulties.

Some of Shakir's ghazalyaat or, more specifically, couplets, have gained an iconic status in Urdu literature. One of her most famous couplets if the one given above. Another famous, Shakir couplet is "Jugnuu ko din kay wakt parakhne ki zid karain/ Bachchay hamaray ehed kay chaalaak ho gaye" [They insist upon evaluating the firefly in daylight/ The children of our age, have grown clever], which is often quoted to comment on the often surprising knowledge and awareness of the 21st century child.

Free Verse

As compared to her ghazalyaat Shakir's free verse is much bolder, and explores social issues and taboos, including gender inequality, discrimination, patriotism, deceit, prostitution, the human psyche, and current affairs. It is also much more modern and up-to-date.

Shakir is known for having employed the usage of pop culture references and English words and phrases, that have mixed up with Urdu, in her free verse - a practice that is both generally considered inappropriate, and criticized, in Urdu poetry. An example is the poem Departmental Store MeiN [In a Departmental Store], which is named thus despite the fact that there the term 'departmental store' could easily have been substituted with its Urdu equivalent, and where words like 'natural pink,' 'hand lotion,' 'shade,' 'scent' and 'pack' are brought into use, and references made to cosmetics brands like, Pearl, Revlon, Elizabeth Arden, and Tulip.Other examples are her poems Ecstasy, Nun and Picnic.
Shakir's free verse also contains a few, credited translated or inspired works i.e. poems that are translations of, or inspired by, other authors. Examples are Wasteland, a poem inspired by Elliot's poem of the same name,[13] and Benasab Wirsay Ka Bojh [The Burden of Illegitimate Inheritance], a translation of W.B. Yeats's Leda and the Swan.
Critical reception

Cover image of Parveen Shakir's first volume of poetry, Khusbhu

Shakir's poetry was well-received, and after her untimely death she is now considered one of the best and "most prominent" modern poets Urdu language has ever produced. Hailed as a "great poetess," her poetry has drawn comparisons to that of Iranian poet Forough Farrokhzad, and she is considered among the breed of writers "regarded as pioneers in defying tradition by expressing the "female experience" in Urdu poetry.

A source states, "Parveen ... seems to have captured the best of Urdu verse ... Owing to [her] style and range of expressions one will be intrigued and ... entertained by some soul-stirring poetry."  Another praises "her rhythmic flow and polished wording."

Literary figure Iftikhar Arif has praised Shakir for impressing "the young lot through her thematic variety and realistic poetry," for adding "a new dimension to the traditional theme of love by giving expression to her emotions in a simple and pellucid style," and using a "variety of words to convey different thoughts with varying intensities."

The Delhi Recorder has stated that Shakir "has given the most beautiful female touch to Urdu poetry."

Honours

Shakir's first book, Khushbu, was awarded the Adamjee Award. Later, she was awarded the Pride of Performance, one of Pakistan's highest honours.

Upon her death, the Parveen Shakir Trust was established by her close friend, Parveen Qadir Agha. The Parveen Shakir Trust organizes a yearly function and gives out the "Aks-e-Khushbo" award.

Translation of selected poetry

Here sleeps the girl

Here sleeps the girl

Whose eyes bought dreams from sleep,

And then the night of rendezvous

She spent with her loneliness.

It was a strange waiting! Pawning the whole city

To the shylock of fate

Just for the convenience

Of on half-lit casement!

But when the star,

On whose strength

The moon had been challenged,

Was about to appear on her forehead,

Aurora was already up

Tolling the kneil of tryst!

We ought to have met

A melting twilight,

the world in its entirety dissolves.

The scent of you,

the blossoming

populations of dreams.

All dissolves.

... a vision deferred.

In a while,

a star shall emerge on the horizon,

to gaze at you,

replete with meaning,

[And] your heart shall then reminisce,

there shall be an echo of a memory,

the tale of a separation,

of an unfinished moment,

of dreams unborn,

thoughts unsaid.

We ought to have met,

in another time,

in pursuit of attainable dreams,

below a different sky,

upon a different earth,

We ought to have met then, there.

If he be scent

Original poem: Khushbu hai vo to



If he be scent, let him not touch me

and pass, until he be part of my existence.

The flower half-opened its lips,

[So] all stealth of colour may not be

blamed upon the butterfly.

He favours faithfulness out of fear,

That, losing me, this girl shall die

of pain.

I shall cleanse his lashes with my shawl

[So] the dust of this day's journey,

may not enter tomorrow's!

Through whom shall I send him today's prayer?

Ambassador, air, star - None visits

his abode!  In a way

Original poem: Hum sub ek tarah say Dr. Faustus hain

In a way,

all of us are Dr. Faustus.

Some in fascination,

others blackmailed into it,

- sell their soul.

Some pawn their eyes,

and begin trading their dreams,

- others feel obliged to

sell their mind.

All we want to know is,

the currency of the time;

Life’s ‘Wall Street’ tells us that

among those with power to buy,

what’s most popular these days,

is their own respect.

Personal life

Birth

Shakir was born on 24 November, 1952 in Karachi, Pakistan.

Education

Shakir was highly educated. She received two undergraduate degrees, one in English literature and the other in linguistics, and obtained MA degrees in the same subjects from the University of Karachi. She also held a PhD, and another MA degree in Bank Administration.

In 1982, Shakir sat in, and passed, the Central Superior Services Examination. Incidentally, her unique honour was a question, in the examination, on her own poetry. In 1991, she did an MA in Public Administration from Harvard University, USA.

Family, and death

Shakir married a Pakistani doctor, Naseer Ali, with whom she had a son, Syed Murad Ali—but the marriage did not last long and ended in a divorce.

On Dec 26th, 1994, Shakir's car collided with a truck while she was on her way to work in Islamabad. The accident resulted in her death, a great loss to the Urdu poetry world.Fans of Parveen Shakir have woven conspiracy theories around her death, believing she was murdered, seeing the event in the background of Shakir's involvement in government affairs and her relations with high-profile government and political figures.

Books

Following is a list of Shakir's published books. A translation of each's title follows in italics.

Volumes of Poetry

• Khushbu (1976) - Fragrance

• Sad-barg (1980) - Marsh Marigold

• Khud-kalaami (1990) - Talking to the Self

• Inkaar (1990) - Refusal

• Maah-e-Tamaam (1994) - Full Moon

• Kaf-e-Aa'ina - The Edge of the Mirror

Prose

• Gosha-e-Chashm - The Sight Carner