میں پل دو پل کا شاعر ہوں Main Pal Do Pal Ka Shayar Hoon — I Am a Poet of Two Moments

Sahir Ludhianvi

1921– 1980

Geet

A poet is describing himself, and the description starts small and gets larger. I am a poet of two moments, he says: my story is two moments long, my existence is two moments, my youth is two moments. Then the poem takes the measure of the tradition behind him: how many poets came before him and left, some with sighs, some with songs.

Sahir Ludhianvi wrote it for Kabhi Kabhie in 1976, and Mukesh sang it over Khayyam's music, in the voice of a father explaining himself to his son. Three passages ahead. The last one is the poem's strange comfort: others will come after him, better speakers and better listeners, and the crowd will be too busy to remember him, which is the poem's way of asking not to be mourned.

01 — main pal do pal ka shayar hoon

میں پل دو پل کا شاعر ہوں
پل دو پل میری کہانی ہے
پل دو پل میری ہستی ہے
پل دو پل میری جوانی ہے
میں پل دو پل کا شاعر ہوں

मैं पल दो पल का शायर हूँ
पल दो पल मेरी कहानी है
पल दो पल मेरी हस्ती है
पल दो पल मेरी जवानी है
मैं पल दो पल का शायर हूँ

main pal do pal ka shayar hoon
pal do pal meri kahani hai
pal do pal meri hasti hai
pal do pal meri jawani hai
main pal do pal ka shayar hoon

I am the poet of two moments. My story is two moments long. My existence is two moments. My youth is two moments. I am the poet of two moments.

The passage is the poem's whole confession, and it is made by repetition. Pal do pal, two moments, is the measure applied to the four things a poet owns, story, existence, youth, and the repetition is the point: the poet's entire account is the same amount, twice over. The frame repeats at both ends, main pal do pal ka shayar hoon, which makes the confession a circle, and the circle is the poem's form for a life.

شاعر shayar: a poet
ہستی hasti: existence, the fact of being here

02 — mujh se pehle kitne shayar

مجھ سے پہلے کتنے شاعر
آئے اور آکر چلے گئے
کچھ آہیں بھر کر لوٹ گئے
کچھ نغمے گاکر چلے گئے
وہ بھی ایک پل کا قصہ تھے
میں بھی ایک پل کا قصہ ہوں
کل تم سے جدا ہو جاؤں گا
وہ آج تمہارا حصہ ہوں

मुझसे पहले कितने शायर
आए और आकर चले गए
कुछ आहें भर कर लौट गए
कुछ नग़मे गाकर चले गए
वो भी एक पल का क़िस्सा थे
मैं भी एक पल का क़िस्सा हूँ
कल तुमसे जुदा हो जाऊँगा
वो आज तुम्हारा हिस्सा हूँ

mujh se pehle kitne shayar
aaye aur aake chale gaye
kuchh aahien bhar kar laut gaye
kuchh nagme gaakar chale gaye
voh bhi ek pal ka qissa the
main bhi ek pal ka qissa hoon
kal tum se juda ho jaunga
voh aaj tumhaara hissa hoon

How many poets before me came and, having come, left. Some went back having filled their sighs, some left after singing songs. They too were one-moment stories, and I too am a one-moment story. Tomorrow I will be parted from you, and today I am your share.

The passage is the poem's history, and the history is a roll call of the leaving. The two kinds of poets, the ones with sighs and the ones with songs, are the tradition's whole census, and the poem places itself in both. The last couplet is the passage's turn: kal tum se juda, tomorrow parted, aaj tumhaara hissa, today your share. The poem gives itself to the listener in the present tense, which is the only tense a two-moment poet has.

آہ aah: a sigh
نغمہ nagme: songs, melodies
قصہ qissa: a tale, a story
حصہ hissa: a share, a portion

03 — kal aur aayenge nagmon ki

کل اور آئیں گے نغموں کی
کھلتی کلیاں چننے والے
مجھ سے بہتر کہنے والے
تم سے بہتر سننے والے
کل کوئی مجھکو یاد کرے
کیوں کوئی مجھکو یاد کرے
مصروف زمانہ میرے لیے
کیوں وقت اپنا برباد کرے

कल और आएँगे नग़मों की
खिलती कलियाँ चुनने वाले
मुझसे बेहतर कहने वाले
तुमसे बेहतर सुनने वाले
कल कोई मुझको याद करे
क्यूँ कोई मुझको याद करे
मसरूफ़ ज़माना मेरे लिए
क्यूँ वक़्त अपना बरबाद करे

kal aur aayenge nagmon ki
khilti kaliyan chunne waale
mujh se behtar kahne waale
tum se behtar sunne waale
kal koi mujhko yaad kare
kyun koi mujhko yaad kare
masroof zamaana mere liye
kyun waqt apna barbaad kare

Tomorrow others will come, gatherers of the blooming buds of songs, speakers better than me, listeners better than you. Tomorrow, will someone remember me? Why would anyone remember me? The age is busy; why would it waste its time on me?

The passage is the poem's second turn, and it is the most generous verse Sahir wrote about his own disappearance. The future poets are given better grades than him, behtar kahne waale, behtar sunne waale, and the listeners of the future better than the present ones. The question that follows, kyun koi mujhko yaad kare, why would anyone remember me, is asked twice and answered by the age's business, masroof zamana. The poem refuses to be mourned, and the refusal is the gift it leaves behind.

مصروف masroof: busy, taken up with other things
زمانہ zamaana: the age, the world, everybody in it
برباد barbaad: laid waste, ruined

Reading it whole

The song is a poem about being a poet, and it is Sahir's most personal film song. Main pal do pal ka shayar hoon: I am the poet of two moments. The confession is the whole poem, and everything after it is the confession being worked out. The poet's story, existence and youth are all the same small measure, pal do pal, two moments, and the poem keeps the measure honest by repeating it.

The second passage is the poem's history lesson, and it is where the smallness becomes company. How many poets came before me, the poem asks, and left, some going back with sighs, some leaving after singing songs. They were each a one-moment story, and I am a one-moment story too. The verse is Sahir's version of the tradition's great consolation: the poet is one link in a chain, and the chain is the poem.

The third passage is the poem's second turn, and it is the one the film's scene is built on. Tomorrow others will come, gatherers of the blooming buds of songs, better at speaking than me, better at listening than you. The poem then does its one strange thing: will anyone remember me, why would anyone remember me, the busy age has no time to waste on me. The question is asked in the form of a refusal, kyun waqt apna barbaad kare, why would it waste its time, and the refusal is the poem's way of freeing the son from the obligation of grief.

Mukesh's voice, with the film's scene of the father who has been replaced by the son's generation, made the song the standard of its kind. It is one of the most sung songs Sahir wrote, and it carries the whole of his position in one line: the poet asks for nothing, not even memory.

Recordings

Mukesh

From Kabhi Kabhie (1976), composed by Khayyam.

Text and rights

Devanagari text supplied and checked by a reader who knows the language. The Urdu script and the transliteration follow that reading.

The song is from the film Kabhi Kabhie (1976), composed by Khayyam, lyrics Sahir Ludhianvi. The refrain returns between passages in the recording more often than it is printed here.

Sahir Ludhianvi died in 1980, so this poem is still in copyright. It is quoted here as the subject of Harf's own criticism: the translation, the reading of each passage and the essay around them are original work written for this page. If you hold the rights and would like something changed, tell us on Instagram.