Harf
Script shown with the Urdu

مجھ سے پہلی سی محبت مرے محبوب نہ مانگ Mujh Se Pehli Si Mohabbat Mere Mehboob Na Maang — Don't Ask Me For The Love I Gave You Once, My Love

Faiz Ahmed Faiz

1911– 1984

Nazm

This is the poem in which Faiz stops being a love poet, and he does it from inside a love poem. The first line is addressed to a beloved and asks for something impossible: don't ask me for the love I used to give you. Everything after it is the reason, and the reason is the world.

He wrote it early, before the prisons and the exile, and it turned out to be the hinge of his whole career. The politics everything else of his is remembered for starts here. Six passages ahead. The first is as warm as Urdu love poetry gets, and then he looks up from it.

01  — mujh se pahli si mohabbat miri mahbub na maang

مجھ سے پہلی سی محبت مری محبوب نہ مانگ
میں نے سمجھا تھا کہ تو ہے تو درخشاں ہے حیات
تیرا غم ہے تو غمِ دہر کا جھگڑا کیا ہے
تیری صورت سے ہے عالم میں بہاروں کو ثبات

मुझ से पहली सी मोहब्बत मिरी महबूब न माँग
मैं ने समझा था कि तू है तो दरख़्शाँ है हयात
तेरा ग़म है तो ग़म-ए-दहर का झगड़ा क्या है
तेरी सूरत से है आलम में बहारों को सबात

mujh se pahli si mohabbat miri mahbub na maang
main ne samjha tha ki tu hai to darakhshan hai hayat
tera gham hai to gham-e-dahr ka jhagda kya hai
teri surat se hai aalam men baharon ko sabat

Don't ask me, my love, for the love I gave you before. I had thought that as long as you existed, life was lit up. That if I had your grief to carry, the world's grief was not worth arguing about. That spring only held its place in the world because your face was in it.

The instruction comes first, and then he spends three lines describing, without a trace of irony, the thing he is withdrawing. The tense gives him away: main ne samjha tha, I had understood. The belief is in the past, but the writing has not cooled down at all. And the third line is the one the rest of the poem will answer, because it says the world's grief was a nuisance he had already settled.

درخشاں darakhshan
shining, radiant
غمِ دہر gham-e-dahr
the grief of the age; the world's suffering
ثبات sabat
permanence, holding steady

02  — teri aankhon ke siva duniya men rakkha kya hai

تیری آنکھوں کے سوا دنیا میں رکھا کیا ہے
تو جو مل جائے تو تقدیر نگوں ہو جائے
یوں نہ تھا میں نے فقط چاہا تھا یوں ہو جائے

तेरी आँखों के सिवा दुनिया में रक्खा क्या है
तू जो मिल जाए तो तक़दीर निगूँ हो जाए
यूँ न था मैं ने फ़क़त चाहा था यूँ हो जाए

teri aankhon ke siva duniya men rakkha kya hai
tu jo mil jaae to taqdir nigun ho jaae
yuun na tha main ne faqat chaha tha yuun ho jaae

What is there in the world worth having, besides your eyes? If I could have you, fate itself would bow its head. It was not so. I had only wanted it to be so.

The turn of the whole poem is in three words: yuun na tha. Not you deceived me, not I was wrong about you. Only that things were not that way. He had taken a wish for a fact. There is no gentler way to say it, and the poem slips it past you without pausing.

نگوں nigun
bowed down, turned face-down; subdued
فقط faqat
merely, only

03  — aur bhi dukh hain zamane men mohabbat ke siva

اور بھی دکھ ہیں زمانے میں محبت کے سوا
راحتیں اور بھی ہیں وصل کی راحت کے سوا

और भी दुख हैं ज़माने में मोहब्बत के सिवा
राहतें और भी हैं वस्ल की राहत के सिवा

aur bhi dukh hain zamane men mohabbat ke siva
rahaten aur bhi hain vasl ki rahat ke siva

There are other sorrows in this world besides love. There are other comforts besides the comfort of being together.

Two flat sentences, and they demolish the entire tradition the first passage was written in. Urdu poetry had spent centuries treating love as the only pain worth having and union as the only relief. Faiz does not attack that idea, he just notes that it is incomplete, which is far more damaging. These two lines return at the end, and by then they will mean something heavier.

وصل vasl
union with the beloved
راحت rahat
ease, relief from something

04  — an-ginat sadiyon ke tarik bahimana tilism

ان گنت صدیوں کے تاریک بہیمانہ طلسم
ریشم و اطلس و کمخواب میں بنوائے ہوئے
جا بہ جا بکتے ہوئے کوچہ و بازار میں جسم
خاک میں لتھڑے ہوئے خون میں نہلائے ہوئے
جسم نکلے ہوئے امراض کے تنوروں سے
پیپ بہتی ہوئی گلتے ہوئے ناسوروں سے

अन-गिनत सदियों के तारीक बहीमाना तिलिस्म
रेशम ओ अतलस ओ कमख़ाब में बुनवाए हुए
जा-ब-जा बिकते हुए कूचा-ओ-बाज़ार में जिस्म
ख़ाक में लुथड़े हुए ख़ून में नहलाए हुए
जिस्म निकले हुए अमराज़ के तन्नूरों से
पीप बहती हुई गलते हुए नासूरों से

an-ginat sadiyon ke tarik bahimana tilism
resham o atlas o kamkhvab men bunvae hue
ja-ba-ja bikte hue kucha-o-bazar men jism
khaak men luthde hue khun men nahlae hue
jism nikle hue amraz ke tannuron se
pip bahti hui galte hue nasuron se

The dark, brutish spell of countless centuries — woven into the silk and the satin and the brocade. Bodies for sale everywhere, in every lane and market. Bodies smeared with dust, bathed in blood. Bodies pulled out of the ovens of disease, pus running from sores that will not close.

This is what he saw, and he refuses to make it presentable. The first two lines are the argument: the spell of centuries is not somewhere else, it is woven into the expensive cloth, so the beauty and the cruelty are the same object. Then he simply lists. Tilism means an enchantment, the kind that holds a whole kingdom asleep, and calling it bahimana, beastly, takes any glamour out of it. The last two lines are unlike anything in Urdu poetry before them, and they are meant to be unbearable.

طلسم tilism
an enchantment, a spell holding something in place
بہیمانہ bahimana
beastly, brutish
کمخواب kamkhvab
brocade, cloth shot with gold thread
امراض amraz
diseases
تنور tannur
a clay oven
ناسور nasur
a sore that will not heal

05  — laut jaati hai udhar ko bhi nazar kya kije

لوٹ جاتی ہے ادھر کو بھی نظر کیا کیجے
اب بھی دلکش ہے ترا حسن مگر کیا کیجے

लौट जाती है उधर को भी नज़र क्या कीजे
अब भी दिलकश है तिरा हुस्न मगर क्या कीजे

laut jaati hai udhar ko bhi nazar kya kije
ab bhi dilkash hai tira husn magar kya kije

The eye keeps going back that way too. What is to be done. Your beauty is still lovely, even now. What is to be done.

The most honest lines in the poem, and also the least pinned down. Udhar, that way, points at the suffering he has just described and at her, and he does not choose. Both pull his attention. He is not claiming to be cured of her, and says plainly that she is still beautiful. Kya kije is not a question, just the sound a person makes when there is nothing to do.

دلکش dilkash
heart-drawing, lovely to look at
حسن husn
beauty

06  — aur bhi dukh hain zamane men mohabbat ke siva

اور بھی دکھ ہیں زمانے میں محبت کے سوا
راحتیں اور بھی ہیں وصل کی راحت کے سوا
مجھ سے پہلی سی محبت مری محبوب نہ مانگ

और भी दुख हैं ज़माने में मोहब्बत के सिवा
राहतें और भी हैं वस्ल की राहत के सिवा
मुझ से पहली सी मोहब्बत मिरी महबूब न माँग

aur bhi dukh hain zamane men mohabbat ke siva
rahaten aur bhi hain vasl ki rahat ke siva
mujh se pahli si mohabbat miri mahbub na maang

There are other sorrows in this world besides love. There are other comforts besides the comfort of being together. Don't ask me, my love, for the love I gave you before.

The same two lines as before, then the first line of the poem, closing the circle. Nothing has been added, but everything in between has changed what they mean. The first time they were an assertion. Now they are a verdict with the evidence behind them. And he still calls her mahbub, my love, in the act of telling her what he cannot give her.

محبوب mahbub
the beloved

Reading it whole

Read as a breakup, this poem is merely sad. Read as what it is, it is one of the poems that turned Urdu love poetry in a new direction, and readers have not stopped going back to it since. Faiz is not leaving a woman. He is leaving a subject. He is telling romantic love, and the whole tradition built on top of it, that it cannot have all of him any more, and he says so from inside the form that tradition owns.

And he never takes back a word of the love. The opening, with the whole poem behind it, is not a summary of how he used to feel; it is that feeling, still being written at full strength. The world was bright because she existed. Her grief made the world's grief not worth arguing about. Spring held its place only because her face was in it. He gives it four lines of the best romantic writing he can do, and says nothing against her anywhere in the poem. If the old love were worthless, giving it up would cost nothing.

The turn is a single sentence, and it is so quiet you can read straight past it. Yuun na tha. It was not so. Not she lied, not I was deceived. Only that things were not that way, and he had wanted them to be. Then two flat lines: there are other sorrows in this world besides love, and other comforts besides the comfort of being together. That is the entire argument, and everything after it is evidence.

And the evidence is built to hurt. Urdu love poetry has a settled vocabulary, silk and brocade and the market and the street, and Faiz keeps every one of those words while changing what they are pointing at. There is still satin, with the brutish spell of centuries woven into it. There is still a marketplace, with bodies for sale in it, smeared with dust, bathed in blood. Then he goes past what the form permits at all: ovens of disease, pus running from sores that will not close. Nobody had put those words in an Urdu love poem. They are there so that you cannot look at the page and call it beautiful, and so that her face has to compete with them.

What keeps it from turning into a lecture is that he never claims to have won the argument with himself. The eye keeps going back, to the suffering and also to her, and he refuses to say which. Your beauty is still lovely, even now. What is to be done. Kya kije gets asked twice and answered neither time. So when the last line repeats the first, it is not a rejection. It is a man admitting he can no longer give one person the whole of his attention, and declining to pretend that this has stopped hurting. Noor Jehan's recording is the one most people know, and Faiz is said to have told her afterwards that the poem belonged to her.

Recordings

  • Noor Jehan

    The recording that made the nazm a song. Faiz is said to have handed it to her himself.

  • Tina Sani

    Live in Kathmandu. Quieter, and closer to how the poem gets recited.

Read next

All 128 poems, A to Z

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 nazm belongs to Faiz's first collection, Naqsh-e-Faryadi, and is usually dated to the nineteen-thirties.

Faiz Ahmed Faiz died in 1984, 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.