For Him and her

The beauty of Nida Fazli’s poetry lies in the imagination of the connoisseur, says

February 11, 2016 09:42 pm | Updated 09:42 pm IST

Nida Fazli (1938-2016) was a darling of poetic soirees. Photo A. M. Faruqui

Nida Fazli (1938-2016) was a darling of poetic soirees. Photo A. M. Faruqui

Many summers ago when it was easier to smile, inevitable to find infinity in the moment, a classmate used to sing “Tu iss tarah se meri zindagi mein shamil hai, jahan bhi jaun yeh lagta hai teri mehfil hai” at every college function. He was undoubtedly good with the rendition of the Manhar Udas original as the youngsters sang behind him, providing impromptu chorus to an otherwise solo song. For a few minutes, Raj Babbar-Ranjeeta Kaur on whom it was filmed in “Aap to Aese Na Thhe” receded from everybody’s memory as every guy imagined his beloved even as he hummed along! She of cottons and roses, jasmine and straight hair!

Years passed. The college singer graduated to greater responsibilities in life. The audience did likewise. I too tried to find the real meaning of life, and found there is only one true love. It is possible only with Him. With this thought in my mind, I started finding His grace in everything around me; the leaves, the trees, the sunrise, the rivers, the birds. Then, without a warning, one day I found myself humming, “Tu iss tarah se meri zindagi mein shamil hai”. Ah! How the meaning of the words had changed for me. Indeed, Nida Fazli was that consummate artist, his words were, as Oscar Wilde said about artists, nothing; interpretation was everything. If at one time, millions deduced love and romance in this song, at another, I found the love of the Almighty in the same words. To each his own. “Yeh zindagi hai safar tu safar ki manzil hai”.

Turns out Fazli sahib has probably found his destination. He had seen it all; the world had but few novelties for him at the age 78. As I once heard, “Naksha uthha ke ab koi naya shaher dhoondiye, iss shaher mein to sab se mulaqat ho gayi.” For Fazli the joy lay in the journey. He was that man who defied convenient stereotypes. When his parents migrated to Pakistan post-Partition, he, as a young boy, decided to stay in the little lanes of Old Delhi. It was not an easy parting, nor was the death of his father he was a young boy. Years later he gave expression to that ache. “Tumhari qabr par min fateha padne nahin aaya/ Mujhe maloom thha tum mar nahin sakte/Tumhari maut ki sacchi khabar jisne udai thi woh jhootha tha/ Woh tum kab thhe koi sookha hua patta hawa se hil ke toota tha. Meri aankhen tumhare manjron mein qaid hain ab tak/Main jo bhi dekhta hun sochta hun woh... wahin hai...”

Search for education took him to Gwalior, a yearning for people with whom he could converse took him to Mumbai, a city where, like water, one could find one’s own level. Not for nothing did he write, “Zuban mili hai magar humzuban nahin milta”. In the city of dreams, he found his language, his range, and gradually some of his fans and followers. His poetry brought him to Mumbai, it took him to mushairas across the country too – in sharp contrast to Gulzar who has steadfastly stayed away from such soirees.

Many said one could not do poetry and be a part of the film industry where words had to follow the tune. He made a song out of the irony by penning a ghazal like “Kabhi kisi ko mukammal jahan nahin milta”. It was as much about human angst as a life which offers delights only in half measures. Interestingly, he could have as well written the song about himself; sometimes he was rated very high, often not high enough. He was seldom taken at real worth. The glass was the proverbial one: half full or empty depending on how you looked at it. In Urdu literary circles where he was one of the brightest moths, his popularity was often confined to rarefied few; they applauded when he took a dig at ecclesiastical hierarchy, “Yeh sheikh aur Brahman achche nahin lagte, hum jitney hain yeh utne bhi sachche nahin lagte”. The masses were not always able to grasp the profundity of his simple expression. It took him a non-film ghazal like “Har taraf har jagah beshumar aadmi” to break the barrier. Of course, Sahitya Akademi award in the late 90s helped too.

Parallel to his poetry career ran his stint as a lyricist of note in Hindi cinema, a man who could provide meaning to simple pleasures of life; a man who held his own in an era where the masses often drank from the fountain of Javed Akhtar and Gulzar. Fazli sahib was not one to complain, drunk as he himself was on the love of his life. As he told me around a decade ago, “Ishq came into my life when I was alone, when my family had migrated to Pakistan. I fell in love with the sun’s brilliance, the moon’s radiance, the innocence of the children. Life is incomplete without ishq - love.”

This love for love was transported to mere mortals with his ghazal “Hosh waalon ko khabar kya bekhudi kya cheez hai, ishq kijiye phir samajhiye zindagi kya cheez hai” for director John Mathew Mathian’s “Sarfarosh”. Incidentally, the ghazal, finally rendered by Jagjit Singh, was initially sung by Bhupendra and Jaswinder. Again, some saw a beloved in his words, others the love of a sufi for the Almighty. This ghazal probably got him more recognition than many simpler ones. Specially memorable was “Ajnabee kaun ho tum jab se tumhe dekha hai” where Usha Khanna’s music ensured that ears only experienced love, even if the dalliance was with a stranger.

Such was Nida Fazli. A simple man of limited needs, an under-celebrated genius with a treasure trove of poetry. He could have been one of the immortals of the medium, the world though chose to regard as once in a generation marvel. With his passing away, I cannot help but borrow Anand Bakshi’s words, “Aadmi musafir hai aata hai jaata hai, aate jaate raste mein yaadein chhod jata hai”. Unto Him shall we all return. But why Bakshi’s words, beautiful though they might be? Indeed. Fazli sahab’s words ring true. As a song goes in “Razia Sultan”, “Tera hijr mera naseeb hai, tum kahin bhi ho mere qareeb hai’. Indeed.

On the play list

Tu Is Tarah Se Meri Zindagi Mein Shamil Hai (“Aap To Aise Na The”)

Kabhi Kisi Ko Mukammal Jahan Nahin Milta (“Ahista Ahista”)

Dil Ki Tanhai Ko Aawaz Bana Lete Hain (“Chaahat”)

Aa Bhi Ja Aa Bhi Jaa (“Sur”)

Hosh Walon Ko Khabar Kya (“Sarforsh”)

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