PEOPLE AND POETRY

By: Nasser Yousaf 

A PASHTUN ANTHROPOLOGIST AND HISTORIAN

It's been quite some time now since I started reading the poetry of Khushal Khan Khattak, though not as assiduously as I ought to have. My reading is the kind that could not be called as page-turning. I would read a page or two from one of the two books that I have in my collection and then skip eight or ten other pages.

But even this desultory reading egged me on. 'Here's something that I had been looking for, I would try to persuade myself, something that would whet my appetite.' 

Many scholars and readers of the Pashto literature have read and followed Khushal's poetry with more profound interest. It may never be possible for me to match the enthusiasm of such people since they have committed tens of his poems to their memories.

I, on the other hand, am not the one who, unfortunately, knows even a single poem or a verse rendered in any language by heart. For instance, I have to go back to the text to recall the exact words of even this most famous and oft-recited Khushal's couplet that says:

Da Afghan pa nang me wutharala thura 

Nangyaley da zamane Khushal Khattak yam

(I have drawn my sword to vindicate the honour of the Afghan 

A spirited soul of the Time am I Khushal Khattak)

In 'The Pathans,' Olaf Caroe has translated it as:

' I bound on the sword for the pride of the Afghan name,

I am Khushal Khattak, the proud son of this day.' 

 

I couldn't relocate the Pashto text of the following verse which was beautifully translated by Caroe. 

O rainbow glory for a carpet spread,

With, brightest gem, the tulip glowing red

This entire poem and scores of others indicate Khushal's deep love for flowers. Khushal's knowledge of all the flowers, the symbolism of them and their beauteous colours was awe-inspiring.

Khushal's poetry is similarly colourful. It literally offers something to everyone. This 17th century Pashtun is widely known as a warrior-poet. But a reading of him would tell you that nothing escaped Khushal's vibrant imagination. 

He is by turn satirical, a narrator of history, an anthropologist, nature-lover, angry, repentant, sensuous, complainant, melancholy, flamboyant and a redoubtable warrior.

Of the feminine beauty, Khushal referred to the women of Darra Adamkhel to the south of Peshawar as:

Adamkhele Afridai di sre o speeney 

Pa ke shta di khaista pa rung ranginey

(The women of Darra Adamkhel are ruddy and fair-complexioned

Among them there are those who are beautiful and frolicsome)

Khushal died nearly 340 years ago, an incredibly long time ago, if we consider how the world has changed since then. Leave alone the world, let's just see how Khushal's clansmen, the Pashtuns, have changed or behaved themselves since then. 

Not well, if one considers the account that the Pashtuns have submitted of themselves to the world. It was perhaps the same kind of behaviour which at some point during his lifespan of 76 years compelled him to pen:

Zane sa lwey dawey laram pa zra ke

Wale sa kram che Pakhtun wara be nang dey

(In my heart, I cherish some tall claims 

But how could I help if the Pakhtuns as a body are devoid of valour)

Khushal's poetry is full of sketches of the Pashtun tribes and clans. It would seem he had encountered all of them at some stage in his hectic life. Afridis, Shinwaris, Orakzais, Durranis, Bangash, Khattak, Marwat, Bannuchis, Achakzais, Yousafzais (in particular) People of Swat, Dir, Buner and those we find in Afghanistan. 

All these people appear to have changed little over the last four hundred years if one has to bring them face to face with how Khushal made their portraits in his immaculate verse. 

Since the British were voracious readers, it looks quite plausible that during their long stay in the erstwhile Frontier, they must have taken recourse to Khushal's scripts to deal with their subjects on their terms.

One always wonders where were Khushal's voluminous manuscripts found. Sadly, matters of such curiosity do not appear to have found much favour among our scholars of the Pashto literature.

Though he is said to have left a manuscript titled ' Swat Nama,' there is little indication that he had heard of Alexander's journey to India through Swat. Also, he had travelled far and wide in Mardan and the surrounding areas and verdant hills, but he doesn't appear to have found any traces of the Gandhara Civilization. 

Khushal Khan had a deep-rooted animosity with the Mughal King Aurangzeb. This animosity landed Khushal in the Indian prisons where he had to endure oppression and untold homesickness. But even that ordeal couldn't stifle his inquisitive nature. He made the best of his suffering by enriching himself with the history and geography of India.

Khushal's description of Delhi in the 17th century is immensely inspiring. He says:

Da Delhi da khar kha shan o shokat wu

Lor pa lor e khkuley khkuley imarat wu

Khaista e bazaruna wu da khar

Muhaiya pa bazaar ke har naimat wu

(Delhi city had its great grandeur 

In every nook and corner there were big buildings 

There were beautiful bazaars in the city

Every merchandise was available in the bazaars)

Elsewhere, Khushal says:

Da Dunya pa lweyi sa bawar Khushala

Parun Dor da Khurram na da Aurang dey

(Khurram was the nickname of Shahjehan, father of Aurangzeb)

(Why trust the transistory positions in the world, O Khushal 

Yesterday it was the reign of Khurram, today it's Aurangzeb's)

One would love to see contributions to this piece from those who have got scholarships in the studies on Khushal. The immensity of Khushal's poetry is such that the job cannot be accomplished by trifling with it.