Triveni Journal
1927 | 11,233,916 words
Triveni is a journal dedicated to ancient Indian culture, history, philosophy, art, spirituality, music and all sorts of literature. Triveni was founded at Madras in 1927 and since that time various authors have donated their creativity in the form of articles, covering many aspects of public life....
I
Punjabi literature is growing fast, and it is in the fitness of things that the non-Punjabi intelligentsia should become acquainted with this important limb of the ever-growing Indian literature.
Punjabi is spoken in the tract a hundred miles north of Ambala Division, for the influence of Hindustani, or Khari Boli, on Punjabi becomes very marked near Ludhiana. The real home of Punjabi, or Central Punjabi as it is called, is the Lahore-Amritsar area, its ‘beat’ being as far as Jullunder.
The spoken Punjabi has its dialectic variations; the dialect spoken in Mianwali, near the Indus, or the one spoken in Multan, is as intelligible, or as unintelligible, to the Punjabi-speaking Lahore-born resident as is, say, Welsh to a Londoner.
For all practical purposes, however, Central Punjabi, usually referred to as Punjabi, is the medium of expression and is the vehicle in which the bulk of Punjabi literature exists. The reasons for this belong to the domain of history; the region of Lahore and Amritsar has formed the seat of government and has also been the centre of trade, All the literary talent has, therefore, been attracted to this region. And, of course, Amritsar is the Mecca of the Sikhs.
Spoken Punjabi has a mixture of Persian and Sanskrit words: the former in the ordinary course of daily life and the latter in religious and philosophical matters. It has a primitive simplicity about it and the inflections of Punjabi idiom and atmosphere render it the more difficult for translation.
Punjabi can be written in two scripts: in the Persian script, like Urdu, or in Gurmukhi, the alphabet of which is a variation of the Sanskrit alphabet and which was devised by the fifth Guru to suit the inflexions and intonations of the Punjabi language. It is in Gurmukhi that all the sacred books of the Sikhs are written and it is again in this script that the bulk of the Punjabi literature has grown and is growing. The religious and the romantic have been the two dominant notes in Punjabi literature.
II
With the British, who conquered the Punjab in 1846, came non-Punjabi clerks and teachers who were conversant with the administration. The Education Department was dominated by Bengalis or men from the United Provinces, then the N. W. P. Punjabi, if not positively discouraged, was given no encouragement by the administration. Urdu being the court language, it attracted all the talent in the province. Soon English became the centre of attraction. As a result of this development, Punjabi literature suffered a good deal and it was left only to a few individuals “to keep the flame burning”; Punjabi was, for all practical purposes, sneered at.
Came the freedom movement and a political consciousness and with it came a pride in the past. People looked and turned to the literature of the soil. The Khalsa Diwan was founded in 1888 A. D., to be replaced by the Chief Khalsa Diwan. The Khalsa College, Amritsar, was founded in 1892 and the Sikh Educational Committee, in 1908;this latter body controlled many other Sikh organisations.
III
The appearance of Bhai Vir Singh (born 1872) in Punjabi literature is nothing short of a landmark. Without him Punjabi literature would not be what it is today. It is not merely that his contribution to Punjabi literature has been overwhelming; his impact on Punjabi has been a vital force. A prolific writer of prose and poetry, he has added thousands of words to the Punjabi language and introduced new and modern themes. He has also been the instrument in popularising Punjabi, not only among the masses but also among the literate classes and the inteligentsia. His personal contact has been responsible for attracting many a writer to Punjabi. Bhai Puran Singh is an illustrious instance.
A writer of deep philosophical and reflective prose, he was the pioneer of Sikh revivalism, Bhai Vir Singh is primarily a poet and he is easily by farthe best. His poetry is, generally speaking, one of devotional ecstacy. His allegorical drama ‘Rana Surat Singh’ (1905)is a valued treasure in Sikh homes. I have seen people lovingly and respectfully put it in a cloth (over and keep it next only to the Guru Granth Sahib. His Lahran De Har (1921) and Matak Hulare (1925), are favourites in Punjabi homes.
Next to Bhai Vir Singh in popularity and depth is Dhani Ram Chatrik (born 1876), to whom are accredited some of the finest lyrics that Punjabi literature can boast of. His Chandan Wari is very popular.
These two poets dominated the field of Punjabi poetry for more than a quarter of a century, till in the middle thirties there arose a young poet, Mohan Singh, whose first book Save Palla, (which is now running in its seventh edition–incidentally showing the increasing interest and demand for more reading matter in punjabi) became at once the best seller on its appearance in 1936, and a young poetess, Mrs. Amriia Pritam, who has by now in her middle twenties published in seven anthologies some 471 poems, ranging from stanzas of four lines two poems running into 296 lines. Mohan Singh and Amrita pritam have been the humanizing influence on Punjabi poetry. Their poetry is marked by a freedom of form and by boldness of themes–themes closer to life.
IV
“When the formless feelings are translated into words”, writes Mrs. Amrita pritam, “it is poetry; it is like the passing mist, a momentary glimpse of the deep valleys of the heart,” adding:
“poetry and child are the foundation of the world;
And they need birth-pangs to come into being”
and
“Love like the Infinite Self is an eternal Truth; the poet is closer to Nature and Nature is Truth; when the poet’s ears are at one with the heart-beat of Nature, he hears the beat of love, the eternal Truth.”
The poet’s experience is individual and personal.
“To light others,
The poet and the flame
Consume themselves,"
Amrit Lahran the maiden book of a maiden author, Amrita Kaur, betrays no very commendable feature. Her poetry in this book is conventional, both in form and substance. She is tied down to the past; her ambitions, to say the least, are commonplace; she reflects on the mysteries of the universe, the sun, the moon, the stars, light and darkness, life and death, but her thoughts disclose no depth of feelings, or maturity. Nevertheless, hers is a sensitive mind.
Amrita Pritam is a religious girl. Quite a few of her poems are no more than a paraphrase of the Granth Sahib, or, for that matter, the scriptures of any Faith–namely, to do a good turn without the hope of return; to break through the net of attachment to the things of this world; to have a clean conscience, which is far more important than a thousand pilgrimages; to remember Him eight times a day and to seek Him; to have mercy, for without mercy man ceases to be human; and so on.
Recapturing the sentiments of the heart has always been the preoccupation of the poet and a source of delight to readers. She is no exception. Throughout her literary compositions, Amrita pritam revels in these sentiments. Her poetry overflow with love, and so much is she dyed in love that, identifying herself with the object of her love, she says:
“I am the beloved of Ranjha;
Call me Ranjheti and Hir no more”,
and also realizes that she is no nearer her goal than is earth from the sun, which wails:
“Every one of my pores
Is dyed in your love;
But, in spite of this
I stand afar.”
She is in search of a guide, “who may come any day”; her only wish is to become one with the Infinite, like the stream becoming one with the sea: –
“In one ocean there are endless waves,
I am but a drop in the ocean river.”
In Jiunda Jiwan, Amrita Pritam’s second book, she has travelled far. Her ambition which, in her first book was limited to mere applause, rises much higher. She now refuses to sing songs which lack life, which don’t sing of the stout hearts which cannot unite the separated ones and which cannot bring together those at loggerheads.
“My life’s vision goes far;
My hopes are high;
And my ambitions challenging.”
Her idealism has come into its own; there is a flight of imagination; there is a desire to change the order of things and to replace it by a new one. The form of her poetry is less conventional.
Her sole purpose now, as the title of the book indicates, is to impart life, to give Man a faith, an ideal–to make his heart stouter. Her poems are meant for all but addressed particularly to the young. She asks herself:
“Oh, the nightingale;
With the power generated of suppressed ambitions;
Make others’ hearts stouter;
Each drop of your blood is a menace to the enemy’s strength”
and again:
“By your deep and noble love,
By your impassioned songs,
By your heart’s true voice,
Awake the sleeping ones.”
and still again :
“Awake the sleeping ones,
Stir the awakened ones,
And lead the walking ones to giddy heights.”
Most of these poems are meant to be not only a message of hope, but also a message of action, a message of life. She exhorts the young:
“You are your own world;
The measure of awakening;
And still you blame Fate?
Arise, oh you young man;
And write your own destiny.”
She wants to see the young pulsate with energy and young healthy blood in every vein and “passion in the eyes,” for the rate of pulse-beat depends on the “youth of the heart.”
“The ray of hope beckons ahead;
It is also the motive force;
Life’s difficult journey doesn’t end
Living, living, it goes ahead.”
She cautions:
“The distant beautiful mountain
Is difficult toclimb–
Like love which is easy to fall into
But difficult to abide by–
Which only they can climb
Whose hearts do not sink
On the sight of the immensity of height.”
Trel Dhote Phul, her third book, however, is the one in which she may be said to have found her soul. Not only has she come by full maturity–rather, should we say, loftiness of thought–but her expression is not restrained by influences which previously weighed on her freedom of expression and thought.
Original and strikingly fresh similes are the soul of Amrita Pritain’s poetry; and for this she draws upon the familiar scenes of the life as it is lived in a Punjab village. Her childhood memories are too deeply imprinted on her mind, as also her love for Punjabi, to popularise which she takes a vow in her first book, and she captures all the scenes of her childhood with wonderful sympathy and poignancy. Her style is often conversational, and quite a few of her poems are in the form of questions and answers.
Amrita Pritam is a tunist; her poetry is very musical to the ear. There arc poems in which the word music plays an important part. The Dance of Life, for instance, opens thus:
“Dah, dinh, dinh dah;
Dah dinh dinh dah;
Dah tim tim tah;
Tah dimh dimh dah”
Amrita Pritam’s three subsequent books, which followed in rapid succession, O Gitan Walla, Baddallan de Palle Wich, and Sanjh di Lalli, show a greater intensity of feeling, depth of thought ascent of idealism, pointed and well-chiselled expression and a closer impact of life on her. The conflict between instinct and intimate experience of realities becomes very marked. Her poetry has a wider appeal and touches many angles till now overlooked by her. Her last book has been acclaimed by critics as one of the mostvaluable contributions to modern Punjabi literature.
Individuals constitute a nation and it is forthe uplift of such that she cries out:
“If God’screation–Man–
Is trampled underfoot;
Of what use is His name?”
and
“The earth is bloody red;
Civilisation precarious;
Humanity and religion prostrate...
Comes a prophet...Nanak, Lenin, Gandhi...
Then awakens animality, which,
Mad with power,
Passes into the hands of an autocrat.
She adds:
“The walls-of Time are the walls of mirrors;
You see all before your eyes……
But they are beyond your reach.”
Amrita Pritam is not an arm chair poet; she has seen life at close quarters, the life of the masses; indeed few things escape her. She sheds tears on the lot of the poor labourers who work themselves to death with empty stomach to make others prosperous and themselves poor. Says the mill-worker’s wife:
“When at the day’s end,
After giving the labour of rock-like chest and steel-like muscles,
And getting in return the chimney smoke
In your lap, you returned home;
Then that smoke of the chimney and the smoke of your breath
Looked similar;
Your rock-like chest and steel-like muscles
All covered with coal dust……….
An age is past
But now when smoke rises
From any chimney, fromany mill
To me even now
Your breath looks
Mingled with chimney smoke.
Then out of your breath came the chimney smoke
But now out of the chimney smoke
Comes your breath.
Unoblivious of the time factor, she cries out:
“A moment comes
When after centuries
The curtain of Good and Evil is lifted;
When the lining to oppression
Melts like a cloud...
And therefrom emerges–
Humanity crushed from the burden of centuries–
Without form, without figure
But merely a symptom,
Revolution
When muscles twitch
The chains and century-old links
Break like the lightning...”
Lately, Mrs. Amrita Pritam has taken to writing short stories and she has carried into her short stories the sensitivity that characterises her poetry. A collection of some ten stories has appeared under the significant name “26 Tears After”