HALI'S MUSADDAS

Maulana Altaf Husain Hali was born in Panipat in 1837. His father, a native Panipati, was Aizad Baksh and his mother was from a place called Shuhadapur. He lived in Patti Ansar, in Mohalla Ansar. Maulana Hali was my paternal grandmother Mushtaq Fatima's grandfather. Let me elaborate. Altaf Husain had two sons, Khwaja Akhlaq Husain and Khwaja Sajjad Husain, and one daughter, Inayat Fatima. My grandmother was Khwaja Akhlaq Husain's daughter. Hali's ancestry can be traced all the way to Hazrat Abu Ayub Ansari of Medina. It is said that when the Prophet of Islam performed Hijrat (the Prophet's exodus from Mecca to Medina in year AD 622 from which date the Islamic calendar starts), each Medina dweller was anxious that he should be his guest and grace his house. 'Wherever my camel sits down, that is the house in which I will stay,' the Prophet is reported to have said. The camel sat before the house of Abu Ayub Ansari.

The descendants of Abu Ayub (called Ansars, friends of the Prophet) left Medina to spread the message of Islam. They reached the province of Herat, then part of the kingdom of Iran, now in North Afghanistan. There in Quhandaz in AD 1006 (modern Qunduz) was born a man called Abu Ismail Abdullah ibn Mohammad Al Ansari, who became known to the world as Khwaja Abdullah, Pir-e-Herat. For his scholarship and piety, he achieved the highest stature during his own lifetime. His mausoleum is three-and-a-half miles from Herat, and is visited by thousands of pilgrims. In early times they used to disembark at a respectable distance and cover the ground by foot to the fortress wall that surrounds the area. His grave is enclosed with a blue stone lattice. Many mendicants and fakirs sit there in total silence.

Khwaja Abdullah wrote about himself that he had a phenomenal memory; he could remember by heart thirty thousand Hadith (words spoken by the Prophet and recorded by his companions). He recalled that once he travelled from Neshapur to the Durbar while it was raining. He covered the entire distance on all fours because he had strapped the manuscripts of the Hadith to his stomach for fear that they may get wet. (Khwaja Azhar Hasan Tazkirah Shehr-e-Marhoom, Lahore, 1991.)

One of Khwaja Abdullah's offspring, Khwaja Malik Ali, was the ancestor of the Ansars of Panipat. Malik Ali came to India from Herat in the thirteenth century during the Sultanate period when Ghiasuddin Balban was on the throne. Having heard of his profound scholarship, the Sultan received him with great deference and gave him, as jagir, fertile lands in rural Pargana Panipat and several residential and commercial lands in Panipat town. He also appointed him the Qazi of Panipat, keeper of the sacred graves, arbiter of market rates and bestowed on him responsibility of reading the Khutbas (discourses) of both Eid-ul-Fitr and Eid-uz-Zuha. ‘In short,' writes Azhar Hasan, 'the entire Panipat was given to him as jagir.' The lands were expected to yield rich harvests, which would enable him to engage in scholarship without worrying about earning a living. It was from him that Khwaja Aizad Baksh, Altaf Husain's father, traced his descent.
Over the years, Panipat became a uniquely spiritual place. It developed as a centre for learning, where the Sufiya (Sufis) and Auliya (Walis) found the ideal environment for giving dars (lessons) in Tasawwuf, Suluk and Ruhaniyat (all aspects of Sufi teaching). It is said that there were more than 360 mosques in Panipat and more than seven hundred ulema, who gave lessons to thousands of students. The famous Sufi saint Bu Ali Shah, also known as Qalandar Sahib, lived among his disciples in the heart of the city. It was not unusual to see followers of Qalandar Sahib roam naked through the streets. The first time Khwaja Malik Alt met Qalandar Sahib was when he was sitting down for his meal and a servant announced that a fakir was at the door. Khwaja Sahib ordered that the man be brought in. The servant hesitated. 'Why?' asked the Khwaja. 'Because he is naked and says he will not appear before you in this condition.' Khwaja Malik Ali, Hali's ancestor, removed his own dushala (shawl) for the saint so he could join him in the repast. Later, when the Mullahs wrote a fatwa of execution against Qalandar Sahib, citing nakedness as one of the reasons, Balban asked for an opinion from Khwaja, Malik Ali Ansari. The answer given by the scholar was, ‘He is not naked, he is only majzub (God intoxicated).' Balban conceded the point and Qalandar Sahib lived many years in Panipat to spread the message of universal love. This was Hali's Panipat. At the time Hali was growing up, Panipat was regarded the centre for Quirrat, meaning recitation of the Quran. At any given time, there were hundreds of qaris and qarias (male and female recitors) who had perfected the art of recitation besides having committed the entire Quran to memory and having earned the title, Hafiz-e-Quran.

When he was a small boy, Altaf Husain lost both his parents. His upbringing became the responsibility of his older brother Imdad Husain. At the age of seventeen he was married to his cousin Islam-un-Nisa. But he found himself unable to settle down to a routine life of a mofussil town. Although he had studied Quran under Hafiz Mumtaz Husain, the man regarded the best Qari of Panipat, Arabic under Haji Ibrahim Husain and Persian under Syed Jafar Ali, his spirit craved for something more. This restlessness resulted in his leaving the house early one morning when everyone was asleep; at the time he was no more than seventeen years old. The distance from Delhi to Panipat was only fifty-five miles but it was at the time spoken of by Panipatis as 'kaley koson ki doori' (black miles of separation). He knew that the family would never agree to let him go so far. It is said that he covered most of the distance on foot since he had no money for conveyance.

Once in Delhi, he reached its most famous landmark, Jama Masjid. Opposite the masjid was a school with a board, 'Husain Baksh ka Madrasa.' The teacher allowed him to join the class and his days and nights fell into the madrasa routine. During the day he used to study and eat his meal in the school and at night he slept on the cool tiles of the Jama Masjid, using a brick as pillow and water to while away his hunger pangs. Maulvi Navazish Ali became very fond of this earnest young man. It was during this time that he wrote an essay in Arabic in support of the dialectics of Maulvi Siddique Hasan, who subscribed to the Wahabi school of thought. With, great pride he took this maiden venture to his teacher, Maulvi Navazish. The teacher, who subscribed to the Hanafi fiqah, took one look at the manuscript and tore it to shreds. 'Regardless of how well you have written it, the fact remains that it is supportive of Wahabi doctrine,' he fumed. Altaf Husain did not speak one word; but this incident, which left its mark, reverberates in the lines of Musaddas-e-Hali.

Delhi was the hub of the best contemporary poets, writers and philosophers. Young poets were inspired by the poetry of Mirza Ghalib and his illustrious contemporaries, Zauq and Momin. It was then that Altaf Husain adopted the takhallus (pen name) Khasta, meaning 'the exhausted, the distressed, the heartbroken.' He wanted to show his work to Ghalib but was diffident. However, when he finally approached Ghalib, the great poet made the famous pronouncement, 'Young man, I never advise anyone to write poetry but to you I say, if you don't write poetry, you will be very harsh on your temperament.'
Persuaded by his elder brother who wanted him to resume his householder duties, Hali returned to Panipat in 1855 and for the first time faced family responsibilities. His eldest son, Akhlaq Husain, was born. Seeing the joy on his childless brother's face, he placed his son in his lap and forever addressed his own son as baradar zaada (brother's son). Thus did Hali's family expenses grow and a small employment was secured for him in nearby Hissar at the Collector's office. That was the year before the 1857 uprising. In Delhi the last Mughal Emperor Bahadur Shah Zafar was on the throne. His entire domain was confined to the Lal Qila. Those clays the popular doggerel was:

Saltanat-e-Shah Alam/Az Villi ta Palam.
(Domain of Shah Alam/From Delhi to Palam.)


As Maulvi Abdul Haq says, Hals was witness to this last flicker of the lamp of the Mughals, which had so far kept alive all sorts of fantastic hopes. In Hissar as well, before his very eyes, signs of trouble appeared. Hali became restless and decided to return home. His great-granddaughter, the writer Saliha Abid Husain, in her book Yaadgaar-e-Hali, has recorded his journey back to Panipat during those disturbed times. It was only when he reached home that the family realized how badly he was affected, physically and emotionally. During the great devastation of Delhi, entire families were massacred. Those who were spared were forced to run and hide. Some landed in Panipat and people opened their homes to these victims of Ghadar. One such emasculated family, which took refuge with Imdad Husain, was a mother and daughter. They had lost their entire family, including the youthful husband of the ten-year-old girl child. The little girl left a deep impact on Hali's mind. From the time she entered the house in 1857, until her death at a ripe old age, she lived with his family. It is said in family records that the tragedy of Bi Mattarya was written in her eyes, hence her nickname 'Mattarya,' meaning large questioning eyes. Watching her, Hali became acutely aware of the condition of women in general and the beleaguered existence of widows. This deepened awareness led to his writing two long poems, Munajaat-e-Beva (Supplication of the Widow) and Chup ki Daad (Homage to the Silent). These poems qualify Hali as Urdu's first feminist poet.

The next phase in his life began in 1863 when he became tutor to the children of Nawab Mustafa Khan Shefta and spent eight years in that position in his native place, Jahangirabad. Hali had met Shefta during his first sojourn in Delhi. At that time, while he was under the spell of Mirza Ghalib, it was the tutelage of this aristocratic patron and connoisseur which he regarded as the more formative influence on his poetry, 'Mirza's suggestions and advice did not help me,' he wrote, 'what helped was the company of Nawab Sahib.' Shefta, though a lesser poet, was a man of good taste. According to Hali, Shefta abhorred the use of hyperbole, which poets often use in an attempt to embellish their poetry. Shefta believed that simple facts aesthetically narrated could create the best effect. Shefta's famous pronouncement about a long elegiac poem of Mir Anis (the best marsiya-go or dirge writer of all times) is a fine example of the poetic restraint that he imparted to Hali. The marsiya, consisting of 150 stanzas, begins with the line:

Aaj Shabbir pe kya aalam-e-tanhayi hai.
(Today what loneliness confronts Shabbir.)

Shefta's quip was that this one line was enough to "express the poignancy of the event; Anis did not need to write the 150 stanzas of the marsiya!
In Shefta's company, Hali's visits to Delhi became frequent. The two delighted in Ghalib's company and poetry. At one time Hali took it upon himself to advise the older poet to give up the bottle and ensure that some time was devoted to namaz. Mirza took great offence at Hali's 'audacity' and wrote a poetic rejoinder in the form of a Persian qata, care of Shefta. Hali was quick to realize the error in his self-righteousness and that he had dared to advise Ghalib! He wrote an apology, also in the form of a Persian qata. Thus the poetic repartee continued until the matter was amicably resolved. When Ghalib died in 1869, Hali wrote an immortal marsiya which addressed Ghalib as Bulbul-e-Hind.

In 1871, Hali found employment with Government Book Depot in Lahore, where he worked for three years. His task was to correct Urdu translations of English books. This proved the most useful learning period of his life because it brought to his attention a wide range of English writings, which for the reason that he could not read English he would never have known. From these books he learnt how poetry had been used as a vehicle for reform movements in many languages of the world. It was this exposure that led to his writing what is regarded as the first book in Urdu on the theory of literary criticism, Muqaddama-e-Shair-o-Shairi which shows influence of Western critical trends. This first appeared as a long introduction to his Divan , published in 1890, and then as a book in its own right in 1893. Annemarie Schimmel, in her book Classical Urdu Literature from the beginning to Iqhal, describes Hali as the 'founder of literary tradition in Urdu.' By this time he had changed his takhallus (poetic name) form 'Khasta' to 'Hali', meaning 'contemporary' or 'modem'.

During his stay in Lahore he witnessed a new kind of Mushaira, which was started by the poet Mohammad Husain Azad and the British Director of Public Education, Col. W.R.M. Holroyd. The rule here was that instead of asking the poets to recite their ghazals at will, they were given a subject on which to compose their poems. Hali wrote four poems for four such gatherings. They were Nishat-e-Umeed (Delight of Hope), Manazra-e-Rahm-o-lnsaaf (Dialogue between Mercy and Justice), Barkha Rut (Rainy Season), and Hubb-e-Watan (Patriotism). The last two became very popular.

Hali left Lahore to teach at the Anglo Arabic School, Delhi, where he remained for three years, until 1877. It is here that Hali met the man who was to become his greatest inspiration and greatest challenge. To quote an Urdu expression used by many writers to describe this moment, 'This is the place where the Quom got a poet and the poet got a Quom.' During the years which followed he kept close to Sir Saiyad, the man who was to become the moving spirit behind Musaddas. Sir Saiyad Ahmed Khan, thinker, philosopher and founder of the Aligarh movement, asked Hali to apply his genius for the Muslim Quom which, according to him, had sunk to the lowest possible depths. 'Write something like Marsiya-e-Andalus (dirge for Spain),’ Sir Saiyad is reported to have said.

The timing was perfect. Hali had been honed by masters like Ghalib and Shefta, he had spent hours studying European and English literature (in translation) and he had been eyewitness to the annihilation of the Quom after the 1857 uprising. He was ready to speak to the Quom about its impending sickness, taking upon himself the responsibility of a guide and social reformer.

In 1879 he put his pen down, having completed Musaddas; on the literary scene appeared a grand elegy and a stirring poetic call.

On 10 June 1879, Sir Saiyad wrote to Hali expressing his profound appreciation for sending him the first five copies of Musaddas:

From the moment the book reached my hand until the moment it was finished I could not put it down. And when it was complete, I was overcome with a sense of sadness that it had ended. It will be entirely correct if the modern age of Urdu poetry is dated from the date inscribed in Musaddas. I do not have the power of expression to describe the elegance, beauty and flow of this poem. It is amazing how this factual theme, which eschews exaggeration and artifice—the hallmark of most poets—has been expressed by you so effectively and eloquently.

He then goes on to write:

I am undoubtedly its inspiration. I consider this poem among those finest deeds of mine that when God asks me what did you bring with you, I will say 'Nothing but that I got Hali to write the Musaddas!’

In the letter he shares his dreams that the verses of Musaddas should be on the lips of all people from every walk of life. Children should recite them in schools, Imams should quote them in their Khutbas, artists should sing them in mehfils and qawwals at gatherings of Sama. He refers to it as the 'mirror of the nation's condition and an elegy expressive of its grief.

Most of these dreams became reality. Musaddas took the Urdu-speaking community by storm. No other book sold out as fast; no other book appeared in as many editions in such quick succession. With the exception of the first one or two editions, Hali dedicated all others to the nation and claimed no royalty for himself. There are many contemporary accounts of the hard-hitting impact the book had on ordinary people. The overwhelming feeling was, 'At last there is one who cares enough to soundly rebuke us.' It was as if they were craving the whiplash of Halis words.

Maulvi Abdul Haq in his article for the Centenary Edition writes about the time he first heard the recitation of Musaddas. It was in a village near Ferozpur where he was visiting his uncle in the 1880s. The event was the circumcision of his uncle's young son, which was celebrated for three days. In the morning of the second day there was a large gathering mostly of farmers from nearby villages. Suddenly a prostitute sat down on the stage. She had been specially called from Lahore. Maulvi Sahib recalls that she was a poet herself and her ghazals were published in journals of Lahore. She took one look at the gathering and started singing the first lines of the Musaddas:

Kisi ne ye Buqrat se jaa ke poochha
Maraz tere nazdik muhlak hain kya kya.


'Until she finished her song there was pin-drop silence. Some people were swaying in rapture; some others had tears in their eyes. That scene is still vivid before my eyes. That song still echoes in my mind. Today whenever I read Musaddas that sight flashes through the mind. I think to myself what was "it" in the poem, which so touched these uneducated rustics that they could not hold back their tears.' (Musaddas-e-Hali, Centenary Edition, Edited by Syed Abid Husain, Delhi, 1935.)

In his Second Introduction (1886) to the Supplement of the Musaddas, Hali wrote that seven or eight editions of the poem had already been published in various districts. Some government schools, he said, had included selected passages from it in their syllabus. It was sung in gatherings of milaad (Prophet's birthday). He also attested that he had seen people bursting into tears while listening to its recitation. Parts of it were recited by the waiz (preachers) who had committed them to heart and parts of it were enacted on the stage. Having said that he added with characteristic modesty:

For the author, there is nothing to be proud of. If the Quom did not have the sensitivity, a thousand such poems would have been of no use. If the author is proud of anything it is only that he did not sow his seed in barren land or tried to set a leech upon a stone. He has addressed a community which has lost its way but is searching for it in every direction. (Second Introduction, Centenary Edition, 1935.)

About the staging of Musaddas, Sir Saiyad has written in his Safarnama-e-Punjab of 1884 that the Muslims of Amritsar had built a theatre like the Parsis. The curtain opened to reveal a ship with a sleeping crew caught in a storm and sinking. A man or a woman sang the stanzas and such a poignant atmosphere was created that people burst into tears. (Sir Saiyad's Safarnama quoted by Shackle and Majeed in the OUP edition.)

No sooner had Musaddas appeared than there was pandemonium among poets and scribes who had been severely reprimanded by Hali for misleading the Quom. Numerous parodies and imitations were penned by minor poets. That Musaddas inspired such a reaction is a glaring testimony of its impact. In his essay on Musaddas written for the centenary edition, Maulana Abdul Majid Daryabadi, secretary of Darul Musanifeen, a famous writers guild, writes about this onslaught of diatribes that were the poetic brotherhood's angry reaction to Hali's harsh condemnation of unscrupulous poets and bad poetry. It is impossible to translate Daryabadi in English but an attempt is made below:

Such obvious truth (about poets) but fifty or sixty years ago when Hali first uttered the word, the whole 'world’ caught fire. Where? Nowhere else; the fire was in the Lanka (Sri Lanka) of Ravan! This Lanka was filled with the most ferocious demons and fiends. Huge platoons advanced to attack, to give rejoinders, to hurl contradictions, to ridicule and to deride. One gentleman named himself 'Khaal' to rhyme with lHaal,' another put on the mask of 'Khali' apropos 'Hali' which was well suited to him since 'Khali' means empty. Someone else dressed as 'Khyali' meaning 'in the air.' And the Panch newspapers, they had a field day. One example of their degenerate doggerel was:

Hali ka Haal
Maidaan-e-Panipat ki tarah paimaal
(Hali's condition
Devastated like the battlefield of Panipat)
But where are all these rejoinders today? Even the old files of the newspapers (Avadh Panch) are not to be traced. Not a sign remains of all their pomp and grandeur. Cheap catcalls of the frontbenchers and hiss of market hoodlums have died down long ago. And Musaddas, is there any need to state what it has done for the Quom?

If an aril (one who knows), sometimes with laments and moans, sometimes with deep sighs and warm tears, offers munajaat (prayers) and some bards, troubadours and clowns come trooping down, beating their drums and begin to gyrate and boogie—will it make the slightest dent in the power and popularity of this creature of Allah?

The style of Musaddas presents a break with the Urdu poetic tradition. Its title 'Ebb and Tide in Islam' is almost forgotten because of the popular appellation, Musaddas. The literal meaning of 'musaddas' is 'six' and here it means a stanza form which consists of six lines; the first four are a kind of iambic pentameter ending with the same sound, hence a,a,a,a. The last two are rhymed with each other, hence b,b. This poetic style in Urdu is associated with the marsiya, which is a long elegiac poem to commemorate sad events, in particular the martyrdom of the Prophet's grandson, Imam Husain and his companions in the battlefield of Karbala.

Stylistically suited to evoking empathy for the martyrs, it is cathartic for the listeners in a manner similar to the catharsis of Greek tragedy. The great masters of this form are Mir Babar Ali Anis and Mir Salamat Ali Dabir who wrote the most splendid marsiyas in the mid-nineteenth century.

Hali found the 'musaddas' form most well suited to what would become a dirge for the Quom. Over time this poetic form has become identified with Hali. In above quoted article, Abdul Majid Daryabadi gives the contours of this identification:

Can anyone associate 'musaddas' with anyone else? Just as uttering the word 'masnavi' takes the mind only to one 'masnavi,' namely, Masnavi Maulana Roum, similarly the word 'musaddas' can take one only to Hali.

He further explains the image of illness which runs throughout the poem. He states that whenever there is a death in a family, those who come to condole enquire about the illness, the diagnosis and the cause of death. In Musaddas, Daryabadi writes, 'The poet explains the causes which led to the demise of a magnificent Quom in such detail that the people who had learnt of this for the first time only after 1857, began to grasp the fact (that) ... it was not the death which was as shocking as the fact that despite everything, it had still managed to stay alive.' He adds:

Saadi and Aban Abi Al Sair lamented the destruction of Baghdad and cried tears of blood, and Aban Badrun recited his heart-wrenching dirge at the desolation of Andalus (Spain) but alas no one shed a tear for India even after twenty-four years. Hearts brimmed over with sorrow, eyes were tear-filled and hands were ready to beat the breast. The Musaddas appeared and worked like a marsiya. People wept to their hearts’ content.

It was more than a quarter century later that the same form was to be used by another poet to articulate the destiny of Indian Muslims. In 1911, at a meeting of the Anjuman Himayat-e-Islam in Lahore, Dr. Mohammed Iqbal recited his masterpiece, Shikva (Complaint), in which he, speaking for the Quom, complains to Allah for being unfair to the Muslim community. (See Khushwant Singh's translation of Iqbal's Shikva Javab-e-Shikva, OUP 1981.)

In Delhi, Hali was teaching at the Anglo Arabic School as well as working on his own writing when he got news that his elder brother was dead. It was a shattering blow but he coped in his characteristic way, by immersing himself in work. Soon after he got a letter from the Nizam that as a mark of the high regard in which he was held by the state, Hyderabad had approved a monthly stipend of Rs. 75 for him. The amount was enough for his modest lifestyle and after Imdad Husain's death he felt the need to return home. Delhi in any case seemed empty and forlorn without Ghalib, Shefta and other loved ones. Some immortal couplets were composed to mark this moment, his second exodus from Delhi:

Tazkirab Dehli-e-marhoom ka at dost na chhed
Na suna jaayega ham se ye fasaana hargiz
Leke daagh aayega sau apne jigar par saiyyab
Dekb us shehr ke khandron mein na jaana hargiz.
(Don't tell dead Delhi's sad story, friend tarry
This saddest of tales we cannot hear and bear
Wounds by the hundreds the traveller will carry
Never stray in the ruins of that city, once fair.)

The family home was in mohalla Ansar, where his elder son Akhlaq Husain now lived with his family. But he decided to live away from the town in the mohalla Sadaat. Downstairs lived his wife, granddaughter and great-grandchildren. His living quarters were upstairs where he sat on a takht worked on his writing all day. Sometimes he would look out at the children playing in the courtyard. The little boy and girl so busy in their games were children of my grandmother Mushtaq Fatima. Khwaja Ghulamus Saiyidain in his biography recalls how he and his elder sister used to occasionally call out "Baba' and the man who was then in his mid-seventies came down the stairs each time, much to the thrill of his two great-grandchildren.

In 1899 Sir Syed died. Hali dealt with this tragedy by busying himself in writing his biography, Hayat-e-Javed, which, was published in 1901. Governmental recognition for his services came in the form of conferment of the title Shamsul Ulema, meaning 'Sun among Scholars'. His friend, the famous Maulana Shibli, wrote to him that it was an honour for the title itself that it would now be associated with Hali's name. But Hali was greatly bothered and regarded it as an imposition. He wrote to his son, Khwaja Sajjad Husain, that now he would be required to be present everytime 'haakim' (VIP) or 'afsar' (officer) came visiting. 'This headache is not for me!'

This part of his life was spent mostly in Panipat, with visits to Hyderabad, Delhi and Aligarh. In 1914 he suffered a stroke from which he never recovered. He died at the age of seventy-seven on 31 December 1914 and his grave in the courtyard of the mausoleum of Bu Ali Shah Qalandar in Panipat is where people stop first to recite the fatiha even before they reach Qalandar Sahib.
Hali has been called Mujaddid-e-Adab meaning 'Innovator of Literature'. He started off as per tradition as a ghazal poet and wrote some of the most exquisite and famous love poems. But since Musaddas became so identified with his name, these pieces are sometimes attributed to his famous contemporaries Ghalib, Sauda and Zauq.
Here are two examples of Hali's love poems;

Aagey barhe na qissa-e-ishq-e-butan se ham
Sab kuchh kaha magar na khule raazdaan se ham.
(We stopped just at recounting the stories of love
A lot was said but hearts were closed to the confidante.)
Hai justju ke khoob se hai khoobtar kahan
Ab thairti hai dekhiye jaa kar nazar kaban.
(The quest is where is the better where best
Let us see where the eye finally comes to rest.)