Ten Poems by Habib Jalib

I What Does Pakistan Mean? Bread, clothes and medicine A little house to live in Free education, as may right be seen A Muslim, I, too, have always been What does Pakistan mean There is no God, but God, The Rab-al-alameen For American alms do not bray Do not, the people, laugh away With the democratic struggle do not play Hold on to freedom, do not cave in What does Pakistan mean There is no God... Confiscate the fields from the landowners Take away the mills from the robbers Redeem the country from its dark hours Off with the lordly vermin What does Pakistan mean There is no God... Sind, Baluchistan and Frontier These three are to Panjab most dear And Bengal lends them splendour Anguished should not be their mien What does Pakistan mean There is no God... This, then, is the basic thing For the people, let freedom’s bell ring From the rope, let the plunderer swing Truly they speak, who the truth have seen What does Pakistan mean There is no God, but Allah...	I Pakistan Ka Matlab Kya? Roti, kapda aur dawa Ghar rehne ko chhota sa Muft mujhe talim dila Mein bhi Musalmaan hoon wallah Pakistan ka matlab kya La Ilaha Illalah… Amrika se mang na bhik Mat kar logon ki tazhik Rok na janhoori tehrik Chhod na azadi ki rah Pakistan ka matlab hai kya La Ilaha Illalah… Khet waderon se le lo Milen luteron se le lo Mulk andheron se le lo Rahe na koi Alijah Pakistan ka matlab kya La Ilaha Illalah… Sarhad, Sindh, Baluchistan Teenon hain Panjab ki jaan Aur Bangal hai sab ki aan Aai na un ke lab par aah Pakistan ka matlab kya La Ilaha Illalah… Baat yehi hai bunyadi Ghasib ki ho barbadi Haq kehte hain haq agah Pakistan ka matlab kya La Ilaha Illalah…

II Islam Is Not In Danger Endangered are the idle rich, bursting with cash Crumbling walls about to crash All the centuries’ mish-mash Islam is not in danger Why do a few clans all the land rights enjoy And those, who revere the Prophet, are bereft of joy Endangered are the beasts of prey Multicoloured cars which in the streets sashay And for whom the American hearts sway Islam is not in danger Due to our slogans the palaces shake and tremble The towering ornate shops cannot our hopes quell Endangered are the robbers of the highway Western traders who make hay Thieves and tricksters who waylay Islam is not in danger Holding aloft the banner of peace, loving all humans, we are on the go Loving all the world, O Jalib, is our proud credo Endangered are the palatial predators The kings and their abettors Nawabs and other such traitors Islam is not in danger.	II Khatre Mein Islam Nahin Khatra hai zar daron ko Girti hui diwaron ko Sadiyon ke bimaron ko Khatre mein Islam nahin Sari zamin ko ghere hue hain aakhir chand gharane kyon Naam nabi ka lene wale ulfat se begane kyon Khatra hai khun khwaron ko Rang birangi karon ko Amrika ke pyaron ko Khatre mein Islam nahin Aaj hamare naaron se larza hai bapa aiwanon mein Bik na sakenge hasrat-o arman unchi saji dukanon mein Khatra hai bat maron ko Maghrib ke bazaron ko Choron ko makkaron ko Khatre mein Islam nahin Amn ka parcham le kar utho har insane se piyar karo Aprna to manshoor hai Jalib, sare jahan se pyar karo Khatra hai darbaron ko Shahon ke ghamkhwaron ko Nawabon, ghaddaron ko Khatre mein Islam nahin

III Maulana Too long I have heard you preach and prate, Maulana But so far there has been no change in my fate, Maulana Keep to yourself your preachings of gratefulness My heart, like an arrow, they penetrate, Maulana The truth, only you know or God knows They say that Jimmy Carter is your pir* incarnate, Maulana The land to the landlords, the machine to the despoilers This, according to you, is God’s dictate, Maulana Why don’t millions fight for Palestine Prayers alone cannot from chains liberate, Maulana * Sufi saint	III Maulana Bahut mein ne suni hai aap ki taqreer Maulana Magar badli nahin ab tak meri taqdeer Maulana Khudara Shukr ki talqeen apne pass hi rakhen Yeh lagti hai mere seene pe ban kar teeer Maulana Nahin mein bol sakta jhut is darja dhitai se Yehi hai jurm mera aur yehi taqsir Maulana Haqeeqat ka kya hai, yeh to aap jaanen ya Khuda jane Suna hai Jimmi Carter hai aap ka peer Maulana Zameenen hon waderon ki, mashinen hon luteron ki Khuda ne likh ke di hai yeh tumhen terhrir Maulana Karodon kyon nahin mil kar Falastin ke liye ladte Dua hi se faqat kat-ti nahin zanjir Maulana

IV Ghazal Hindustan belongs to me and Pakistan belongs to me Both of these, however, are under American hegemony American aid gave us wheat, as also their deceit Do not ask me how long we’ve suffered their conceit And yet the bayonets are all around this flowering valley Hindustan belongs to me and Pakistan belongs to me Khan Bahadur, do not follow the English, from them better keep away Once again they are holding you by the collar, you are still their prey Macmillan was never thine, Kennedy can never be Hindustan belongs to me and Pakistan belongs to me This land in fact, my dear, belongs to peasants and workers Here will not run the writ of a few clannish marauders The dawn of freedom is heralding the end of tyranny Hindustan belongs to me and Pakistan belongs to me.	IV Ghazal Hindustan bhi mera hai aur Pakistan bhi mera hai Lekin in donon mulkon mein Amrika dera hai Aid ki gandam kha kar ham ne kitney dhokey khai hain Poochh na hamne Amrika ke kitne naaz uthai hain Phir bhi ab tak wadi-e gul ko sangeenon ne ghera hai Hindustan bhi mera hai aur Pakistan bhi mera hai Khan Bahadur chhodna hoga ab to saath Angrezon ka Ta bah gareban aa pahuncha hai phir se hath Angrezon ka Macmilan tera na hua to Kenedy kab tera hai Hindustan bhi mera hai aur Pakistan bhi mera hai Yeh dharti hai asal mein, pyare, mazdooron dahqanon ki Is dharti par chal na sakegi marzi chand gharanon ki Zulm ki rat rahegi kab tak ab nazdik savera hai Hindustan bhi mera hai aur Pakistan bhi mera hai

V The Mother The children were shot dead The mother, in fury, said These pieces of my heart Should cry and I stand apart Looking on from afar This I cannot do I should look on from afar As the tyrants, night and day With the blood of my children Holi* play Besmirched in red As the children were shot dead The mother, in fury, said These pieces of my heart Should cry and I stand apart Looking on from afar This, I cannot do * Spring festival played with coloured water She walked came down to the ground Like lightening flashing around The tyrant’s hand trembled Full of fear the gun frowned Everywhere her echo did resound I am hereby bound, I am coming for this round I am hereby bound, I am coming for this round Then oppression became evil Panic-stricken were those who kill When she thundered As our children were murdered She said, you vampires Gold is the be all of your desires This land belongs to us all This land, you Dunces Esquires Lackeys, still, to your British Sires The sahib’s beneficence Has not made you landlords: squires Desist from this tyranny Back to your barracks, flee You, who rove ahead With a gang of plunderers you have bred As our children were shot dead	V Maan Bachchon pe chali goli Maan dekh ke yeh boli Yeh dil ke mere tukde Yun royen mere hote Mein dur khadi dekhoon Yeh mujh se nahin hoga Mein Dur khadi dekhun Aur ahl-e sitam khelen Khun se mere bachchon ke Din-raat yahan holi Bachchon pe chali goli Maan dekh ke yeh boli Yeh dil ke mere tukde Yun royen mere hote Mein dur khadi dekhun Yeh mujh se nahin hoga Meidan mein nikal aayi Ek barq si lehrai Har dast-e sitam kanpa Bandooq bhi tharrai Har simt sada gunji Mein aati hun, mein aayee Mein aati hun, mein aayee Har zulm hua batil Aur seham gaye qatil Jab us ne zaban kholi Bachchon pe chali goli Us ne kaha khun-khwaro! Daulat ke parastaro Dharti hai yeh ham sab ki Is dharti ko naa-dano! Angrezon ke darbano! Sahab ki ata-kardah Jagir na tum jano Is zulm se baaz aao Bairak mein chale jao Kyon chand luteron ki Phirte ho liye toli Bachchon pe chali goli

VI The Garden Is A Bloody Mess This poem is about the oppression in East Pakistan in 1971 Our eyes yearn for greenery The garden is a bloody mess For whom should I sing my songs of love The cities are all a wilderness The garden is a bloody mess The rays of the sun, they sting Moonbeams are a killing field, no less Deep shadows of death hover at every step Life wears a skull and bone dress All around the air is on prowl With bows and arrows, in full harness The garden is a bloody mess The battered buds are like a sieve The leaves drenched in blood smears Who knows, for how long We’ll have this rain of tears People how long do we have to bear These days and nights of sorrow and distress This oppressor’s blood bath is a frolicsome play For the mighty of the world, a mark of their prowess The garden is a bloody mess	VI Bagiya Lahoo Luhan Haryali ko aankhen tarsen bagiya lahoo luhan Pyar ke geet sunaoon kis ko shehar hue weeran Bagiya lahoo luhan Dasti hain suraj ki kirnen chand jalaye jaan Pag pag maut ke gehre saye jeewan maut saman Charon ore hawa phirti hai le kar teer Kaman Bagiya lahoo luhan Chhalni hain kaliyon ke seeney khoon mein lat paat Aur nahjaney kab tak hogi ashkon ki barsaat Dunya walon kab beeteinge dukh ke yeh din raat Khoon se holi khel rahe hain dharti ke balwan Bagiya lahoo luhan

VII God Is Ours Addressed to religious hucksters of any denomination and the system they defend – translator’s note God is not yours, to Him we have access He does not look kindly on those who oppress How long, you men of pelf, will you bleed us white Get off our backs, you who in filthy lucre take delight You satans it is dust that you will soon bite We believe that He treats mankind with loving tenderness He does not look kindly on those who oppress Light of new wisdom we are going to see A fire flares up, seeing our agony In this new magical dawn will burst forth the blossoming tree He brings hopes to those who are mired in distress God is not yours, to Him we have access He does not look kindly on those who oppress We’ll break the shadowy spell of fear and dread Onwards we will march, chains of despair we will shred We’ll not betray the hopes of the people, our dear kindred And long we will remember this time of duress He does not look kindly on those who oppress	VII Khuda Hamara Hai Khuda tumhara nahi hai khuda hamara hai Use zamin pe yeh zulm kab gawara hai Lahoo piyoge kahan tak hamara dhanwano Badhao apni dukan seem-o zar ke deewano Nishan kahin na rahega tumhara shaitano Hamein yaqeen hai ke insaan usko pyara hai Khuda tumhara nahin hai khuda hamara hai Use zameen pe yeh zulm kab gaawara hai Nai shaoor ki hai roshni nigahon mein Ek aag si bhi hai ab apni sard aahon mein Khilenge phool nazar ke sahar ki bahon mein Dukhe dilon ko isi aas ka sahara hai Khuda tumhara nahin hai khuda hamara hai Use zameen pe yeh zulm kab gawara hai Tilism-e sayah-e khauf-o hiras todenge Qadam bandhayenge zanjeere-e yaas todenge Kabhi kisi ke na ham dil ki aas todenge Rahega yaad jo ehd-e sitam guzara hai Use zamin pe yeh zulm kab gawara hai

VIII To Rakhshinda Zoya 13 April 1981, during a jail visit She cannot say it, but then My little one manages to say Father, come home Father, come home She cannot comprehend Why, in prison, I continue to stay And not return with her, hand in hand How should I explain to her That home, too, is like a prison Kot Lakhpat Jail	VIII Rakhshinda Zoya Se Keh nahin sakti par kehti hai Mujh se meri nanhi bachchi Abbu ghar chal Abbu ghar chal Us ki samajh mein kuchh nahin aata Kyon zindan mein reh jaata hun Kyon nahin saath mein uske chalta Kaise nanhi samjhaoon Ghar bhi to zindan ki tarah hai

IX On Iqbal Centenary When we arise to wake the poor, the have nots A beeline to the police station they make, these wealthy sots They say that God this wealth to them allots Oh these trite excuses, oh these dusty plots Night and day the working men’s blood they suck, o poet of the East These congenital liars, with the vileness of a beast	IX Yaum-E Iqbal Par Log uthte hain jab tere ghareebon ko jagane Sab shehar ke zardar pahunch jaate hain thane Kehte hain yeh daulat hamein bakhshi hai khuda ne Farsudah bahane wahi afsaane purane Ai shair-e mashriq! Yehi jhute yehi bad zaat Peete hain laoo banda-e mazdoor ka din raat

X The Government of Jack Boots If the dacoit had not had The village guard as his ally Our feet would not be in chains Our victory would not defeat imply Mourn with turbans round your necks Crawling on your bellies, comply Once the jack boot government is up It’s hard, to make it bid good-bye	X Bootan Di Sarkar (Panjabi) Dakuan da je saath na dinda pind da pehredar Aj paireen zanjeer na hund jit na hundi har Paggan apne gal wich pa lo turo pet de bhar Chadh jaye te mushkil lehndi bootan di sarkar