Ode to a poet

“Lal Quile ka Aakhri Mushaera” was not just a well mounted play, it was a significant attempt to give the unsung Zauq his due

Of Shauq and Zauq: A scene from 'Lal Quile ka Akhri Mushaera'.

It was likely to be an evening of constant enchantment, effortlessly witty and poetic. It turned out to be much more. All thanks to the attention surrounding Muhammad Ibrahim Zauq, the oft-admonished, under-celebrated genius of the court of the last Mughal, Bahadur Shah Zafar. A society used to convenient heroes and even more convenient villains may have consigned Zauq to the forgotten lanes of Paharganj where he rests in undisturbed sleep, but for those who appreciate the nuances of times gone by, Zauq continues to be a man of rare mettle; a poet whose profundity stemmed from the simplicity of his words. At “Lal Quile ka Aakhri Mushaera”, director Sayeed Alam’s play inspired by Muhammad Hussain Azad’s “Aab-e-Hayaat” and Farhatullah Beg’s “Dehli ki Aakhri Shama” Zauq well and truly emerged ‘ghalib’ (victorious) over Asadullah Khan.

There he sat under the benign eye of Bahadur Shah Zafar, the most fragile of Mughal kings, who reigned without ever ruling over his empire. His body language robust, his words chiselled. Slowly the director set about giving us a real showcase of Zauq’s personality though the galaxy attending the last poetic soiree of Zafar’s time included such formidable names as Ghalib, Momin, Dagh, and of course, Zauq’s tutor Shauq besides the king, no mean poet himself. Incidentally, by choosing some of the lesser known couplets of Zafar, Alam helped to right a historical wrong. Contrary to common perception, Zafar did not pen the famous couplet, “Kitna hai budnaseeb Zafar”, or for that matter, “Na kisi ki aankh ka noor hun”.

As for Zauq, well, he was a rare poet not renowned for living life on the wild side. His words, often derided by some as mere eulogies or

qaseeda , conveyed the angst of the faithful, of a man seeing the world slip out of his hands, like grains of sand. Here in Alam’s play, a balanced picture emerges, by and by. Watching his character unfold is like peeling onions — layer upon layer. At the beginning of the play he shows magnanimity of spirit by opening the mushaira on the prompting of Ghalib — against the norm of a junior poet starting the proceedings and the senior most performing at the end. This despite being the ‘ustad’ of Ghalib. Then later in the play, he virtually leads Zafar by the hand as the old poet struggles though his kalam — the underlying but unstated message being that Zauq, the court poet, was the mentor of the emperor. At another stage, when Ghalib, completely overcome by Momin’s timeless couplet, “Tum mere paas hote ho goya jab koi doosra nahin hota”, offers his life’s collection to him in lieu of it, Zauq’s religious streak and wit both come to the fore. Following the proposal, he says, in half jest, “If that be so, the world will say Ghalib Momin ho gaya” (Ghalib has turned momin) meaning Ghalib, a known lover of the drink, has become a pious Muslim.

On such wit and repartee, Alam builds the character of Zauq, giving him his rightful due as one of the very best poets the language has seen over the past century or two.

Not that the evening was a lopsided showcase for Zauq with little else. Grabbing his moment in the spotlight was Shauq, Zauq’s mentor, who at one time admonished him but later felt proud to be called the ustad of Shauq. Then there was Balmukund, his ageless words searing one and all at a time of socio-political ferment. Not to forget Tishna, the half mad man taken as jester by history. But even in his madcap ways, he showed a mirror to a society that cared more for reputations than real worth.

With such bricks does Alam bring up his lofty play. As Zauq himself, he is both robust and restrained. Ram Diwakar as Shauq, Manish Singh as Balmukund and Vijay Gupta as Tishna are hugely entertaining though in many ways unsung artistes. Much like Ayub Khan who stoops and slouches to conquer. Then with the hugely popular Tom Alter playing the frail Zafar, one was certain that the best part of Zafar’s personality would come not through his couplets but his body language. Alter did not disappoint, easily mastering the art of the unsaid. As for Ghalib, well, Harish Chhabra, uncharacteristically stiff, did his utmost to make sure that Zauq gets all the limelight he deserved!

All this added to a fine evening when the whole was much more than the sum of the parts. It was a mushaira that cried out for taking a fresh look at both Zafar and Zauq; the former coming through as a man of subtle humour and great humility; the later covering himself with glory with his poetry as well as his overall personality. Pity, our connoisseurs have failed to see him in similar light. In the end, “Lal Quile ka Akhri Mushaera” was not just a play, but an attempt to right a historical wrong.