WARIS SHAH - THE GREATEST SECULAR POET OF THE PUNJAB

This year falls the 200th death anniversary of a great Punjabi poet Sayyad Waris Shah, whose epic Hir and Ranjha is known to every Punjabi. The long narrative is so completely interwoven in the social fabric of the Punjab that verses from it are quoted almost as from Ramayana and Mahabharta. Though many unauthorised versions of Waris Shah's magnum opus are available in cheap editions, some authentic editorial work was done in the post-1947 period in East and West Punjab. In East Punjab Professor Sant Singh Sekhon and Professor Jit Singh Seetal's edited versions were published by Sahitya Akademi and Navyug Publishers; and in West Punjab Sharif Sabar's version (with an introduction in Urdu !) was published by Punjabi Adabi Board, Lahore.

Heer's translations are available in English, French and German:

The Adventures of Hir and Ranjha

tr by Charles Fredrick Usborne
Peter Owen Ltd, London 1973 for UNESCO
First published in 1919 in London

The Love of Hir and Ranjha (Waris Shah)

tr by Sant Singh Sekhon
Old Boys' Association
Punjab Agriculture University, Ludhiana, India, 1978

Hir Zur Strukturalen Deutung des Panjabi Epos von Waris Shah

by Doris Buddenberg
Franz Steiner Verlag
Weisbaden, Germany, 1985

Hir Varis Shah

by Denis Matringe
The French Intstitute of Indology
Pondichery, India 1988
An Italian academic Dr E Tucci Lombardozzi of Istituto Universtario
Orientale, Naples wrote an introduction to a book Waris Shah by RK Kuldip
(KK Roy) published in 1971 in Calcutta.

Sekhon's translation into English was initially assigned to him by the UNESCO. Owing to delay on his part in completing the assignment the book missed its chance to be published worldwide. Never the less UNESCO published a translation by Mumtaz Hassan. To commemorate the life and work of the great poet of the Punjab on his 200th death anniversary; and as a homage to Sant Singh Sekhon, who passed away last year, we publish some excerpts from "The Love of Hir and Ranjha".
On such an important occasion there is not much activity either in east or west Punjab. Early this year a London-based organisation of Punjabis the Punjabi Markaz organised a jalsa to commemorate Waris Shah. This was the first ever public show of west Punjabis' latent love for the poet and the Punjabi language.

Invocation
I start with song in praise of the Lord
who made this world spring forth from love.
Prime lover of all is the Lord Himself,
and he gave His love to the Prophet-envoy.
Love is the sign of saint and sage
and the man of love will be solemn and shy.
And those who are fulfilled this wise
will find admittance to grace above.

Of Hir's arrival on the bank of the Chanab
Followed by her sixty maids, she comes,
full of youth's pride and beauty's charm.
Bunches of pearls hanging from her ears,
she looks a hourie of heavenly birth.
The bright red bodice over her breasts,
makes one forget both heaven and earth.
Her nose-ring like the pole star dares
the fury of summer's storm.
O reckless one, relent, for here
so many have pitched their tents and gone!
The squire's daughter sweeps all before,
so arrogant she, so proud and vain!

In praise of Hir's beauty
What praise may one bestow on Hir!
A full moon shines indeed in her brow.
With serpentine tresses spread round like night;
her eyes are wild like those of a fawn.
Her cheeks pulsate like petals of rose,
and the red in them is the colour of wine.
Like arches of Lahore her brows
are arched, no end of beauty there!
And she marches at the head
of her fair host, she sways in the air
Like eagle's wing -- a majesty
that queens may well be proud to show.

Of Hir waking up Dhido Ranjha in her boat and rebuking him
How dare you, sir, lie on my couch,
and sleep here like a log indeed?
Finding the couch unoccupied
you thought of shedding here your sloth.
Is there a fever, an ague on you,
or does some spirit choke your breath?
Lokk how he lies asleep, unmoving,
like dead, or is he really dead?

Of Hir changing and growing kind
She shouts and shrieks, and swings the switch,
a fairy furious at a man.
He gets up, says, 'O beautiful',
and she breaks into smiles all soft and kind.
Flute under his arm, rings on his ears,
and wisps of hair playing in the wind.
With thin-plucked eyebrows, kohl-lined eyes,
Dhido shows a face fair as the moon.
Like Taimus' daughter at sight of Joseph,
His is thrown off her guard at once.
His wild looks pierce deep into her heart
like the point of a dagger in a thrust.
His rustic beauty wakes her up
as from a sleep, and she is all lost.
And nestling like a bow in the sheath,
beside him, says she, all in a trance:
'Thank God, I did not strike you or
in some other manner misbehave!'
Ah, Waris, nothing can help when eyes
meet on the battlefield of love!

B. Grewal, Editor, Yugantar Punjab
(Yugantar Punjab welcomes any other writings on Waris Shah that you may have to contribute)