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Rubaai goes Punjabi
 The
Rubaiyat reaches us Punjabis, in our language and our own
elements.
Some history happens and ends. Another
finds face in ink and pales away in books & examination papers. But
the best of it, under imagining eyes, is a basket of flowers a
beautiful woman carries on her back and keeps reaching out, for
different fragrances, as time-zones flicker.
Kapurthala-based Sewadar Singh Jogi, who, in the realm of the day's
reality is a trustee of a charity- Unique Home in Jalandhar,
offering shelter, succor & safety to abandoned girls, and also keeps
stretching his hand to a 12th century story riding his back. That
story has a famous Persian name: Omar Khayyam, whose The Rubaiyat
remains a fragrant song that's been calling out to the 78-year-old
Jogi for half a century.
He has now penned Khayyam Udaari. Jogi
brings Rubaiyat (penned originally in Persian) in Punjabi & so much
closer home. Closer to its mystic intent too? More than the
thickly-read Edward Fitzgerald who'd brought us Rubaiyat way back in
the University? Jogi, whose translation touches 37 Fitzgerald
quatrains in English & 37 quatrains directly from Khayyam's Persian
form, allows his words to float up here. Then, wiping any traces of
the self-congratulatory kind, he offers: "Edward Fitzgerald's
English translation carries good literary value. But it can plunge
into hedonism. Then, some places, he meshes two quatrains ... Some
places, he leaves some words untranslated". Words that couldn't
possibly fissure through his English sensibilities? Well, it must've
helped Jogi to be an Asian, sharing sensibilities & elements with
Iranians? Jogi admits that easily.
We cross back to the beginning of it
all. Why Omar Khayyam? The man whose poetry has always been
pendulated between 'very indulgent & pleasure-soaked' or 'very
spiritual & allegorically-illustrated'. To Jogi there's certainly
more to the man than commonplace perspective & its on-the-surface
import. "A very interesting man - mathematician, scientist,
astronomer, philosopher & most of all, a profound poet illuminating
all aspects of life…" he lines up, gleaming under his glasses, &
then recites away the Evidence:
Jadon raat ne chaadar apni jag utton khiskaayi,
Supaneyaan main ik mehkhaane chon ik aawaaz eh aayi, Jaago mere
jeeon jogeyo bhar lao jaam ki kidre, jeevan madhu piyaali suk ke
paat na jaaye tehaai.
 Jogi sketches the perspective: "It's
about meditating on Lord's name lest breath should steal out of the
body". Backed by 50 years of research, his interpretation rings
right. Or sounds like it. So what's Khayyam talking about in over a
thousand of his rubaais? To Jogi, it's pretty much a check-list for
today, tomorrow, forever: "Khayyam says life is transient, don't
think of the future, lead a simple life, inculcate good habits,
trust no future however rosy, don't dwell on the dead past, act in
the present, hold a warm heart within & God overhead". Interestingly
that poet of many centuries back talks money & rather fondly:
Lok kehan bande de hath hunar changa
kaayi hove; Nahin taan phir usdi apni kul sawaayi hove, Meri man lo
eh kathan taan saare ne bekaar, Bande te hath notaan di bas thaili
chaayi hove.
But the one on humility sweetens Jogi's
mind much:
Raah vich aidaan turin ke tainu koi na
kare salaam; Vichrin khalak ch aidaan tainu koi na mile inaam, Te
jad jaayein maseete andar aidaan wadin ke tera kar ke swaagat taini
kidre thaap na den imaam.
Jogi's lines do weave up beyond the
literary. But can rhyming be such a 'must'? Jogi, the first-timer
with translation who took anything between two days & two months on
different rubaais, using our homespun elements, snaps: "what is
poetry without a rhyme scheme?"
Right. And what is translator without
percept. "There's more," lists Jogi, "he needs to be faithful to the
original. Needs to study the poet first - his social, cultural,
political milieu & sieve the outpouring through the 'person' he was.
A good translator won't indulge his own impressions. He'd use his
instinct & intellect to reach where the original must've brewed".
Meanwhile the desi-ised brew reads
poetic. More importantly reads 'Punjabi'. There've been two such
attempts earlier. "But one guy couldn't transcend the 'apparent';
the other was okay but still far," and like this, thus Jogi attempts
Objectivity.
(This perceptive piece first appeared in
HT Live)
12 December, 2007
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