asood Qamar’s Aainay Mein Janam Leta Aadmi (A Man Coming into Being in a Mirror) draws inspiration from the works of the poets, novelists, philosophers and artists of the past (eg, Dostoevsky, Franz Marc, Kafka, Mahmoud Darwish, etc) and exhibits and builds on the knowledge of history. His Amal zameen peh tha qehqahay aasman peh thay, for instance, is a celebration of the end of the Zia regime, during which the poet was jailed for his active participation in the freedom-of-speech movement. He had later gone into self-exile in Sweden. In its essence, Aainay is a book of death.

With Ghalib’s thanatophobic, “maut ka aik din muayyan hae/ neend kiun raat bhar naheen aati”(death is to come on a predetermined day/ why am I so wakeful all night); to Qasmi’s pantheistic, “kaun kehta hae keh maut aai to mar jaun ga/ maen toe darya hun samundar mein utar jaun ga” (who says I will die upon dying/ I am a river, I will only flow into the ocean); to Gaurakhpuri’s optimistic, “kam se kam maut se aisi mujhay umeed naheen/ zindagi tu ne to dhokay peh dia hae dhoka” (at least I don’t expect death to be so deceitful/ life, you have always been deceiving me), death has always been a subject of Urdu poetry.

What makes Qamar’s book distinctive is its expansion of the meaning of death or, more appropriately, deathlessness.

Qamar believes in the multiplicity of the meaning of death. Poems such as Marhoom ki aakhri maut (the last death of the deceased) show how the poet views it as a repetitive event in one’s life.

In Bay hamal pedaish (a birth without conception), he says: “masroofiat ki bina par/ bahut arsay say/ maen mar nahi saka/… maen zindagi kay baghair/ zinda rahay ja raha hun” (for I have been busy/ since long/ I haven’t been able to die/… without life/ I continue to live).

This means the poet desires to achieve death as a break from routine. Not only does the poet desire Thanatos to grant his wish of seeing death frequently; he also wants this to happen meaningfully: “lekin meri maut agar/ zindagi bharay kisi bhi/ aik geet say mehroom rahi/ to/ wo aik la ya’ni maut ho gi” (But if my death/ comes without me having listened to a song/ full of life/ then/ it will be a meaningless death).

The poet sometimes removes his existentialist lens to allow readers to look at reality realistically or Marxistically. Death, we learn, is unaffordable: “magar ghurbat ki wajah say dafnaya naheen gaya” (but I was not buried due to poverty), “meray naam ki koi qabar nikal aai/ toe maen lottery mein nikli qabar mein/ dafan honay kay liay/ sarpat bhagtay ghoray par baith kar/ qabaristan jaun ga” (if I win a grave on my name/ to be buried/ in this grave won in a lottery/ I will sit on a flying horse/ and go to the graveyard).

The poet’s concern with life makes him expose a scheme of silencing through his dystopian poems.

Death is valuable and may be stolen, as is shown in the narrative poem, Maut churanay wali aurat (The woman who stole death). The commodification of death has led to the pricing of everything around it: “log janazon ko us waqt tak/ dafnanay naheen detay/ jab tak woh/ pichlay janazun ka baqaya/ aur/ mustaqbil kay janazon ka bey’ana/ wasul naheen kar laitay” (people don’t let a dead be buried until they have been paid the remaining amount of the past burials and an advance sum for the future ones).

In her introductory essay included in the book, Tanveer Anjum shows how Qamar has moved from Marxism to existentialism. At the same time, he points out his resistance to falsehood. I believe that death, for him, is a prism to reflect on life itself. In The Literature of Death, Charles Glicksberg, while criticising existentialists, states: “Whenever man speculates about the nature of death, he is in reality concerned with life… Because death stands menacingly in the background, overshadowing every lived moment...”

Here is how Qamar protests death, bracketing it with love and time: “maen/ jab paida hua/ maen nay pehli cheekh/ muhabbat, waqt/ aur/ maut ki tikon kay khilaf mari” (I/ when I was born/ my first shriek/ was against/ the triangle of love, time/ and/ death).

The poet’s concern with life makes him expose a scheme of silencing through his dystopian poems, as Nasir Abbas Nayyar rightly labels them. First, the ordinances are issued overnight to curb people’s right to speech: “her chawk mein ordinance/ bay suray raagon mein/ gaey ja rahay haen” (in every city square, the ordinances/ are being sung/ in out-of-tune ragas). Next, people are victimised through forced disappearances: “aur phir un mein say/ kuch ghaib kar diy jatay” (and then some of them/ were disappeared). Then follows violence under detention: “mera wa’da hae/ agar/ riasti tashaddud bardasht na kar saka/ toe/ muthi naheen kholun ga” (you have my word/ even if/ I am unable to stand the state violence/ I will not give away the secret).

Finally, it’s time for those who are not missing to sing a song in memory of those who are: “tum geet gana/ us missing person kay liyay/ jis kay munh, naak, kaanon/ aur/ aankhon mein rait bhari gai/ aur/ phir goli maar di gai” (don’t forget to sing a song/ for that missing person/ whose mouth, nose, ears/ and/ eyes were stuffed with sand/ and/ was then shot).

Masood Qamar’s poems will stay relevant until death continues to frequent our lives, be commoditised, or be used as a control tool at the hands of the oppressors.

On a sabbatical from International Islamic University, Islamabad, the reviewer is currently a visiting professor at McGill University. He is the author of Urdu novel, Sasa