aghar Siddiqui who chose to follow the path associated with Shah Hussain, Bulleh Shah, Waris Shah and Mian Muhammad Baksh, embraced death in trying circumstances. While writing in Urdu, unlike these greats, he followed the ways of these great Sufi poets of the Punjab, living in the streets and alleys of Lahore.

Regardless of the hospitality one encountered on the way, he was not the one to be distracted and linger. He was always dressed in black, a gesture perhaps to indicate the value he put on maintaining his dignity, his perennial suffering notwithstanding.

A darkness pervades the brightest of his verses. The association between the colour black and tangled tresses is a frequent theme in his poetry. Here’s an example:

Voh gesuu-i-jaanaan hon Saghar ya gardish-i-dauraan kay saaye

Ae vaaye muqaddar donon say uljhan ki tavaqqo rakhtay hain

(Be they the beloved’s tresses or the shadows cast by the flow of times, I can unfortunately expect only complications from both)

It is said that Saghar was once a comb-maker. Perhaps, it was his deep connection with the craft that made him deliberate on the society’s tangles and how one could untangle those. As Ghalib has said,

Hasrat-i-arz-i-tamanna yaan say samjha chahiye

Doe jahan hashr-i-zubaan-i-khushk hain juun shaana hum

(Here is a comparison through which one can understand the longing for expressing one’s desire; in both the worlds (here and hereafter) I am like a louse on the comb’s dry tongue)

Had Saghar Siddiqui been just a comb-maker and a poet, he would still have been remarkable. However, he went beyond that stage and became the Saghar we know. He endured a lot and was vindicated by his distress. His admirers are not intoxicated by his verses; instead they alert and engage all their senses so that they can experience the times dealt with in his poetry. The depth of feeling and his unique perspective inform his expression, making his insights a herald of his times.

His poetry is a requiem for the new nation after emerged after the partition of India. Iqbal, the visionary philosopher-poet, had composed anthems for this very nation, invoking instances of greatness from centuries of Muslim history. However, Iqbal was not destined to see the realisation of his dream. It was Saghar’s fate instead to wander, troubled and unsettled, in the streets of the new country. Despite his trials and tribulations, he was upbeat and cheerful. He kept up hope.

The border, drawn on August 14, 1947, marked a significant change. Saghar possibly felt that he belonged on the eastern side of the border no less than he did on the west. He had crossed the border with a romantic’s poet’s optimism. For a while he strolled in the streets with joy. He met new people and concluded that he had been served a poisoned chalice. Like Socrates, he took it bravely. His voice continued to echo through the radio and the newspapers. He lamented:

Dastoor yahan bhi goongay hain farman yahan bhi andhay hain

Ae dost khuda ka naam na lay emaan yahan bhi andhay hain

Be-rang shafaq si dhalti hai be-noor saveray hotay hain

Shaayir ka tasavvur bhooka hai sultan yahan bhi andhay hain

(The laws here are just as dumb, the orders just as blind

Don’t invoke God’s name my friend, the faiths here are as blind

A bland twilight gives way to darkness, the dawns are just as dark

The poet’s imagination is as poor, the rulers are just as blind)

The depth of feeling and his unique perspective inform his expression, making his insights a herald of his times.

Saghar Siddiqui was high-minded and innovative. He always found a novel way to protest the situation. Like an ascetic, he would light a fire and sit by it, crying in the middle of the smoke, warning others about outdated traditions and a moth-eaten conscience. Each of his ghazals has a couplet or two about the negative forces.

Be-vajh toe nahin hain chaman ki tabahiyan

Kuchh baghban hain barq-o-sharar say milay huay

(The destruction of the garden was not without a reason;

Some of its caretakers were complicit with the arsonists)

Saghar doid not blame heavens, a common traditional theme. Instead, he complained about the times; how it causes pain and how things change around one? Saghar says,

Kuchh haal kay andhay saathi thay kuchh maazi kay ayyar sajan

Ahbab ki chaahat kya kahiye kuch yaad rahi kuchh bhool gaye

(A few of my recent friends were ignorant, a few of the older lovers sly

What shall I say about the love of my comrades, I remember parts of it but have forgotten some parts)

Zaroorat-i-raah kay mutaabiq musafiron nay bhi seekh li hai

Voh rahzani mudatton rahi hai jo rahbaron ka shi’aar ban kar

(The journeymen have learnt according to the exigencies of the way

The robbers’ tricks that once distinguished their leaders)

Many saw in him a poet of profound darkness. Others saw a man with a luminous heart.

Do qadam raaegaan huay hain toe kya

Do qadam aur justaju kar loe

(What if we a few steps yielded no result,

Let us take a few more steps in our quest)

Zamana keh raha hai main nayi karvat badalta hoon

Anokhi manzilen hain kuchh niralay rahnuma chun lain

(The times are warning of an imminent turn

Let us pick news leaders for uncharted destinations)

Koi naya rang bakhsh iss ko koi nayi rooh phoonk iss mein

Gurez karnay lagain ge varna hadees-i-yazdaan say log saqi

(Give it a new colour cupbearer, infuse a new spirit

Or else, people will start avoiding all mention of the divine tradition.)

The writer is an award-winning researcher and translator based in Lahore and president of the Progressive Writers’ Association. He may be reached at razanaeem@hotmail.com. He tweets at @raza_naeem1979