Hindi- Urdu : debate continues

What is the difference between Hindi and Urdu?

At the level of the colloquial language that is spoken spontaneously or is heard in Bollywood movies, Hindi and Urdu are virtually the identical language. Thus,

gãv meñ voh lajavab hai.
[There is no one like him in the village.]

They are, however, written in two different scripts, Urdu in the Perso-Arabic script and Hindi in the Devanagari script of Sanskrit.

In the literary or "chaste" dialect, Urdu uses many more Persian & Arabic words and grammatical forms than Hindi, whose literary dialect is more Sanskritised. But it is false to suppose Hindi lacks Persian & Arabic loanwords and Urdu lacks etymologically Sanskrit words. Both languages share a common lexicon that includes native (Indian), Arabic, Persian, and English loanwords.

When expressing the elevated thoughts of science, philosophy, art and politics, the Muslims of India naturally always drew from the wealth of Arabic and Persian literary words, whereas the Hindus turned toward Sanskrit. This accounts for the differences between Hindi and Urdu (in vocabulary but almost never in grammar), but these are differences which exist primarily at the elite level and in abstract vocabulary. For example:

Pakistani siyasat meñ voh lajavab hai. (Urdu)

Pakistani rajniti meñ voh lajavab hai. (Hindi)

[There is no one like him in Pakistani politics.]

It's a good rule of thumb that whenever Urdu and Hindi words differ, it is becaue the one is using an Arabic or Persian word while the other a Sanskrit loanword.

Because the political vocabulary tends to be different between the languages, Pakistanis and Indians ordinarily don't understand each other's country's official radio and television broadcasts -- depite the fact that they understand each other's movies perfectly well!
What are the origins of Hindi and Urdu?

Urdu and Hindi are both descended from Sanskrit (or the vulgar Indo-Aryan tongue of which Sanskrit was an idealisation), just as French and Spanish are both descended from Vulgar Latin.

Their common origins cannot be emphasised enough, because people in India and Pakistan stuff their heads with a great deal of mythological rubbish about the origins of Hindi and Urdu. For example, it's frequently asserted that while Hindi is descended from Sanskrit, Urdu is a kind of pidgin mongrel of Persian, Arabic and Indian elements.

Well, Urdu is also descended from Sanskrit, and Hindi is also a pidgin mongrel of Persian, Arabic and Indian elements -- because they are the same language.

During the thousand years of Central Asian invasions of northern India, the Muslim conquerors introduced into the language of Delhi (often called Kari Boli) a enormous number of loanwords from Arabic, Persian and Turkish. The result was Hindustani -- a grammatically Indian language descended from Sanskrit with a large Sansrkitic vocabulary, but Persian and Arabic words perhaps numbering 30% to 40% of the spoken language.
What is the political status of Hindi and Urdu?

Hindi is the official language of the Indian Union (although it also recognises 15 or 16 other regional languages as official).

Still, it is the native language of only about a third of all Indians. Those who don't grow up speaking Hindi must learn it at school. Very little Hindi is spoken in the south of India, where dominant languages are completely unrelated to those of the north.

Urdu is the official language of Pakistan. It is also the official language of the Indian state of Jammu & Kashmir and one of the two official languages of the southern Indian state of Andhra Pradesh.

Like Hindi, Urdu is not the native language of most Pakistanis. For only about 10% of Pakistanis, primarily those living in Karachi and other cities of Sindh province, speak it as their mother tongue. The remaining Pakistanis grow up speaking Punjabi, Sindhi, Baluchi, Pashto, Kashmiri or other languages and must learn Urdu at school.

In fact, India has about ten times the number of native speakers of Urdu as Pakistan.

But this situation is changing because the Pakistani state has so thoroughly suffused the country with Urdu. Many of today's young Pakistanis for whose parents Urdu is not the mother tongue, have grown up speaking Urdu as though it was.

For political reasons, the Indian and the Pakistani governments have tried to widen the gulf between Hindi and Urdu by emphasising the literary standards at schools. Although these efforts are undermined by the influence of Bollywood films and the common history of Urdu and Hindi, nonetheless it's likely that as literacy rates rise in both India and Pakistan, Hindi and Urdu will drift apart.

http://www.geocities.com/sikmirza/arabic/hindustani.html

Origin of Urdu Script

Some people of the opinion that the only difference between Urdu and Hindi is its script, Urdu uses Persian-Arabic script and Hindi uses sanskrit script called Devnagri. There are other differences too, but the grammar is common between the two languages. It is interesting to note that many languages share Arabic script of writing. Follow the link to see many scripts and how letters are used in different languages, also some letters are unique to certain language added to capture sounds that is found only in that language.

http://www.geocities.com/sikmirza/arabic/arabic.html

taqreer-e-Urdu

A convocation address in the National language of that country makes the news. Or at least the trend of giving speeches in English is broken. Let's hope for the best.

LUMINITEs — Yousafi, gardeners and ‘fifth lions’

THE Lahore University of Management Sciences (LUMS) set aside the tradition of inviting government and corporate authorities and asked Mushtaq Ahmad Khan Yousafi, a renowned intellectual and writer, as the keynote speaker for ‘Convocation 2004.’

Mr Yousafi emphasised the role of education, its aim and purpose in refining society and how speaking English makes people feel like ‘intellectuals.’ His witty address was not only amusing but also informative.

Mr Yousafi was surprised by the honour bestowed upon him, warning the audience that they would have to listen to him speaking in Urdu. He said he need to give an Urdu speech to the mainly English speaking audience, to remind them about their national identity. He said a world, without examinations, was a paradise but added, “With the passage of time, I feel without examinations, the world would be the same kind of paradise in which Adam and Satan failed to clear their examinations.”

Declaring intellectualism to be a ‘mundane profession’, Mr Yousafi said that people living under ‘intellectualism’ were like ‘flying fish’. He said that many people gave speeches in English to lend credibility to their message.

Read the rest of the article ....
http://www.dailytimes.com.pk/default.asp?page=story_20-12-2004_pg7_25

Taxman dreams in Urdu

Taxman makes waves with ghazals
Indo-Asian News Service
Mumbai, December 13

It might sound incongruous, but VK Tripathi, an officer with the Indian Revenue Service, has released an amazing collection of Urdu ghazals in an album that is making waves around the country.

Tere Khayalon Mein is a compilation of eight poems written by the 1984-batch officer and sung by noted artists like Alka Yagnik, Suresh Wadkar, Mohammad Aziz and Shankar Mahadevan.

"It was by sheer chance that I took to writing ghazals and nazms (another form of Urdu poetry)," says Tripathi. "May be it was the surroundings that inspired me, or may be the poet within just got the better of me.

"I used to translate my thoughts into words and scribble for hours."

One day he surfed through his writings and thought of selecting eight of his favourites.

"I recited them to a friend, who is a connoisseur of Urdu poetry. His instant reaction was a great source of encouragement," he says.

"It was he who introduced me to Universal music. They liked my writings and insisted that it be clothed with music into an album."

And not without success.

Says award-winning Urdu poet Shabnam Naqvi: "I really liked the imagination of Tripathi's writing, how he blends his words with softness, simplicity and at times satire. His yearning for the beloved and his reaction to reality have been juxtaposed beautifully in his writings."

This isn't the first claim to fame for Tripathi, currently on deputation as the managing director of the National Textile Corporation here.

The former commissioner of income tax is credited with designing a tax management software that is widely used across the country.

Although he has a keen interest in music and sports, his talent as a poet has only now come to the fore. And his maiden album has catapulted him to the top of India's literary circuit.

A book of 91 ghazals, nazms and free verse from Tripathi, Meri Zamin Key Log, is also on the anvil.

http://www.hindustantimes.com/news/181_1150062,00110005.htm

Modernity in Urdu Poetry

Dream And Nightmare
The second piece in our irregular series on progressive Urdu poets looks at Urdu poetry's flirtation with modernity, with examples from Sahir, Kaifi and Majaaz

MIR ALI RAZA

In 1958, when the Sputnik blasted into space, it received one of its most lyrical tributes from an unlikely source, Sahir Ludhianvi. In a poem titled Mere Ahd Ke Haseeno (Beauties Of My Generation), he presented the event as a success of humanity over yet another of nature’s barriers, the stars. Taking aim at those who saw their futures as astrally determined, Sahir saw in the Sputnik’s rise yet another sign that humanity had trumped nature:

Wo buland-baam taare, wo falak-maqaam taare
Jo nishaan de ke apna, rahe be-nishaaN hamesha
Wo haseeN, wo noor-zaade, wo qalaa ke shaahzaade
Jo hamaari qismaton par rahe hukmraanN hamesha

Mere ahd ke haseeno, wo nazar-nawaaz taare
Mera daur e ishq parwar tumhe nazr de rahaa hai
Wo junoon jo aab o aatish ko aseer kar chuka hai
Wo qalaa ki vus-aton se bhi qiraaj le rahaa hai

Mere paas rehne waalo, mere baad aane waalo
Mere daur ka ye tohfa, tumhe saazgaar aaye
Kabhi tum qala se guzro kisi seem-tan ke qatir
Kabhi tum ko dil mein rakh kar koi gul-o-zaar aaye.

Those exalted stars, those heaven dwellers
Who revealed themselves, but mocked our tantalised reach
Those ravishing children of light, those princes of space
Who established their vain kingdom over our fates.

Beauties of (the new) generation
Accept this loving gift of the very stars from mine
The passion that has already enslaved water and fire
Now commands obeisance from the depths of space.

You who live with me, and you who will follow me in time
May this gift from my generation bring you joy
May you fly in space looking for a silver-bodied beauty
And may someone of rosy cheeks come here looking for you.

There is a passionate optimism in Sahir’s poem, which works at several levels. First, it is imbued with internationalism, in the way in which it appropriates a foreign achievement with unselfconscious ease. There is a mocking disavowal of tradition, implying that those who irrationally believe in astrology and the eternal power of the stars are now to be pityingly invited into the scientific fold. But above all, the poem demonstrates an abiding faith in technology, a belief that nature will ultimately bow down toward the power of human endeavor.

Sahir’s poem is not an isolated instance of the celebration of modernity by the Urdu poets. Progressive poets developed the trope of modernity incessantly in their writings, as a marker of their era, and as a solution to the several problems that beset Indian society. This sense of modernity was to be marked by the triumph of reason, the creation of a "pure present" that would wipe away the horrors of the past, a teleological march towards social perfection, and the eventual elimination of all exploitation and inequalities.

In his famous poem Makaan (House) for instance, Kaifi Azmi wrote evocatively about construction workers and their role in the conquest of nature:

Haath dhalte gaye saanchoN mein to rukte kaise
Naqsh ke baad naye naqsh nikhaare hum ne
Ki ye deewaar buland, aur buland, aur buland
Baam o dar aur, zaraa aur sanwaare hum ne
AandhiyaaN tod liya karti thhi sham'oN ki laveN
Jad diye is liye bijli ke sitaare hum ne

Once our arms learned the craft however, how could they stop?
Design after design took shape through our work.
And then we built the walls higher and higher,
Lovingly decorated the ceilings and doors
Storms used to extinguish the flames of our lamps
So we brightened our skies with stars made of electricity.

Kaifi then goes on to lament how the actual creators of this wealth, the labourers themselves, were deprived of the fruits of their own creation.


Of course, this inequality was an artifact of the premodern past, and needed to be remedied by the conscious action of workers, through organised moblilisation. Kaifi poetically exhorts the construction workers to revolt, to create a revolution in which he, the poet will also participate:

Ban gaya qasr, to pehre pe koi baith gaya
So rahe qaak pe hum shorish e taameer liye
Apni nas nas mein liye mehnat e paiham ki thhakan
Band aankhon mein usi qasr ki tasveer liye
Din pighalta hai usi tarha saron par ab bhi
Raat aankhon mein khatakti hai siyah teer liye
Aaj ki raat bahut garm hawaa chalti hai
Aaj ki raat na footpath pe neend aayegi
Sab utho, main bhi uthoon, tum bhi utho, tum bhi utho
Koi khidki isi deewaar mein khul jaayegi

Once the palace was built, they hired a guard
And we slept in the dirt, with our screaming craft,
Our pulses pounding with exhaustion
Bearing the picture of that very palace in our tightly shut eyes.
The day still melts on our bodies like before
The night hits our eyes with black arrows,
A hot air blows tonight
It will be impossible to sleep on the pavement
Arise everyone! I will rise too. And you. And yourself too
That a window may open in these very walls.

The poem is remarkable because it not only represents the power of labour in achieving mastery over nature (through walls and stars of electricity), but also depicts the ultimate potential failure of modernity from the point of view of the socialist; that it does not automatically ensure a just and egalitarian society. Modernity sometimes fails the very subjects who were promised freedom from the feudal system they had laboured under in earlier eras. This brings us to an important issue, of how progressive Urdu poets dealt with the immediate failure of the modernist promise. How did they deal with the fact that the conquest of nature never really lived up to its potential, and sometimes even proved to be more venal and repressive than the traditions it displaced? After all, the independence of the country brought partition, the cobwebs of religiousity never could be swept away, and the post-independence era saw the increased marginalisation and devaluation of the progressive cause and the poets themselves.

For one, the poets sought refuge in a different form of modernist logic. For example, they blamed the failure of modernity's promise on the incompleteness of the modernist project, on its failure to vanquish some of the traditionalist demons that it was supposed to replace. In other words, the problem with modernity was seen as related to the fact that we did not have enough of it.

In his characteristically direct poem, Mera Maazi Mere Kaandhe Pe (My Past On My Shoulders), Kaifi wondered at the persistence of sectarian violence in the subcontinent, despite the tremendous progress that had been achieved in years past. He concluded:

Ab tamaddun ki ho ye jeet ke haar
Mera maazi hai abhi tak mere kaandhe pe sawaar
Mal liyaa maathe pe tehzeeb ka ghaala lekin
Barbariyat ka hai jo daagh, wo chhoota hi nahin
Gaaon aabaad kiye, shehr basaaye hum ne
Rishta jangal se jo apna thha, wo toota hi nahin

Be it the victory or the loss of culture
My past is still seated on my shoulders.
I have painted civility on my face
But it is still pockmarked by barbarity
I have populated villages, moved to cities
But never severed my relationship with the jungle.

As is clear from this poem, 'culture' (or the 'past') stands in as the culprit that prevents the liberation and evolution of the human being from the survival of bestial origins.

This is entirely consistent with the project of modernity to create a "pure present", that would wipe out whatever came earlier, so as to achieve a radically new departure. This is not to suggest that the progressives did not acknowledge that something was quite wrong with the object of modernity, especially in light of the horrors of urban violence that visited the subcontinent after independence. For instance, Kaifi begins a later poem Saanp (Snake) in defensive terms. He deploys the snake as a symbol of the fundamentalism that one had hoped technological progress had eliminated:

Ye saanp aaj jo phan uthaaye
Mere raaste mein khadaa hai
Padaa thha qadam chaand par mera jis din
Usi din use maar dala thha mai ne

This snake that blocks my way, poised to strike
I had killed it the day I set foot on the moon.

Modernity, Kaifi asserts, had initially vanquished the human tendency to engage in sectarian violence, which stood in his mind as the most egregious example of premodern barbarity. However, he describes how the wounded snake ran into a temple, a mosque and a church, where it was treated and made stronger by a variety of religious fundamentalists. So far, the poem appears quite conventional, blaming the failure of modernity on the survival of premodern atavisms. But by the end of the poem, Kaifi does a turnaround, and further theorizes the rise of fundamentalism in relatively unconventional terms:

Hui jab se science zar ki ghulam
Jo thha ilm ka aitbaar uth gaya
Aur is saanp ko zindagi mil gayi

Ever since science has become capitalism’s slave
Knowledge has been proven untrustworthy
And this snake has found life.

Despite its defensive tone, one can read in Kaifi’s poem a sense of disquiet that the elite can hold the liberatory powers of science slave. The relationship between this enslavement and the rise of sectarian violence is not explained, but the disquiet with modernity is quite apparent in the tentative tone of Kaifi’s assertions.

One of most cruel blows on the modernist and internationalist spirit of the progressives was dealt by the partition of the subcontinent, which had been expressed eloquently, if wistfully, by Faiz’s phrase ye daagh daagh ujaala (this ashen dawn). In a poem titled 26 January, Sahir acerbically lays out the failed promises of the nation-state, and of the whole promise of a liberated modernity that undergirded the socialist experience:

Aao ke aaj ghaur kareN is sawaal par
Dekhe thhe hum ne jo, woh haseeN khwaab kya hue?
Bekas barehnagi ko kafan tak nahiN naseeb
Wo waada-haa e atlas o kamkhwaab kya hue?
Jamhooriyat-nawaaz, bashar-dost, amn-khwaah
Khud ko jo khud diye thhe, wo alqaab kya hue?

Come, and let us ponder on the question
Those beautiful dreams we had dreamt, what came of them?
Helpless nakedness does not even merit a shroud
What happened to those promises of silk and satin?
Democrat, humanist, pacifist
What happened to all those self-conferred titles?

This despair mirrored the plight of communists all over Europe, who had hoped that the Bolshevik revolution would be contagious, but instead found themselves tethered to the cruel yoke of Fascism and Nazism. But in spite of these hiccups, the modernist dream appeared to acquire its own agency over time, becoming as important in its own right as the dream of an equal society. To that end, the PWA poets venerated artifacts of the industrial revolution: rockets, electricity, mills, and trains. Trains were especially popular, for their straight path, their piercing whistles, and their single minded teleological journeys. In his elegy to the train, Raat Aur Rel (The night and the train), Majaaz offers a veritable inventory of its desirable attributes:

Phir chali hai rel, istayshan se lehraati hui
Neem shab ki khamushi mein zer e lab gaati hui
Daaman e taariki e shab ki udaati dhajjiyaan
Qasr e zulmat par musalsal teer barsaati hui

Zad mein koi cheez aa jaaye to us ko pees kar
Irteqaa e zindagi ke raaz batlaati hui
Al-garaz, badhti chali jaati hai, be qauf o qatar
Shaayar e aatish-nafas ka qoon khaulaati hui

Once again, the train jauntily leaves the station
Breaking the silence of the night with its whispered song.
Tearing a hole through the black fabric of the night
Shooting constant arrows of sparks at the palace of darkness.

Crushing anything that comes in its way
Revealing the secrets of the evolution of life.
Ultimately it flies, fearlessly,
Roiling the blood of the fire-souled poet.

Ultimately then, in spite of the discouraging lessons of history, the progressives cheerfully and defiantly pushed the cause of modernity with such optimism, that when the backlashes emerged, they were left desperately holding on to their fragmented thoughts. Modernity cruelly announced its failure to the optimist progressives in several ways. The abject failure of the moment of freedom and decolonisation, the rampant and ugly sectarian conflict in urban South Asia, and above all, the failure to secure a decent and dignified life for the masses, weighed heavily on the progressive poets.

And when this failure sometimes looked deeply into their eyes, the PWA poets wrote their best poems, poems of anguish and rage. While they were unable to provide a viable internal critique of modernity, they produced several heartbreakers that may only be described as modernity’s laments, its dirges. Majaaz’s poem Aawara (Vagabond), while written in the earliest days of the movement, captures this sense of modernity’s ugly betrayal of the progressive cause. The poem was written to highlight the deep sense of alienation that the progressives felt with feudal Indian society, but can also be read as the ravaged cultural landscape that greeted them at the end of their seven-decade quest.

The poem is written from the point of view of an intensely alienated protagonist who walks the streets at night, and gives voice to his feelings of utter despair. This estrangement is derived from a sense of abject poverty that the protagonist experiences as he walks past the gay streets where the elite have constructed a landscape designed to pretend that all is well. It also comes from his knowledge that all this wealth and this gaiety could be his if he made a series of compromises. He is however held back by his ‘worthless’ commitments to honesty and fealty. His alienation takes several forms, sometimes of religious exploitation (a mullah’s turban), sometimes of penury (a money-lender’s ledger).

Older platitudes about the beauty of stars themselves become the cause of great anguish, which turns into a sense of rage at the end of the poem. However, in the new century, we can read it not as rage of the programmatic socialist seeking to channel this anger into revolution, but the inchoate, ineffable and the tragic rage of the human being who is caught in an Oedipal dilemma against a world that is neither comprehensible nor changeable. It is the rage of the utterly helpless, and mirrors the condition of the PWA poets waking up from their socialist-modernist dream.

Phir vo toota ek sitara, phir vo chhooti phuljhadi
Jaane kiski god mein aayi hai moti ki ladi
Hook si seene mein uthi, chot si dil par padi
Ai gham e dil kya karun, ai vahshat e dil, kya karun

Raaste mein ruk ke dam le loon meri aadat nahin
Laut kar vaapas chalaa jaoon, meri fitrat nahin
Aur koi ham-navaa mil jaaye ye qismat nahin
Ai gham e dil kya karun, ai vahshat e dil, kya karun

Ek mahal ki aad se niklaa vo peela maahtab
Jaise mulla kaa amaama, jaise baniye ki kitab
Jaise muflis ki javaani, jaise bevaa ka shabab
Ai gham e dil kya karun, ai vahshat e dil, kya karun

Jee mein aata hai, ye murda chand taare noch loon
Is kinaare noch loon, aur us kinaare noch loon
Ek do ki qadr kya, saare ke saare noch loon
Ai gham e dil kya karun, ai vahshat e dil, kya karun

There falls a shooting star, like a sparkler
A string of pearls fell in somebody’s hand, perhaps?
Desolation rises in my chest, like a blow
Anguished heart, desperate heart, what should I do?

To stop and rest on the way is not my habit
To admit defeat and return is not my nature
But to find a companion, alas, is not my fate
Anguished heart, desperate heart, what should I do?

From behind a palace, emerged the yellow moon
Like a mullah’s turban, like a money lender’s ledger
Like a poor man’s youth, a widow’s beauty
Anguished heart, desperate heart, what should I do?

I want to pluck this dead moon, these dead stars from the sky
Pluck them from this end of the horizon and from that corner
What is one or two, I want to pluck them all out
Anguished heart, desperate heart, what should I do?


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mir Ali Raza helps edit Samar, the South Asian Magazine for Action and Reflection.

Urdu Critic Waris Alvi : Ghalib Award 2004

DELHI INSTITUTE CONFERS AWARD ON 77-YEAR-OLD FOR HIS CONTRIBUTION TO ‘MODERN URDU LITERARY TRADITIONS’

The write choice? I should have got award earlier, says winner

Anand ST Das

Ahmedabad, October 20: Sitting at his writing desk at home and completing his books, eminent Urdu literary critic and playwright Waris Alvi is a contented man. But the 77-year-old author, who has just bagged the prestigious Ghalib Award, feels this award should have come a bit earlier.

‘‘It’s an honour that I’ve been chosen for this award for my work in Urdu literary criticism. But it could have come some years earlier,’’ said Alvi, considered to be one of the extremely influential critics in Urdu literature in the subcontinent. He is regarded as the man who started a new trend in literary criticism in Urdu called creative criticism.



Alvi has been chosen for the Faqruddin Ali Ahmed Ghalib Award for Criticism — better known as the Ghalib Award — for 2004. The award, instituted by the Delhi-based Ghalib Institute, comes in recognition of his far-reaching contribution to modern Urdu literary traditions through his criticism. Alvi, often counted among the three finest living Urdu critics — the other two being Gopichand Narang and Shamsur Rahman Faruqi — is known in contemporary Urdu criticism for his distinct tone. ‘‘I’m very happy that Gujarat’s huge but silent contribution to Urdu literature is being recognised with this award,’’ he said. Alvi, author of 15 plays and 18 books of literary criticism, is glad that it’ll no longer be only Lucknow and Delhi that’ll be known for Urdu literature.

‘‘Gujri, the early form of Urdu, was spoken and written not in Lucknow or Delhi but in Gujarat. Yet this State’s contributions to Urdu literature always remained in the background,’’ he said. The shayari genre of Urdu literature, he said, first evolved in Gujarat.

Many of Alvi’s books are published in Pakistan and recommended university texts in several countries in the West. But this former professor of English and Persian literature finds the present literary and publishing scene in Urdu dismal.

‘‘There’s hardly any enthusiasm among the young generation, both in writing and publishing Urdu literature in our subcontinent. Though it’s not a dying language as many people say, Urdu is not actually advancing the way it should in this age, like most other languages are,’’ he said. Alvi, earlier honoured with the Gujarat Gourav Award (1992) and the Maharashtra Urdu Academy Award (1993), first made name as a playwright as his plays, all in Gujarati, were staged in Ahmedabad and Mumbai. ‘‘I was invited in 1969 by Mumbai’s cinema tycoons to work there, but I chose the quiet life of writing back here,’’ he said.

The titles of Alvi’s criticism books read like they’re of fiction books. His criticism gained popularity primarily because of his lucid language, free from all contemporary criticism jargon, besides his original interpretation of the famous literary works. His better-known criticism books include Teesre Darje Ka Musafir, Aye Pyare Logo and Kuchh Bacha Laya Hoon. His popular plays include Bapu, Beatle, Birathar, Nirab Chandni nu Ghuvad, Alibaba and Gherav.

Alvi’s greatest sorrow is the young generation’s alienation from Urdu. ‘‘Over 200 students have passed MA in Urdu under my guidance so far, but not a single one took to writing or doing anything with Urdu,’’ he said

http://cities.expressindia.com/fullstory.php?newsid=104139

Stock Guide in Urdu

ISLAMABAD: The Securities and Exchange Commission of Pakistan (SECP) has published a Single Member Company Guide in Urdu for the sole proprietors so that they can better understand certain legal obligations while conducting businesses, said a statement issued on Monday.The publishing of the guide in Urdu would ensure its accessibility across various segments. Last year, the SECP had introduced the Single Member Companies Rules, 2003 as a result of which 178 Single Member Companies (SMC) have so far been incorporated. The Rules require SMCs to fulfill certain obligations while conducting their business.

The guide illustrates the concept of a SMC, which is a private limited company with one member and precisely outlines the procedure to incorporate such an entity and to convert an existing multi-member private company into a SMC. Not only would this guide help stakeholders understand the concept, and legal and procedural requirements of a SMC, but it would also inform them of the advantages of forming a SMC, the SECP said.

The guide can be obtained from the SEC head office, its regional offices and its English version is available at the SECP website, the SECP said. —Staff Report

http://www.dailytimes.com.pk/default.asp?page=story_7-12-2004_pg5_12

I just wish they will have the report on their website
http://www.secp.gov.pk/

Gujarat University to set up Urdu centre

Ahmedabad, December 4: Gujarat University will set up an Urdu centre under the aegis of its Department of Urdu to promote teaching and other literary activities. It has also granted permission for post-graduate external degree course in Urdu and Arabic, said GU Vice-Chancellor A U Patel on Saturday.

Patel, who was presiding over a function at the University’s School of Languages to distribute certificates for the short-term Urdu language certificate course, stated that the University would provide all help to promote Urdu, which provided the basis for expression of finer sentiments in other languages also. He also lauded the department’s efforts of popularising the certificate course, third batch of which will start next week.

Speaking on the occasion, known Urdu literary critic Waris Alvi complimented the University and Head of Department Dr Chandbibi Shaikh for sincerely pursuing academic activities to keep the department alive. Noted Gujarati writer and columnist Dr Kumarpal Desai, who was the chief guest, said it was the strength of ideas that kept institutions going, which was the case with the Urdu department. He said this was the only department that had paid back to the university.

http://cities.expressindia.com/fullstory.php?newsid=109096

Jab raat hai aisi matwali...

Review of Mughal-e-aazam by M.J. Akbar, I am presenting only a part of the review for the full article click on the link below.




With the ebb of Urdu a civilisation has diminished. Urdu is utterly civil, rooted in values and anchored in two words that supersede translation: tehzeeb and akhlaq. A "practical" Urdu-English dictionary defines tehzeeb as civilisation, etiquette, manners, politeness, courtesy, polish, refinement, instruction, education, discipline, culture. It is all this and much more, including that very delicate wit that nuances an idea or a sentiment with a sensitivity that becomes a bridge between lovers and a gulf between antagonists. Akhlaq is the practice of tehzeeb.

I wondered about the Urdu-deficit in the Delhi theatre hall. Forty five years ago, a film could be made in superb Urdu for an India-wide audience. Mughal-e-Azam also made marketing history in 1960 when it was released in 150 theatres simultaneously. Today film language is a pidgin patois bred outside known cultures. This does not make it good or bad. To state a fact is not to pass judgment. The relevant point is that the Mughal-e-Azam audience of 2004 seemed entranced by the music of words, and in the music lay the meaning. Urdu lives.

The denouement is marked by a qawwali that Bahar sings alone, for the conflict with Anarkali is over. Love has been defeated by power. There is pyrrhic victory for both women. Anarkali is permitted to become queen for one night, not — as the emperor taunts, because a laundi (slave girl) cannot give up the dream of a crown — but because, as Anarkali retorts, she does not want a future emperor of Hindustan to be remembered as a man who could not keep his word to a slave. In return, she must drug the prince to sleep while she is led away by guards to death (in the legend) and desolate freedom (in the film). Bahar has won the night, but lost the future, for she does not replace Anarkali in the prince’s affections. But she is permitted her final taunt, and she sings:

Yeh dil ki lagi kam kya hogi, yeh ishq bhala kam kya hoga

Jab raat hai aisi matwali phir subah ka aalam kya hoga!

How will this passion ever diminish, this love ever wither?

When the night is so delirious, imagine what morning will bring!

I have rarely come across a more startling and poignant metaphor for power. This is the story of every government, yesterday, today and tomorrow. Everyone in power is permitted the luxury of just one night, and no one ever believes that the night will come to an end. Deceivers promise a dawn filled with wine, when the truth is that dawn will bring a drug that will put the miracle to sleep. And you will wake up with nothing around you except loss; the mind swooning with the memory of what was, and the mouth bitter with the ash of what might have been.

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