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Today marks the 101st birth anniversary of Amrita Pritam. She is often called the first modern female Punjabi writer. She wrote with words dipped in blood. She expressed the agony of partition when millions died in the poem, “Aaj Aakhaan Waris Shah Noo”, addressed to the..
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![Today marks the 101st birth anniversary of Amrita Pritam. She is often called the first modern female Punjabi writer. She wrote with words dipped in blood. She expressed the agony of partition when millions died in the poem, “Aaj Aakhaan Waris Shah Noo”, addressed to the.. [1]](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EgvAefxXkAAa_zT.jpg "Today marks the 101st birth anniversary of Amrita Pritam. She is often called the first modern female Punjabi writer. She wrote with words dipped in blood. She expressed the agony of partition when millions died in the poem, “Aaj Aakhaan Waris Shah Noo”, addressed to the.. [1]")
[1]
Sufi poet Waris Shah, author of the tragic saga of Heer and Ranjah:
Ajj Aakhan Waris Shah Nu,
Kiton Qabraan WichoN Bol,
Tey Ajj Kitaab-e-Ishq Da,
Koi Agla Warka Phol
Today, I call Waris Shah,
Speak from inside your grave
And turn, today
the book of love’s next affectionate page
Ajj Aakhan Waris Shah Nu,
Kiton Qabraan WichoN Bol,
Tey Ajj Kitaab-e-Ishq Da,
Koi Agla Warka Phol
Today, I call Waris Shah,
Speak from inside your grave
And turn, today
the book of love’s next affectionate page
Ikk Royi Sii Dhi Punjab Di,
Tu Likh Likh Maarey Wain,
Ajj Lakhaan Dhiyan Rondiyan,
Tenu Waris Shah Nuu Kai
A single daughter wept once, you screamed out in protest
Today a million daughters weep and implore you, Waris Shah:
[3]
Tu Likh Likh Maarey Wain,
Ajj Lakhaan Dhiyan Rondiyan,
Tenu Waris Shah Nuu Kai
A single daughter wept once, you screamed out in protest
Today a million daughters weep and implore you, Waris Shah:
[3]
Uth dard mandaan deya dardeya, tukk apna punjab
Ajj bailey lashaan vichian, tey lahoo di bhari chenab.
Rise! O’ narrator of the grieving;
rise! look at your Punjab
Today, fields are lined with corpses,
and blood fills the Chenab
[4]
Ajj bailey lashaan vichian, tey lahoo di bhari chenab.
Rise! O’ narrator of the grieving;
rise! look at your Punjab
Today, fields are lined with corpses,
and blood fills the Chenab
[4]
Few romantic associations in the post colonial subcontinent have been as rich as those belonging to the fiercely lover Amrita Pritam.
Main Tenu Fir Milaan Gi
Kithey? Kis Tarah? Pata Nai
I will meet you yet again
How and where? I know not.
[5]
Main Tenu Fir Milaan Gi
Kithey? Kis Tarah? Pata Nai
I will meet you yet again
How and where? I know not.
[5]
Shayad Terey Takhayul Di Chinag Ban Ke
Terey Canvas Tey Utraan Gi
Ya Khowrey Terey Canvas Dey Utey
Ikk Rahasmayi Lakeer Ban Ke
Khamosh Tenu Tak Di Rawaan Gi
Perhaps I will become a
figment of your imagination
and maybe, spreading myself
in a mysterious line
on your canvas,
[6]
Terey Canvas Tey Utraan Gi
Ya Khowrey Terey Canvas Dey Utey
Ikk Rahasmayi Lakeer Ban Ke
Khamosh Tenu Tak Di Rawaan Gi
Perhaps I will become a
figment of your imagination
and maybe, spreading myself
in a mysterious line
on your canvas,
[6]
I will keep gazing at you”
She once wrote:
“There was a pain
That like cigarettes I inhaled quietly
Just a few poems remain
That I flicked along
With ash from the Cigarettes”
She once wrote:
“There was a pain
That like cigarettes I inhaled quietly
Just a few poems remain
That I flicked along
With ash from the Cigarettes”
Amrita Pritam wrote her will in this poem:
“Fully conscious and in good health
I am writing today my will
After my death
Ransack my room
Search each item
That is scattered
Unlocked
Everywhere in my house
Donate my dreams
To all those women
[8]
“Fully conscious and in good health
I am writing today my will
After my death
Ransack my room
Search each item
That is scattered
Unlocked
Everywhere in my house
Donate my dreams
To all those women
[8]
Who between the confines of
The kitchen and the bedroom
Have lost their world
Have forgotten years ago
What it is to dream
Scatter my laughter
Among the inmates of old-age homes
Whose children
Are lost
To the glittering cities of America
[9]
The kitchen and the bedroom
Have lost their world
Have forgotten years ago
What it is to dream
Scatter my laughter
Among the inmates of old-age homes
Whose children
Are lost
To the glittering cities of America
[9]
There are some colours
Lying on my table
With them dye the sari of the girl
Whose border is edged
With the blood of her man
Who wrapped in the tricolor
Was laid to rest last evening
Give my tears
To all the poets
Every drop
Will birth a poem
I promise
[10]
Lying on my table
With them dye the sari of the girl
Whose border is edged
With the blood of her man
Who wrapped in the tricolor
Was laid to rest last evening
Give my tears
To all the poets
Every drop
Will birth a poem
I promise
[10]
My honour and my reputation
Are for the woman
Who prostitutes her body
So her daughter can get an education
Make sure you catch the youth
Of the country, everyone
And inject them
With my indignation
They will need it
Come the revolution
My ecstasy
Belongs to
That Sufi
[11]
Are for the woman
Who prostitutes her body
So her daughter can get an education
Make sure you catch the youth
Of the country, everyone
And inject them
With my indignation
They will need it
Come the revolution
My ecstasy
Belongs to
That Sufi
[11]
Who
Abandoning everything
Has set off in search of God
Finally
What’s left
My envy
My greed
My anger
My lies
My selfishness
These
simply
Cremate with me
P.S.
Give my books to Daku, my clothes won't fit him anyway.
Abandoning everything
Has set off in search of God
Finally
What’s left
My envy
My greed
My anger
My lies
My selfishness
These
simply
Cremate with me
P.S.
Give my books to Daku, my clothes won't fit him anyway.
