Look, you fellows who are here,
Young or old, don’t ever claim from now
That you have a tongue in your mouth—
I have heard great Sauda’s discourse.
My God! What organisation, what flow!
I just asked him, ‘Sir, be pleased to say
If there is any way to survive here
In minimal comfort?’
He said, ‘Better be quiet, man; even
Angels can’t answer this question.
What can I say? Today there are
Hundreds of ways to earn one’s bread.
Here is a brief account.
‘If you acquire a horse, and serve
in some grandee’s cavalry, then
by God, your pay will be paid in
the Upper World. And in the Qazi’s mosque,
dwell donkeys; young and old just wait
for the Mulla to give the call for prayer;
and when he calls, they gag him and say
‘Shut up, you lout, there is no muslimness now.
. . . .
‘For a hundred rupees or two a month, if one
were to serve as a rich man’s physician:
Let the patron just sneeze and he glares
At his tame doctor. He calls for a bow
And arrow to ward off even the hint
Of a breeze. When the Navab eats,
His doctor’s blood pressure goes up.
The patron hogs all sorts of things and if
His belly aches as a result, then God
Help the doctor; even if he were
Avicenna, he would be declared a fool
In short, they don’t hire doctors.
They hire soldiers to fight with death.
Translated from the Urdu by Shamsur Rahman Faruqi