The night before the ‘‘mini-Armageddon’’ began in Iraq, a Mumbai hotel held a peace concert. If the soiree’s timing was perfect, ghazal singer Seema Sehgal’s rendition of Sahir Ludhianvi’s famous anti-war poem Ai Shareef Insano (O, Gentle Folks) proved to be electrifying. For the small crowd gathered, it instantly put the war in focus. The jingoists may dismiss it as a poet’s pacifism, but Sahir’s poem is not just about denouncement of the demonism of warfare. It is also a clarion call to the civilised world to promote peace and “defer war”. In simple, lucid Hindustani it narrates the trials and tribulations a war ushers in. Disturbed at the death and destruction the 1965 Indo-Pakistan war inflicted in the subcontinent, Sahir waved a white flag against a storm that threatened to gobble up the two neighbours. He may have expressed his feelings when two siblings fought, but his message is universal. In today’s globalised world, it remains perfectly relevant. Addressing the international community, the poet says: Jung mashriq mein ho ya maghrib mein/ Amn-e-Alam ka khoon hai akhir (Whether the war is in east or west/ After all, it bloodies world peace). Describing the method in the madness more graphically, he adds: Tank aage badhe ya peechhe hate/ Kokh dharti ki baanjh hoti hai (Whether the tank moves ahead or retreats/ It makes the earth’s womb infertile). Sahir lived in a less ‘‘advanced’’ world. No wonder he could not think beyond bombs, tanks and fields. Had he been around today, he would have seen the apocalyptic visuals of “shock and awe”. In his time warfare had not ‘‘modernised’’ as much to allow ‘‘embedded’’ journalists to keep step with marching soldiers. He merely talks of the burning of the crops, the hunger of the millions. Evidently, he had not heard of the terrifying, deafening sirens before B-52s rain bombs on cities. He had seen the two neighbours fight for territorial integrity. But he had not watched the sole superpower take its war and warships across continents. A couplet which has become a catchphrase for the pacifists over the years, goes: Jung to khud hi ek masla hai/ Jung kya maslon ka hal degi (War is itself a problem/ What solutions can a war offer). To the poet, war is not a prelude to peace. Unlike what the likes of Bush and Blair would have us believe, Sahir doesn’t see redemption in conflict. He doesn’t concur with the lunatic reasoning that “fire fights fire”. Like prophets and saints, he does believe that “blood begets blood”. For him victory in a war is actually the defeat of humanity. Far from celebrating man’s triumph over man, it dehumanises human beings. Zindagi maiyaton pe roti hai (Life mourns at the funerals). The deathly silence, the painful pestilence war brings in its wake leave no option to the poet other than to plead for peace. To him peace is the panacea for ills, a balm for wounds. Isliye ai shareef insano/ Jung talti rahe to behtar hai (Therefore, O gentle folks/ It’s better that war keeps getting deferred). We failed to defer the war. Can’t we stop it now?
