سدنسح رفوغ عمش نخس دور ےہ ا
ئیکو ےلہپ دل دگاہتخ دیپا رکے
The glow of eloquent discourse’s brilliance is afar, Asad,
First let someone craft a passionate heart.
I live in a neighborhood where the forecourt of the central mosque has been under construction for many months. Initially, there were only some simple doors in the veranda which led us into the mosque’s hallway. But a few months ago, when the decision was made to transform these into archways and create a frontispiece and crowning ornament, construction began. I saw the walls of the veranda crumble within days, and the new structure from foundation to roof seemed to rise within weeks. I assumed that in about two or three weeks, the courtyard of the mosque would be clear of bricks and mortar. However, when the work reached the crests of the battlements and the minarets, it became apparent that the pace of time had slowed, and the hands of the builders had ceased working. Previously, it was a straight task until the walls reached the roof; now the construction of each pinnacle and battlement takes months. This is just a small mosque in my neighborhood. Who knows how often the architects of the Alamgir Mosque, Red Fort, and the Taj Mahal would have witnessed the dawn over the horizon while working on their arches and battlements. When a craftsman sits down to carve a ruby, days turn into months before the corner of a lip even begins to emerge visibly:
Every creation reaches the pinnacle of perfection just like this. Poems too are such: If rhymes and refrains are readily available, one could be done with compiling an anthology every other month. And there are poets about whom it is said:
In the first case, if bricks and mortar suffice, the result can be witnessed within days. In the second case, the result arises not from bricks and mortar, but from the essence of one’s being:
This is not the first occasion in our time that people have struggled to distinguish the outcomes of these two processes. The history of humanity is largely a ledger of such events. Even before this world, often the worth of Ja’far Zatalli and Ghalib was judged by counting the verses in their anthologies, and in the era of John the Baptist and Christ, their stature among believers was determined by the number of followers. Who would tell such people that:
وس ابر بج قیقع اٹک بت ںیگن وہا
A hundred times was the carnelian shaped, only then it turned into a gem.
ش ربوز آرد
ے ب کیپا رباے ہک رمغ و امیہ ابدنش ہتفخ او دیبار
لفظے
رگن وہ ای تشخ و گنس، گنچ وہ ای رحف وصت
زجعمۂ نف یک ےہ وخن رگج ےس ومند
اگنہ ریتی رفوامہی، اہھت ےہ وکاتہ
یل دنلب اک ےہ انگہ
ن خ
رتا ہنگ ہک
So pure his words, that he brings night to a close,
That birds and fish, asleep or awake, do listen.
Whether color, brick and stone, or the strumming of strings and the fabric of sound,
The miracle of art reveals itself through the essence of one’s being.
Your sight is short-sighted, your reach is limited,
Your fault lies in envying the tall palm trees.