рд╕рдм рдЕрдЬрдирдмी рд╣ैं рдпрд╣ाँ рдХौрди рдХिрд╕ рдХो рдкрд╣рдЪाрдиे
Sab Ajnabi Hain Yaha Kaun Kis Ko Pehchane
— Kaifi Azmi (рдХैрдл़ी рдЖрдЬ़рдоी) —
There is a peculiar kind of loneliness that exists only in a crowd. It is the isolation of the city, the silence of a bustling bazaar, and the quiet ache of realizing that familiarity has been replaced by estrangement. In the vast library of Urdu poetry, few have captured this modern existential crisis as poignantly as Kaifi Azmi.
In his masterpiece, "Sab Ajnabi Hain Yaha," Azmi Sahab moves beyond the romanticism of traditional Ghazals to touch the raw nerve of societal disconnection. He speaks of a world where people are physically close but emotionally miles apart—a world where stories are heard, but souls are unrecognized.
This Ghazal is not just a complaint; it is a mirror to our times. Whether referring to the political turbulence of his era or the timeless human condition of feeling like a stranger in one's own land, these verses resonate with a haunting beauty. Let us walk through the "ruins of thirst" that Kaifi describes so vividly.
рд╕ुрдиा рдХрд░ो рдоिрд░ी рдЬाँ рдЗрди рд╕े рдЙрди рд╕े рдЕрдл़्рд╕ाрдиे
рд╕рдм рдЕрдЬрдирдмी рд╣ैं рдпрд╣ाँ рдХौрди рдХिрд╕ рдХो рдкрд╣рдЪाрдиे
Suna karo miri jaan in se un se afsane
Sab ajnabi hain yahan kaun kis ko pehchane
рдпрд╣ाँ рд╕े рдЬрд▓्рдж рдЧुрдЬ़рд░ рдЬाрдУ рдХ़ाрдл़िрд▓े рд╡ाрд▓ो
рд╣ैं рдоेрд░ी рдк्рдпाрд╕ рдХे рдлूँрдХे рд╣ुрдП рдпे рд╡ीрд░ाрдиे
Yahan se jald guzar jao qafile walo
Hain meri pyas ke phoonke huye ye veerane
рдоिрд░े рдЬुрдиूрди-рдП-рдкрд░рд╕्рддिрд╢ рд╕े рддंрдЧ рдЖ рдЧрдП рд▓ोрдЧ
рд╕ुрдиा рд╣ै рдмंрдж рдХिрдП рдЬा рд░рд╣े рд╣ैं рдмुрдд-рдЦ़ाрдиे
Mere junoon-e-parastish se tang aa gaye log
Suna hai band kiye jaa rahe hain but-khane
рдЬрд╣ाँ рд╕े рдкिрдЫрд▓े рдкрд╣рд░ рдХोрдИ рддिрд╢्рдиा-рдХाрдо рдЙрдаा
рд╡рд╣ीं рдкे рддोрдб़े рд╣ैं рдпाрд░ों рдиे рдЖрдЬ рдкैрдоाрдиे
Jahan se pichle pahar koi tishna-kaam utha
Wahin pe tode hain yaaron ne aaj paimane
рдмрд╣ाрд░ рдЖрдП рддो рдоेрд░ा рд╕рд▓ाрдо рдХрд╣ рджेрдиा
рдоुрдЭे рддो рдЖрдЬ рддрд▓рдм рдХрд░ рд▓िрдпा рд╣ै рд╕рд╣рд░ा рдиे
Bahar aaye to mera salaam keh dena
Mujhe to aaj talab kar liya hai sehra ne
рд╣ुрдЖ рд╣ै рд╣ुрдХ्рдо рдХि 'рдХैрдл़ी' рдХो рд╕ंрдЧрд╕ाрд░ рдХрд░ो
рдорд╕ीрд╣ рдмैрдаे рд╣ैं рдЫुрдк рдХे рдХрд╣ाँ рдЦ़ुрджा рдЬाрдиे
Hua hai hukm ki 'Kaifi' ko sangsaar karo
Maseeh baithe hain chup ke kahan khuda jaane
The closing couplet (Maqta) of this Ghazal serves as a stinging indictment of hypocrisy. When Kaifi writes, "Hua hai hukm ki Kaifi ko sangsaar karo" (The order has been given to stone Kaifi to death), he invokes the imagery of martyrdom for speaking the truth.
Yet, the tragedy is not in the execution order, but in the absence of the "Maseeh" (The Messiah/Healer). It suggests a world where judgment is swift, but compassion is in hiding. In an era where being misunderstood is the norm, Kaifi Azmi’s words remind us that sometimes the desert (Sehra) calls to us more loudly than the spring (Bahar), offering a solitude that is at least honest, compared to the crowd that no longer recognizes its own.
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