India Overtakes UK and China A lively Shakespeare and Ghālib tête-à-tête

  India Overtakes UK and China

Shakespeare and Ghālib trade poetic punches

Sudhanshu Mani

 

In the theatre of global headlines, an intriguing saga unfolds-a collision of economies and populations. India grabs the spotlight, surpassing the UK in GDP and racing past China in its unfortunate and relentless numbers game of population and poverty headcounts. Amidst this uproar, at the at the intersection of economics, populace and verse, two colossal figures emerge. Picture Shakespeare, the titan of iambic pentameter, quill poised for poetic combat. But lo and behold, Ghālib, the master of verse, strides forward armed with verses as sharp as Tata steel. The stage is set for a poetic showdown where wits sharper than any rapier engage in an epic yet whimsical tango of words and jests, claiming their rightful place in the cosmic limelight with India in the background.

 

I always enjoy their literary pow wows and was once again privy to this conversation between my uncles. As you know, they would never care to bend my ears about it but I did quietly capture all of it. Some of it was too arcane for me to decipher but nevertheless, I faithfully echo those pearls of wisdom, verbatim, as it flowed from their blessed donut or peanut munchers and a  pleasurable clash of words, a delightful tussle of tongues awaits you:

 

Shakespeare: Hey my friend Gaulib, dost thou perceive this news that hath reached mine ears? India, the jewel of the East, may don the crown of the fifth largest economy, but with an unwieldy population. With GDP you may soar but only in this population roar. Is it really progress with such a headcount which rivals the celestial stars and burdened with chaotic spars? You may allude to Sicinius in my play Coriolanus "What is the city but the people?" or ignore the obvious in the belief, like the King in my play Henry V, "…We few, we happy few, we band of brothers…"  Such teeming million? Definitely a shame.

 

Ghālib: Aadaab, biraadar, chale aaye angrez ki aulaad apnā nak-cha.Dhaa raag alaapne!  (Greetings brother, here you come, you son of an Englishmen, thumbing your snooty nose at India!). Pray do not start with your contemptuous disregard for us, trying to diminish us with your condescending sense of superiority. Ah, your jests try to demean but remember, in numbers is India's might! Each soul, a tale, a vibrant hue, adding wealth to this land, a truth so true. In multitude, India finds flair! Each mind, a gem, each heart, a bloom, a strength in unity, dispelling gloom.

 

Ishrat-e-Hindi hai is Bhārat meñ fanā ho jaanā

hujuumoṅ kā had se guzarnā hai davā ho jaanā

(Ishrat-e-Hindi: The pleasure of Indian, dariyā: a big river, hujuumoṅ: large crowds, fanā: death, davā: remedy. To be subsumed in our vast milieu is the pleasure of all Indians, as our numbers exceed, they present a remedial strength and not a drawback.)

 

Our government feeds eight hundred million with free ration. Try matching that, my firangi (white foreigner) friend.

 

Haiñ aur bhī duniyā meñ mamaalik bahut achchhe

kahte haiñ ki Bhārat kā hai andāz-e-nizaam aur

(mamaalik: countries, andāz-e-nizaam: style of governance. There be many great countries in the world but the style of governance in India is unique).

 

Shakespeare: Well, Mirza Gilboy, to feed and house such a bustling array? Free ration? You mean more than half your country lives on doles. You gloat about your GDP, but in commerce, where stands thy ground? With wealth amassed, true glory is not found! GDP may sway like a ship at sea, yet in prosperity of all lies the true decree. In your so called riches, where lies the delight for the laypeople? You give them food but no work making them lazy bums. I only wish your leaders had read my play Timon of Athens and learnt something from Timon, “...'Tis not enough to help the feeble up, but to support them after”.

 

If they would only heed Isabella in my play Measure for Measure, and "Go to thei bosom: Knock there, and ask their heart what it doth know." Going a bit tongue in cheek, Gaulib,  and hypercorrecting this dialogue from my play The Comedy of Errors and exhorting you to learn from the English: Dromio of Syracuse saying, “ Because it is a blessing that England, what he hath scanted us in men, he hath given us in wit.” with Antipholus of Syracuse chipping in, “Why, but there’s many a man in India than wit.”

 

Ghālib: Janab (Sir) Shekhu, Khaamosh (Pipe Down)! Not wit but chicanery and deceit. Your descendants first loot us from prosperity to penury for close to two centuries and now you show up with the temerity to harangue us on equitable prosperity.

 

Kī mire qatl ke ba.ad us ne jafā se tauba

haa.e us zūd-pashīmāñ kā pashemāñ honā

(jafā: cruelty, injustice, tauba: renunciation, zūd-pashīmāñ: swiftly repentant. After slaying (destroying or looting) me, forswearing all their ways of cruelty and injustices! Oh dear, Woe is me, such mercurial transformation of this facile-repenter.)

 

We are now wiser and stronger. It’s now the time of Amrit kaal (Elixir days) of India's progress, a tale of bliss! In diverse hues, a richness rare.  Go heed the word of your own Iyagu (Iago) from Athelio (Othello) "O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; it is the green-ey'd monster, which doth mock the meat it feeds on." Yes, ponder and act or you would perish as we march on the path of glory with a global footprint.

 

Mat pūchh ki kyā haal hai merā tire pīchhe

tū dekh ki kyā rañg hai terā mire aage

(Ask not my state is after your leaving, look at what your condition is when confronted and challenged by me).

 

Shakespeare: Dear chappie Assed, do not get so sentimental and cocksure as in a fool’s paradise. Follow the fool in Twelfth Night with reality checks, “Better a witty fool, than a foolish wit.” Perhaps the fault lies in your leaders, not in simple folks like you, just as Cassius admits to Brutus in Julius Caesar, and sooner they realize it , the better, "The fault...is not in their stars, but in themselves."

 

Cocky and vain that you guys are, you are unlikely to follow what Hector says in my play Troilus and Cressida, “…modest doubt is call'd The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches To the bottom of the worst...”, but you can listen to yourself,

 

Umr bhar Ghālib yahī bhuul kartā rahā

dhuul chehre pe thī aa.ina saaf kartā rahā

(Ghalib made this mistake all his life, dust was on his face, yet he kept cleaning the mirror).

 

India's progress, like this mirror, may shine a bit, yet in this quest for economic might, you forget to cleanse the reflections of your social plight.

 

Ghālib: ShaKHs-e-Peer mere Habeeb (Shakespeare, old man my friend), I excuse your limited faculties as even the great Modi and the Tharoor made this faux pas, this trash was never written by me. So, you are more to be pitied than censured. I will continue to paint the story of India's rise to future glory! With GDP high and people galore, Hindustan (India)  is like never before but I do not expect you to appreciate this,

 

Ham ko un se vafā kī hai ummīd

jo nahīñ jānte vafā kyā hai

(vafā: loyalty, fidelity, faithfulness. Why should we hope for faith and empathy from those who have no idea what these things are?)

 

Shakespeare: Well, you Oriental Oaf, what can I say except recall Coriolanus from the eponymous play, “…Let it be virtuous to be obstinate…”.

 

Ghālib: Behtar, O Barad-e-Aiwān (better, O bard of Avon), janaab-e-aali KHabiis-e-aazam (respected senior great mean man), behtar. Ab zabaan ko lagaam do (Now, hold your bridle). I am getting out of breath and energy trying to reason with you.

 

Har ek baat pe kahte ho tum ki tū kyā hai

tumhīñ kaho ki ye andāz-e-guftugū kyā hai

Bak rahā hai tū junūñ meñ kyā kuchh

vaqt kahañ hai ki sunā va samjhā kare koī

(andāz-e-guftugū: style of conversation, junūñ: madness, frenzy. You keep nitpicking about everything. What pray is this style of dialogue? You keep on ranting in your madness, who has the time to listen and follow this babble?)

 

Shakespeare: Juliet from my play Romeo and Juliet can counter that, "How art thou out of breath when thou hast breath to say to me that thou art out of breath?"

 

Ghālib: Nitpicking again!!

Nukta-chīñ hai ġham-e-dil us ko sunā.e na bane

kyā bane baat jahāñ baat banā.e na bane

(nukta-chīñ: nitpickingly critical. Your heart’s sorrow is nitpicking, no use telling you anything, what’s the use of sorting out a thing which is not amenable to sorting out)

 

So, enough, Billee Bārad (Billy the bard), enough. Very soon like your Julius Caesar, in the words of Antony, Indians, like true Vishwagurus (teachers to the world) will "Cry 'Havoc,' and let slip the dogs of war!" Now and till then, mere pyaare firangī (my dear foreigner), your cronies and all of Englistān (England), Beware!!

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