Ghālib and Shakespeare on Vande Bharat/Train 18 and Cattle, Train ba.Dii yā bhai.ns?

 

Train 18/Vande Bharat hit buffalos and cows in quick succession and all hell broke loose. There was criticism galore and concern for the train, the passengers and the cattle. Images of the damaged train and carcasses were splashed all over and the social media freaks had a field day speaking for or against the train, with a variety of armchair train couturiers sermonizing me, the creator, on nuances of train design. There were some positive posts too, for sure. Opposition politicians across the board rolled up in glee to castigate the train, which the government had only recently compared with God of trains, the bullet train of Japan.

 

I was disconcerted by the media blitz on the issue and somewhat nonplussed. As the din receded, I turned to my uncles and Lo! I was stunned and then stupefied by the depth of their enlightening conversation on the issue. It’s hearsay but I reproduce accurately:

 

Shakespeare: To moo or not to moo, that is the question…

 

Listen Gaulib, the Glib-Squib, ‘With too much blood and too little brain…, they who have ‘…not so much brain as ear-wax…’ (Thersites, Troilus and Cressida) speak like Gratiano of The Merchant of Venice ‘an infinite deal of nothing, more than any man in all’ India. These born ninnies miss the philosophical dimensions. The question confronting a cow about to be hit by Vande Bharat is ‘to moo or not to moo.’ Like the indecisive prince Hamlet, these cows too dither because Vande Bharat is an exalted being, something celebrated by the Prime Minster Moody himself. Claudius might have known the invalidity of his remorseless prayer when he utters, ‘My words fly up, my thoughts remain below: Words without thoughts never to heaven go.’ but these sagacious cattle wonder if their moos would ‘fly up and hit by Vande Bharat would they to heaven go’. If they do, why would they miss such an opportunity?

 

Ghālib: O, Sheikhpeare, I mean ShaKHs-e-Peer (Old man). Vaah! You know so much about cattle. In which tabelaa (cow-shed) did you write your dramas? I know Azaris and Camızs (Turkish and Caucasian buffalos) somewhat but do not know desi cattle so much but let me quote a half- sha'iir (half-poet) for you:

 

Ishq o mohabbat kyā hote haiñ kyā samjhā.ūñ vaa.iz ko

bhaiñs ke aage biin bajānā mere bas kī baat nahīñ

(mohabbat: love, vaa.iz: preacher, counsellor, bhaiñs: water buffalo biin: snake-charmer's flute. How would I explain what love and passion are to the preacher? It is beyond my abilities to play music to a buffalo)

 

Hit by Vande Bharat, a cow may go to heaven but will a bhaiñs too? Not likely, all such dying ones can well say:

 

Is train ne Ghālib nikammā kar diyā

varna ham bhī bhaiñs the kuchh kaam ke

(nikammā: worthless, good for nothing. This sordid train hitting me has made me worthless, otherwise, I too was once a buffalo of substance.)

 

Shakespeare: Do not divert and confound my thoughts, Good Gaulib, In my Romeo and Juliet, Romeo saw Juliet appearing at the famous window at night, like sunlight, which would rise and finish off the envious moon, which is pale with grief as it can never match Juliet in beauty and radiance, and says ‘…What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon…’ Consider the predicament of a Loco Pilot of Vande Bharat on seeing a cow on the track, ‘What cow through yonder window breaks? To brake or not to brake, that is the question’

 

It is not an existentialist quandary for the cattle alone but the Loco Pilot too. I did not hear any discourse treating the state of the mind of a Loco Pilot metaphysically. Illusions and delusions. My prime character Macbeth, in the famous soliloquy, with guilt and growing insanity for killing Duncan and his imagination bringing forth the picture of a dagger which symbolizes the impending murder, ‘…Is this a dagger which I see before me…’ and so would a Loco Pilot be delusional all the time, conscious of the inevitable carnage someday soon, ‘…Is this a cow which I see before me…’.

 

Ghālib: Arre bhai, mere Shiirii.n Sawān-e-Aiwān (O brother, my Sweet Swan of Avon), the matter is simple. Aql, sorry, I mean, Train ba.Dii ki bhai.ns? (Which is bigger, the buffalo or the brain, I mean, train?). The train obviously, and Train 18 on top of that, the much-maligned train in the past but a cynosure of all eyes today. Jis ki lāThī usī kī bhai.ns (One who has the stick has the buffalo) and so the Loco Pilot who has the joystick in had hand can easily claim every trespassing buffalo.

 

After all, any Loco Pilot of Vande Bharat would say about this Indian Bullet Train:

 

Trackoñ pe dauḌte phirne ke ham nahīñ qaa.il

jab bhaiñs hī se na bhiDā to phir Vande kyā hai

(qaa.il: appreciative. I am not appreciative of merely running around on the tracks, what kind of Vande train would it be if it did not hit buffalos?)

 

As for the damage to the nose of the train, it is my mad passion now,

 

Mohabbat thī is track se lekin ab ye be-dimāġhī hai

Ki binā bhaiñsoñ ko māre naak meñ aatā hai dam merā

(be-dimāġhī: senselessness, naak: nose, aatā hai dam: breathlessness. I used to love these railway tracks but now I am so restive that I become breathless unless I annihilate a buffalo)

 

And do not forget, the great Nirdaya RamanRaghav has informed us that the warranty of Vande Bharat is Vande (One Day).

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x2Hw9jRvwSY&t=9s

 

Shakespeare: My dear Acid Owl La Caan Begs, (Asadullah Khan Baig), you are going astray into the mundane again. The answer lies in deep introspection and meditation, not in this light-hearted banter. I had Richard III in King Richard shouting in the battlefield, “A horse, a horse! My kingdom for a horse!” meaning to sound halfway valiant as he refuses to forsake the fray although his horse has bit the dust. This line has become the stuff of irreverent quotations but let me restore its incorporeal relevance somewhat on the intellectual CROW (Cattle run Over Wallpaper) as the Loco Pilot fears damage to his train, albeit sure of the impending obliteration of the cow,  ‘A cow, a cow! My kingdom for a cow!’

 

Ghālib: Billy urf Barad ji (Billie the bard sir), the mundane is anathema to me too. On familiarity with the bhaiñs, consider this: I spoke and wrote in an exalted state of mind for only the chosen few, not to make it accessible to a large number of insipid almost-humans. That uncouth poet Abdul Qadir Rampuri once asked me to explain the meaning of this shoddy sher:

 

Pehle to roGan-e-gul bhai.ns ke ande se niklā

Phir davā jitnā hai kul bhai.ns ke ande se niklā

(roGan-e-gul: oil of flower, ande: egg, davā: medicine. This is sheer nonsense.)

 

Flabbergasted, I exclaimed that this lousy sher was not mine at all but pat came the reply, 'But this is how you write!'. This, Sheikh, is the nonsensical power of those with the mindset of a bhai.ns.

 

Shakespeare: O Buddy De Beers Moonmilk (Dabiir-ul-mulk,  a title like Secretary of State bestowed upon Ghālib),  I hear a very disturbing news. They are going to fit ugly cow-catchers in this beautiful train. My Othello stabs himself in the chest and these were his farewell words, ‘Then must you speak Of one that loved not wisely but too well…Like the base Indian, threw a pearl away…”. Your base compatriots, these Indians, do not recognize and value, a pearl like the Vande Bharat train and only engage in banal exchanges, overlooking the profound lessons from these incidents. This leaves the cows to simply sigh and say that they mooed ‘not wisely, but too well.’

Ghālib: Gayi bhai.ns paani meñ (there the buffalo goes into the water or an irretrievable situation). In any case,

 

Ham ko ma.alūm hai bhaiñsoñ kī haqīqat lekin

dil ke ḳhush rakhne ko Ghālib ye bavaal achchhā hai

(ma.alūm: aware, haqiqat: reality, bavaal: hullaballoo)

 

Shakespeare: See you soon, my dervish friend, and do remember, ‘Some are born cows, some achieve cowhood, and some undeserving ones have cows thrust upon them.’ And like Sir Toby Belch in Twelfth Night, these poor cattle must wonder, ‘Is it a world to moo virtues in?” and unlike Iago’s take that he would ‘wear my heart upon my sleeve’ these railway morons would only continue to ‘wear their cow on their nose’. So be it.

 

Ghālib: Aamiin, behtar, mere dost (Very good, my friend). My takeaway:

 

Huī muddat ki bhaiñs mar gayī par yaad aatā hai

vo har ik baat par kahnā ki bhaiñs hotī to kyā hotā

(muddat: long time, period)