Pash
Categories: Cleanup from October 2005
Pash (Paash) ਅਵਤਾਰ ਸਿੰਘ ਪਾਸ਼
Pash or often spelled as Paash, Avtar Singh Sandhu, was born in Talwandi Salem, Jalandhar (Punjab, India) on 9th of September 1950. His father’s name is Major Sohan Singh Sandhu. Pash was highly influenced by the poverty of masses in India and started to write revolutionary poetry to describe what he felt. During his youth, Punjab’s students, farmers and workers were embroiled in an armed struggle against the establishment, called Naxalite movement. This 1970’s era is also known as the Jujharu (Rebellious) era in the Punjabi political terms.
His first book of revolutionary poems, Loh-Katha (Iron-Tale) was published in 1970 when he was not even 20 years old. Due to his sympathies with the militant movement and provocative poetry, Pash, at the young age of 21, was framed for a murder. He spent approximately two years in jail but was finally acquitted. After his acquittal he became active in Punjabi Maoist front organizations and edited a literary magazine Siarh (the plow line). Pash’s progressive poetry was widely published in the leftist media and was very popular amongst the students, communists and leftist leaning intellectuals.
In 1985, Punjabi Sahit Akademi (Punjabi Literature Academy) awarded him a one-year fellowship. He was well travelled and visited U.S.A. and U.K. in 1986. While in the United States, he produced a tract for Anti-47 Front. He opposed the communal violence waged by the Sikh Nationalists who were fighting to create a separate country, Khalistan, during earliy the 1980's. This made him a target. Terrorists murdered Pash in his village on 23rd of March 1988, ironically the martyrdom day of Shaheed Bhagat Singh, Rajguru and Sukhdev, the revered patriots who were hung by the British during the struggle for India’s independence.
His literary work includes:
Lohkatha (Iron-Tale) (1970),
Uddian Bazan Magar (Behind Flying Hawks) (1973),
Saadey Samiyaan Vich (In Our Times) (1978), and
Khilre Hoey Varkey (Unorganized Papers) (1989)*
- Khilre Hoey Varkey was posthumously published in 1989 after his death, followed by his journals and letters. A selection of his poems in Punjabi in the Shahmukhi Punjabi script Inkar was published in Lahore in 1997. His poems are translated in many languages including Indian languages, Nepali and English.
Some other quotes about Pash are as follows:
“The best known name in the Left and progressive movements in modern Punjabi literature, Pash followed an old Punjabi tradition of fighting against oppression and it was almost as if he was a reincarnation of one of the renowned Punjabi freedom fighters.”
”He took the banner of the Naxalite movement to actively participate in radical politics that landed him in jail for a couple of years on a trumped up murder charge, and finally got him brutally murdered in broad daylight at the age of 38.”
”The intensity of his passion gave some of the best revolutionary poetry to modern Punjabi literature and an alternative to the romantic poetry of Shiv Kumar Batalvi, whom he had admired as a teenager and then challenged by confronting him personally and in writing, creating a fascinating legend of the clash of two major schools of thoughts of Punjabi poetry.”
“Paash, a famous revolutionary cultural poet combated communal terrorism through the anti-47 Front. Paash fought till the last breadth against the terrorists, till he fell to their bullets in Jalandhar in 1988.”
“I'd perhaps have accepted the logic put forward by the veteran writer without doubt, had I not spotted earlier a glaring paradox right in his camp. I translate below part of the prefatory note that Paash (1950-1989), one of the leading poets of the Jujharu (rebel) era of Punjabi poetry; and arguably one of the finest poets (pro-people, should I say?) of the 20th Century, wrote for his third book of poems Saade Samiyaan Vich (In Our Times), 1978: "Of those whose poetry has influenced me the most, Kamala Das is still alive. Kalidas left for heaven long back. As for now, I would like to thank Kamala Das. Neruda and Nazim belong to our own camp. So no need to thank them at all."”
One of his Poems in Punjabi is given below:
Mainu Chahiday Han Kujh Bol
Mainu chahiday han kujh bol
Mainu chahiday han kujh bol
JinnaN da ikk geet banh sakay..
Khoh lavo maiThoN ih bheeRh di taiN taiN
SaaRh devo mainu merian nazmaN di dhooni te
Mainu nahin chahiday Ameen Sayaani de dialog
Saambho Anand Bakhshi, tusiN suno Lakhshmi Kaant
Mein ki karna Indra da bhaashan
Mainu taaN chahiday hann kujh bol
JinnaN da ikk geet banh sakay
Mere munh 'ch tunn dio Yamlay Jatt di toombi
Mere maThay te jhareeT devo Tagore da Nantional Anthem
Meri hikk te chipka devo Gulshan Nanda de naaval
Meri piTth te ladd diO Vaajpayee da bojhal pinda
Mere gall ch paa diO Hemant Basu di laash
Mere....... ch de diO Lala Jagat Naryaan da sir
Chalou..mein Mao vi nai lainda
Per mainu diO taaN sahi kujh bol
JinnaN da ikk geet bann sakay...
Ih geet mein ohna goongyaN nu daina hai
JinnaN nu gettaN di kadar hai
Per jinnaN nu tuhaday bhaanay gauna nai puggda
Je tuhaday kol nai hai koi bol, koi geet
Mainu bakanh devo! mein ki bakda haan
Translation of one of his poems by Samartha Vachishtha is given below:
Two and Two Three
I can prove
two and two make three.
The present is liestory.
The human face looks like a spoon.
You know –
bills and bills of a hundred
move on in courts, bus-stands and parks –
writing diaries, taking pictures,
completing reports.
Sons are made to rape their mothers
in the ‘Law Protection Centres.’
‘Dacoits’ toil in the fields.
The declaration of accepting demands
is made by dropping bombs.
That loving your own people could mean
spying for the ‘enemy nation.’
And the reward for the greatest treachery
could be the highest seat.
So two and two can make three;
the present could be liestory
and the human face too
can look like a spoon.
Quoting SAMARTHA VASHISHTHA about Pash, “Impeccable sharp-edged images from everyday life, and a deep ‘violent’ sense of belonging to his land and surroundings dominate his poetry. In his brief life-span of 37 years, Paash published three books of poems, edited a number of literary magazines, authored some finely evocative essays, besides authoring a biography of the legendary athlete Milkha Singh. Already a poet of formidable repute and widely traveled…..”.
Dr.Satnam Singh Sandhu of Punjabi University, Patiala translated the following poem:
Most Dangerous
Most treacherous is not the robbery
of hard earned wages
Most horrible is not the torture by the police.
Most dangerous is not the graft for the treason and greed.
To be caught while asleep is surely bad
surely bad is to be buried in silence
But it is not most dangerous.
To remain dumb and silent in the face of trickery
Even when just, is definitely bad
Surely bad is reading in the light of a firefly
But it is not most dangerous
Most dangerous is
To be filled with dead peace
Not to feel agony and bear it all,
Leaving home for work
And from work return home
Most dangerous is the death of our dreams.
Most dangerous is that watch
Which run on your wrist
But stand still for your eyes.
Most dangerous is that eye
Which sees all but remains frostlike,
The eye that forgets to kiss the world with love,
The eye lost in the blinding mist of the material world.
That sinks the simple meaning of visible things
And is lost in the meaning return of useless games.
Most dangerous is the moon
Which rises in the numb yard
After each murder,
But does not pierce your eyes like hot chilies.
Most dangerous is the song
Which climbs the mourning wail
In order to reach your ears
And repeats the cough of an evil man
At the door of the frightened people.
Most dangerous is the night
Falling in the sky of living souls,
Extinguishing them all
In which only owls shriek and jackals growl,
And eternal darkness covers all the windows.
Most heinous is the direction
In which the sun of the soul light
Pierces the east of your body.
Most treacherous is not the
robbery of hard earned wages
Most horrible is not the torture of police
Most dangerous is not graft taken for greed and treason.
The following is a poem in Gurmukhi by Pash in his own handwriting written over a map of India with blood drops dripping symbolising the workers' blood.
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