Collection of Ghalib's Poetry. Deewan E Ghalib. by: Ghalib. Topics: Ghalib, Urdu, Poetry, Philosophy. Collection: opensource. Language. Deewan E Ghalib. Topics: Deewan-e-Ghalib-CLICK-HERE-TO-DOWNLOAD-pdf. Collection: opensource. Deewan-e-Ghalib CLICK HERE TO. By Critics of Urdu, Diwan-e-Ghalib remains the best collection of Urdu verse from classical Urdu era, in which Rekhta flourished. Like Mir Taqi.
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READ ONLINE COMPLETE PDF DEEWAN-E-GHALIB Download Complete Deewan-e-Ghalib PDF Download Complete Deewan-e-Ghalib. April Deewan-e-Ghalib PDFDeewan Mirza Ghalib in Urdu pdf The book is a poetry book of the famous poet Mirza Asad Ullah Khan Ghalib in Urdu. This post contains download link and review of Deewan e Ghalib. It is a poetry collection of Mirza Ghalib. The eBook is available in pdf and.
Umr bher daikha kiya merne ki raah Mer gai phir daikhiye dikhlayen kaya! Poochte hai woh ki, Ghalib kaun hain? Koi batlawe ki hum batlaein kaya! Is qader dushmane arbabe wafa ho jana!
Zof se giryah mubaddil bah dam serd hawa Bawer aaya hamein pani ka hawa ho jana Dil se mitna teri angusht hinaee ka khayal Ho gaya gosht se nakhun ka zuda ho jana Hai mujhe abre bahari ka baras ker khulna Rote rote game furqat mein fana ho jana Gar nahin nikhate gul ko tere koche ki hawas Kiyon hai girde rahe jolane saba ho jana Bakhshe hain jalwai gul joshe tamasha Ghalib! Rahbare qatrah badariya hai, khusha mauj-e-shrab!
Hosh udte hain mere jalwai gul daikh Asad! Jigar ko mere, ishq khonaba mashrab Likhe hain khudawand namat! Khoone khalq Lerze hai mauje mai teri raftar daikh ker Wahasrata!
Kerta malak-ul-maut taqaza ki din aur Mujh se tumehn nafrat sahi, nayyer se ldayee Bachchon ka bhi na daikha tha tmasha koi din aur Guzri na bher hal ye muddat khush-o-nakhush Kera tha jawan merg! Guzara koi din aur Nadan ho kiyon kahte ho ki jite hain Ghalib! Dil se nikla, pah na nikla dil se Hai tere teer ka paikan azeez Taab laye hi bane gi Ghalib! Masdah, ai zauqe aseeri! Ki nazar aata hai Dame khali, qafase murghe giratar ke paas Jigare tashnai azaad, tasalli na hua Jooai khoon hum ne bahaie bune her khar ke paas Mund gaien kholte hi aankhine hai hai!
Khub waqt aayie eis aashiqe bimar ke paas Main bhi ruk ruk ke naa marta' jo zaban ke badle Dushna ek tez sa hota mere ghamkhuwaar ke paas Dahane sher mein jaa bathe lekin ayi dil! Naa khade ho jaiye khubane dil aazar ke paas Dekh kar tujhko chaman baske namu karta hai Khud bkhud pahunchein hai gulgoshai dastar ke paas Mar gaya phod ke sir ghalib wehshi hai hai! Tere larazne se zahir hai natawani shama Tere khayal se rooh ehtaraz kerti hai Bah jalwah raizi bad-o-bah pur fishani shama Nishate daaghe ghame ishq ki bahar na pooch Shaguftagi hai shaheede gule khizani shama Jale hai, daikh ke baleene yaar per mujh ko Na kiyon ho dil pe mere daghe badgumani shama Beeme raqeeb se nahin kerte widae hosh Majboriyan talak huai ai akhtiyare, haif!
Jalta hai dilki kiyon na hum ek bar jal gai Ai na tamami nafse shoal bare haif! Zakhm per chidkin kahan tiflane be perwa namak Kaya maza hota agar patther mein bhi hota namak Girde rahe yaar hai samane naaze zakhme dil Wernah hai jahan mein kis qader paida namak Mujh ko arzani rhai, tujh ko mubarak ho namak Nalai bulbul ka dard aur khandai gul ka namak Shore jolan tha kinare baher per kiska ki aaj Girde sahil hai bah zakhme maujai dariya namak Daad daita hai mere zakhme jigar ki wah wah!
Yaad kerat hai mujhe daikhe hai woh jis ja namak Chodker jana tane majroohe aashiq haif hai Dil talab kerta hai zahkam aur mange hain aaza namak Gair ki minnat na kheechonga pai taufeer derd Zakham misle khndai qatil ser ta pa namak Yaad hain Ghalib! Germie bazam hai ek raqse sharer hone tak Ghame hasti ka!
Khosh haal us hareefe seeyeh must ka ki jo Rakhta ho misle sayaye, ser bah paye gul Ijad kerti hai use tere liye bahar Mera raqeeb hai nafase etre saye gul Shermindah rakhte hai mujhe bade bahar se Meenaai be shrab-o-dile be hawaye gul Satwat se tere jalwai husne ghayoor ki Khoon hai meri nigah mein runge adai gul Tere hi jalwe ka hai ye dhoka ki aaj tak Be akhtiyar daude hai gul derqafaye gul Ghalib!
Rukh lijio mere dawe warastagi ki sherm Loon dame bakhte khaftah se yak khuabe khosh wale Ghalib! Kuch baqi mere tan mein nahin Rung ho ker udgaya, jo khon ke daman mein nahin Ho gai hain jama ajzaye nigahe aaftab Zarre uske gher ki deewaron ke rauzan mein nahin Raunaqe hasti hai ishq khana weeran saz se Anjuman be shama hai, ger berqe khirman mein nahin Zakhm silwane se mujh pe charai jooi ka taan Gair samjha hai ki lazzat zakhme sozan mein nahin Baski hum hain eik bahare naaz ke mare huai Jalwai gul ke sewa, gerd apne madfan mein nahin Qatrah qatrah eh hiyolahai, nai nasoor ka Khoon bhi, zauqe derd se farigh mere tan mein nahin Le gaye saqi ki nakhwat, qulzame ashami meri Mauj mai ki aaj rag, meena ki gerdan mein nahin Ho fisher zof mein kaya natawani ki ki namood!
Qad ke jhukne ki bhi gunjaish mere tan mein nahin Thi waten mein shan kaya, ghalib! Gawarah rahiyo! Tujhe kis tamanna se hum daikhte hain Suraghe tafe nalah, le daghe dil se Ki shab roka naqshe qadam daikhte hain Bana ker faqeeron ka hum bhaisGhalib! Jis sher se safeena rawan ho srab mein Ghalib!
Jana pada raqeeb ke der per mujhe hazar Ai kaash!
Phir baikhudi mein bhool gaya rah koye yaar Jata wager nah eik din apni khaber ko main Apne pe ker rah hon qyas ahle daher ka Samjha hon dil pazeer mataye hunar ko main Ghalib! Kih woh taqat na rahi Ishq per arbdah ki gon tane rajoor nahin Main jo kahta hon main longa qayamat mein tujhe Kis raoonat se woh kahte hain ki hum hoor nahin Zulm ker zulm, agr lutfe daregh aata hai To taghaful mein kisi rung se mazoor nahin Saaf durdi kashe paimanai jam main hum loog Waai!
Hum ko tasleem nako naami ferhad nahin Kum nahin woh bhi khrabi mein, pe usat maloom Dasht mein hai mujhe woh aish kih gher yaad nahin Ahle maktab ko hai toofane hawadis maktab Latmai mauj kam az saile ustad nahin Waai! Haale wafa Janta hai ki hamein taqate fariyad nahin Runge tamkin gul-o-lalah, parishaniyon hai Ger chiraghan sare rah guzare bad nahin Sabad gul ke tale band kare hai gulchein Mazdah, ai murgh! Kih guzar main sayyad nahin Nafi se kerti hai isbat trawish goya Di hi jame dahen usko dame ijaad nahin Kam nahin jalwah gari mein tere koche se bahisht Yahi naqshah hai wale is qader abad nahin Kerte kis munh se ho ghurbat ki shikatyat Ghalib!
Tum ko be mohri yaarane watan yaad nahin! Kaya shama ke nahin hain hua khuah ahle bazam! Kabhi hum un ko kabhi apne gher ko daikhte hain Nazar lage na kahin us ko dast-o-bazo ko Ye log kiyon mere zakhme jiger ko daikhte hain Tere jawaher terfe kulah ko kaya daikhein!
Hum bhi ek apni hawa bandhte hain Teri fursat ke muqabil, ai umar Berq ko pa ba hena bandhte hain Qaide hasti se rihayee maloom Ashq ko be ser-o-pa bandhte hain Nashai rung se hai washide gul Must kab bande qaba bandhte hain Ghalti haye muzamein mat pooch Log nale korasa bandhte hain Ahle tadbeer ki wamandgiyan!
Ablon per bhi hena bandhte hain Sadah pur kar hain khoban ghalib! Zamanah mujh ko mitata hai kis liye? Lauhe jahan pe herfe mukarrer nahin hon main Had chahiye saza mein, aqoobat ke waste Aakhir gunah gaar hon kafir nahin hon main Kis waste azeez nahin jante mujhe?
Lal-o-zammurad-o-zer-o-gauher nahin hon main Rakhte ho tum qadam meri aankhon se be daraigh Rutbe mein mahr-o-maah se kamter nahin hon main Kerte mujh ko mana qadam bos kis liye! Dil ke par Jo meri kotahi qismat se masgan ho gaein Bas kih roka main ne, aur seene mein ubhrien pai bah pai Wan gaya bhi main, to un galiyon ka kaya jawab!
Koi deewar bhi nahin Gunjaishe adawte aghaiar ek taraf Yan dil mein zof se hawse yaar bhi nahin Der nalah hai zarse mere khuda ko maan Aakhir nawai murghe giraftar bhi nahin Dil mein hai yaar ki safe masgan se rokashi Halan kih taqate khalishe khar bhi nahin Is sadgi pe kaun na mer jaai ai khuda! Kih ghir jalwai, rah guzer meinkhak nahin Bhla use hi sahi kuch mujhi ko raham aata Aser mere nafase be aser mein khak nahin Khayal jalwai gul se khrab hain maikash Shrab khane ki deewar-o-der mein khak nahin Hua hon ishqe gharat gari se shermindah Sewai hasrate tameer ghe mein khak nahin Hamare shair hain ab sirf dillage ke Asad!
Ghalib's one wish, perhaps as strong as the wish to be a great poet, that he should have a regular, secure income, never materialized. His brother Yusuf, went mad in , and died, still mad, in that year of all misfortunes, His relations with his wife were, at best, tentative, obscure and indifferent. And one has to confront the fact that the child never died who, deprived of the security of having a father in a male-oriented society, had had looked for material but also moral certainties -- not certitudes, but certainties, something that he can stake his life on.
So, when reading his poetry it must be remembered that it is the poetry of more than usually vulnerable existence. It is difficult to say precisely what Ghalib's attitude was toward the British conquest of India.
The evidence is not only contradictory but also incomplete. First of all, one has to realize that nationalism as we know it today was simply non-existent in nineteenth-century India.
Deewan E Ghalib Nuskha Hamid Ali Khan
Second --one has to remember -- no matter how offensive it is to some -- that even prior to the British, India had a long history of invaders who created empires which were eventu- ally considered legitimate. The Moghuls themselves were such invaders. Given these two facts, it would be unreasonable to expect Ghalib to have a clear ideological response to the British invasion.
There is also evidence, quite clearly deducible from his letters, that Ghalib was aware, on the one hand, of the redundancy, the intrigues, the sheer poverty of sophistication and intellectual potential, and the lack of humane responses from the Moghul court, and, on the other, of the powers of rationalism and scientific progress of the West. Ghalib had many attitudes toward the British, most of them complicated and quite contradictory.
His diary of , the "Dast-Ambooh" is a pro-British document, criticizing the British here and there for excessively harsh rule but expressing, on the whole, horror at the tactics of the resistance forces.
His letters, however, are some of the most graphic and vivid accounts of British violence that we possess. We also know that "Dast-Ambooh" was always meant to be a document that Ghalib would make public, not only to the Indian Press but specifically to the British authorities. And he even wanted to send a copy of it to Queen Victoria.
His letters, are to the contr- ary, written to people he trusted very much, people who were his friends and would not divulge their contents to the British authorities. As Imtiyaz Ali Arshi has shown at least to my satisfaction , whenever Ghalib feared the intimate, anti-British contents of his letters might not remain private, he requested their destruction, as he did in th case of the Nawab of Rampur.
I think it is reasonable to conjecture that the diary, the "Dast-Ambooh", is a document put together by a frightened man who was looking for avenues of safety and forging versions of his own experience in order to please his oppressors, whereas the letters, those private documents of one-to-one intimacy, are more real in the expression of what Ghalib was in fact feeling at the time.
And what he was feeling, according to the letters, was horror at the wholesale violence practiced by the British.
Yet, matters are not so simple as that either. We cannot explain things away in terms of altogether honest letters and an altogether dishonest diary. Human and intellectual responses are more complex. The fact that Ghalib, like many other Indians at the time, admired British, and therefore Western, rationalism as expressed in constitutional law, city planning and more. His trip to Calcutta had done much to convince him of the immediate values of Western pragmatism.
This immensely curious and human man from the narrow streets of a decaying Delhi, had suddenly been flung into the broad, well-planned avenues of Calcutta -- from the aging Moghul capital to the new, prosperous and clean capital of the rising British power, and , given the precociousness of his mind, he had not only walked on clean streets, but had also asked the fundamental questions about the sort of mind that planned that sort of city. In short, he was impressed by much that was British.
In Calcutta he saw cleanliness, good city planning, prosperity. He was fascinated by the quality of the Western mind which was rational and could conceive of constitutional government, republicanism, skepticism.
The Western mind was attractive particularly to one who, although fully imbued with his feudal and Muslim background, was also attracted by wider intelligence like the one that Western scientific thought offered: good rationalism promised to be good government. The sense that this very rationalism, the very mind that had planned the first modern city in India, was also in the service of a brutal and brutalizing mercantile ethic which was to produce not a humane society but an empire, began to come to Ghalib only when the onslaught of caught up with the Delhi of his own friends.
Whatever admiration he had ever felt for the British was seriously brought into question by the events of that year, more particularly by the mercilessness of the British in their dealings with those who participated in or sympathized with the Revolt. This is no place to go into the details of the massacre; I will refer here only to the recent researches of Dr. Ashraf Ashraf, K. Joshi, , in India, which prove that at least 27, persons were hanged during the summer of that one year, and Ghalib witnessed it all.
It was obviously impossible for him to reconcile this conduct with whatever humanity and progressive ideals he had ever expected the British to have possessed. His letters tell of his terrible dissatisfaction.
Ghalib's ambivalence toward the British possibly represents a characteristic dilemma of the Indian indeed, the Asian --people. Whereas they are fascinated by the liberalism of the Western mind and virtually seduced by the possibility that Western science and technology might be the answer to poverty and other problems of their material existence, they feel a very deep repugnance for forms and intensities of violence which are also peculiarly Western.
Ghalib was probably not as fully aware of his dilemma as the intellectuals of today might be; to assign such awareness to a mid-nineteenth-century mind would be to violate it by denying the very terms -- which means limitations --, as well -- of its existence. His bewilderment at the extent of the destruction caused by the very people of whose humanity he had been convinced can , however, be understood in terms of this basic ambivalence.
The years between and were neither happy nor very eventful ones for Ghalib. During the revolt itself, Ghalib remained pretty much confined to his house, undoubtedly frightened by the wholesale massacres in the city.
Many of his friends were hanged, deprived of their fortunes, exiled from the city, or detained in jails. By October , he had completed his diary of the Revolt, the "Dast-Ambooh", published it, and presented copies of it to the British authorities, mainly with the purpose of proving that he had not supported the insurrections.
Although his life and immediate possessions were spared, little value was attached to his writings; he was flatly that he was still suspected of having had loyalties toward the Moghul king. During the ensuing years, his main source of income continued to be the stipend he got from the Nawab of Rampur. Ghalib died a few months later, on February 15th, His diary of , the "Dast-Ambooh" is a pro-British document, criticizing the British here and there for excessively harsh rule but expressing, on the whole, horror at the tactics of the resistance forces.
On the one hand, he grew up relatively free of any oppressive dominance by adult, male-dominant figures. Dair nahin, haram nahin , der nahin aastan nahin Baithe hain rah guzar pe, gair hamein uthai kiyon! There was no love lost between Ghalib himself and Zauq, the king's tutor in the writing of poetry; and if their mutual dislike was not often openly expressed, it was a matter of prudence only.
Second --one has to remember -- no matter how offensive it is to some -- that even prior to the British, India had a long history of invaders who created empires which were eventu- ally considered legitimate.
Ye kafir fitnai taqat ruba kaya! Ablon per bhi hena bandhte hain Sadah pur kar hain khoban ghalib!