Some people die to live, and Atta
Shaad is one of them.
February 13 is the day when the eminent poet left us to make us feel who he is, because we were not
lucky enough to recognize him when he was among us. He was a universal poetic genius, creatively reflective and deeply concerned with social, historical and
political issues faced by his nation. As writing is thought on paper,so is
poetry, because it has been written since writing originated. He was born in November 1939 to Lal Khan(the year WWII erupted) at Singani sar village in Kech,
Makuran in South Balochistan. It
was not certain that one day he would be counted amongst the greatest poets of the Urdu and Balochi
language, but he proved this very quickly with a fascinating distinction. In an interview conducted by
the noted poet Perveen Shaker he said,
“Poetry was considered something bad in our society; knowing that I write poetry, my colleagues complained to
my teacher that 'Atta is a poet.'"
Talking about when he started writing, he
says,
“From the time of school, when I started writing poetry, actually it was in Urdu. But as I came to
Quetta, friends told me that I write beautiful poetry in Urdu, and insisted that I should try in Balochi. Then I considered this, and started reading classic Balochi poetry
(as I didn’t have enough words to write), which I was fortunate enough to get at
the radio office where I was working.”
Hakeem Baloch writes in his book,
“Shabia-e-Shaad," “When I say something about him, it seems that I’m
conversing with him (Atta). He has left us but he is still living in our
thoughts, and it can be easily speculated that he will always exist as long a
Baloch exists on this planet earth. Atta has distinctly expressed his pain,
anguish and deep inner rage. If we compare him with other poets, just as we
know the speech and thought of individuals of a single community or family differ, if I say his expressive language differs
from all Balochi speakers (being a Balochi speaker), I might not be wrong."
His beautifully composed poetry leaves
a lasting impression on the reader. He says in a Ghazal,
Man agan darchkay an dey aass mani
baladaa..!
Balay pa naptiya koye boscheeth chosh
nabeeth
I would like to present my broken
English translation of this couplet,
If I am a tree, set me on fire;
Unthinkable is that a hill burns of lightning.
Some critics say that he was an
unstable man; it makes every reader, including myself, wonder whether a mad person
can possess such greatly influencing ideas and life- transforming thoughts. His
reflectively imaginative poetry is recognized and valued by all Urdu language
critics; however, some of the Balochi language critics might not be
sound judges of value, or might influenced by some personal rage, likes or dislikes, as the view of
criticism is directly related to the critic's own intellectual preoccupation
and his philosophy or outlook on life.
Atta Shad had a different approach toward
writing poetry with his experimental intelligence and highly distinguished,
unique style. He abandoned all outdated expressions and words both in Urdu and
Balochi poetry, and created his own fresh diction and maintained it, drew
inspiration from none, neither followed Persianised nor oratorical style. He
created his own style. As we know, writing is a deeply personal process full of
strangeness and surprises, and no two writers go about it in exactly the
same way or style.
He is considered an Urdu poet by almost all of the Urdu literary
figures, who know nothing about the richness of his Balochi poetry
which is his real treasure trove, as he himself said. Without having read his
Balochi poems, it is a blatant mistake to comment on his poetry or
personality. Without any doubt, his Balochi poem “Sahkandan” can be compared
to any of the classic masterpieces of any age, place, or of any poet. His poetry
thus mirrors the imperfections as well as the nobility of the Baloch nature and
society. His observations of human nature are so penetrating and
tremendously accurate that they can be true for all the times.
In another poem, “Januzaan” (The
Widow), which so greatly influenced me that I read it once in a week, is
of extreme significance. In it he laments the bad condition and treatment of women in
some societies including his own- which is out of Balochi culture as it historically respects a woman and allows her to live her life. The
context of the poem is the impending marriage of a girl who is ready; she sings to her colleagues, mourning the magnitude of their ignorance, and refers to herself as a widow because she is forced to marry another man instead of her beloved. The poet beautifully describes the painful feelings
of the bride, how her heart aches and her tears flow. This poem is written as a
reflection of Hani and Shay’s tale. These traditional cruelties are common in some Islamic societies where the woman is deprived of her rights. Islam
clearly says every man and woman has the right to choose his/her spouse, but
still it is rejected by male dominant societies where the woman is forced to live
an imposed life against her wishes.
As literature is the history of a
nation, and is the nearest thing to life and a writer's thoughts reflect those of the nation to which he belongs, he is expected to write of that which lies
at his own doors: what he thought, felt, knew, lived, and had seen faithfully and
sincerely. He is expected to give his best, which Atta Shaad did exceptionally. His
poetry represents all the important aspects of the national activity of the
time, and he seemed greatly depressed by some unhappy events that occurred in the history of
the Baloch nation. His poetry will gain immensely in significance and value if
we study it in detail relative to the many facets of life, and do so intellectually and honestly with a little background knowledge.
Atta Shaad died at Quetta on 13 February, 1997, leaving behind a
spacious intellectual vacuum. We must regard the great poet as the creator as
well as a creature of his time, be keen to know what the age
gave to him, and appreciate open-heartedly what in return he gave to the age.
I do not know what advice he left for
his people, but I have read somewhere what Dickens’ last words were:
“Be natural my children. For the
writer that is natural has fulfilled all the rules of art.”