They come calling on me in the dark of night. “Do a deal” they say, “and go away”.
Do a deal, they say,
And go away.
Go to Mecca and pray,
In the previous way,
Or go to London and stay,
What do you say?
What do you say?
I have one reply and that is nay,
Nay, nay and nay.
Do your worst, I say.
They wring their hands and go away.
See, meray aziz humwatno, what jail does to you. I am a poet, and I know it! (That is another verse, in case you didn’t recognize it!) I will tell you everything through the medium of poetry.
Can you please make a call,
And tell him to stall,
The march to hasten our fall.
Why is he in such a hurry?
Why so much worry?
Let us the hatchet bury,
And ask the Maulana to quit,
Or from him you have to split,
Otherwise we will inflict a hit.
Call it threat or bribe,
Whatever you prescribe,
Why suffer when you can thrive?
Hit out, hit out, I reply,
There is one thing you cannot deny,
When the awam come out in full cry,
And in Islamabad make their landing,
In their anger that they’ll be branding,
Not one of you will be left standing.
They grimace and they bully, they threaten and they cajole, they send good cops and bad cops, but I am unmoved. I know the game. It’s my will against theirs. Time is on my side. History is on my side. And anyways as another great poet like me, Mirza Ghalib, once said, “Hum ko maloom hai jannat ki haqeeqat lekin, dil ko khush rakhnay ko Ghalib yeh khayal achha hai!” Then why people call him Diwanay (mad) Ghalib, hain ji?
NS
Do a deal, they say,
And go away.
Go to Mecca and pray,
In the previous way,
Or go to London and stay,
What do you say?
What do you say?
I have one reply and that is nay,
Nay, nay and nay.
Do your worst, I say.
They wring their hands and go away.
See, meray aziz humwatno, what jail does to you. I am a poet, and I know it! (That is another verse, in case you didn’t recognize it!) I will tell you everything through the medium of poetry.
Can you please make a call,
And tell him to stall,
The march to hasten our fall.
Why is he in such a hurry?
Why so much worry?
Let us the hatchet bury,
And ask the Maulana to quit,
Or from him you have to split,
Otherwise we will inflict a hit.
Call it threat or bribe,
Whatever you prescribe,
Why suffer when you can thrive?
Hit out, hit out, I reply,
There is one thing you cannot deny,
When the awam come out in full cry,
And in Islamabad make their landing,
In their anger that they’ll be branding,
Not one of you will be left standing.
They grimace and they bully, they threaten and they cajole, they send good cops and bad cops, but I am unmoved. I know the game. It’s my will against theirs. Time is on my side. History is on my side. And anyways as another great poet like me, Mirza Ghalib, once said, “Hum ko maloom hai jannat ki haqeeqat lekin, dil ko khush rakhnay ko Ghalib yeh khayal achha hai!” Then why people call him Diwanay (mad) Ghalib, hain ji?
NS