Tousif Raza
Introduction
It is a fact that emotion, in reality, passes through the corridors of imagination before taking shape in words. It is that mysterious force which lends a tongue to silent lips, becomes the voice of the voiceless, and transforms unspoken feelings into song. Emotion is like the rain that quenches the thirst of deserts, breathing freshness into parched hearts. It perfumes the throat with melody, keeps old wounds tender, and turns the mere fact of existence into both an awakening of consciousness and a delicate awareness of being.
These states of being often emerge after one has read hundreds of books. Books grant us knowledge, expand our vision, and widen the horizons of thought. Yet, at times, a single creation—a single poem, even a single verse—leaves behind an impression far deeper than entire libraries. This is precisely what I experienced. I discovered this awareness, this depth of feeling, not only within the pages of books but reflected in a living creation. That moment came when I read Masroofa Quadir’s poem “Yoon bhi hota hai!!” (It Happens This Way Too!!).
This poem is not merely a string of words; it is an experience, a mirror in which both the eternal longing for love and its capacity for collapse are revealed. It awakened me to the truth that love is not always an invincible power, but rather a fragile plant rooted in human gestures, silences, and acts of nearness. Neglected, it can wither away. Through this poem, I learned that the true taste of life is not found in the surface glitter of words, but in the emotions and lived experiences that breathe beneath them.
Masroofa Quadir’s poem “Yoon bhi hota hai!!” (It Happens This Way Too!!) is a lyrical meditation on memory, love, and the vulnerability of human emotions. Rooted in the cadences of Urdu’s emotive tradition, the poem moves between tenderness and severity, between the longing for permanence and the acknowledgment of fragility.
At its heart, the poem is an answer to a seemingly innocent question: “Kya mohabbat jaawidani hai?” — “Is love eternal?” The poet, with both grace and intensity, dismantles the romantic ideal of love as an immortal flame and reveals its delicate dependence on human gestures, responses, and silences. Read the English translation of the poem before moving ahead to the analysis.
Read the English translation of Masroofa Quadir’s poem by Tousif Raza.
It Happens This Way Too!!
Gentle soul, what have you asked!?
Why awaken these sleeping memories?
Why stir the wounds once more,
Why scatter the ashes of what was?
What is it that you search for?
Gentle soul, what have you asked?
Is it true, you wonder—
That love is eternal?
That love can never die?
Then listen, kindhearted one:
If you push away the very hand
That longs to hold you,
If you turn your eyes away
From the face that yearns for your gaze,
If you pierce the breast with words—
That breast where your heartbeat dwells,
If with a cold voice you quench
The flames of burning passion,
Then yes, O noble human,
Love can die—
Yes, love can die.
Memory and the Pain of Revival
The opening lines are a delicate resistance to intrusion: “Yeh kyun cheda hai yaadon ko / Kareeda kyun hai zakhmon ko.” Beautifully fluted, memory is not a gentle recollection but a reawakening of wounds. The image of scattering ashes conveys both the futility of reviving what is gone and the inevitability of confronting the remnants of passion. Love in this dimension is inseparable from pain; it survives in fragments, in scars, in the trembling act of remembrance.
The Eternal Question of Love
The pivot of the poem lies in the question: “Mohabbat jaawidani hai? / Mohabbat mar nahin sakti?” Urdu’s centuries-old literary tradition has oscillated between these two poles—love as a divine, eternal force and love as a fragile, human condition. By posing the question, the poet places herself in dialogue with this tradition, recalling echoes of Ghalib, Faiz, and Parveen Shakir. Yet, unlike them, she offers not transcendence but realism: love, in the world of human frailty, can die.
The Anatomy of Neglect
The central section of the poem unfolds with a sequence of ifs: if you push away the hand that seeks you, if you avert your gaze, if your words wound the very chest that shelters your heartbeat, if your coldness extinguishes passion—then love perishes. This catalog of betrayals transforms the abstract concept of love’s mortality into the visceral reality of human interaction. Each gesture, each silence, becomes a dagger. The imagery remains deeply Urdu in spirit—khanjar, dhadkan, dahakte jazbe—these are words that carry centuries of poetic resonance. Yet in English, they acquire a new clarity: knives, heartbeats, burning passions. The translation allows non-Urdu readers to enter the poem’s world while preserving the aura of its original cadences.
The Final Truth of the poem
In its concluding lines, “Mohabbat mar bhi sakti hai”, repeated with deliberate finality, the poem makes its boldest claim: love is not invincible. Unlike much of romantic poetry that seeks to elevate love to the realm of immortality, Quadir grounds it in human vulnerability. Love’s life depends not on eternity but on everyday acts of tenderness, care, and acknowledgment. Neglect kills; indifference kills.
Conclusion: Love Between Myth and Reality
Masroofa Quadir’s poem speaks to a universal tension: the desire to believe in love’s immortality and the painful awareness of its fragility. The Urdu text, with its raw immediacy, retains the ache of lived experience, while the English translation serves as a companion, an invitation for global readers to witness the intimacy of this reflection. This poem does not merely answer the question of whether love dies—it reveals that love, like any living being, requires breath, warmth, and nurture. Left without them, even love, the most exalted of emotions, can perish.
(The author is a student of English literature. Hailing from Tangmarg, he can be reached at tousifeqbal555@gmail.com)