The All Conquering of the Hearts

The brightest star of the dusk of the Mughal empire, the diadem of its monarch and the beloved poet of its people, Mirza Ghalib still blossoms on the tongue of all.

The man and the legend- Mirza Ghalib; Source: Public Domain

mohabbat meñ nahīñ hai farq jiine aur marne kā; usī ko dekh kar jiite haiñ jis kāfir pe dam nikle

In love there is no difference 'tween life and death do know; The very one for whom I die, life too does bestow

From time immemorial, humans have been trying to find the meaning of love. They have found different ways to express it, celebrate its existence and mourn its absence. Right from the red rose that talks of the tragic love of Venus and Adonis to the happy ever after of Disney princess, love assumes a myriad of meanings for everyone.

While many try to express their own experience of love with the love, only a handful are able to strike a chord. Of the thousands of people who have attempted to put the meaning of this emotion to words, no one comes close to Mirza Ghalib- the timeless poet.

A name that has become a metaphor for a lovestruck person, Ghalib’s life was completely opposite of the beautiful things he wrote. Maybe it was the gaping hole of affection and warmth that fate had dug in his life that made him appreciate it more. The melancholy of solitude he felt trickled into his words and gave the world an unmatched master of writing.

Ghalib was born on 27 December 1797 during the last days of the Mughal empire when the once-mighty kingdom was rolling towards decline. While the political might of the Mughals had been reduced to almost nothing, emperor Bahadur Shah Zafar, a poet himself, remained a great patron of arts and upheld the adab of the court. Delhi under his reign was a bustling centre of arts and culture. The rarest of the rare gems of his was Mirza Asadullah Baig Khan who would later assume the name of Mirza Ghalib. While he did pick up Asad Ullah Khan as his first name, it was Ghalib that stuck with him and the world.

He descended from a line of the Seljuk Turks that eventually foraged kin ties with the Mughals. Beg’s early years were far from the joy and happiness of childhood. At the tender age of 5, he lost his father in a battle and his uncle, Mirza Nasrullah, stepped up as his guardian. Tragedy soon befell him as he passed away after falling off an elephant. Even before he could step on the threshold of adolescence, he had lost any support he could lean on to.

Destiny played its game and Ghalib shifted to his beloved Delhi after marrying the niece of a Nawab. Gali Qasim Jan would remain his home till the last breath, even though he kept changing the house that he lived in. It is both ironic and tragic that the man who wrote about love in a manner that still resonates with people today would never receive it. Mirza Ghalib thought of his marriage as a prison that was to keep breaking his spirits till the end. He might have moved from Agra to Delhi, but a  gloomy misfortune did not stop following him. All seven of his children died in infancy and his younger brother developed schizophrenia. The miseries of Ghalib’s household threw him into a life of immorality and hedonism. An infamous womaniser with a reputation for gambling, he expressed no remorse for his questionable lifestyle.

At the end of this rather sorrowful tunnel lay poetry, Mirza’s redemption and only attempt at respite. Urdu, Persian, and Arabic were a part of his literary palette from the very beginning. The flavours of Hindustani mingled well with those of the Persian world in his works. However, it must be noted that Ghalib himself called the language he used Hindi despite it being in close resemblance with modern-day Urdu. The life and legacy of this master of words are dotted with ironies. Mirza prioritised the literary merit of Persian over Urdu but his fame is associated with the latter rather than the former.

At the mere age of 11, he embarked on a literary journey where his footsteps were to remain a site of celebration for centuries to come. While ghazal had mostly been used as an expression of romance since its birth, Mirza Ghalib managed to transcend all its contours and take it beyond the limits of a single authoritative theme. Even when it came to following the convention, his ghazals about love were pathbreaking. They did not conform to a single notion of love,  tied down to a particular lover, rather, they evoked a sentiment that was to be felt by readers in their own unique manner.

Ghalib’s magic of the written word did not go unnoticed at the imperial capital of poet-emperor Bahadur Shah. He was bestowed upon with the title of Najm-ud-daula and Dabir-ul-Mulk. Such was his prowess that he was also appointed as the tutor of the emperor and his eldest son. Earlier, this post was held by Zauq. Both were celebrated poets in their own regard and had a longstanding but respectful rivalry towards each other.

While holding such titles and offices made Ghalib a part of the Mughal nobility, the crumbling emperor had little to offer. While Mirza lived off imperial patronage, fame only came to him after death.

Besides penning couplets on love, he often wrote about the world around him, be it the general state of politics or the changing social order due to the advent of the British. His musings, anxieties and insights are often reflected in his well-written letters and memoirs.

In particular, the revolt of 1857 came with a great upheaval in Ghalib’s life. He lost his brother, his patron Bahadur Shah Zafar and the familiarity of his surroundings. No more was India the domain of the Mughals, but land that was now run by the British East India Company. It wasn’t just the colossal loss of Indian life that hurt him deeply, but also the hurdles he faced in getting his pensions.

Since this poet did not have a source of earning other than the state’s patronage, it is assumed that he engaged in mindless flattery. While it is true that he could not disrespect the Mughals or the British openly if he wanted to, Ghalib was not uncritical of them. He particularly criticized the Company administration in personal correspondences.

When one looks at the way lived, one can’t help but wonder about his musing. Mirza Ghalib did not like going out of Delhi, enjoyed luxury despite being in debt, preferred having alcohol with rose water but despite living in such comfort wanted his grave to remain a humble and unknown site. The place he called home, has now been turned into a museum and Mazar-e-Mirza is flocked by visitors all year round.

It is this paradoxical magnificence and simplicity of Ghalib that make his words a lover’s sanctuary even today.