Mirza Nawab Dagh Dehlvi is among those fortunate poets who were counted among the greats—and held in the highest esteem—during their own lifetimes. Yet, by a cruel twist of irony, shortly after his passing, his body of work was subjected to a barrage of harsh criticism. This not only tarnished his literary stature but also dragged his personal life through the mud.
A man who had been nurtured within the refined milieu of the Qila-e-Mualla (the Royal Citadel)—and who had been accorded the utmost honour and affection by the Nawab of Rampur and the Nizam of Hyderabad—was suddenly branded as a man of base character, a debauchee, and someone deeply entangled with courtesans; meanwhile, his poetry was subjected to relentless, nitpicking scrutiny.
His entire poetic corpus was dismissed as one-dimensional and superficial; attempts were made to diminish the value of his poetry—and undermine its stature—by labelling it as merely ‘hedonistic’ or ‘lightweight’ (lacking in seriousness). Yet, remarkably, ‘Dagh’ remains alive today; the echoes of his verses can still be heard in the air.
After Ghalib, Dagh is the only poet whose centenary was commemorated with such significance and elaborate preparation. Prominent literary institutions organized seminars, *mushairas* (poetry recitals), and literary gatherings to pay tribute to him and his work. Furthermore, literary journals published special issues dedicated to him—Dagh was relevant to his times, and he remains just as relevant today.
This sequence of action and reaction demonstrates that Dagh is not the kind of poet whose standing could be consigned to the depths of oblivion by the disparaging remarks of a “Chakbast” or a “Hasrat”.
Urdu owes an immense debt to Dagh. It was Dagh who established Urdu as a distinct language; prior to this, it was regarded merely as a subsidiary of Persian. It is a testament to Dagh’s bold, uninhibited spirit that he declared, in no uncertain terms…
Kahte hain use zaban e Urdu
Jis mein rang nah o farsi ka
(This is called the Urdu language—a language that contains no admixture of Persian.)
Through accessible poetic language, he lent solidity to the edifice of the Urdu language—a foundation originally laid by Mir and Dard, who had embraced the Delhi dialect in their own poetry. It was with the aim of further promoting this simple and accessible language that Maulana Ahsan Marehravi, a disciple of Dagh, undertook the task of compiling a dictionary; in this work, he intended to provide evidence for words and idioms exclusively through the verses of Dagh.
Maulana had titled the dictionary he was compiling *Faseeh-ul-Lughat*. He sought assistance from Dagh in this endeavour; whenever a specific word or idiom lacked an illustrative verse by Dagh, he would have his mentor compose one for it. Dagh, for his part, participated in this process with great enthusiasm. Only two volumes of the dictionary had been completed when Maulana Ahsan departed from Hyderabad.
Ultimately, the compilation of the dictionary remained unfinished; however, Dagh’s poetry effectively brought the project to its fruition. In this regard, his thousands of disciples—spread across every corner of the country—also lent their support. In this manner, the Urdu language attained the status of a nationwide language.
In his poetry, Dagh utilized the vocabulary of everyday spoken Urdu as a medium of expression. Many of his verses are composed in such simple, accessible language—to the extent that rephrasing them into prose would be difficult—yet his style possesses a playfulness, quick-wittedness, and subtle irony that allow these verses to go straight to the heart.
Din guzare umr ke insaan hanste bolte
Jaan bhi nikle to meri jaan hanste bolte
(One should spend the days of one’s life in happiness and joy—
and one’s soul, too, should depart in a state of happiness.)
Khatir se ya lihaz se main maan to gaya,
Jhuti qasam se aap ka imaan to gaya
(Out of regard or consideration, I did agree,
But with that false oath, your integrity was lost)
Dagh refined the nuances of Urdu idioms and wove them into his verses with such finesse that it seemed as though these idioms had been created specifically for those very contexts. Dagh inherited his passion for idioms from Zauq; when incorporating them into his poetry, he did not believe in making any alterations to them. In a letter to one of his pupils, Natiq Gulauthi, Dagh writes: “It is gratifying to see that you employ idioms in every verse—and, for the most part, quite successfully. However, ensure that the idiom serves the verse, rather than allowing the inclusion of an idiom to introduce a flaw into the verse. Furthermore, bear in mind that altering the established form of an idiom is not permissible.” (Letters of Dagh Dehlvi to Natiq Gulauthi)
Regarding idioms, Syed Zameer Hasan writes: “Idioms are miniature tableaux that represent the experiences, concepts, and impressions of a society. For the common people, they encompass figurative language and hyperbole, similes and allegories, vivid imagery and depiction, as well as symbolism and allusion which, for trained minds, manifest through beautiful metaphors, subtle similes, and meaningful phrases and vocabulary.” In light of the aforementioned excerpts, now consider the following couplet by Dagh.
Ab who ye kah rahe hain, meri maan jaeeye
Allah teri shaan! ke qurbaan jaeeye
(Now he says, “Please, heed my words.”
O God, how wondrous are Your ways—I am in awe!)
Some critics of Dagh do not attach much importance to idioms, considering their use in poetry to be unnecessary. In his essays, “Chakbast” critiques some of the weaker idioms employed by Dagh—for instance:
Huron ka intezaar kare kaun hashr tak,
Mitti ki bhi mile to rawa hai, shabab mein
(Who would wait until the Day of Judgment for the *hoors*?
If one can find a companion of mere clay—while still in the bloom of youth—that, too, is perfectly acceptable)
According to “Chakbast”, incorporating such idioms into verse is beneath the dignity of *Rekhta-e-Mateen*—an apt term, indeed. Technically, *Rekhta* refers to a verse in which one line is in a foreign language (Persian) and the other in Urdu. Such verses were composed during a period when Urdu had not yet fully emerged as a distinct, independent language, but rather existed as a subsidiary dialect of Persian.
This practice had already fallen out of use by the time of Mir, yet Muhammad Rafi Sauda, Mirza Ghalib, Momin Khan Momin, and their other contemporary poets remained wedded to the traditional style of *Rekhta* poetry. This is precisely why their poetry often appears weighed down by Arabic and Persian verses or vocabulary.
Dagh was a poet of the Urdu ghazal. His verse narrates tales of beauty and love—regardless of whether one might characterize these themes as mere lust, hedonism, or something else entirely. The aforementioned verses serve as an excellent illustration of playfulness, quick-wittedness, mischief, and spontaneity—qualities that far transcend any superficiality that might otherwise be perceived within such an idiomatic style of expression. Gopi Chand Narang also notes that “in Dagh’s poetry, the use of authentic Urdu idioms—combined with an overall beauty and balance of language—attains a level that can truly be described as miraculous.”
Critics of Dagh maintain that themes of union (*wasl*) take precedence in his *ghazals*, whereas, in the works of other major poets, it is the theme of separation (*hijr*) that elevates their poetry to great heights. It is quite curious that the narrative of beauty and love is often reduced merely to lamentation during separation; in reality, union constitutes its essential and fundamental core—without which the tale of beauty and love cannot be complete.
Dagh is not merely an admirer of beauty; he is also its guardian and a passionate devotee. His aesthetic sensibility inclines him toward the desire for union. Yet, despite this, such expressions never descend into indecency or obscenity. It is for this reason that many of his verses and individual lines have become household phrases—so much so that they have attained the status of proverbs. Consider this verse:
Har ada mastana, sar se paon tak chhayee huee,
Uf! Teri kafir jawani, josh paar aayee huee
(An intoxicating grace pervades you from head to toe—
Oh! Your bewitching youth is in full, surging bloom)
Another significant point regarding Dagh is that, among ghazal poets of the past, verses expressing love for one’s homeland are extremely rare—so rare, in fact, that they are practically non-existent. Consider this verse by Dagh.
Bagh-e-firdaus mein bhi bu-e-watan yaad rahe
Etr mitti ka dam-e-marg sungha do mujh ko
(May the fragrance of my homeland be remembered even in the gardens of Paradise;
At the moment of death, may I be graced with the scent of its soil)
According to his critics, Dagh’s poetry is superficial and one-dimensional; in the words of “Chakbast”, the community of entertainers—specifically the *tawaifs* (courtesans)—regarded Dagh as their prophet. “Chakbast” made this observation because Dagh’s verses were frequently sung by *tawaifs*. (It is a little-known fact that women who engage in the sale of their bodies do not typically sing; historically, this role was fulfilled by *tawaifs*—professional female entertainers whose primary vocation was singing and performing music.) The popularity of Dagh’s poetry within the gatherings of *tawaifs* (courtesans) stemmed from its inherent musicality; indeed, among all the Urdu *ghazal* poets who have ever emerged, Dagh’s work possesses the most melodic quality. The practice of singing *ghazals* in such gatherings continues to this day, with both male and female *ghazal* singers performing the works of poets—whether they are still living or have passed away.
Could this action of theirs undermine the standing of these poets? Certainly not. In fact, this phenomenon—both in the past and today—serves as a testament to the popularity of Urdu poetry.
Nahi khel ae Dagh yaron se kah do,
Ke aati hai Urdu zaba…N aate aate
Author is Editor “Asasa” An Urdu Quarterly, Ahmedabad and member Screen Writers Association, Mumbai. He can be reached at gulamansari1948@gmail.com
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