Beloved Delhi: A Mughal City and her Greatest Poets

by Saif Mahmood

Urdu poetry rules the cultural and emotional landscape of India—especially northern India and much of the Deccan—and of Pakistan. And it was in the great, ancient city of Delhi that Urdu grew to become one of the world’s most beautiful languages. Through the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, while the Mughal Empire was in decline, Delhi became the capital of a parallel kingdom—the kingdom of Urdu poetry—producing some of the greatest, most popular poets of all time. They wrote about the pleasure and pain of love, about the splendour of God and the villainy of preachers, about the seductions of wine, and about Delhi, their beloved home.
This treasure of a book documents the life and work of the finest classical Urdu poets: Sauda, Dard, Mir, Ghalib, Momin, Zafar, Zauq and Daagh. Through their biographies and poetry—including their best-known ghazals—it also paints a compelling portrait of Mughal Delhi. This is a book for anyone who has ever been touched by Urdu or Delhi, by poetry or romance.

Genres: Poetry, History, India, Nonfiction, Art, Unfinished

368 pages, Paperback

Published August 1, 2018

Reviews

[Madhulika Liddle · Rating 5 out of 5]

Shaikh Mohammad Ibrahim Zauq, the poetry ustaad of the last Mughal Emperor, Bahadur Shah ‘Zafar’ saw, in his lifetime, the Mughal Empire come to its knees (though not formally ended—Zauq, perhaps mercifully, died three years before the ‘Ghadar’ of 1857, the uprising that was to so impact the fabric of Delhi’s social, cultural and literary life). But an impoverished Mughal court and an equally penurious North Indian aristocracy meant that many of Zauq’s contemporaries drifted south to Hyderabad, where there was still patronage to be sought, stipends to be earned. Zauq, when asked why he did not migrate to the Deccan, famously remarked,

“In dinon garche Dakan mein hai bohot qadr-e-sukhan
Kaun jaaye Zauq par Dilli ki galiyaan chhor kar”

As Saif Mahmood translates this in his book Beloved Delhi:

“Although poetry is greatly valued in the Deccan these days
Zauq, who would trade that for the lanes of Delhi?”

It is this—the connection between Delhi and her Urdu poets, an almost umbilical cord that binds the city to her greatest bards—that forms an important theme of Mahmood’s book. Beloved Delhi has, as its subtitle, A Mughal City and Her Greatest Poets, and those words describe the book perfectly: it is about the Mughal city of Delhi—not the city before or after the Mughals (though there is a fleeting mention of those as well), and about its greatest poets of the 18th and 19th century.

Mahmood examines the life and work of eight of Delhi’s greatest Urdu poets, against a backdrop of the city. Mirza Mohammad Rafi Sauda, Khwaja Mir Dard, Mir Taqi Mir, Mirza Asadullah Khan Ghalib, Momin Khan Momin, Bahadur Shah Zafar, Shaikh Mohammad Ibrahim Zauq and Nawab Mirza Khan Daagh Dehlvi are the eight poets who form the subject of Mahmood’s book. For each poet, Mahmood begins with a biography (often preceded by a description of the current state of the poet’s grave or former home). The biography is followed by an insight into the most relevant aspects of the poet’s work—Sauda’s satire, Zauq’s use of everyday language, Momin’s sensuality, Ghalib’s often cryptic verses, and so on. Finally, there are selected verses (with translations) for each poet.

There are several reasons to recommend Beloved Delhi. Firstly, it’s a well-written, readable book that manages to strike a balance between being informative on the one hand and unintimidating, entertaining, even witty on the other. Mahmood handles with commendable skill a subject that is both regaining popularity, as well as often perceived as unapproachable by those not familiar with the Urdu script, or who are daunted by the more Persianized form of the language. Mahmood’s translations, his occasional helpful notes, and the very fact that he takes care to bring in popular connections—Hindi film music’s use of couplets and ghazals from classical poets, for example, or ghazals rendered by popular singers—helps make this poetry more relatable.

Also playing a major role in making the poetry easier to relate to is Mahmood’s approach to the lives of the men who wrote that poetry. He uses various sources— autobiographies, reminiscences of contemporaries, memoirs, correspondence, even the poetry they penned—to bring alive the men behind the verses. Sauda, so acerbic that his satire repeatedly got him into trouble. Mir, the mad egoist, who willingly wrote poetry in exchange for groceries. Momin, a brilliant hakim as well as a great poet. Ghalib, so addicted to gambling that it brought him into repeated conflict with the law (which, Mahmood, himself a lawyer, points out as being reflected in the many legal and judicial terms—muddai, talab, hukm, faujdaari, giraftaari, etc—Ghalib uses in his poetry). Mahmood even busts some myths, such as the authorship of popular works attributed to poets like Zafar and Ghalib.

And there is Delhi. The Delhi of mushairas. A city where fakirs and courtesans could be heard singing Ghalib’s ghazals, where a language born out of an interestingly syncretic confluence of cultures and traditions was nurtured even through the turbulence and horror of 1857 and its aftermath. As much as he brings alive the eight poets he focusses on, Mahmood brings alive the Delhi that was so beloved to them.

(From my review for The Indian Express: https://indianexpress.com/article/lif...)

[Omama. · Rating 4 out of 5]

ان دنوں گرچہ دکن میں ہے بڑی قدرِ سخن
کون جائے ذوق پر، دلی کی گلیاں چھوڑ کر

A nostalgic trip down the memory lane, of the older, kinder and poetic city of Delhi, and the greatest poets who inhabited it. Whether it is the biting wit of Mirza Sauda, the kaleidoscopic brilliance of Mir Taqi Mir, the relatively lesser known but equally proficient Momin Khan Momin, the very blunt Shaikh Ibrahim Zauq, the Master of Masters Mirza Ghalib, Urdu’s dancing Dervish Khwaja Mir Dard, Bahadur Shah Zafar and an emperor’s affair with Urdu, or the last Casanova of Delhi, Mirza Daagh; this is one rich poetry buffet to be savored at leisure, a beautiful compendium, well-written as a biographical sketch, with poetic verses here n there, enhancing the reading experience.

I just wish, the verses were written in Urdu alongside English, like in Dozakhnama. The Roman Urdu didn’t quite fit well with me.

[PS · Rating 5 out of 5]

I read the introductory essay ‘A Preface and a Short History of Delhi’s Urdu’ by Sohail Hashmi and the afterword by the author. I now want to put everything aside and focus on this book. The historical linguist in me is SO happy right now. Will revisit as soon as I’m done with Yashpal’s Jhoota Sach.

[Imran · Rating 5 out of 5]

If you want to know Urdu and its rich heritage, this is the right book to read. You will fall in love with Urdu and want to know more about its classical poets and their works after reading this book.

A lot of famous ash'aar which I though to be written recently, turned out to be written for 100 years ago by the classic poets. A real roller coaster.

[Mohit · Rating 5 out of 5]

#IcarusReads

This book is a massive work of toil and dedication by Dr Saif and so fortunate to have come across this. Chronicling history of one of the most metamorphosis-ed city, through it’s poets; the ones who loved it like their “Maashuka” is a feat of it’s own kind. It was very much possible to have done a casual shoddy job and come out of it unquestioned but Dr Saif chose to intricately enter the soul of the city through it’s koochaas and pen a remarkable work of non fiction.

From Sauda to Ghalib and from Zauq to Zafar, every section is like a magical story unraveling. Add to that couplets by these people of eminence and what you get is a “mehfil” of sorts.

Is it an easy read? Not at all. It is a difficult read. It goes slow and belabours a lot on many points that need “tawajjo” but oh, how! Took me over 6 months to finish as I just savoured it slowly.

I would recommend sitting with a pencil and lovingly mark all the lines that leave you in awe. My copy is un-usable. But more than that it is a treasured one now with my notes and underlines.

Strongly recommended. And As Asrar saheb had advised Zafar:

“ Keh do Zafar se Dilli ke us koos-e-yaar mein,
Do gaz zameen milti hai ab sattar hazaar main”

Thank You Dr Saif

[Nikhil Kumar · Rating 5 out of 5]

For the whole review, see: http://nuktacheen.blogspot.com/2019/0...


I first encountered the writings of Saif Mahmood on the pages of First City magazine. Apart from the pecuniary challenges the magazine presented a University student, everything about it was novel. The design, photographs and the presentation was very attractive; the stories were inventive, columnists diverse, and subjects ranged from newly arrived migrants at the Nizamuddin station to the poets of the past. It was on these pages that I first read of Zatalli and Bedil. Saif joined its list of columnists, writing in limpid prose about the poets of Delhi. Unencumbered by his profession, which has a reputation for verbosity and jargoning, he continues to write with the felicity of a master. In fact, reading Beloved Delhi reminded me of what Nakul Krishna recently wrote of R K Narayan:

Some writers turn ordinary readers into critics looking for hidden meanings in books and asking how they work. Other writers do the opposite, turning even the wariest of critics into ordinary readers, causing them to forget that it takes art to look artless and that easy reading need not come of easy writing.[i]

Saif is the second kind of writer, quite in the mould of Narayan, but with a different subject matter.


Beloved Delhi, Saif’s first book, tells the story - of his beloved Delhi and his beloved poets - of the period of Mughal decline. The format it chooses is perhaps unprecedented: for rarely has a city’s story been told through the lives of its poets, but what could be more apposite than to tell the story of the city that spawned the language of these poets. Even more fitting is telling history through poetry for no other city’s culture had so much poetry imbued in it. To disagree with Meena Alexander[ii], one can die of several things, but history does not kill you; it gives meaning to the present. We have poetry, because we have history; and we have Urdu because we have Delhi, and Delhi has a history. The past ignites conscience and therefore poetry. Of this, there is no better example than Urdu - the language that emanated out of cross-cultural, inter-lingual influences. The book has an erudite overview of the cultural environment and history that led to its development by Sohail Hashmi.


Urdu grew by virtue of the linguistic experiences derived from the greater Persian area, the Indo-Gangetic plain, and the many interconnections with other local languages. In this period Urdu imbibed and also cultivated an idiom uniquely its own, giving it the richness and colourfulness that older languages of the world could scarcely rival. When Mirza Rafi Sauda (1713-1785) begins to write in Urdu (or Hindi or Rekhta, as it is called then) at the suggestion of Khan-e-Arzu (1687-1756), the language is not very old. The Delhi visit of Wali Dakhni (1667-1707) in 1700, when most poets are writing in Persian, gives a fillip to the language. Yet, Persian is not displaced immediately to a second rung language. Instead, the gradual move from Persian to Urdu spawns numerous modes and themes of poetry and the ustad-shagirdtradition. A number of ideas and concepts came into play on the nature and art of poetry: some re-viewed existing ones, some dealt with the extent of themes in poetry, while some questioned the fundamentals like proper and improper usage of words that attempted to limit the growing expanse of the language. The period of ‘Beloved Delhi’ is also the period, when the main mode of poem-writing evolves to what is now Urdu poetry’s classical canon: from iham (word play generated by the intent to deceive) to mani afrini (to make poems yield more meaning than they appear to possess) to searching for new themes or new ways of expressing the older themes called mazmun afrini to khayal bandi, which created and captured imaginary, abstract, and elusive themes in poetry. The concept of shor angezi (arousing tumult) became very prominent by mid eighteenth century, through which the poet aimed to infuse a quality of intensity in the poem. In Mir (1723-1810), shor angezi was much pronounced, which drew a satirical poem from his contemporary - Sauda:


Kalaam-e-benamak ki shor angezi hai aisi kuch

zameen bol gaah khalq se jun khar ho paida

(The passion-arousing quality

of insipid poetry

is something like the alkaline salts

that grow on a piece of land

where people go and piss)[iii]


As can be guessed from the above, the poets did not shy from engaging, criticising and debating the works of fellow and older poets, and writing satire not only on colleagues but also on themes of poetry, politics, pelf and power. Saif presents some brilliant stories and examples of these in the book.

The Delhi of Saif Mahmood’s focus is also not one unit. It is a changing city. It was not the Delhi that Shahjahan built, or Aurangzeb left. Between 1713 and 1857, Delhi saw more than fifteen rulers, if we discount the British Residents. The violence in this period and especially in the second half of the eighteenth century was monstrous. Before Lord Lake’s army defeated the Maratha troops outside Delhi in September 1803, Delhi saw a miasma of violence and plunder, starting with the wars between the Turani and Irani groups, the calamitous invasion of Nadir Shah, the pestilential attacks of the Afghans, the Marathas, the Rohillas and the Jats. Then, the famine of 1782 starved approximately one-third of the rural population around Delhi. These human tragedies changed the city forever, except the continuing, notwithstanding the declining, presence of the Qila-e-Mualla (Red Fort). This also led to the egress of some writers, musicians and the learned from Delhi around 1760 in search for patronage. Yet, as Shamsur Rahman Faruqi informs[iv], neither the exodus was great, nor the life in Delhi so uniformly intolerable, as some historians have described. In fact, the period for all its turmoil seems to have been great for those writers seeking to travel. There was a lot of to and fro between Delhi, Lucknow, and Murshidabad, Patna, Bareilly, Calcutta, Banaras, etc. A relative calm returned to Delhi in the final decade of the eighteenth century under the Marathas, and a more long term stability was seen between 1803 and 1857. This period, known as the period of ‘English peace’, also brought some sense of security in Delhi only seen before 1707. New ideas and institutions (like Delhi College), and new technologies (like print), started to have an impact on the life of the people and therefore on the poets. In sum, the Delhi of Sauda is quite different than that of Ghalib (1797-1869), and of course from that of Daagh (1831-1905) – who lived for fifty years after the inalterable change of 1857.


Despite the tumult, and also because of it, the poetry of this period is like a forest: abundant with trees of all sizes and variety, some that still bear fruit, some that provide succour to the weary traveller and some that are old and withering, but have seen glory once. Among these, Saif has chosen to write about eight who wielded the pen – Sauda, Dard, Mir, Ghalib, Momin, Zafar, Zauq and Daagh. The book is written in the style of a tazkira, which is a biographical dictionary cum anthology - a genre that became extremely popular in seventeenth and eighteenth century and is, today, an excellent source for understanding the literary and social environment of the time. The choice of the eight poets are entirely Saif’s. If he had chosen a completely different list of poets, one would have argued with that too. Lists are inherently personal. There can be innumerable fine selections, and indeed all are valid to their selectors: but the individual, in choosing something, may pay no toll at the altar of prescriptive litanies or passing vogues, but it doesn’t preclude debates. Therefore, as argumentative Indians, we must argue the author’s selection, although they are perhaps best suited to keep the story moving. Four among Saif’s list - namely, Mir, Sauda, Dard and Ghalib - perhaps have an immutable position in Urdu poetics. The replacements for the other four, though, can have a variety of permutations, if we bring in poets like Mushafi, Qa’im Chandpuri, Shah Nasir, Shaikh Nasikh. I bring forth this argument because the question of the quality of poetry is not raised with a critical eye in the book. It seems the pastness of the poets is certificate enough for their veneration. To add to the argument, the history of Urdu and its poets deserve to extend beyond Delhi and Lucknow centred approach, and also assess the contributions of Murshidabad, Patna, Farrukhabad, Hyderabad, Banaras, Calcutta, Surat, Aurangabad, and even places like Vellore and other cities of Karnataka and Tamil Nadu.


We can argue with Saif’s selections, but what is inarguable is the delightful reverie the poems send you in. They make you dwell and ponder and keep you from reading the book at one go. The best way to read these poems is to get lost inside a line, a thought, a wordplay, a turn of phrase, which inevitably results in the realisation that poetry is a thing of true deepness that indeed is deep forever. Saif presents a selection of poems from each of the eight poets with excellent translations in English, often giving them a new reading. What is even more marvellous is the skill of the poets in infusing their poetry with so many meanings that it still echoes in the hearts of a reader two hundred years after it was written. 


Beloved Delhi, though, is a heartless city. Like the beloved of our poetry: a sang dil – the stone hearted, it has cared little for the sukhanwar, the poet, or even the sukhan-fehem, the lover of poetry. Most of the graves and landmarks related to the poets have disappeared or are in a state of disrepair and dereliction. What is worse is the apathy of the people and the government to remember or commemorate these poets. Only Ghalib has escaped this treatment, but that was not so before his centenary celebration. When Intizar Hussain visited Delhi in 1954, he reported in his book on Delhi, the difficulty in finding Ghalib’s grave. This indifference is in our blood and is not a modern habit. Bedil’s tomb, which was in his house outside the Dehli gate, was disappearing even at Ghalib’s time. The dead, even the exalted dead, cannot withstand the relentless turpitude of time in this city.


The loss of the cultural milieu and the literary ethos of Delhi of this period is vastly owed - to the British, some to our revisionist reformers and in recent decades to our insensitivity. This theme has a subliminal presence in Beloved Delhi, which is foregrounded at the end of the book in Anant Raina’s photographs that are simple and yet have a strange power.


I have three quibbles with Saif’s book.


First, in the chapter on Mir, Saif attributes the following popular verses to him


Kya bood-o-bash poochhe ho Purab ke sakino

hum ko gharib jaan ke hans hans pukar ke

Dilli jo ek shehar tha aalam mein intekhaab

Rehte the muntakhib hi jahan rozgaar ke

Jisko falak ne loot ke viraan kar diya

Hum rahne wale hain usi ujde dayar ke


Now, to be sure, Mir never wrote this. Yes, popularly it has been attributed to Mir, but no serious Mir scholar believes it be his. Saif himself writes that Ali Sardar Jafri has questioned its authorship. In a personal email conversation, Shamsur Rahman Faruqi, the author of Sher-e Shor angez - a four-volume work on Mir, told me that “these lines are not found in any manuscript of Mir’s. Its main source is Muhammad Husain Azad’s Ab-e Hayat. The story became ‘viral’ (in today’s terminology) after it appeared there. Much later, a bayaz (anthology) was discovered in a small library in Agra, which claimed to have been compiled during Mir’s time. It does contain the verses and attributes them to Mir. But just because somebody attributes something to someone doesn’t prove that it is actually his. In pre-print days, Mir may not have even known of the verses, or their attribution. One or two lines in Mushafi strongly echo one line from the verses attributed to Mir.” 


Second, is a minor mistake. Saif confuses Delhi College’s James Thomason with some other Thompson in narrating the famous incident about Ghalib and the Delhi College. Thomason, who was overseeing the administration of the College at this time, at Momin’s suggestion, invited Ghalib as a candidate for the post of a Persian master, but failed to receive him in the manner Ghalib felt befitting, which incensed the poet and the interview never took place. Thomason went on to establish a college in Roorkee that was renamed Thomason College of Civil Engineering after his death, which later became the Roorkee Engineering College and is now the IIT, Roorkee.


Third, Saif twice accuses - in the Ghalib and Daagh chapters - Shamsuddin Ahmad Khan, the Nawab of Loharu and Ferozepur Jhirka at the time and father of Daagh Dehlavi, of having duped Ghalib of his pension. This is incorrect. As can be gleaned from the letters of Ghalib[v], the pension issue was quite convoluted, but Shamsuddin Ahmad did not have any role in depriving Ghalib of his salary.


Aside from these matters, Saif’s book is a treat. He serves us an amuse bouche of verses, of stories, and of history, and like a master-chef, Saif is able to enchant us, as he is enchanted by Delhi. As a reader, I will be waiting for more from him.



[i] https://caravanmagazine.in/literature...

[ii]https://www.worldliteraturetoday.org/...

[iii] Early Urdu Literary Culture and History, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2001 | Shamsur Rahman Faruqi

[iv] Early Urdu Literary Culture and History, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2001 | Shamsur Rahman Faruqi

[v] The salary in question was due to the jagirawarded by the British to Ghalib’s uncle, Nasrulla Beg. Ghalib’s grandfather arrived in Delhi from Transoxiana in the second half of eighteenth century, and served in the army of Shah Alam II. His father, also a soldier of fortune, served first the Nawab of Avadh and later the Nizam of Hyderabad. He died while seeking employment with the Raja of Alwar. Ghalib, then, came under the tutelage of his uncle Nasrulla beg, who was married to the sister of Ahmad Baksh Khan, the father of Shamsuddin Ahmad Khan. Nasrulla Beg and Ahmad Baksh Khan were also associated militarily, both of who rendered their services to Lord Lake’s army during the second Anglo-Maratha war. For these services, Ahmad Baksh Khan was awarded the principality of Ferozepur Jhirka by the British and Loharu by the Raja of Alwar. Similarly, Ghalib’s uncle was awarded Sonkh and Sonsa, which is near Mathura. Soon after this, in 1806, Ghalib’s uncle passed away and Ghalib came under the guardianship of Ahmad Baksh Khan. After Nasrulla Beg’s death, the British took back Sonkh and Sonsa and instead awarded an annual pension of ten thousand rupees to the family to be paid through the revenues of Ferozepur Jhirka. At some point of time and for some reasons, it was reduced to five thousand rupees. Ghalib’s share was 750 rupees annually (62.5 rupees per month). All of this is while Ghalib is still in Agra. Sometime around 1810 (or 1812-13), Ghalib marries the daughter of Ilahi Baksh Maruf, the brother of Ahmad Baksh Khan and moves to Delhi in the house of his in-laws. After the father-in-laws death, Ghalib starts facing financial problems and it is then that his long drawn tussle with British bureaucracy and law begins. In 1827, Ghalib leaves for Calcutta to request for restoration of the pension to the original 10000 rupees and for it to be paid directly rather than through the revenues of Ferozepur Jhirka.

Ahmad Baksh Khan had three sons – Shamsuddin Ahmad, Aminuddin Ahmad, and Ziyauddin Ahmad. After his death, the estate of Ferozepur Jhirka was to be given to Shamsuddin Ahmad and the Loharu estate to the younger two. Until the time they grew up, both estates were to be controlled by Shamsuddin Ahmad. Shamsuddin Ahmad, though, was lobbying with the British for control of both estates. In this, one faction, that is William Fraser and Edward Colebrooke were in favour of the younger brother Aminuddin, while some other Britishers supported Shamsuddin Ahmad. Ghalib was a close friend of Aminuddin Ahmad Khan, and therefore, his relations with Shamsuddin Ahmad were strained. Soon, though, things took a turn and Shamsuddin Ahmad Khan was executed by the British for the murder of William Fraser. They also took away the estate of Ferozepur Jhirka, the revenue from which Ghalib was paid the pension. At this juncture, Ghalib, who had deposed against Shamsuddin Ahmad Khan (although for a minor matter), requested for the pension to be paid directly by the British, which was accepted and Ghalib became a British pensioner for the rest of his life.

These details are based on:

Zafar and the Raj: Anglo-Mughal Delhi, c.1800-1857, Primus, New Delhi, 2013 | Amar Farooqui

Ghalib: 1797-1869 Life and Letters, Oxford University Press, Delhi | Khurshidul Islam, Ralph Russell

[Dania Khan · Rating 5 out of 5]

5 stars

My general thoughts on the book:
At first, this book seemed daunting since it was nonfiction and talked mainly about history. Even though I’m a history buff, I find it quite boring when people just spit out facts. But this book wasn't like that. It was formed through the eyes of a person who was seemingly an expert. The way it’s masterfully written never ceases to amaze me and I still wonder how a person can write so well.
My father read a few pages of the book too, and then proceeded to buy his own copy. He read it along with me and we formed a small book club consisting of only both of us! It was interesting to see my dad’s and the author’s views on this part of history.
Another interesting aspect of the book that I like were the pictures. They were taken from a new angle and sometimes gave a subtle message about the present state of Urdu. For example, one picture was a man carrying a painting of one poet in a cart or the picture showing the birthplace of Mir-Taki-Mir.

My thoughts on the writing:
The book is masterfully written. I cannot describe how amazing the writing is, it was just beautiful. The book is special because of the fact that it uses various aspects of writing and blends them with expertise, making this usually boring subject fascinating and lively. The book uses sarcasm, humour and facts well, making the book seem like it’s more than just a person writing down facts and making other people go to sleep.
Another good part was that the Urdu was romanised Urdu and also had good translations. So, even people who don’t know Urdu can read it. There is also an amazing build up to the main subject. It perfectly talks about how Urdu the language came to be and also the place of poets and scholars in court. Though, I would advise a basic read up on Medieval India for a better understanding of the book.
But what touched me was Bahadur Shah Zafar’s story. It was heartening to read how the Shahenshah of the revolution of 1857 spent his last days. The tragic fate was described by him in the following couplet.

“Kitna badnaseeb hai zafar dafn ke liye.
Do gaz zameen bhi na mili koo-e-yaar mein.”

“How unfortunate is Zafar, that for his burial
He’s denied even two yards of earth next to his beloved.”

Please, if you want a good cry, read that chapter.

Who this book is suited for:
History buffs
People who like to know more about Eastern poetry
People who would like to know more about Indian history
People who like the language Urdu.

[Shah Alam · Rating 5 out of 5]

I purchased this book after reading the comments of Madhulika Liddle whose review (#2 from the top) is by far the most comprehensive. I can’t add much to what she has so eloquently written, hence will avoid repetition: yet I’ll add a few lines of my personal experience.

If you are looking for a book that would adequately, if briefly, cover the genealogy of Urdu language along with the biography of some of its iconic poets, this is the one — or in the words of Emperor Aurangzeb, it's ہمیں است ہمیں است و ہمیں است

It will give you a high-altitude view of all above including an odd three to four ghazals from each of these poets. It’s written with a passion, very well edited and chronologically laid out. Without an iota of hesitation, I can claim that the author couldn’t have done a better job for the limited goals he wrote this book for. Not only that I enjoyed it thoroughly, but I also stand better educated.

[A · Rating 5 out of 5]

Beloved Delhi by Saif Mahmood

An ode to some of the most beautiful Urdu poets of Delhi. Starting with a brief on the author, discussing the life and their contribution to Urdu poetry and ending with select poems; author has done a good job of doing just the right bit. It doesn’t get overwhelming because the content is done remarkably well, neither too long, nor too short.

The most beautiful thing about the book is how the transition from past to present is knitted. A must read for anyone who loves Ghalib and Mir’s Dilli and want to reminisce their stories.

Ending with a couplet which is relevant for today’s Delhi by Anwar Jalalpuri quoted in the book:

कुछ यकीन कुछ गुमाँ की दिल्ली
अन-गिनत इम्तेहान की दिल्ली

मकबरे तक नहीं सलामत अब
थी कभी आन-बान की दिल्ली

ख़्वाब, किस्सा, ख्याल, अफसाना
हाए उर्दू जबान की दिल्ली

बे जबानी का हो गई है शिकार
असदुल्लाह खां की दिल्ली

[Iqra Tasmiae]

https://scroll.in/article/893974/belo...

[Arvin · Rating 5 out of 5]

Having read individual works by a few classical shayars, I had never come across a book solely dedicated to the legendary poets of Delhi—and Beloved Delhi truly filled that void. It took me on a beautiful journey through 18th and 19th century Delhi, a city caught between the decline of the Mughal empire and the rise of British rule.

The prose is lucid and graceful, and the way each poet is introduced—through anecdotes, sher, and ghazals—makes for a deeply immersive and personal experience. At times, it felt as though I were walking through the vibrant lanes of Chandni Chowk, encountering these poets in person.

The book kindles a genuine affection for Urdu and rekindles interest in the cultural soul of Delhi. If anything, I would have appreciated the inclusion of ghazals and couplets in Devanagari script alongside the English translations, as the latter sometimes lose the original’s charm and cadence.

All in all, Beloved Delhi is a heartwarming tribute to the poetic legacy of the city. I thoroughly loved it.ving read quite a few

[Rajiv Chopra · Rating 5 out of 5]

If there is a love story; then this is it, this is it, this is it.

Saif Mahmood has done an excellent job of writing about 8 great Urdu Poets. He has presented their life stories, their love for Delhi and their journey as poets.

He has presented their poetry in Urdu (albeit, in the English script), with some excellent translation. For me, this aroused one regret - that I was not taught Urdu, as my father was, and his fathers before him.

It is indeed a beautiful language. It is indeed the language of poetry.

It is a great tribute that he has written to these great poets and, without saying anything, Saif has demonstrated how much poorer Delhi has become with the passing of the Golden Age of Urdu poets in Delhi. Read their stories. Enjoy their poetry. Then, shed a tear for Delhi.

[Maryam Shaikh · Rating 5 out of 5]

What a beautiful book, full of so much love and passion. Every word is steeped in love for literature, love for Urdu, love for the great classical poets, love for Delhi, and love for sharing a love. A must read for anyone interested in Urdu poetry. A fascinating collection of the best Urdu poets written for an Anglo Indian audience. I will treasure this book forever.

[Annie Zaidi]

A book about place and poetry. The book offers the human background and the context to the writing of some of the most brilliant poetry written by Delhi's most famous poets, and the translations made it easier to understand and enjoy the original works.

[Vinay Kumar · Rating 5 out of 5]

Loved the collection of poetry and history of poets.

[Pankaj · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of the best efforts at translating some of the works of these legendary shaayars. As an adjunct, thoroughly enjoyed Saif's several interactions with Arfa Sayeda Zehra

[Radhika · Rating 4 out of 5]

a treat for any urdu poetry lover.

[Anant Iyer · Rating 5 out of 5]

Best book ever

[Ajay Jangid · Rating 3 out of 5]

A good blend of shayaris and biographies of Delhi's popular urdu poets. Love the selected poems section from each of the poets touched in the book.