Pandit Zinda Koul
Masterji’s life was no bed of roses. It had nothing palatable to offer to him, it only enabled him to keep the wolf from his door. He never lived in affluence. he had to fend for his widowed daughter-in- law and her children.He did not succumb under the weight of such calamities. He fought his life’s problems in the most detached manner conquering these bit by bit, never losing hope. These came as a blessing in disguise and made a mystic of him, not out of spite for life, but for making it more meaningful.
His earlier work was in Urdu and Persian. One of his Urdu poems Aha Ha Kalarki is often mentioned. This satirical poem was composed after he was appointed as a clerk in the A.G.’s office. He also wrote patriotic songs and satires on man and society.
He also published some Hindi poems in Patra Pushpa (1940). In 1939, Masterji retired from the post of a translator in the Publicity Office.Before his retirement, he had written only one Kashmiri lyric in 1910.In 1942, he recited his second Kashmiri poem Paninya Kath at Sri Pratap College.
The symbolism in his poems reminds one of a Saguna Bhakta. In his poem Razi, he speaks of the king (Atma) having descended from the plane of pure spirit and come here to amuse himself.
He is here the cow or sheep, and there the cat or tiger,
There he is a Buddha, a Shankara, or a Tagore
And here he is a simpleton like myself.
Thus has he come to amuse himself.
Masterji’s philosophy is difficult to comprehend, but in one of his letters, he has provided a clue: “If I had another life to live, I would have firm faith in God as the highest ideal of Truth, Goodness and Beauty. I would make my religion what is common to all religions, namely belief in the highest ideal and worship of the highest by unselfish service rendered to all living beings.”
The impact of Masterji was not like that of Nadim or Mehjoor. He did not create any literary disciples. The small group of Kashmiri Pandits who surrounded him treated him as a spiritual guru. It is not surprising that the philosopher Naravane compares Masterji with the majestic Amarnath Cave, “one representing physical altitude and the other representing spiritual elevation; and both conveying a profound sense of profundity.”
In the beginning ‘Masterji’ did not write only in Kashmiri but in Persian, Hindi, and Urdu, as well. His poetry though published in all these four languages, yet he attained his prominence by writing in Kashmiri language.
Masterji started writing in Kashmiri in 1942. In his Kashmiri poetry, he has written primarily on devotion and peace. His poetry was greatly influenced by Lal Ded and Parmanand. His writing style is mystical & is influenced by bhakta tradition.
Masterji built his personality brick by brick. The foundation for this was provided by the Hindu mystic lore especially by the Kashmir Shaivism. Vedanta and the Upanishads also acted as the cementing link to make it more broad-based. Both are portrayed most eloquently in his ‘Sumaran’ ( the rosary as token of love ) that exhibit a deep influence of Kashmir Shaivism, Vedanta and Upanishads in his poetry. The book was published in 1944. It earned him a permanent position as an important Kashmiri poet. He was the first Kashmiri poet to win the Sahitya Academy award in 1956, for Sumran. It was first published in Devanagari, and later the government had it printed in the Persio-Arabic script. The book “Sumran” won him The Sahitya Academy Award and an award of five thousand rupees.
Sumran is a very complex poem, attaining a sort of Hegelian idealism and saguna bhakti of the type Surdas presented in Hindi. In 1951, he used the title Sumran for his collection of thirteen poems that he translated into English and published himself. The two volumes of Sumran contain three dozen poems and his total output in Kashmiri is not more than fifty poems or so.
One would cry and not restrain the tears,
But crying is of no avail,
Shedding incessant tears is of no avail,
And knocking one’s head against
boulders is of no avail.
And knowing that there is none to heed,
Why this urge to plead!
Why this urge to plead!
Why dash darts into the void!
Mere compulsion! Mere helplessness!
The body is consumed minute by minute,
suppressed by hunger and thirst and cold,
chained by ailments and kith and kin
depressed by constant worries and woes.
And once these worries cease to exist,
the body is tempted and lured .
by numberless temptations.
The restless mind is without any peace
for something has obsessed it.
Without the encounter with the Good,
Without the realization of the Good,
The mind is searching for something lost
like a person drunk in sleep.
More affliction of desire and body!
Our ears have heard,
Our hearts have believed,
that sometime, somewhere, someone
caught a distant glimpse of Him.
We pine for Him; we long for Him,
For we think he is sulking from us
hiding under the bushes.
Indeed, love is a painful obsession!
I ask
The one who is hidden far and away,
The one who gives us a deaf ear,
Does he ever enquire how we are?
Does he ever recall where we are?
Does he ever ask himself,
“I wonder what is the lot of those
Whom I put in the dismal dark,
Whom I let loose
Over the hills, over the streams, over the woods?”
Whom I let loose
Over the hills, over the streams, over the woods?”
Indeed, beauty has no compassion!
We could argue,
“Why expect love from the loveless?
Why expect fruit from a willow?
If you do not know his whereabouts,
How can you plan his search?”
But heart will not retract the steps
For how can one chain the air!
For how can one blame the heart!
Love is not a child’s play!
It is the sound from within;
It is like the fragrance of the musk.
The musk deer hunts over hills and dales
looking for something that is within him.
The heart is like the musk deer, searching
without that which is within.
The fragrance of the dear one pulls him out
with eyes shut and hands down.
He is playing the game of hide and seek,
chained by ailments and kith and kin
depressed by constant worries and woes.
And once these worries cease to exist,
the body is tempted and lured
by numberless temptations.
The restless mind is without any peace
for something has obsessed it.
Without the encounter with the Good,
Without the realization of the Good,
The mind is searching for something lost
like a person drunk in sleep.
More affliction of desire and body!
Our ears have heard,
Our hearts have believed,
that sometime, somewhere, someone
caught a distant glimpse of Him.
We pine for Him; we long for Him,
For we think he is sulking from us
hiding under the bushes.
Indeed, love is a painful obsession!
I ask
The one who is hidden far and away,
The one who gives us a deaf ear,
Does he ever enquire how we are?
Does he ever recall where we are?
Does he ever ask himself,
“I wonder what is the lot of those
Whom I put in the dismal dark,
Whom I let loose
Over the hills, over the streams, over the woods?”
Whom I let loose
Over the hills, over the streams, over the woods?”
Indeed, beauty has no compassion!
We could argue,
“Why expect love from the loveless?
Why expect fruit from a willow?
If you do not know his whereabouts,
How can you plan his search?”
But heart will not retract the steps
For how can one chain the air!
For how can one blame the heart!
Love is not a child’s play!
It is the sound from within;
It is like the fragrance of the musk.
The musk deer hunts over hills and dales
looking for something that is within him.
The heart is like the musk deer, searching
without that which is within.
The fragrance of the dear one pulls him out
with eyes shut and hands down.
He is playing the game of hide and seek,
appearing here and appearing there.
Once the moth has seen the lamp afar,
how can it stand still?
It must chase the light with frenzy
(Even though the light is not seen).
It must tear through the seven robes of wisdom.
Beauty is not mere enchantment!
Mere compulsion! Mere helplessness!
Mere affliction of desire and body!
Indeed love is a painful obsession!
Indeed beauty has no compassion!
Love is not a child’s play!
Beauty is not mere enchantment!
In their tone the poems have a therapeutic effect. They are the musings of a bhakta. One can understand why during the 1940s, when everything seemed to be out
of joint in Kashmir, his poetry was considered, perhaps
too harshly, as the poetry of the thokurkuthh. Masterji basically
belongs to the tradition of mystic poetry, particularly the bhakti
tradition of Parmanand.
Masterji was a profound scholar of Persian. He could not escape the influence and impact of great Persian mystics like Shams Tabrez, Maulana Rumi, Hafiz Shirazi and others. He had fully assimilated all that they had to say. The echo of Shams Tabrez’s ‘Man tu Shudam, tu Man Shudi’ can be unmistakably understood from his verses also.
The cruel hand of death snatched away this dearest son of the soil in the year 1965. Kashmiri poetry suffered a great loss upon Masterji’s death.
POSTED BY : VIPUL KOUL
EDITED BY : ASHOK KOUL
1884-1965 )
Pandit Zinda Koul a well known poet was born into a Kashmiri Pandit
family in the year 1884. His father, belonged to the lower middle class
and was indifferent to Masterji’s formal education. Masterji started
learning Persian from Pandit Bal Kak Jan and later joined Pandit
Damodar’s private school. At the age of nine, he composed his first
couplet. At the age of 13, he recited his first poem to a gathering at
Raghunath Mandir.He came to be called ‘Masterji’ because he used to
teach many Kashmiris, both in school as well as at his home.Masterji did
not forget life around him, he did not renounce life even though it was
always bitter to him. He was a civil servant by profession but a
philosopher by nature. As long as he remained in -government service, he
acquitted himself very well with undivided dedication to his
profession.Masterji’s life was no bed of roses. It had nothing palatable to offer to him, it only enabled him to keep the wolf from his door. He never lived in affluence. he had to fend for his widowed daughter-in- law and her children.He did not succumb under the weight of such calamities. He fought his life’s problems in the most detached manner conquering these bit by bit, never losing hope. These came as a blessing in disguise and made a mystic of him, not out of spite for life, but for making it more meaningful.
His earlier work was in Urdu and Persian. One of his Urdu poems Aha Ha Kalarki is often mentioned. This satirical poem was composed after he was appointed as a clerk in the A.G.’s office. He also wrote patriotic songs and satires on man and society.
He also published some Hindi poems in Patra Pushpa (1940). In 1939, Masterji retired from the post of a translator in the Publicity Office.Before his retirement, he had written only one Kashmiri lyric in 1910.In 1942, he recited his second Kashmiri poem Paninya Kath at Sri Pratap College.
The symbolism in his poems reminds one of a Saguna Bhakta. In his poem Razi, he speaks of the king (Atma) having descended from the plane of pure spirit and come here to amuse himself.
He is here the cow or sheep, and there the cat or tiger,
There he is a Buddha, a Shankara, or a Tagore
And here he is a simpleton like myself.
Thus has he come to amuse himself.
Masterji’s philosophy is difficult to comprehend, but in one of his letters, he has provided a clue: “If I had another life to live, I would have firm faith in God as the highest ideal of Truth, Goodness and Beauty. I would make my religion what is common to all religions, namely belief in the highest ideal and worship of the highest by unselfish service rendered to all living beings.”
The impact of Masterji was not like that of Nadim or Mehjoor. He did not create any literary disciples. The small group of Kashmiri Pandits who surrounded him treated him as a spiritual guru. It is not surprising that the philosopher Naravane compares Masterji with the majestic Amarnath Cave, “one representing physical altitude and the other representing spiritual elevation; and both conveying a profound sense of profundity.”
In the beginning ‘Masterji’ did not write only in Kashmiri but in Persian, Hindi, and Urdu, as well. His poetry though published in all these four languages, yet he attained his prominence by writing in Kashmiri language.
Masterji started writing in Kashmiri in 1942. In his Kashmiri poetry, he has written primarily on devotion and peace. His poetry was greatly influenced by Lal Ded and Parmanand. His writing style is mystical & is influenced by bhakta tradition.
Masterji built his personality brick by brick. The foundation for this was provided by the Hindu mystic lore especially by the Kashmir Shaivism. Vedanta and the Upanishads also acted as the cementing link to make it more broad-based. Both are portrayed most eloquently in his ‘Sumaran’ ( the rosary as token of love ) that exhibit a deep influence of Kashmir Shaivism, Vedanta and Upanishads in his poetry. The book was published in 1944. It earned him a permanent position as an important Kashmiri poet. He was the first Kashmiri poet to win the Sahitya Academy award in 1956, for Sumran. It was first published in Devanagari, and later the government had it printed in the Persio-Arabic script. The book “Sumran” won him The Sahitya Academy Award and an award of five thousand rupees.
Sumran is a very complex poem, attaining a sort of Hegelian idealism and saguna bhakti of the type Surdas presented in Hindi. In 1951, he used the title Sumran for his collection of thirteen poems that he translated into English and published himself. The two volumes of Sumran contain three dozen poems and his total output in Kashmiri is not more than fifty poems or so.
One would cry and not restrain the tears,
But crying is of no avail,
Shedding incessant tears is of no avail,
And knocking one’s head against
boulders is of no avail.
And knowing that there is none to heed,
Why this urge to plead!
Why this urge to plead!
Why dash darts into the void!
Mere compulsion! Mere helplessness!
The body is consumed minute by minute,
suppressed by hunger and thirst and cold,
chained by ailments and kith and kin
depressed by constant worries and woes.
And once these worries cease to exist,
the body is tempted and lured .
by numberless temptations.
The restless mind is without any peace
for something has obsessed it.
Without the encounter with the Good,
Without the realization of the Good,
The mind is searching for something lost
like a person drunk in sleep.
More affliction of desire and body!
Our ears have heard,
Our hearts have believed,
that sometime, somewhere, someone
caught a distant glimpse of Him.
We pine for Him; we long for Him,
For we think he is sulking from us
hiding under the bushes.
Indeed, love is a painful obsession!
I ask
The one who is hidden far and away,
The one who gives us a deaf ear,
Does he ever enquire how we are?
Does he ever recall where we are?
Does he ever ask himself,
“I wonder what is the lot of those
Whom I put in the dismal dark,
Whom I let loose
Over the hills, over the streams, over the woods?”
Whom I let loose
Over the hills, over the streams, over the woods?”
Indeed, beauty has no compassion!
We could argue,
“Why expect love from the loveless?
Why expect fruit from a willow?
If you do not know his whereabouts,
How can you plan his search?”
But heart will not retract the steps
For how can one chain the air!
For how can one blame the heart!
Love is not a child’s play!
It is the sound from within;
It is like the fragrance of the musk.
The musk deer hunts over hills and dales
looking for something that is within him.
The heart is like the musk deer, searching
without that which is within.
The fragrance of the dear one pulls him out
with eyes shut and hands down.
He is playing the game of hide and seek,
chained by ailments and kith and kin
depressed by constant worries and woes.
And once these worries cease to exist,
the body is tempted and lured
by numberless temptations.
The restless mind is without any peace
for something has obsessed it.
Without the encounter with the Good,
Without the realization of the Good,
The mind is searching for something lost
like a person drunk in sleep.
More affliction of desire and body!
Our ears have heard,
Our hearts have believed,
that sometime, somewhere, someone
caught a distant glimpse of Him.
We pine for Him; we long for Him,
For we think he is sulking from us
hiding under the bushes.
Indeed, love is a painful obsession!
I ask
The one who is hidden far and away,
The one who gives us a deaf ear,
Does he ever enquire how we are?
Does he ever recall where we are?
Does he ever ask himself,
“I wonder what is the lot of those
Whom I put in the dismal dark,
Whom I let loose
Over the hills, over the streams, over the woods?”
Whom I let loose
Over the hills, over the streams, over the woods?”
Indeed, beauty has no compassion!
We could argue,
“Why expect love from the loveless?
Why expect fruit from a willow?
If you do not know his whereabouts,
How can you plan his search?”
But heart will not retract the steps
For how can one chain the air!
For how can one blame the heart!
Love is not a child’s play!
It is the sound from within;
It is like the fragrance of the musk.
The musk deer hunts over hills and dales
looking for something that is within him.
The heart is like the musk deer, searching
without that which is within.
The fragrance of the dear one pulls him out
with eyes shut and hands down.
He is playing the game of hide and seek,
appearing here and appearing there.
Once the moth has seen the lamp afar,
how can it stand still?
It must chase the light with frenzy
(Even though the light is not seen).
It must tear through the seven robes of wisdom.
Beauty is not mere enchantment!
Mere compulsion! Mere helplessness!
Mere affliction of desire and body!
Indeed love is a painful obsession!
Indeed beauty has no compassion!
Love is not a child’s play!
Beauty is not mere enchantment!
In their tone the poems have a therapeutic effect. They are the musings of a bhakta. One can understand why during the 1940s, when everything seemed to be out
Masterji was a profound scholar of Persian. He could not escape the influence and impact of great Persian mystics like Shams Tabrez, Maulana Rumi, Hafiz Shirazi and others. He had fully assimilated all that they had to say. The echo of Shams Tabrez’s ‘Man tu Shudam, tu Man Shudi’ can be unmistakably understood from his verses also.
The cruel hand of death snatched away this dearest son of the soil in the year 1965. Kashmiri poetry suffered a great loss upon Masterji’s death.
POSTED BY : VIPUL KOUL
EDITED BY : ASHOK KOUL
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