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'If you see Dostoevsky, tell him that I love him.'
Tolstoy in a letter to Strakhov, 1880
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imagine if these ppl were on twitter.
Nietzsche was stupid and abnormal.--Leo Tolstoy
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‘They have not succeeded in being a great nation because there is a Jinnah in every home, who would rather burn his own house than see his brother rule it.’
–Ghani Khan
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Faiz Sahab, Edward Said and Eqbal Ahmad meet up in a bar in Beirut:
Faiz Ahmed Faiz had developed an uncanny relationship with Palestinian exiles in Beirut during his self exile from 1978 to 1982.
He had a personal friendship with Yasser Arafat, was friends with Mahmoud Darwish, and even read Urdu poetry to Edward Said.
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A extremely rare photo of Bacha Khan with Rabindranath Tagore.
🧵:
Bacha Khan had sent his son Ghani Khan to study at Tagore's abode, Shantiniketan in West Bengal.
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Edward Said on Eqbal Ahmad:
‘He was always more interested in creativity than in vindictiveness, in originality of spirit and method than in mere radicalism, in generosity and complexity of analysis over the tight neatness of his fellow political scientist.’
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How can a man fly effortlessly through the air and still look like he carries the ancient weight of six hundred years that is the art of Qawwali happily on his shoulders and into the present?
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Chekhov:
‘I fear Tolstoy's death. His death would leave a large empty space in my life. First, I have loved no man the way I have loved him. I am not a believer, but of all beliefs I consider his the closest to mine and most suitable for me.
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‘During his infatuation with Qawwali (he reportedly owned 400 cassettes of Qawwali recordings), Buckley studied Urdu pronunciation so that his phonetic approximations would sound faithful to the language.
📸[Jeff Buckley’s personal record collections]
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Then all of a sudden, the rising of one, then ten voices hovering over the tonic like a Nock of geese ascending into formation across the sky. Then came the voice of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan. Part Buddha, part demon, part mad angel. His voice is velvet fire, simply incomparable.
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Hallelujah singer Jeff Buckley has spoken at length about his admiration for what Nusrat does, referred to him as his own version of Elvis (“He’s my Elvis, that’s my guy” –Live at Sin-é, 1993) and he even wrote the liner notes for the NFAK’s ‘The Supreme Collection’.
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And after six years of listening to him and after four concerts that healed the fuck out of me, I finally got to say “hello” to the man.”
📸 [Jeff Buckley and Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan]
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Tolstoy, on Imran Khan:
‘To his mind, everything he did was good, not because it agreed with any notion of what was good and bad, but because he did it.’
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I have seen Nusrat and his party repeatedly melt New Yorkers into human beings.
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In Buckley's own words, Nusrat's music "saved his life." Prior to discovering him in 1990, he said he was in a dark place, mentally and emotionally. This is no half-assed cultural parody, but a fully-integrated part of Buckley's musical background.’
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A extremely rare photo of Bacha Khan with Bengali writer,poet and Nobel laureate Rabindranath Tagore.
Bacha Khan had sent his son Ghani Khan to study at Tagore's abode, Shantiniketan in West Bengal.
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It is soaring, healing, penetrating music that rips the sky open, slowly revealing the radiant face of the Beloved. I am not joking this is not poetry or critical hyperbole. This is what you get when you pay for your ticket and sit down at the gig.
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#FunFact
[Pās pa barra ke oba gady wady zena,
'Sharh awre Lawangeena' —Not 'Shinwari Lawangeena'.
Sharh[شړ] or sharhār [شړار] - the burble/the movement of the water and the sound it makes as it moves.
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لا په خوب کښې په لړزه پريوزي له کټه
چې د چا تر غوږ زما د توري شړنګ شي
_ستر خوشال بابا رح
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There’s a voice, singing like it is the last sound u’ll ever hear before u die & float away into heaven or hell. That guttural silver flame of melody & ecstasy is shooting from the throat of a man who is so deep inside the music that he does not exist any longer.That man is NFAK.
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These men do not play music, they are music itself. At times I've seen him in such a trance while singing that I am sure that the world does not exist for him any longer.
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“The sound of love opens doors. The inner devotion of his heart has opened the doors of his own development from a small child in Pakistan. Deemed too soft in fortitude to carry on the family mantle of their Qawwali tradition, to an immovable master of the art of song.
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By the end of the night no one is immune to the spirit that clouds the auditorium. All eyes and ears turn straight to the stage, straight to the story being uttered into their bones.
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جو دانه قدری يو لعل پکښې پيدا شي
نور جهان واړه د تورو کاڼو غر دې
Qalandar Momand –A Pakhtun Chekhov, poet, critic, linguist, play-witter, lexicographer, academician, historian, journalist, a staunch nationalist, & an iconoclast of the established literary traditions.
Thread🧵
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د صحرا په لور شمال ته زلفې نیسه
چې سبزه مې د مزار ګل و ریحان شي
#کاظم
پښتنی جونه دی زلفې باد ته نيسي
چه شمال یې بوي راوړي په رنتمبور کې
#خوشال
پښتنې به زلفې څه ونیسي باد ته
چې د مشکو په ځای بوی ترې د بارود ځي
#تسنیم
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“INTERVIEW MAGAZINE wanted to have me interview Pakistani singer Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan…[I] always wanted to meet him, so I agreed…”
“I had the most exciting afternoon of my life, hands down.”
Taken from the 1996 interview with Nusrat:
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That is the sensation and the character of Qawwali music, the music of the Sufis, as best I can describe it. "In between the world of the flesh and the world of the spirit… the void."
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This is no half-assed cultural parody, but a fully-integrated part of Buckley's musical background.
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Nehru on Bacha Khan:
“One of the finest men that India has produced, a great leader and one of the bravest soldiers of peace and reconciliation, who has played a more important part than most of us in the struggle for India's freedom.”
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JB: The first time I heard the voice of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan was in Harlem,1990. "..My roommate and I stood there, blasting it in his room. I heard the clarion call of harmoniums dancing the antique melody around like giant, singing wooden spiders.
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The audiences are sleepwalking schools of souls hooked from the mouth and pulled gloriously down into wells of exaltation as a few music critics sit and scribble away, head down to the notepad.
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His every enunciation went straight into me. I knew not one word of Urdu, and somehow it still hooked me into the story that he weaved with his wordless voice. I remember my senses fully froze in order to feel melody after melody crash upon each other in waves of improvisation;
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Peshawar is a woman, she is a mother, sufferer and martyr. She suffered and will suffer, she is not graceful, not well-built, she is not a virgin, she has given birth, she is a mother and therefore she is meek and magnificent.
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Nusrat's blending of classical improvisations to the art of Qawwali, combined with his out and out daredevil style and his sensitivity, outs him in a category all his own, above all others in his field.
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Gandhi Ji on Bacha Khan:
“I cannot bear to see Bacha Khan’s grief. His inner agony wrings my heart. He is a man of God. He will not shrink from any sacrifice or suffering, but will die serving the Pakhtuns with his last breath. He lives only for that.”
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On this day in 1849, the literary world lost one of it's greatest.
RIP Edgar Allan Poe (The master of the macabre)
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…each line being repeated by the men in the chorus, and again by the main soloists, and then Nusrat setting the whole bloody thing aflame with his rapid-fire scatting, turning classical Indian Solfeggio (Sa,Re,Gha,Ma,Pa,Dha,Ni) into a chaotic/manic birdsong’
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The phrase burst into a climax somewhere, with Nusrat's upper register painting a melody that made my heart long to fly. The piece went on for 15 min. I ate my heart out. My roommate just looked at me knowingly, muttering, "Nusraaaaat" like he had just scored d wine of d century.
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they are.... they're us. all of us.
can you imagine the bangers we'd get if only emo 1800s-1900s philosophers were in the twitter shitposting era
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Dostoevsky to Maria Dmitryevna:
‘Woman’s heart, woman’s compassion, woman’s sympathy, the endless kindness of which we have no clear perception, and which, in our obtuseness, we often do not even notice –these are irreplaceable.’
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'If you see Dostoevsky, tell him that I love him.'
Tolstoy in a letter to Strakhov,
[Sep 26, 1880]
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I felt a rush of adrenaline in my chest, like I was on the edge of a cliff, wondering when I would jump and how well the ocean would catch me: two questions that would never be answered
until I experienced the first leap.
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This is a great opening line of a book:
“All families invent their parents and children, give each of them a story, character, fate, and even a language. […] the overriding sensation I had was of always being out of place.”
–Edward Said, Out of Place
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Dostoevsky to Maria Dmitryevna:
‘Woman’s heart, woman’s compassion, woman’s sympathy, the endless kindness of which we have no clear perception, and which, in our obtuseness, we often do not even notice –these are irreplaceable.’
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'If you see Dostoevsky, tell him that I love him.'
–Tolstoy in a letter to Strakhov, 1880
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“My mind will never accept that the creator of the flower could have created hell.”
–Ghani Khan
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‘He [Bacha Khan] is not only “Fakhr-e-Afghan” but it is right to call him “Fakhr-e-Hind.” A true symbol of India’s heroism and courage.’
–Nehru, Oct 1937.
Khan Abdul Ghaffar Khan and Jawaharlal Nehru ply their spinning wheels.
#JawaharlalNehru
.
#KhanAbdulGhaffarKhan
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خوشال وړمبې شاعر دې چې څه يې په خوله دې هغه يې د عمل په ډګر هم دي. خوشال د «کامل پښتون» پېژندګلو ده. خوشال د پښتون قام نطشے هم دې، حافظ هم او هومر هم. استثنايي سالار چې هم یې توره وهله هم قلم. شتون يې معجزه ده او وه.
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Begum Nasim Wali won d 1977 elections from NA-8/Mardan-III and NA-4/Peshawar-IV, making her Pakistan’s 1st female parliamentarian elected on general seats instead of reserved. Elected thrice to NWFP(now KP) prov. Assembly, hailed as d only Pashtun woman elected on a general seat.
Shandana Gulzar is the first woman elected as MNA on a general seat from Khyber Pakhtoonkhwa.
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“Love / مينه” –by Ghani Khan
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پښتانه سندرغاړی دا سندره په ناسمه توګه وينګ (تلفظ) کوي. دا په اصلي ډول څه دا رنګې ده:
د #مګيز غاړه مې شنه لمن ئې سپينه کنه
[بر] په غاړه مې زنګيګى تاويزونه کنه
يوه اوګې ده، يو تاویز او بل مګیز(کوم چې يو رقم غاړه کۍ ده چې پخوا به قبايلو او کوچيانو استعمالولو.) او #بر په غاړه
د منګي غاړه مې شنه لمن مې سپینه کنه
بل په غاړه مې زنګېږي تاویزونه کنه
د منګي۔۔۔
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‘The most difficult part of writing is to know where to begin, just as the most difficult part of speaking is to know where to stop. Nothing is more irritating than a blank sheet of paper staring stupidly into your face when you are bursting to write but cannot make up your mind
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Ilya Repin, Tolstoy resting in the forest, 1891 –(Лев Николаевич Толстой на отдыхе в лесу)
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Circa 18th-century rare manuscript of the Ruba'iyat of Khushāl Khan Khattak, currently in the possession of the
@britishlibrary
,
@BLAsia_Africa
.
Thread 🧵:
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This poem was written by one of Khushāl’s wives, the mother of Ashraf Khan Hijri, himself a poet, who died in exile in Southern India (Bijāpur). It would almost appear to be a reply to the poem preceding, which was written by Khushāl, whilst in exile in India.
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پهٔ چارم آسمان پهٔ ناست لکه عيسٰي وم
کهٔ آسمان ته الواتهٔ شوې پهٔ خبرو /#خوشال
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Read somewhere that in Russian Literature, either the main character, the author, or the reader is depressed. If it's all three, then you are reading Dostoevsky.
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#Thread
Rahman Baba, Divan, in two books, commissioned by ‘Abdallah Khan Barakza’i, copied by Mulla Vali, with illustrations, Kashmir, dated 4th Jumadi I, 1213/14th October 1798.
Provenance: [Private Spanish collection: acquired by the seller's grandmother in the 1950s, Bonhams]
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A short description and history of Delhi –by Khushal Khattak(1613-1689):
[If there is heaven on earth, acclaim Delhi to be the one.]
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We live in this world like a child who enters a room where a clever person is speaking. The child did not hear the beginning of the speech, and he leaves before the end; and there are certain things which he hears but does not understand.
–Tolstoy
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‘He has great ambition and no patience; that is why he usually dies rather young. He has a great heart and a thick head; that is why he makes a charming friend and a fine host. He has a proud head and an empty stomach; that is why he is a great dacoit.’
#GhaniKhan
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شيخ ملا دې زما غم په بهار نهٔ خوري
چې رباب و سريندې غوندې غمخوار شته /#خوشال
Sarinda –by the virtuoso Ustad Munir Khan Sarhadi, son of the legendary Ustad Pazeer Khan of Nowshera / نوښار, the great scion of sarinda players of Pushto music.
Rabab -by Ustad Mirza Zamir
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#EchoesOfThePast
: : A collection of timeless Pashto melodies by legends Kishwar Sultan and Ustad Khyal Mohammad. A testament to Pashto music's enduring allure.
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"Promise me, said my brother, that, when I die, only my friends shall stand about my coffin –no inquisitive crowd. See that no priest or anyone else utter falsehoods at my graveside, when I can no longer depend myself, and let me descend into my tomb as an honest pagan."
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په مرګ ئې ونيسه په تبه ئې راضی کړه ـ
[Force him to face death and he will happily accept fever.]
Threaten a man with greater Trouble and he will willingly accept a lesser inconvenience.
#PashtoProverb
🧵
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“Dostoevsky gives me more than any scientist, more than Karl Gauss!”
-Albert Einstein,
#BOTD
143 years ago
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چې اخر په ژړا خوار غنی رخصت شی
ورلـه وشلـوئ کـفن دَ يـار دَ شـالـه
__ستر فلسفې غني خان
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A Pashto translation of Bob Dylan’s ‘The Times They Are A-Changin / وختونه په تغير کې دي’ by Abdul Bari Jahani.
Bob Dylan entered the UK charts for the first time when “The Times They are A-changin” entered the charts, April 3, 1964.
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خوشال د دې نړې وړمبې شاعر او عالم دې چې څه ئې په خوله دي هغه يې د عمل په ډګر هم دي. خوشال د «کامل پښتون» پېژندګلو ده. خان د پښتون قام نطشے هم دې،مېکاولې هم، حافظ هم او هومر هم. استثنايي سالار چې هم یې توره وهله هم قلم. د ړندو پښتنو لارښونکې همسا وه او ده. شتون يې معجزه وه او دهٔ.
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زهٔ بې نامه بې نشانه نامور يم
ورک مې مهٔ ګڼه، پښتو پسې به ورک يم /#کامل
Dost Muhammad Khan Kamil Momand (
#DOTD
) – A Poet, Historian, Critic, Researcher, Lawyer, Humorist, Theologian, Multilingual Scholar, and Founding Memeber of “Olasi Adabi Jirga.”
Thread🧵
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A man who believes that everything he did was good, not because it aligned with any preconceived notion of what was good or bad, but simply because he did it.
🇵🇰 What comes to mind when you think of Imran Khan?
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Madhubala
[Photos from a 1951 shoot for Life magazine by James Burke]
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“
#Aurangzeb
– A Hymn of Hate” by Khushāl Khattak:
Aurang, full well I know him. So just is he, so fair,
Precise in all observances, punctilious in prayer.
But he slew his own blood brothers in fratricidal strife,
Gave battle to his father and imprisoned him for life. 1/3
“Aurangzeb was magnificent in his public appearances, simple in his private habits, diligent in business, exact in his religious observances, an elegant letter writer and ever ready with choice passages from Koran”
From ‘A brief history of the Indian peoples, W.W.Hunter p. 150.
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‘The Mother of My Children’ –
#GhaniKhan
In human form a poet's dream;
A heavenly melody, ambient, serene;
A flower from heaven by nature divine;
A form pure, ethereal, the heart saintly light;
There was thus created, young Ghani's beloved–
Iranian in beauty, in honour Afghan.
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‘It happened to me with Dostoevsky like before with Stendhal: the most casual contact, a book that one opens in a bookstore, unfamiliarity even with the name – and suddenly instinct says that here one has met a kinsman.’
–Nietzsche, letter to Peter Gast, March 1887
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زه غمجن په عيد په جشن خبر نه شوم
که درست خلک د ډهليه ابتهاج کا
O’erwhelmed in grief, I know not of festival or feast,
Though the whole people of Dilhī make gladness and joy.
–Khushal Khan Khattak
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ته مې وژنه، د قصاص اندېښنه مـه کړه!
د خپل خون په تور به ونيسم يو بل څوک
د دې میــو پيـالې ډېـرو دي اخســتې
ولې ما غوندې بـه نـه وي لا يعقل څوک
ښه خو دا چې د چا نوم پـۀ کې ياديږي
پـۀ فاني دنيا به نه وي ژوندي تل څوک
__ستر خوشال بابا رح
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‘A violent temperament, a domineering nature and abysmal ignorance are his only sources of inspiration.’
#GhaniKhan
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پښتنی جونه دی زلفې باد ته نيسي
چه شمال یې بوي راوړي په رنتمبور کی
___خوشال بابا رح
پښتنې به زلفې څه ونیسي باد ته
چې د مشکو په ځای بوی ترې د بارود ځي
__ رياض تسنیم
#کابل_پوهنتون_بريد
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The Mother of My Children –Ghani Khan
In human form a poet's dream;
A heavenly melody, ambient, serene;
A flower from heaven by nature divine;
A form pure, ethereal, the heart saintly light;
There was thus created, young Ghani's beloved-
Iranian in beauty, in honour Afghan.
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