Gham-e-Rozgar - Tyranny of Livelihood

Drudgery of daily living saps life of its every joy.

In drudgery, I do not imply the bleakness of ho-hum chores that comprise work. Most challenging tasks fall into a pattern with numbing familiarity when performed repeatedly over a long time. Even a creative art, be it writing, music, acting, film-making, etc., that seems to promise a fresh perspective every day is just a professional work for the artist. Only those who practice it with the rigour of an artisan excel in their field and create a body of work that public admires as their contribution to the art.

I use the phrase drudgery of daily living for the tyranny of work that is necessary to sustain life yet blights it simultaneously. This is the lot of most men - A life of bondage with no redemption in sight. When stuck in this station, they must work incessantly from day to night to afford the means to preserve the breath, only to wake up another day, and begin once again the life-scorching saga.

Few people are fortunate to have the resources or the ability to break this dull monotony of a workaday life and seek reprieve in activities that nurture soul.

 

This miserable existence of man has begotten some captivating work in literature, both in prose and poetry.

Protagonists in many of Graham Greene’s novels are caught in the tedium of daily living while yearning for an escape, albeit momentarily. They cling to these moments – real or illusionary - with the passion of a drowning man holding on to a frail raft for his life. The irreconcilable gap between reality and desire often brings more misery in their lives. Inspector Scobie in The Heart of the Matter, the low-rung police officer in a colonial government in Africa, scrupulously honest in a job that demands dexterity of morals, and duty bound to stay in a loveless marriage due to his religious beliefs, is one such character of Greene. The middle-aged, secret-service bureaucrat in The Hunan Factor, Maurice Castle, leads a humdrum, low-key existence in office and lives in a suburb, to protect his personal life from the innuendos of society, as he has married a black woman whom he loves dearly. He dreams of his retirement that he believes would rid him of this dreary life.

English writers of twentieth century had a model for such a life, life of a bank clerk – the uninspiring lowly paid job, in crammed quarters, where one laboured day in and day out. Greene masterfully brings out the tragedy of such a shop-worn life in the garb of comedy in his novels Our Man in Havanna and Travels with My Aunt. Protagonist of the latter is a retired bank clerk.

Mohun Biswas in V.S. Naipaul’s A House for Mr Biswas, lives a life of utmost dreariness born of his sense of alienation from people surrounding him and a life-long penury. He sets a goal of acquiring a house of his own that he imagines will redeem him of the degrading and dull existence. Naipaul has written an exceedingly melancholic story that touches human condition on many levels. One of them, I think, is the pettiness of life when it descends to just earning the livelihood for survival.

John Le Carre wrote of the soul-destroying monotony in a seemingly exciting profession of spying in his novels – and created some of the most beautiful tales of espionage written in twentieth century.

 

Bread and water nourish body and are the universal pursuit of all animals, including man. Earth’s resources are limited while species dependent on these endless. Ensuing struggle to acquire these has, over eons, given birth to a staggering number of species with marvellous adaptations to their environment. Human mind gave a unique advantage to our ancestors in this race for survival. But the same mind also became the bane of the species.

Our capacity to think, feel, emote, continuously evaluate present in light of remembered past, and speculate on our condition in future, is unmatched in animal kingdom. But mind’s needs have grown beyond water and food that sustain the body. Mind looks for succour in activities that give the body no evolutionary advantage; It seeks meaning in life and grows inconsolably restless when this remains elusive. In this quest, It craves leisure and resources to pursue friendship, love, kinship, knowledge, arts, travel, adventure, dance, and music. Life restricted to mere activities of making a living feels unfathomably wretched.

 

Urdu poets have expressed this misery of human condition in words that simply take your breath away. Urdu has a beautiful word for this endless torment in life, gham-e-rozgar, sorrows of a life spent in the occupation of earning a livelihood.

Mirza Ghalib lived a life of extreme want. In this life of deprivation, he wrote poetry of unparallelled beauty, elegance, and profundity. He alluded to gham-e-rozgar in many ghazals.

Here he talks about the flame of desire he kept alive even in a cheerless life.

गो मैं रहा रहीन-ए-सितम-हा-ए-रोज़गार¹

लेकिन तिरे ख़याल से ग़ाफ़िल² नहीं रहा

go maiñ rahā rahīn-e-sitam-hā-e-rozgār

lekin tere ḳhayāl se ġhāfil nahīñ rahā

1. indebted to the tyrannies of livelihood              2. unaware

Though ever under the yoke of the tyrannies of livelihood

Never did I remain unaware of your thoughts

 

Faiz Ahmad Faiz curses the sorrows of daily living that force one to forget the beloved. A recurring metaphor in Urdu poetry, beloved, might also mean all that is dear to the poet in life.

दुनिया ने तेरी याद से बेगाना कर दिया

तुझ से भी दिल-फ़रेब¹ हैं ग़म रोज़गार के

duniyā ne terī yaad se begāna kar diyā

tujh se bhī dil-fareb haiñ ġham rozgār ke

1. deceitful

World alienates me from your memories

Griefs of livelihood are more deceitful than you

 

A life of incessant toil, dragging from one breath to another, is a life imprisoned – Kaid-e-hayat. To such a life is not available the freedom of the moments of luxury, when mind unburdened of the worries of livelihood can enjoy unbridled joys of idleness. Ghalib says only death can relieve man of the sorrows of living.

क़ैद-ए-हयात¹ ओ बंद-ए-ग़म² अस्ल में दोनों एक हैं

मौत से पहले आदमी ग़म से नजात³ पाए क्यूँ

qaid-e-hayāt o band-e-ġham asl meñ donoñ ek haiñ

maut se pahle aadmī ġham se najāt paa.e kyuuñ

1. prison of life   2. bondage of grief   3. relief

Prison of life and bondage of grief are but one

Where else can one escape grief in life but in death

 

In another peerless couplet Ghalib rues the inevitability of the miseries of living.

ग़म अगरचे¹ जाँ-गुसिल² है प कहाँ बचें कि दिल है

ग़म-ए-इश्क़ गर न होता ग़म-ए-रोज़गार होता

ġham agarche jāñ-gusil hai pa kahāñ bacheñ ki dil hai

ġham-e-ishq gar na hotā ġham-e-rozgār hotā

1. although   2. Killing

Although sorrows stifle life, where is the escape

Were sorrows of love not there, griefs of livelihood would still be around

 

Ghalib blames the incessant griefs – that would not give him a moment’s respite – for his unaccomplished life.

 तुम को भी हम दिखाएँ कि मजनूँ ने क्या किया

फ़ुर्सत कशाकश-ए-ग़म-ए-पिन्हाँ¹ से गर मिले

tum ko bhī ham dikhā.eñ ki majnūñ ne kyā kiyā

fursat kashākash-e-ġham-e-pinhāñ se gar mile

1. tussles with the hidden sorrows

I too could emulate the life of Majnu for you,

If the constant struggles against the deep sorrows ever spared me

 

Hardships of livelihood are inevitable. Ghalib consoles himself that death, the ultimate redemption from this desolation, will be better than the wretched life. 

हुआ जब ग़म से यूँ बे-हिस¹ तो ग़म क्या सर के कटने का   

न होता गर जुदा तन से तो ज़ानू² पर धरा होता

huā jab ġham se yuuñ be-his to ġham kyā sar ke kaTne kā

na hotā gar judā tan se to zaanū par dharā hotā

1. Inured   2. Thighs

Why fear severing of the head, once you are inured to the sorrows

Had it not separated from body, in grief it would be bent on your thighs.

 

Ahmed Faraz is so accustomed to the sorrows in life that he finds them life-sustaining.

ये सुकून-ए-जाँ की घड़ी ढले तो चराग़-ए-दिल ही न बुझ चले

वो बला से हो ग़म-ए-इश्क़ या ग़म-ए-रोज़गार कोई तो हो

ye sukūn-e-jāñ kī ghaḌī Dhale to charāġh-e-dil hī na bujh chale

vo balā se ho ġham-e-ishq yā ġham-e-rozgār koī to ho

When the transient moments of peace wane, I fear, life might be extinguished

I crave for some grief, be it from love or livelihood

 

Poets appear to have dual existence. Their bodies dwell in the physical world, demanding the mundane materials of world for their nurture. While their souls struggling to be released from these eternal scuffles of the body, yearn for the sublime: the joys of peace, love, contentment, and languid contemplation.

Harivansh Rai Bachchan, in an ethereal verse, captures the changing hues of his daily existence, as the day progresses from dawn to night. He laments that none sees him in his entirety, reflected against the rainbow of these changing hues.

प्रातः ने देखा देवालय में मेरा पूजा अर्चन

दिन की दुनिया ने धंधों से छाया अंगों पर श्रम-कण

संध्या ने मेरे प्रकाश की दुँधली सी रेखा देखी

अपलक नेत्रों से रजनी ने देखा मेरा सूनापन

किन्तु किसी ने देखा मेरा मानस-मंथन¹, उर- उन्मन²

इंद्रधनुष की छाया में?

1.  Churning of mind   2. Restlessness of heart

 

Endless suffering of people, forced by their circumstances into an unsparing grind of livelihood, is heart wrenching. But, no less pitiable is the wretchedness of the more fortunate ones who unwittingly create such a life for themselves.

It is unnerving to witness exhausted multitudes running on the treadmill of life with only a vague memory of a nebulous goal. In this long and ever-increasing struggle, they have forgotten the destination. Like the Red Queen in Alice in the Wonderland, they remain in the same place, however fast they run. Lacking the faculty to jump off the treadmill, race becomes their life.

In a beautiful couplet Shakeel Badayuni comments on the futility of achievements in a strife-torn world.

फिर वही जोहद-ए-मुसलसल¹ फिर वही फ़िक्र-ए-मआश²

मंज़िल-ए-जानाँ³ से कोई कामयाब आया तो क्या

phir vahī johd-e-musalsal phir vahī fikr-e-ma.āsh

manzil-e-jānāñ se koī kāmyāb aayā to kyā

1. incessant struggles   2. worries of livelihood   3. Beloved destination

Once again, the constant struggle, once again the worries of livelihood

What has one achieved on reaching the destination?

 

Unless one continuously looks at life from beyond the perimeter of the circle in which it revolves, and forcefully exits it occasionally, he would end up as a minor cog in the wheel that itself is a small cog in a larger wheel, and the larger wheel is a moderate sized cog in … Ad infinitum stretches the web of these circles. 

Sagacious and beguilingly simple lines of Bachchan eloquently capture these thoughts. 

जीवन की आपाधापी में कब वक्त मिला

कुछ देर कहीं पर बैठ कभी यह सोच सकूं,

जो किया, कहा, माना उसमें भला बुरा क्या।

 

जिस दिन मेरी चेतना जगी मैंने देखा,

मैं खड़ा हुआ हूं दुनिया के इस मेले में,

हर एक यहां पर एक भुलावे में भूला,

हर एक लगा है अपनी अपनी दे-ले में,

कुछ देर रहा हक्का-बक्का, भौंचक्का सा,

आ गया कहां, क्या करूं यहां, जाऊं किस जगह?

 

फ़िर एक तरफ़ से आया ही तो धक्का सा,

मैंने भी बहना शुरु किया उस रेले में,

क्या बाहर की ठेला-पेली ही कुछ कम थी,

जो भीतर भी भावों का ऊहापोह मचा,

जो किया, उसी को करने की मजबूरी थी,

जो कहा, वही मन के अंदर से उबल चला,

जीवन की आपाधापी में कब वक्त मिला

कुछ देर कहीं पर बैठ कभी यह सोच सकूं,

जो किया, कहा, माना उसमें भला बुरा क्या।

 

I guard my leisure zealously. Few such moments stolen from the hubbub of life, spent with books, in travel, with music, brooding for the right word sitting on my writing chair, or cycling city roads at dawn, make the hours and days spent in the business of rozgar bearable.