Frances Pritchett’s essay provides us with insights into the life and poetics of Mirza

Asadullah Ghalib, one of the greatest poet Urdu has witnessed. Since it looks upon Ghalib from
multiple tangents, such as tracing the political and social situation of India at that time, to
commenting on his contemporaries and his critics, to the unique features of his poetry, it is
difficult to frame a response to it from a single standpoint. Yet, the key image we get of Ghalib
from this is of him as a poet who only operated on his own terms, be it with religion or with
those in power, and who harbored a sense of aristocratic nobility and honor which remained with
him even when the socio-political order which upheld it crumbled on its heels. This paper will
explore in detail all of that aforementioned, as well as contrasting it with Russell’s image of
Ghalib towards the conclusion. As we’ll see, Pritchett finds Ghalib as one of his kind in every
aspect of his life and poetics, and it is this uniqueness which makes the study of Ghalib even
more intriguing.

The first thing one interacts with in this essay is Ghalib’s complex relationship with Urdu
and Persian. Significant portion of Ghalib’s work lie in either languages; towards the start he
wrote primarily in Urdu, in the middle he shifted completely to Persian, only to come back
towards Urdu towards the end of his life. In understanding this, it is of primal importance to
understand the language politics in India at that time. Persian was the traditional language of the
noble and the aristocracy, it had been the language of courts for well over four centuries, as well
as being a literarily rich language which had a broad and rich canon unlike Urdu. Moreover, even
the form of poetry which attracted Ghalib ie ghazal was in fact borrowed from the Persian and
Arabic tradition, where it had served as a medium of expression for many centuries. Likewise,
the imagery and linguistic structures of Urdu poetry found much affinity in its literary
predecessor. Hence, Ghalib prided himself on being part of that higher tradition, and regarded
Urdu as a secondary language, even though it is primarily his Urdu works which brought him
fame. Yet there are some verses to suggest otherwise, such as the last couplet of his ghazal
“Ghuncha e Nashagta ko” which asks of the Persian readers to concede the greatness and
richness of Urdu. In the larger frame though, these serve as ‘minority reports’ rather than
reflective of his overall attitude.

Insights into his personal life, his relation with religion and with his family, as well his
way of conducting himself, are also explored by Pritchett. Though he was a Muslim, he was a
Muslim on his own terms, and not of the preacher or the society. As quoted in the text too, he
famously remarked once, “I am half a Muslim. I drink wine but don’t eat pork.” He found much
affinity with the family of the Prophet, but strongly resisted any doctrinal inclinations; his friend
circle was quite diverse and harbored people from all sorts of inclinations and sects. It is perhaps
this reason that Pritchett quotes Hali towards the end of this passage, on the ambivalence of
holding a funeral for Ghalib on either Sunni or Shia terms. It certainly wasn’t the most important
thing on Ghalib’s mind. Regarding family, he was married young to Umrao Begum and
remained with her till his death, maintaining smooth and respectable relation with her throughout
this period, even though there was an evident mismatch of temperament between the spouses. An
important aspect of Ghalib’s life was the aristocratic grandeur to which he felt he belonged. Born
in India at the turn of the century, Ghalib’s life was tailored to witness the clash of the old and
the new ways, the influx of colonial power and the shedding away of the Mughal Empire. While
he never attached himself particularly to particular power brokers in either of the old and new
order, he felt his prestige belonged to that of the traditional order, which required of him to
exhibit a certain attitude towards things around him, even if it came at his expense. A classic
example of this is when he forewent an employment opportunity when the British officer didn’t
come out to greet him, because he felt he owed that gesture of respect and prestige. Yet, he saw
the old order crumble all around him, especially in 1857’s mutiny, and it left a deep mark on
him.

Ghalib’s conduct with those around him is also of a unique accord. One aspect was of
course which was just previously mentioned, the respect and prestige he felt he owed from
people around him. But that is just one tangent of it. Using Hali’s monumental ‘Yadgar e
Ghalib’, Pritchett shows us the humorous and lively side of Ghalib’s personality, such as the
time when he taunted his friend, Hakim Razi Ud Din Khan on not eating mangoes, and likened
him to a donkey in response to an effort by him to show Ghalib as worse than donkeys.
Likewise, the punny side of Ghalib is highlighted by the example of him telling Bahadur Shah
that he didn’t keep one fast in response to a question on whether he was fasting, a classic
example of ironic ambivalence where it is unclear whether he just missed one fast or he didn’t
fast a single time. Moreover, Ghalib served as Ustad, mentor/teacher for many young poets, Hali
among them, and went to length, as evident by his 1852 letter to Tafta where he is asking him to
trust him with editing poetry for him. All of these instances portray the human side of Ghalib,
how he cared for those around him and maintained a light hearted attitude towards life, all the
while harboring a noble persona publically.

Regarding Ghalib and his critics, Pritchett sees him as engaging in his poetry plenty of
times in multivalence and meaning creation. This sets him apart from the vast majority of Urdu
poets, who only use poetry as a medium of transporting the same old ‘typical’ genre of love etc.
Instead, Ghalib engages in not only them but in metaphysical concerns, as well as creating new
imagery and meanings for the canon. His poetry is also heavily infused with use of Persian
words, and hence it sets out from the rest. Critics saw Ghalib as overly complicating his verses,
to the extent that they didn’t even make sense. This is shown by Azad’s example too where two
convoluted verses are joked upon as come from Ghalib, even though they don’t make any sense,
just to show how far in its complication has Ghalib gone, to an extent where it may make sense
only to himself or God. In response to this, Pritchett traces how Ghalib came on to craft much
simpler verses towards the end of his life, leaving his previous accord of uniquely crafting them.
Despite this, he prided himself on those ‘difficult’ verses, claiming that if they aren’t
comprehended by people so be it, his aim wasn’t to please people in the first place. Moreover,
while such critique may seem major, it is worth noticing how Ghalib has a following unique and
unprecedented than any other Urdu poet, with more than a hundred commentaries written on his
work. Even when people can’t give reason for why they love Ghalib, they do so, because of the
intrinsic beauty in Ghalib’s craft. Pritchett also sees the commentators of Ghalib as not being
appreciative of the multivalence in his expression and only contributing one restrictive meaning
to his verses, when many can simultaneously exist.

The last part of the passage, ‘Ghalib and Urdu Ghazal’, includes much information about
the ghazal as a form and its intricacies which aren’t the main focus of this paper and thus won’t
be commented upon. But there are certain ideas presented there regarding Ghalib and his poetics
which should be appreciated. Firstly, Pritchett comments on the uniqueness of Ghalib’s
expression in the sense that one can find therein quite a unique relation between first and second
verse of a couplet. They might be seen as forming a sequence, verse A might have primacy over
verse B, or conversely verse B has primacy over verse A, or maybe both verses represent two
different situations altogether which should be understood separately, and so on. All of this
nudges towards the complexity of Ghalib’s expression and how deducing just one interpretation
out of it is to outright deny the craft and delicacy which the poet has put in. Secondly, there are
also verses where there are no verbs at all, and so the very idea of how to fit the described things
in a narrative is completely left to the reader, and gives the verse a sense of untranslatability and
beauty. All of these serve as important reminders of how carefully crafted and depth infused the
poetry of Ghalib is.

There is much to be seen as common in Russell and Pritchett. Foremost is the image of
Ghalib is subscribing to a curtained esteemed noble lifestyle fit of the traditional Mughal
aristocracy all the while the actual political order crumbled and the city of Delhi destroyed.
Likewise, there is a sense of apathy towards doctrinal or restrictive understanding of spirituality
and religion, where both see Ghalib as a Muslim on his own terms. Thirdly, both see Ghalib as
aware of how people find his verses overly complicated and meaningless, and Ghalib as
someone who couldn’t care less. This image is somewhat shattered in Pritchett though, where
she sees Ghalib as making his poetry more straightforward towards the end of his life, and thus
succumbing to the critique of those around him. Likewise, the idea of Ghazal as a form tailored
for Ghalib and his complex personality is further strengthened in Pritchett, where she sees him as
not only successfully adopting the ghazal tradition and its intricacies, but taking it to even bigger
heights. One key difference in either approaches though is of the egoistic Ghalib painted by
Russell, and the humane and kind Ghalib, preempting his companions to help them, presented by
Pritchett. This difference is significant, since it has the potential to color the image of Ghalib and
subsequently his poetry in certain senses altogether.

Regardless of these one or two differences, the image of Ghalib as a complex, unique and
unparalleled poet is maintained in Pritchett’s work. It is this very uniqueness which makes
Ghalib stand out from every other Urdu poet to date. The importance of Pritchett’s piece cannot
be understated, since it expands our vision of Ghalib from just his critique and complexity to
interesting insights into language politics of his day, his personal life, and most importantly the
way he operated the ghazal, aware of all its intricacies, something which was missing in Russell.
In all, it is perhaps best to stop trying to use a single brush to paint both Ghalib and his poetics,
and embrace him in all his contradictions and complexities.