Amardeep Singh

Postcolonial/Global literature and film, Modernism, African American literature, and the
Digital Humanities.

How to Gender a Hawk ("Shikkra"): a look at a Shiv Kumar

Batalvi poem
I came across a link to the Punjabi poet Shiv Kumar Batalvi on YouTube earlier today, in the
course of doing some research for an encyclopedia entry I'm working on. It's Shiv Kumar
himself, probably sometime in the early 1970s. Shiv Kumar in person is every bit as magnetic
and mannered as you might expect.

After I shared the link on Twitter, Sepoy of Chapati Mystery sent me a link to a Shiv Kumar
poem he liked, which then led me to yet another Shiv Kumar poem here, as sung by Jagjit
Singh:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5-I2UiLbczQ

Here it is in transliterated Punjabi (forgive any errors; I'm doing this partly by ear):

Maye ni Main ik shikkra yaar banaya

Ohde sir te kalgi
Te perin jhanjar
Oh chogg chuginda aayea
Ik oh de roop di dhoop thikeree
Oh duja mekhan tirhaya
Teeja oh da rang gulabi
oh kise gori maa da jaaya
 Ishq da ik palang navare
be aisa chandni vichdaya
dhan di chatt ho gai maili
us pair chappal ke paaya

Dukhan mere Naina De Koye,

Te vich Harh Hanjua Da Aya,
Sari Raat Gayi vich Socha,
Us Aye Ki zulm Kamaya,
Subha Savere Layni Vatna,
We Asa Mal Mal os Navaya,
Dehi De vich Niklan Chinga,
Ni Sada Haath Gaya Kumlaya,
Churi Kuta Ta O Khanda Nahi,
Weh Asa Dil Da Maas Khawaya,
Ek Udari Aisi Mari, -2
O Mud Vatni Na Aya,
O Maye Nee, Main Ek Shikra Yaar Banaya

And here is how one person translated the poem in English:

Mother! Mother!
I befriended a hawk.
A plume on his head
Bells on his feet,
He came pecking for grain.
I was enamored!

His beauty
Was sharp as sunlight.
He was thirsty for perfumes.
His color was the color of a rose,
The son of a fair mother.
I was enamored!

His eyes,
Were an evening in springtime.
His hair, a dark cloud.
His lips,
A rising autumn dawn.
I was enamored!

His breath
Was filled with flowers,
Like a sandalwood garden.
Spring danced thru his body
So bathed was it in fragrances.
I was enamored!.

In his words
Blew the eastern breeze,
Like the sound of a blackbird.
His smile was the whiteness of a crane in the rice fields,
Taking flight at the clap of a hand.
I was enamored!.

I laid
A bed of love
In the moonlight.
My body-sheet was stained
The instant he laid his foot on my bed.
I was enamored!

The corners of my eyes,

Hurt.
A flood of tears engulfed me.
All night long I tried to fathom
How he did this to me.
I was enamored!

Early in the morning

I scrubbed and bathed my body
With vaTana.
But embers kept bursting out,
And my hands flagged.
I was enamored!

I crushed choori,
He would not eat it.
So I fed him the flesh of my heart.
He took flight, such a flight did he take,
That he never returned.
I was enamored!

Mother! Mother!
I befriended a hawk.
A plume on his head
Bells on his feet,
He came pecking for grain.
I was enamored!
What struck me at first, reading that, was the surprise at what seemed to be a celebration of
male beauty. His beauty, his eyes, his body... um, is there something about Shiv Kumar we
should know?

Another interesting thought from my wife, who noticed that "Jhanjar" would be the anklets
that might be worn by a woman, while a "kalgi" would generally be an adornment for a man
(as in, ornamentation on a turban). The fact that these two images are juxtaposed does seem
to support the idea of a kind of ambiguously gendered love-object.

Actually, the gendering of the word "hawk" ("shikkra") is male in Punjabi, but it's probably a
mistake to read too much into that accident. The literary critic Manjit Singh, in "Glimpses of
Punjabi Poetry," suggests that the inspiration for the poem (one of Shiv Kumar's earlier works)
was a woman who betrayed him:

Another source of inspiration for his poetry was Anushia, who came in his life and
promised him life-long companionship. Now Shiv felt somewhat comforted but
when she left for abroad without any intimation, he could not bear the loss a
second time and sent messages to her to return but she did not come. Shiv likened
here to the bird 'Shikkra'... (Manjit Singh, "Glimpses of Modern Punjabi Literature",
1994)

Ok, so maybe this poem isn't what the English translation might make it seem like it is. It's still
interesting to me that he chose a metaphor that is so strongly masculine for this poem of
longing, loss, and betrayal.

Incidentally, if anyone reading this wants to correct either the transliteration or the
translation (which is not my own), I'd be grateful.

Amardeep Singh at August 05, 2010

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