Sahir Ludhianvi is the poet of every age (part 1)

It has been 37 years since Sahir Ludhianvi passed away. The magician was a poet who understood the heartbeat of the common man. He wrote on the unfavorable conditions of his time, the established nations, their problems, hunger, poverty, disease and raised a strong voice against social injustices, although his romantic poetry also flourished. And he wrote beautiful songs for Indian films. 

There is no need to look for words for a person like a magician. A magician is a poet who is absorbed in the soul. A magician is a poet of emotions The magician is the poet of the bridge, the magician is the poet of the red flags, the magician is the poet of every moment, the magician is the poet of the poets, the magician is the poet of every age.

Today I am where someone else was yesterday

This is also an era that was also an era

The magician was also a human being who stole himself from himself The instrument, the pain, is what comes to mind

Everyone has heard the melody that came out of the wire

Who knows what heart has gone through the instrument

The charm, the simplicity, the smoothness and the message in the poetry of the sorcerer is so easy to understand, so much fun and effect is left in reading that in spite of reading it again and again, he wants to read it again and again. The poem "Shadows" is a part of the movement that is currently taking place all over the world for the protection of peace and civilization. The expression of hatred is considered as one of the simplest and most influential poems for the common man. gone .

"That morning will come sometime." That morning will come from us,

When the earth will sing songs, when the amber will dance, I will take the strength from you and show you the way, like the magician who wrote hundreds of poems and became a revolutionary within the workers, laborers and revolutionaries and is still running in their veins. The creation of a masterpiece like the Taj Mahal, the companion of the red flag, the poet of progressive youth, where the description of this building of the blood and sweat of the workers has become the heartbeat of ordinary people and workers.

The life of the sorcerer and his creativity has always been on the rise. He kept blowing every thought in the smoke, kept celebrating the ruin, abandoned love, took the collar, Hussain kept on dreaming lost in dreams but could not become anyone's dream. The sorcerer's love collided with his own beauty, met the waves of the beach, and kept seeing his own lost colorful view, seeing the regrets within himself, casting his own shadow on his own heart, his own cup with his own eyes. 

He drank by himself and wandered like a lover in the colorful streets of heaven. The battery kept burning, burning the heart, becoming a pile of ashes and still burning. No flame, no spark. In the same way, in the uncertain situation, Sahir Ludhianvi lived a certain life, and in the uncertainty, he continued to blow away the unpleasantness of life and keep up with life, in the same way, he punished himself all his life.

2. He kept playing the songs of life with the strings of the heart

Neither the strings nor the instrument were known. The valleys also left with the footsteps, then the paths joined together, the beautiful night also fell, the blue sky also fell asleep, the atmosphere was mournful and the winds were silent, even the shadow of black clouds did not forgive the sorcerer, the eyelids kept getting wet in the canopy of eyelids, Like sleepless eyes and conscious eyes are always on the lookout and the youth spent their whole lives sleeping in the colorful shelters of beauty. ” 

I know that there is no one else who has been crying out for help, "I have no eyes, I have no heart, I have no grief, I have no grief, I have no grief, I have no grief, I have no grief." Do, endure your sorrows, in the world of anxiety in which the magician remained. So that's it, just keep on going crazy, from "Chaklale" to "Sabh Ki Naveedat", from "Nehru" to "Gandhi", from "Ghalib" to "Lolumba", from "Lenin" to "Soviet Union". From "From" to "Pritam" and from that morning on "Escape" from the day of escape to "Taj Mahal" and "Madame" kept dreaming. 

He kept wandering in the chaklas and looking for the sanctum sanctorum of the East. The sorcerer did not find a destination, nor a bazaar, nor the moon nor the stars, but his voices kept colliding with the stars.