This peom is written by Ajmal Khattak and not ghani khan.

regards

Thank u sir for the correction. Actually i got it from a booklet in which it was published with the same title. i myself was not sure about it...Thanks once again

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We can live without religion and meditation, but we cannot survive without human affection.....

I think Mr. Nationalist might have attributed it correctly to Ghani Khan. Sardar Ali Takar has sung this one and from what I can remember the Album consisted of All Ghani Khan poetry. plus the style is that of Ghani Khan, as he has written a lot of other things about the concept of Heaven and Hell. I have never came across something written by Ajmal Khattak in that way. although i must say that my knowledge of Pashto literature is limited. still ,as far as i know, this one belongs to Ghani Khan.

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Mahmood Khattak
Pakistan Customs Service
36th CTP

A Pashto Poem - by Ajmal Khattak


Ajmal Khattak's poem is more relevant in today's Pakistan than, perhaps, it was when it was written, many years ago. It is titled Jannat, or Paradise. Here is the poem, as I (Aziz Akhmad) translated and paraphrased it, of course with helpful inputs from my teacher:


I asked a mullah, what do you think is Paradise like?

He ran his fingers through his beard and said

"Fresh fruits and rivers of milk"

A talib (student) was sitting nearby

I asked him, what do you say?

He put aside the book of Zulekha he was reading, and said

"Beautiful women with (tattooed) green dots on their cheeks"

A shaikh stood nearby, rolling his tasbeeh (rosary)

He stroked his beard and said (questioning the talib):

"No, it's not like that!"

"Paradise is beautiful servant boys and heavenly music."

A khan raised his head from a lengthy sajda (prostration in prayer)

What is your opinion, Khan Sahib? I asked

He adjusted his turban and said

"The luxuriously furnished and perfumed mansions"

Nearby, a labourer stood in his tattered clothes

I asked him, do you know what Paradise is?

He wiped the sweat from his brow and said

"It's a full stomach and deep slumber"

A man, in dishevelled hair, passed by, lost in his thoughts

I asked, what do you say, philosopher?

Smoothing his hair, he said:

"It's nothing but dreams conjured up to please man"

(Confused) I looked down into my heart and then looked up into the blue sky; and heard a murmur in reply: "Paradise is your home where you are the master, and at liberty; and if you cannot attain the freedom, then sacrifice on the path to freedom, as an ideal, is Paradise. Be it hellfire or the gallows"