Although the 18th century witnessed the crippling of the mighty Mughal empire, it was also the wonderful age of poetry and the arts in general. Regional kingdoms gave refuge to poets and artists, which led to the rise of new ways of expression imbued with local colour.
In poetry, rekhta, a mixed idiom developed from an audacious mixing of Farsi (albeit the Indianised version) and the local/regional language. Poetry, especially of the ghazal kind, moved from pure Farsi to rekhta. The poetics of the rekhta ghazal was primarily Persian, although its themes and poetic conceits moved towards the Indic.
When Wali Dakhini’s divaan reached Delhi around 1708, it became popular among the city’s literati because it presented ghazals in simpler, more melodic language that was closer to spoken language than rekhta. We are told that he was advised by Shah Gulshan, a Sufi and ghazal connoisseur, to add more Farsi to his poetic voice.
My point is that, in the absence of a significant critical lens for rekhta, it was considered best to apply the poetics of the classical ghazal to this new poetry. In any case, the standard for judging poetry was what the tazkirah, a kind of biographical compendium of poets with samples of their verse, showcased. Tazkirah writers highlighted the best poets and offered cursory comments on the poetry.
The hallmarks of great poetry in the rekhta were ihaam [duality of meaning], istia’rah [metaphor] and layering of meaning or ma’ni afreeni. The great 18th century poets — Mir Taqi Mir (1723-1810), Mirza Rafi Sauda (1713-81), Shah Hatam (1699-1781), Qalandar Bakhsh Ju’rat (1748-1810), Ghulam Hamadani Musahafi (1748-1824) and Insha Allah Khan Insha (1752-1817) — were masters of metaphor and layered meaning in their poetry.
Depending on where they lived and wrote the bulk of their poetry, they were perceived as belonging to the so-called Delhi or Lucknow schools of poetry, but their poetry, by and large, conformed to the rekhta poetics. These poets had royal or noble patrons, were attached to courts and wrote mostly for an elite, lettered audience.
Nazir Akbarabadi (1735-1830), also a prolific 18th century poet who broke new ground in the nazm [poem with a narrative], was not considered worthy of tazkirah writers’ attention. In fact, some went to the extent of dubbing his poetry as unrefined or even vulgar.
Nazir, the 13th child of his parents, was born in Delhi and named Wali Muhammad. He was the only surviving child of his parents. We don’t know much about his early life in Delhi. His story begins when the family moved to Agra in 1757, after the punishing incursions of Ahmad Shah Abdali, and took up residence in Taj Ganj. He was literate in Persian and Arabic and began tutoring children from wealthy families for his livelihood. He was a teacher, a member of the service class who earned his living, and was not attached to any court or with a patron.
Nazir deployed a variety of forms in his poetry. His favourites were the five-line mukhammas and six-line stanzas known as musaddas. He wrote ghazals that were like nazms (musalsal or continuous verse), in that they followed a theme, mostly about love. He also wrote bold, playful ghazals such as the one titled Izaarband [Trouser Strings]:
Chhota barra na kam na manjhola izaarband
Hai us pari ka sab se amola izaarband
Har ek qadam pe shokh ke zanu ke darmiyan
Khaata hai kis jhalak se jhakola izaarband
[Small, large, not less or middling, trouser-strings;
They are priceless, that beauty’s trouser-strings.
At every step between that saucy one’s knees,
Showing glimpses when swaying, her trouser strings.]
In nazms, Nazir covered an unusual range of subjects, from baby pythons to bear cubs, from weaver birds to pigeons, fruits and vegetables such as watermelons, oranges and cucumbers to serious subjects that can be broadly categorised as musings on life and death. In between, there are poems on festivals, deities and so on.
As much as I want to draw attention to the language of these poems, I also want to ask why Nazir chose to write in this bazaari [street] idiom, eschewing rekhta. What prompted him to write poetry on subjects like izaarband, samdhan [co-mothers-in-law], watermelon, mouse pickle etc? An answer could be: his audience.
After all, poets — especially of genres that are oral and performative — need live, appreciative audiences. But this is only a partial answer to my question that pertains to the bigger issue of “the language for poetry” that is suitable for the canon. Urdu’s complex literary history has been variously interpreted as evolving from “military camp” or “exalted court.” Then there is the vexed issue of “spoken language” sometimes dubbed bol-chaal, other times rozmarrah and, in more recent times, Hindustani. Writing poetry in bol-chaal is bringing a high art to a low register.
Beginning from Quli Qutub Shah to Wali Dakhini, and then Mir Taqi Mir, they are known to have accomplished that. But Mir is accepted as khuda-i-sukhan [god of poetry] while Nazir is considered bazaari or cheap. Urdu’s canon was cautious and biased; colonial standards of Victorian morality restrained it.
Fortunately, Nazir survived the opprobrium of tazkirah writers and the cold shoulder given to him by early modern critics such as Muhammad Husain Azad and Hali. Left-oriented critics marvelled at his bazaar poems, eclectic taste and philosophy of life. He was given a place in the history of Urdu poetry. His poems on the subject of sex are generally avoided in literary discussions of his oeuvre. I have yet to find a kulliyaat [complete collection] of his poetry where phrases, sometimes entire lines, are not crossed out for what I presume are reasons of morality.
Nazir’s poetry proves that Urdu was not simply the language of the military or the exalted court but rather enjoyed much more heterogeneous origins and sensibilities.
The columnist is Professor in the Department of Middle Eastern and South Asian Languages and Cultures at the University of Virginia in the US. X: @FarooqiMehr
Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, August 30th, 2026
