On a cold December night, one of the best loved Urdu poets spent a night, in a drunken stupor, on the terrace of a ramshackle working-class sharab khana, that he had named the Lorry’s Top (Laari ki Chhat) in Lucknow’s Lal Bagh. He died, aged 44, as a result of the chill he caught from lying in the open. He left behind a slender corpus but one that has earned him a place among the immortals of Urdu poetry. Like good poetry the world over, some of Majaz’s poems transcend their time and place and can be read again and again by newer audiences. Awara (Vagabond) is one of them. Written towards the end of the active phase of his life, in 1937, just before the demons of drink and despair pulled him down, it has all the brilliance of a lamp that will shortly be snuffed out:
Shehr ki raat aur main nashaad aur nakara phiroon
Jagmgaati jaagti sadkon pe awara phiroon
Ghair ki basti hai kab tak dar-ba-dar mara phiroon
Ai gham-e-dil kya karoon, ai wahshat-e- dil kya karoon

