On sher, shayari and poetry!

India has a rich poetic tradition. Each regional language is littered with poetic works. Of particular interest is the “sher” and “shayari” tradition in Hindi and Urdu. Bollywood cinema brought home the niceties of this genre through its landmark films.

In college, some had a natural gift of the gab. They were a never-ending storehouse of “sher” couplets. For every occasion, they had an apt quote that held the audience in a swoon. Commencing with the trademark “Doston! arz kiya hai”, they reeled out verse after verse. The meaning was beyond us.  It was the finesse that bowled us over. 

Appreciation for “sher” and “shayari” follows a pattern. The moment the poet enunciates the first line, the audience breaks into a spontaneous “wah-wah”! He repeats the line verbatim to encash more applause. Only when a fresh round of “kya baat hai!” goes around, does he progress to the next line.

You wondered if the audience was hypnotized to respond favorably or whether it was born out of understanding. That was always a grey area. In any event, you were better off giving the benefit of doubt to the poet. It’s like a joke you didn’t follow. You still joined the laughter chorus so as not to stick out like a sore thumb!

More than the words, it was the style of rendition that mesmerized the audience. Given the captivating voice of the speaker, he could infuse poetry into even inane words. Give him any simple sentence and he could turn it into poetry. Even an innocuous- “I ate idli and sambar for breakfast!” would sound poetic in his deep baritone.

The repetition created the aura. He would likely say, “I ate” and pause for effect, followed by “idli and sambar for breakfast”. Next, a change of the subject and the predicate. “For breakfast”, followed by silence and then the words, “I ate idli and sambar”. And finally, one more juggle of the same words. “Sambar and idli”, he would announce with elan, followed by the trailing words “ate I for breakfast!” The audience surrendered to him- like pliable clay, in the hands of an expert potter.

The poets of yesteryears had possibly too much free time on their hands.  They did not have to worry about paying the electricity bill or debug badly written software.  Or run from pillar to post because the internet connectivity went down!

They could wake up late in the morning, laze around, quaff some spirit, tuck “paan” to the side of the mouth and compose reams and reams of sublime poetry!