Getting Through a Pandemic with Faiz

 I never thought I would find Faiz's Subh-e-Azadi relatable in my life, but I find myself thinking of its verses as we reach month eight of the pandemic (at least in America).

It's nearly month eight, and there's no end in sight. In fact, it's arguably worse than ever. Eight months, and not even the smartest or most powerful of us have managed to control a controllable virus. I myself am horrified at how I've come to live with it in some kind of placid acceptance--yes, I will wear a mask when I go out. No, it's not wise to eat in a restaurant, get on a plane, hug a friend, meet strangers, go to the office, go to the gym, go to the movies--at least not without some risk associated with it. I feel like my body, not my mind, has silently accepted that necessary precautions are no longer a temporary part of life--but here for at least a year coming. As I start to slowly resume certain parts of my normal life (coffee on Saturday, gatherings with friends), it's really not the kind of return to life that I wanted it to be.

یہ داغ داغ اجالا یہ شب گزیدہ سحر 

وہ انتظار تھا جس کا یہ وہ سحر تو نہیں 

یہ وہ سحر تو نہیں جس کی آرزو لے کر 

چلے تھے یار کہ مل جائے گی کہیں نہ کہیں 

فلک کے دشت میں تاروں کی آخری منزل 

کہیں تو ہوگا شب سست موج کا ساحل 

کہیں تو جا کے رکے گا سفینۂ غم دل 

...

ابھی چراغ سر رہ کو کچھ خبر ہی نہیں 

ابھی گرانیٔ شب میں کمی نہیں آئی 

نجات دیدہ و دل کی گھڑی نہیں آئی 

چلے چلو کہ وہ منزل ابھی نہیں آئی 

This murky dappled glow and smoky dawn

‘Tis not the same daybreak, we did wait

‘Tis not the desired crack, we travelled anon

To seek last goal of stars in sky’s deserted lawn

Somewhere the night of slow rippled pace

Would find the harbor soon or late

The liner of cloyed heart in search of solace

Somewhere would stay a suitable existing place 

...

Tis not the occasion to spare baffled heart and
Fretful eyes from anxiety’s blazing grate
Go on with eager spirits by holding hand in hand
‘Tis not the goal but very near is the specific land