Haneray Vich Sulgadi Varnmala - Surjit Patar

Surjit Patar, a luminary of Punjabi literature, published Haneray Vich Sulgadi Varnmala (Words Smouldering in the Dark) in 1992, a poetry collection that earned the 1993 Sahitya Akademi Award. Drawing from his rural Punjab roots and engagement with the region’s turbulent history, Patar crafts a work that blends personal reflection with social critique. This review argues that Haneray Vich Sulgadi Varnmala is a profound meditation on loss, identity, and resilience, distinguished by its lyrical brilliance. Its ability to transform pain into poetry makes it a timeless work, offering readers a path through darkness with courage and hope. Haneray Vich Sulgadi Varnmala is a collection of Punjabi poems reflecting the turmoil of Punjab’s 1980s and early 1990s, a period of political violence and social division. Through lyrical vignettes, Patar explores

themes of love, grief, cultural erosion, and resistance. The title, translating to “Words Smouldering in the Dark,” portrays language as a flickering flame illuminating a shadowed world. The poems mourn Punjab’s scars while celebrating the power of words to heal and resist, balancing personal introspection with universal resonance.

Key quotes, in bold, showcase the collection’s thematic richness:

1. “Kujh keha taan hanera jarega kiven, chup reha taan shamadan ki kehange” (If I speak, how will the darkness respond; if I stay silent, what will the lanterns say?)—capturing the poet’s struggle to find a voice (Patar, 1992, p. 34).

2. “Hanere vich sulagdi varnmala, lafzaan di rooh nu aag lagdi” (The alphabet smoulders in the dark, awakening in the light of words)—depicting language as a force of defiance (Patar, 1992, p. 12).

3. “Asi apne hi hathaan naal, apniyan kahaniyan nu maarya” (With our own hands, we have slain our own stories)—critiquing cultural erosion (Patar, 1992, p. 45).

4. “Jithe hanera hai, uthe umeed di kiran vi hai” (Where there is darkness, there lies the hope of light)—affirming resilience (Patar, 1992, p. 67).

5. “Asi hun mud nahi sakde, mud gye taan itihas piche” (We cannot return now, if we do, history retreats)—a call for resistance (Patar, 1992, p. 56).

6. “Geet di maut is raat je ho gayi, mera jeena mere yaar kinjh sehange” (If the song dies tonight, how will my friends endure my existence?)—highlighting poetry’s vital role (Patar, 1992, p. 78).

7. “Lafz ne mere haath vich talwaar ban ke, hanere naal ladde” (Words become a sword in my hand, fighting the darkness)—portraying language as a weapon (Patar, 1992, p. 23).

8. “Dil di zameen te, khwaaban di fasal ugdi” (On the land of the heart, the crop of dreams grows)—celebrating hope (Patar, 1992, p. 89).

9. “Saanu apni zubaan di rooh sambhalni paini” (We must preserve the soul of our language)—urging cultural preservation (Patar, 1992, p. 41).

10. “Raat di chadar vich, supne vi sulag de ne” (In the blanket of night, even dreams smoulder)—evoking persistent hope (Patar, 1992, p. 62).

11. “Jadon tak saah hai, geet vi zinda hai” (As long as there is breath, the song remains alive)—affirming poetry’s endurance (Patar, 1992, p. 95).

12. “Hanera mere naal gal karda, par main lafzaan naal jawab dinda” (The darkness speaks to me, but I respond with words)—emphasizing defiance (Patar, 1992, p. 30).

13. “Suraj di kiran vich, geet di rooh jagdi” (In the ray of the sun, the soul of the song awakens)—highlighting poetry’s uplifting power (Patar, 1992, p. 72).

Patar’s mastery of Punjabi blends traditional forms like the ghazal with a modern voice. His metaphors, such as “The alphabet smoulders in the dark, awakening in the light of words,” make language a living entity, lending urgency to the poems. His social commentary is incisive yet subtle—“With our own hands, we have slain our own stories” critiques cultural loss, while “We cannot return now, if we do, history retreats” inspired the 2020 farmers’ protests (Patar, 1992, p. 56). The uplifting “In the ray of the sun, the soul of the song awakens” balances despair with hope, broadening the collection’s emotional range. Patar’s voice, rooted in Punjab yet globally resonant, creates a work that feels both intimate and expansive.
The collection’s reliance on Punjab’s 1980s context may challenge non-Punjabi readers. For example, “If I speak, how will the darkness respond; if I stay silent, what will the lanterns say?” draws on the region’s socio-political climate, potentially losing impact without background knowledge. Brief contextual notes in the summary help address this. Some introspective poems linger, diluting the sharpness of social critiques like “Words become a sword in my hand, fighting the darkness.” The darkness motif, seen in “In the blanket of night, even dreams smoulder,” risks overuse, though “In the ray of the sun, the soul of the song awakens” mitigates this by emphasizing light.

These limitations are minor compared to the collection’s lyrical genius and cultural insight. Contextual notes enhance accessibility, and the added uplifting quote balances tone, making Haneray Vich Sulgadi Varnmala a profound achievement.

Haneray Vich Sulgadi Varnmala captures Punjab’s soul while addressing universal experiences. Patar’s poetry, with lines like “In the ray of the sun, the soul of the song awakens” and “Where there is darkness, there lies the hope of light,” transforms pain into hope. Despite minor accessibility and pacing issues, its exquisite language and relevance make it essential. For Indian youth, “With our own hands, we have slain our own stories” urges cultural preservation, making this a must-read for poetry lovers and those navigating identity.