[19] Madhushala

I stumbled upon this masterpiece a few days ago again. I had read it in my undergrad. But sometimes when I read something again after a gap, it appears totally different and new. Similar thing happened with this poem.

Madhushala was written by Harivansh Rai Bachan in 1935. Madhushala litrally means tavern or bar and this poem consists of 135 versus describing daaru in all its beauty. The analogies and metaphors he uses in his descriptions paints such a vivid picture, one cant help but be in awe. He links up madhushala to array of topics- love, unity, death, purpose in life, worship,heaven to name a few. I love Bachan's writing style in this poem. He builds ip the plot and tension in the first three lines of the verse with clever use of words and rhyme and releases it dramatically in the last line leaving the reader with goosebumps. On the superficial level, Madhushala can be mistaken to be celebration of liqour, extolling the virtues of drinking. But, to a discerning person it is the celebration of life, joy in the purest form; a life devoid of orthoxies, make-believe and dogma.

The superficial research I conducted on it says that it was written when his wife was on her deathbed with TB. Makes me wonder, how suffering drives some people to build layers over their core and some people go deeper into the depths of their souls and come up with their magnum opus. But I am drifting.

This is good read for anybody who has remote interest in poetry and arts. Though I believe that Bigger B is considered by many as a one hit wonder,  in his defense if they are going to compare all his works with a classic as this he has a huge standard to live up to so give him a break.

Its difficult to decide my favourite verse, but if I have to choose one it would be this one.

bane pujaari premi saaqi, gangaajal pawan haalaa
rahe pherata avirat gati se, madhu ke pyaalon ki maalaa
aur liye jaa, aur piye jaa, isi mantra ka jaap kare
maen Shiv ki pratimaa ban baethun, mandir ho yeh MADHUSHAALAA.

Angreji translation:
He  imagines the beloved bartender as the priest, and the drink as holy as gangajal,
And counts rapidly on the rosary of his pegs,
His only mantra is "Take more. Drink more."

[In his imagination] he becomes the image of Shiva and his temple, Madhushaalaa.