Waris Shah's HEER - Punjab's Folk Tale . Review on Waris Shah Movie

Of all the folk tales of Punjab, Waris Shah’s Heer is the most widely read, recited (actually, sung), commented upon and quoted love story. People have even done Ph.Ds on it. It is a very long poem, written in the Punjabi baint meter, comprising of 630 odd stanzas of 6 to 12 or more lines each.

Syed Waris Shah wrote it sometime in the 1760s. Rural folks in Punjab routinely gather, as they always did, at the end of a hard day’s work, under a tree or a chappar (thatched canopy) to smoke hukka and discuss and share the daily news, views and common problems.

It is not uncommon at such gatherings for someone to sing a few passages from Heer. Folks listen to it, mesmerized both by the melody and its contents. Older people would often quote a line or two from Waris Shah’s Heer as a piece of wisdom in their conversations. In fact, Heer is quoted by the rural folks more often than any other traditional book of wisdom.

The story of Heer and Ranjha, like all such stories, is partly true and partly fiction. But it continues to have such a powerful hold on the imagination of rural folks that they want to believe it to be true.

The events of the story are supposed to have occurred sometime in the middle of the 15th century. Ranjha (his given name was Deedho. Ranjha was his clan) was born in Takht Hazara, a town in district Sargodha, to a local landlord. He was the youngest of eight sons, and his father’s favorite. While others went about their daily chores Ranjha whiled away his time playing the flute that he loved so much. He grew long hair — longer than men usually wore those days — and was a very handsome young lad.

When their father died, a dispute arose between Ranjha and his brothers over the distribution of land. The brothers had apportioned the best land to themselves and gave Ranjha only the barren land. Ranjha, after a heated argument with his brothers, left home in protest. He headed aimlessly southward along the River Chenab until he reached somewhere near the present day Jhang where the Sayyal tribe ruled.

An incident that stands out during this part of the story, which has been described in great detail by Waris Shah, is when Ranjha stays in a village mosque for the night. In the quiet of the night, tired and distressed that he was, Ranjha starts playing the flute. The village folks, when they hear the poignant notes are attracted to the mosque. The maulvi of the village also turns up, not to listen to the flute, though, but to scold Ranjha for desecrating the mosque. The maulvi denounces Ranjha for playing the flute in the mosque and also for his long-haired looks, and tells him to leave the mosque. Ranjha is not intimidated and replies:

“You and your kind, with your beards, try to pretend to be saints, but your actions are that of the devil. You do evil deeds inside the mosques and then mount the mimbar (rostrum) and quote scriptures to others …”

(In fact, Ranjha is more explicit than what I have been able to paraphrase.)

The back and forth denunciations between the maulvi and Ranjha continue for some time. Interestingly, the village folks don’t seem to share the maulvi’s enthusiasm in denouncing Ranjha. They simply watch the scene as silent spectators. (Fortunately for Ranjha the blasphemy law was not in vogue then.) Anyway, Ranjha spends the night in the mosque and leaves early next morning. After a few days he ends up in Jhang.

The chief of Jhang at the time was one Chuchak Sayyal who had an extraordinarily beautiful and a headstrong daughter named Heer. Waris Shah describes her beauty and physical attributes, literally from head to toe, with the usual poetical exaggeration. Some of the analogies and metaphors he uses may sound a bit unfamiliar and even strange to the present day readers. For example, Waris Shah says:

“Can any poet sufficiently praise Heer’s beauty? Her face shines like the full moon. Her eyes are like the narcissus flower. Her eyebrows are like a Lahori bow (I didn’t know that Lahore was ever known for making bows). The kohl (kajal) in the corner of her eyes suggests as if the armies of Punjab have invaded Hind (India). Her lips are like red rubies. Her chin is like a selected apple from the King’s orchard. Her nose is like the pointed end of the sword of Hussain (!). Her teeth are like the white petals of champa flower and sparkle like pearls. She is tall and straight like a cypress in the garden of Paradise. Her neck is like that of a koonj (a species of cranes). Her hands are smooth and soft like a chinar leaf (similar to maple leaf) and her fingers like lobiay ki phallian (pods of beans, which are longer than most other pods). In short, her features are like a beautifully calligraphed book.”

Heer, when she meets Ranjha, is instantly taken by his wild and romantic looks and the soulful tunes of his flute. She persuades her parents to hire Ranjha as a cowherd for their cattle. Ranjha is hired, and thus kindles a blazing romance between Heer and Ranjha that lasts for several years, and has since been recounted and sung for almost 250 years. The two lovers often meet in the forestland along the river (known as bela in Punjabi) where Ranjha takes the cattle to graze. While the cattles graze Ranjha plays his flute. And Heer listens by his side. The days and months pass in total bliss — and very fast.

Heer’s uncle, Kaido, becomes suspicious and starts spying on her. He gathers sufficient evidence to report to the matter to her parents. The parents admonish Heer on her conduct and warn her of terrible consequences. When Heer is not deterred they call in the village Qazi (a muslim judge who decides disputes between people in the light of Sharia and also solemnizes marriages) to counsel her.

The Qazi tells her mildly that good girls, when they come out of their home, keep their gaze lowered; that they always keep their families’ honor uppermost; that they better spend their time in tiranjans (places where village women gather to spin yarn on spinning wheels and chat). He also reminds her that, being from a higher caste and a renowned family, it is unbecoming of her to mingle with family servants like Ranjha. Heer is not convinced and tells the Qazi:

“You cannot wean away an addict from the drug. It is not possible for me to walk away from Ranjha. If it is our destiny to be together then who, other than God, can change it?” And then she adds rather philosophically: “True love is like a mark that a hot iron burns on to the skin or like a spot on a mango fruit. They never go away.”

Note - This is for sharing purpose only & posted on Subhash Bhai's Order. Source - Net