Charagh Din (Ustad Daman) was born on 4 September 1911 inside Lohari Gate, Lahore, Punjab. His parents were Miraan Bakhsh and Kareem Bibi. His parents later moved to Baghbanpura, Lahore, where Kareem Bibis sister lived. He also had an older brother (Firoz Din) and an older sister. He had to leave school in Grade 4, since his father needed his help at his shop. His father worked in the railways and part-time as a tailor. Charagh Din continued his education off and on. He passed his Matric (Grade 10) exam from Dev Samaj High School. He applied for a clerks job at the Lahore Municipal Committee. His mother spent considerable money to buy him a new suit (of half a Rupee), a huge pagri, and shoes of high heels (he was of short height), so that he could be selected. He did not get the job and to his last days he would cry while talking about it.
After his brother's death, he had to work as a tailor. He also did a diploma in cutting and sewing from a Tailoring Company. One of his friends once said that he would often mix up the measurements. He would like to sing his poetry while sewing clothes. In early 1930's Mian Iftikharuddin (a leader of the Congress who later switched to the Muslim League) heard his poetry as he was there to get his suit stitched. He was impressed and requested him to sing his poem in a political meeting in Mochi Gate. Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru (the future PM of India), also at the stage, was greatly impressed and gave him the title of the Poet of Independence. He had a heavy built, so people called him Zamzama (Kims gun of Rudyard Kipling, placed in Lahore), which later became Damdama. He for some time used the takhallus Damdam, after his mentor Ustad Hamdam, then chose Daman as takhallus. Later he was called Ustad Daman.
He was a darvesh poet in every sense. His dwelling was always very ordinary, but he always kept a library. Around 1947 he lost his wife. He never married again. People burnt his library and shop after 1947 for his pro-Congress sympathies. He was very disheartened. Along with precious books, the manuscript of Heer Ranjha, which he was writing was also lost. For some time he lived in the verandah of the Badshahi Mosque, Lahore. In 1950 he moved to a hujra (a small room) where it is believed that Shah Hussain (the famous Punjabi poet) had lived. He paid a rent of Rs. 32/month to the Auqaf Department for the room, which was more of a kothri (cellar). On 29 November 1954, he was devastated by the death of his mentor, Ustad Hamdam, who died in his hands, as he was moving him from the hospital at his request to his hujra in a tanga. He would always dress in his kurta and dhoti, with a chaddar on his shoulder and a parna on his head. He would keep his head shaved.
Ustad Daman was publically last seen at the funeral of Faiz Ahmad Faiz (d:20 November 1984). He very seriously ill but had managed to reach Model Town in a rickshaw. His friends were shocked to see him, as he had turned into a skeleton. Faiz had called him Habib Jalib of Punjabi poetry. He followed Faiz 13 days later, as he died on 3 December 1984. He had donated his books to the Dyal Singh College Library (where he was once enrolled), but it declined, saying that the library did not have enough space.
To his last day he remained unconquered, unlike most of the ordinary folks, and never begged for any favor. He reminds me of Diogenes. As Ahmad Nadeem Qasmi had once said:
میں نے افلاس کے ہاتھوں نہیں کھائی ہے شکست:اور اس ملک کے فنکار سے کیا مانگتے ہو
I have not been defeated by the hands of poverty:what else do you ask from the artist of this country?
He was a peoples poet and remained a fierce critic of the dictators (both civilian and military) till his end. My (this Tamashai's) father (though an army officer but a poet) once took us to Rohi Mela in which Ustad Daman was a guest when I was about 7 years old. I still remember some of his lines:
مری دیاں چوٹیاں تے گرمیاں لنگھائی جائو:لوکاں نوں کشمیر ولے سڑکو سڑکی لائی جائو::چاچا دئے بھتیجے نوں تے بھتیجا دئے چاچے نوں:آپناں ای مال نے تے آپاچ ائی ورتائی جائو
keep on spending the summers on the heights of Murree:keep on showing the path of Kashmir to the people::uncle gives to the nephew, and nephew gives to the uncle:it is your own wealth, keep distributing among yourselves
The poem uploaded here was read by him in an Indo-Pak Punjabi mushaira (presided by Nehru) at Red Fort, Delhi in 1950's. He brought the audience to tears. Nehru urged him to move to India, but he said that he would prefer to live in Lahore, even if it was in a jail.
(information and recitation by ---Khamosh Tamashai )
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Ustad Daman - Punjabi Poetry, Ghund Mukhrey Ton Lah O Yarby farrukhhummayoun6,029 views
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