An Old Man and His Poetry

Songs ignite fire in the hearts of people

To those with literary interests, Shiv Nath is a famed Punjabi poet. Thousands of people sing his songs. Various literary societies have honored him. Last year, he received the Shiromani Punjabi Kavi Award, the highest title the state of Punjab, in India, confers on a poet.

To those who do not know that Shiv Nath is a famed poet, he is just another old man struggling to eke out a living.

Shiv Nath, 70, runs a local magazine "circulating library" in Chandigarh and Mohali, a job that requires him to cycle 30 to 40 kilometers every day. As he travels, if a verse strikes his mind, he stops cycling, finds a comfortable place to pen his poem, then continues on his way. Shiv Nath has written hundreds of poems while sitting under trees or on footpaths at the side of the road.

Revealing his tale, Shiv Nath looks at the floor through the thick lenses of his old-fashioned glasses.

"I was born in Sialkot [Pakistan]. We were well off but the partition of India and Pakistan in 1947 ruined everything. Like millions of others, we too had to migrate to India. As soon as we reached here, my father expired," Shiv Nath said.

"Initially, for two to three years, I sold groundnuts. Then for thirty years, I worked as a tailor. And now, for the last twenty-six years, I am running this magazine circulatory library," he added, after a brief pause.

As soon as I had entered his one room house, I found his two little granddaughters making paper bags out of old magazines.

Looking at them, he said, "From child to old man every one has to work to fill their bellies."

Until recently, Shiv Nath was staying in a single room flat with six other members of his family. For lack of space, he and his wife had to sleep in the kitchen. But a few months back, the celebrated Punjabi writer Santokh Singh Dhir provided him with a small room on the roof of his house.

"One can write poetry while sitting on footpaths under the trees, but not prose," Shiv Nath said, looking around the new room. "Now I have a room where I can sit and write."

The most interesting aspect of the life of this poet is that he has never attended school. It was his urge to express his inner feelings that motivated him to learn to write in his mid thirties. And it was the company of Sujan Singh, a Punjabi writer about whom he has written a book, that set him on a literary path. Now Shiv Nath has nine books to his credit, which earned him the title of Shiromani Punjabi Kavi.

But even today, to the affluent people he visits to circulate magazines he is merely an old man with little to do to earn a living, like millions of other Indians. So, he circulates magazines.

The "elites" in the bungalows may not recognize his literary genius, but his songs echo in the minds and hearts of the struggling masses of Punjab.
Tarana hor gao dosto
Ke Ranj mar jaye …
Tarana hor gao dosto
Ke julam Ghabrae …

Sing another song my friends,
So that bitterness may die,
Sing another song my friends,
So that oppression may shy …
(Translation: Sourabh Gupta)


This song was written as a tribute to the African rebel poet Benjamin Molisi who was hanged by the imperial government of South Africa in 1985.

On a specific query about whether he sought financial aid from the government, Siv Nath said humbly, "My poetry is against the establishment. How can I expect [assistance] from them?"