presents

India's First Student-led Online Festival

12-13-14 June 2020
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About Intesaab

Intesaab 2020, organised by the Ishan Foundation Trust, Jaipur x Mumbai, marks a new beginning where art and artists find their way to express their inhibitions. Scheduled on the 12th, 13th, and 14th of June 2020, it is India’s first virtual festival, where these three days are an amalgamation of panel discussions, talks, events, and workshops, where Intesaab shall diverge into an iconic platform for art across the nation to be rediscovered and cherished.

 

 

With the grasping clutches of the COVID 19 pandemic, we also believe in making a change in society that sustains us. Hence all proceeds from the festival shall be donated to NGOS which provide relief to the victims of the COVID-19 crisis. Thus, Intesaab 2020 is a cradle for new avenues to emanate, reorient, and unravel incredible directions that will divulge our past, mold our present, and inspire our future.

Intesaab that is derived from the ancient Urdu word, meaning dedication upholds the theme of ‘Aaj ke Naam.’ At Intesaab 2020, intend to throw light on the conditions of the most noticeably awful hit networks of our human race and introspect about the situation at hand and help us to set the ball moving for the far reaching exchange.

About the Theme

Written in Hindustani, Faiz's work is a pure insinuation at the  condition of  the masses, a situation  where hardships are official and purposely caused on to the most tyrannized  sections of the society. 'Intesaab' holds an amazingly extraordinary spot for those who are aware of the artist's assemblage; its powerful story causes one to notice the contention among people and the individuals who are denied mankind. Its verses call for guaranteed activity, practically like an eerie reverberation in the valley of individual uprisings. A bit of writing like no other, Intesaab dully celebrates today with its present sorrow and agony.

 

 

These are crucial times for us all, the world is in a crisis of  social, cultural or economical boundaries and we are  combating a pandemic that also surrounds our mindsets. 

Kyuki, "Dil na- Umeed toh nahin, nakam hi toh hai, Lambi hai shaam magar shaam hi toh hai."

 

With migrants bearing the distance from their home, sleeping under the watch of garish city lights and as the poor rest hungry by the jumping shadows of palatial homes, as ladies endure the worst part of a painfully long lockdown, as medicinal services experts are deliberately let somewhere around the individuals as they had vowed to deal with them, we raise a toast, a toast to them, to us, to the distress.

Likewise, with the theme of 'Aaj ke Naam',  we, at Intesaab 2020, intend to throw light on the conditions of the most noticeably awful hit networks of our human race and introspect  about the situation at hand and help us to set the ball moving for the  far reaching exchange. By acquainting you with our accomplice NGOs, we are bringing you one bit nearer to helping the casualties of what is perhaps the most characterizing time of our lifetimes. 

 

We are putting our best foot forward from our end towards a sun that shines on all of us and brings us normality. Intesaab is way beyond just an expression of help, it's an expression of talent, of harmony and mostly of the evolution of our human race.

Here's to today and the present sorrow.

And a hopeful future. 

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Mumbai, Maharashtra, India

'Intesaab'

by Faiz Ahmed Faiz

आज के नाम

और

आज के ग़म के नाम

आज का ग़म कि है ज़िंदगी के भरे गुलसिताँ से ख़फ़ा

ज़र्द पत्तों का बन

ज़र्द पत्तों का बन जो मिरा देस है

दर्द की अंजुमन जो मिरा देस है

क्लरकों की अफ़्सुर्दा जानों के नाम

किर्म-ख़ुर्दा दिलों और ज़बानों के नाम

पोस्ट-मैनों के नाम

ताँगे वालों का नाम

रेल-बानों के नाम

कार-ख़ानों के भूके जियालों के नाम

बादशाह-ए-जहाँ वाली-ए-मा-सिवा, नाएब-उल-अल्लाह फ़िल-अर्ज़

दहक़ाँ के नाम

जिस के ढोरों को ज़ालिम हँका ले गए

जिस की बेटी को डाकू उठा ले गए

हाथ भर खेत से एक अंगुश्त पटवार ने काट ली है

दूसरी मालिये के बहाने से सरकार ने काट ली है

जिस की पग ज़ोर वालों के पाँव-तले

धज्जियाँ हो गई है

उन दुखी माओं के नाम

रात में जिन के बच्चे बिलकते हैं और

नींद की मार खाए हुए बाज़ुओं में सँभलते नहीं

दुख बताते नहीं

मिन्नतों ज़ारियों से बहलते नहीं

उन हसीनाओं के नाम

जिन की आँखों के गुल

चिलमनों और दरीचों की बेलों पे बे-कार खिल खिल के

मुरझा गए हैं

उन बियाहताओं के नाम

जिन के बदन

बे मोहब्बत रिया-कार सेजों पे सज सज के उक्ता गए हैं

बेवाओं के नाम

कटड़ियों और गलियों मोहल्लों के नाम

जिन की नापाक ख़ाशाक से चाँद रातों

को आ आ के करता है अक्सर वज़ू

जिन के सायों में करती है आह-ओ-बुका

आँचलों की हिना

चूड़ियों की खनक

काकुलों की महक

आरज़ू-मंद सीनों की अपने पसीने में जुल्ने की बू

पढ़ने वालों के नाम

वो जो असहाब-ए-तब्ल-ओ-अलम

के दरों पर किताब और क़लम

का तक़ाज़ा लिए हाथ फैलाए

वो मासूम जो भोले-पन में

वहाँ अपने नन्हे चराग़ों में लौ की लगन

ले के पहुँचे जहाँ

बट रहे थे घटा-टोप बे-अंत रातों के साए

उन असीरों के नाम

जिन के सीनों में फ़र्दा के शब-ताब गौहर

जेल-ख़ानों की शोरीदा रातों की सरसर में

जल जल के अंजुम-नुमा होगए हैं

आने वाले दिनों के सफ़ीरों के नाम

वो जो ख़ुश्बू-ए-गुल की तरह

अपने पैग़ाम पर ख़ुद फ़िदा होगए हैं

In the name of this day
And
In the name of this day’s sorrow:
Sorrow that stands, disdaining the blossoming garden of Life,
Like a forest of dying leaves
A forest of dying leaves that is my country
An assembly of pain that is my country
In the name of the sad lives of clerks,
In the name of the worm-eaten hearts and the worm-eaten tongues
In the name of the postmen
In the name of the coachmen
In the name of the railway workers
In the name of the workers in the factories
In the name of  Emperor of the Universe, Lord of All Things,
Representative of God on Earth,
The farmer
Whose livestock has been stolen by tyrants,
Whose daughter has been abducted by bandits
Who has lost, from his hand’s breadth of land,
One finger to the record keeper
And another to the government as tax,
And whose very feet have been trampled to shreds
Under the footsteps of the powerful.

 

 

In the name of those sad mothers
Whose children cry out in the night
And will not be silenced by the defeated arms of sleep,
Who will not say what saddens them
Or be consoled by tears or entreaties.
In the name of those beauties
The flowers of whose eyes
Blossomed from every curtain and balcony
And withered away in waiting.
In the name of those wives
Whose unloved bodies
Have grown tired of the treachery of beds
In the name of the widows
In the name of neighbourhoods
Whose scattered garbage the moon
Blesses every night,
And from whose shadows cries out
The fragrance of veils
The tinkling of bangles
The scent of loosened hair
The smell of passionate bodies burning in their own sweat.

 

 


In the name of students
Who went to the masters of drums and banners
Prostrating themselves on doorsteps
With their books and pens
Praying, with open arms, to be heard,
But never returned.
Those innocents, who, in their naivete
Took their tiny lamps,
Their candle flames of hope, to where
The shadows of endless nights were being given out.
In the name of those prisoners
In whose breasts the shining gem of the future
Burns, polished by the noise of the jailer’s night,
To a star like radiance.
In the name of those harbingers of the days to come
Who, like the flower with its scent,
Have become enamoured of their own message.

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