Trasheedam, the title of Zehra Nigah`s fifth poetry collection, delves deeply into the essence of poetry itself and highlights how she distinctively engages with this art form.

The Persian word Trasheedam translates to `I carved`. This word appears in a Persian poem by Allama Iqbal in Peyam-i-Mashrig. The poem`s essence is a centuries-long communion with nature, culminating in a three-word summary: I carved, I worshiped, I shattered [trasheedam, parasteedam, shikastam]. The question is whether Zehra Nigah merely extracts the term trasheedam, bypassing the poem`s core context. In fact, this word is a central symbol in Iqbal`s work and is crucial to understanding Trasheedam as well.

Carving is the act of chiselling materials like wood, stone and even time or words to create something new. We carve not just objects, but our very selves through our decisions and creations. Zehra Apa suggests the faces we see are sculpted from words, making poetry a craft of verbal carving. As Amir Khusrau emphasised with `tarz-i-khaas` [special style], a poet`s destiny depends on their unique ability to sculpt words into profound innovation.

Zehar Apa is an avid reader of classical Urdu poetry, exploring the intricacies of the making of poetry.

However, she has produced only four books earlier.

Her fifth collection is a slim volume that features nazms, ghazals, asha`ar [couplets] and short poems.

This book begins with a poem titled ½lwida` [Adieu]. The line `dheemay dheemay so raha hai haafza` [Memory is gently sleeping] encapsulates the poem`s theme. It reflects the experiences associated with the later stages of life. Several poignant poems and ghazals appear to be shaped by the realities of ageing.

In his work On Late Style, Edward Said examines the connection between age and aesthetics. T he later years of life serve as a vessel for `special maturity,a new spirit of reconciliation and serenity often articulated through a miraculous transfiguration of common reality,` he writes, as lateness is characterised by heightened awareness and rich memories. While the concept of special maturity is somewhat ambiguous, one of Zehra Apa`s couplets in one of her ghazals seems to embody this notion.

Aakheer umr ne bakhsha garar-i-paiham bhi Guzar gaya miri beychaynion ka mausam bhi [Finally, old age granted me unshakable peace too/ The season of my restlessness has also passed away] This unshakeable peace of mind could be referred to as Said`s `special maturity.` However, this peace does not suggest a dulling of the senses or stagnant emotions, nor does special maturity imply a static state of consciousness. `Qarar-i-palham` serves as a crucible for experiencing events and incidents in a detached manner. You allow things to unfold naturally, adopting an egoless perspective.

The latter stages of life are filled with memories.

When Zehra Apa states that memory is gently sleeping, she does not imply that memory is fading; rather, she suggests that memory has acquired a unique calmness.

Aik Nazm [A Poem] also emerges from the experience of ageing. Old age and home are like two sides of a coin. This indicates that writing in old age implies a cartography of home. You describe not just the walls, doors, corners and windows of a house, but the entire intricate experience of being at home, encompassing all the memories of days gone by, the feelings of solitude and the sense of being homeless within one`s own home. The reality of home is creatively transformed. Home becomes a space where you face the unbearable realities of life: Meray ghar mei`n mera koi kaam nahi hai Ik sanaatta jis ka koi naam nahi hai [In my home, I have no purpose left/ There is just a silence that bears no name] What a contradiction! At home, I am pushed to the margins, enveloped in a profound silence with no one to converse with. As one of her short poems states: `Life is toil and in the end, even breathing solitude becomes a laborious prison.` It is life`s cruel paradox: no enemy to slay, no self to fracture, yet no peace to claim.

The feeling of being homeless in one`s own home unveils the truth of being in this world. At home, you believe you are linked to everyone around you but, eventually, you realise that the bond connecting you to those nearby is incredibly fragile. In an old sh`er, Zehra Apa has poignantly captured this truth: Daikhtay daikhtay aik ghar ke rehnay walay Apnay apnay kono`n mei`n bat jaatay hain [Before our eyes, the dwellers of one home/ Into their own separate corners disperse] A home`s space, though, apportioned into corners and doors, ultimately becoming a prison, where inhabitants grow estranged. In Trasheedam, Zehra Apa captures this exile from one`s own home: Dar-o-deevar ke zakhmo`n ne kaha hai mujh se Jin ka ghar tha, yeh inhien ka hai, yeh ghar mera nahi [The wounds of these walls and doors have told me/ Those who owned this home, it is still theirs, this house is not mine.] The individual who is exiled from their own home is fated to descend into the murky depths of loneliness. We all encounter loneliness from the moment we become aware of our existence, yet the loneliness of old age is unlike any other. This solitude can be at times unbearable, yet in late age, it is approached with a sense of serenity: Barray sukoon se kata azaab-i-tanhayi Main apnay aap se muddat ke baad mil payi [With great calm, I endured the torment of solitude/ At last, after ages, I met myself again] The truth is that home serves as a significant motif in Zehra Apa`s poetry. Besides being a crucible for a myriad of experiences related to belonging, identity and existence, home inversely illustrates themes of uprootedness, alienation and exile. `Watan` [Homeland] extends the meaning of home. Zehra Apa envisions watan through the lens of her experiences within her home.

She also writes about the homelessness faced by the people of Gaza. She boldly narrates the tale of her watan being divided into two, leading to 90,000 sons of the soil surrendering to the enemy, and how courts began to execute innocent individuals. She composes a nazm that addresses the grim realities of the cities of her watan.

In her poem `Shahr Ashob Mukhtasar Sa` [Brief Poem About A City In Turmoil], she expresses that the country is our nest, our home, yet its foundations are beginning to crumble. In addition to the decline of state institutions, colonisation and the exploitation of nature cause turmoil of the watan.

The act of cutting down trees is a recurring theme in this book. Trees serve as homes for numerous creatures, including birds, insects and flies. When a tree is felled, all these inhabitants lose their shelter. When one tree is destroyed, it doesn`t just suffer alone; the remaining trees and creatures also experience the pain: Hain saaray darakht sar jhukaaye huay Jaisay koi apna mar gaya hai [All the trees stand with bowed heads/ As though some dear one has passed away] A small section of the book features poems penned during the coronavirus pandemic. In these verses, the author reflects on how nature reclaims its space while humans were confined indoors.

A poet`s true test is addressing socio-political issues through aesthetics, which Zehra Apa prioritises over content. This art of saying less but implying more is central to her work, as in a couplet where a single fragmented sentence yields endless meanings. Her ghazal, while classically rooted in love and echoing Firaq`s style, ultimately reflects her own unique tarz-i-khaas:Khataei`n dono`n ki yaksaa`n thie`n par ta`ajjub hai Kisi ko daad mili aur kisi ko ruswayi [The faults of both were the same/ Yet one was praised, the other disgraced].

The reviewer is a Lahore-based Urdu critic and short-story writer. He currently serves as Head of Publications at Gurmani Centre, LUMS. He has been recently awarded the Tamgha-i-Imtiaz by the president of Pakistan