Digital media encourages expression, but not necessarily refinement. Much of what is now labeled “Urdu poetry” in digital spaces often sidesteps the technical disciplines that defined it—meter (beher), refrain (radif), rhyme (qafiya). The craft that once took years under the guidance of a ustad is now truncated into 30-second monologues on Instagram or 60-word posts in Roman script.
“Ek sher likha tha, reels bana di gayi.”
(“I wrote a verse; it became a reel.”)
While the reach is undeniable, the question arises: Are we preserving Urdu’s poetic depth or merely performing its aesthetic silhouette?
Democratization and Dilution
To the credit of digital media, it has radically democratized access. Poets from the margins—geographically and socially—now find audiences previously unavailable to them. In Mumbai, voices from Dharavi to Dongri now rise with equal visibility on platforms like YouTube, Instagram, and Twitter/X.
But democratization often comes with dilution. The ease of publication reduces the editorial rigor that once ensured poetic quality. The ‘viral couplet’ often favors sentimentality over substance.
In the process of becoming accessible, Urdu poetry risks becoming disposable.
Language, Identity, and the Market
Urdu in Mumbai carries the burden of politics and identity. Its association with Muslim identity and its gradual erasure from mainstream education in Maharashtra have created a situation where Urdu poets often write in Roman Urdu or simplified Hindustani to reach wider audiences.
The need to cater to a market-driven digital space forces poets into linguistic compromises. The poetic lexicon narrows—words like gham, kaifiyat, iztirab give way to dard and pyaar, terms more likely to be “liked” than studied.
Digital Mushairas: Community or Commodity?
Platforms such as Rekhta Live, SpokenFest, and The Social House have tried to recreate poetic communities in the digital realm. But these often function as performances rather than dialogues. The traditional mushaira’s slow-burning exchange of verses is now replaced with audience reactions measured in emojis and timestamps.
Is it poetry, or is it content?
And are the poets curating their inner world—or curating their profiles?
The Future: Resistance or Reinvention?
Yet, to critique is not to condemn. Amidst the algorithmic noise, some Mumbai-based Urdu poets are resisting easy consumption. They translate classical poets, run digital reading groups, and even host online workshops focused on scansion (arood) and classical forms.
Digital media may have changed the room—but the voice can still find its tone.
Conclusion: A Ghazal in the Age of GIFs
Mumbai’s Urdu poets today stand at a crossroad—not between tradition and modernity, but between performance and preservation. The city still dreams in couplets, but it does so with one eye on the algorithm.
“Qalam se qisse likhne wale ab captions likhte hain—lekin sher to ab bhi dil se nikalte hain.”
(“Those who once wrote tales with the pen now write captions—but the couplets still come from the heart.”)
The challenge is not merely to write Urdu poetry in Mumbai, but to write it with integrity in an age where poetry must travel through pixels to find its place in the world.
- Madhav Barve ‘Noor’
