Analysis of Form, Identity, and Cultural Complexity in Agha Shahid Ali’s “Tonight”

Agha Shahid Ali’s poem “Tonight” is a masterful example of how poetic form and literary allusions can express
deeply personal struggles with cultural, religious, and national identity. Through the use of the traditional Arabic
ghazal form, written in English, Ali bridges two literary worlds. He blends classical Arabic tradition with accessible
English syntax to reflect the inner turmoil of a speaker caught between identities. The structural and thematic
complexity of “Tonight,” it becomes clear that the poem is more about raising questions than offering clear answers
—mirroring the fragmented experience of cultural displacement.
The poem “Tonight” is written in a form called the ghazal. This is a type of traditional Arabic poetry. A ghazal has
several short stanzas made of two-line sections called couplets. One word, called the radif, is repeated at the end of
the first two lines and then at the end of every second line after that. In “Tonight,” the word repeated is “tonight.”
The word before the radif usually rhymes with others in the poem. Each couplet should be able to stand alone and
express a complete feeling or thought.
According to Harvard professor and poetry expert Stephen Burt, each couplet should be strong enough to be its own
mini poem (234). The last couplet often mentions an important name, usually the poet’s own. Ghazals often focus on
love and longing, sometimes using romantic love to express a connection to God.
Ali’s use of the ghazal form in English shows his effort to keep a link to Arabic and Islamic traditions while also
communicating with English-speaking audiences. The language in the poem is simple and clear, like everyday
speech, especially outside the second stanza.This suggests that Ali wanted readers of English to easily understand
the poem’s words, even if the meaning was deep.Literary critic David Ward says that the repeated word in a ghazal
is “the seed from which the poem grows” (64). In “Tonight,” that word is “tonight.” This word is important in two
ways: first, it gives the poem its rhythm; second, it helps shape the poem’s mood and ideas.
The ghazal form’s design—self-contained couplets—allows the poem to shift moods and themes rapidly,
highlighting the speaker’s emotional complexity. In the first three stanzas, the speaker moves from feelings of
abandonment, to hope, and then to desperation. In the opening stanza, the speaker laments being barred from
“rapture,” a feeling possibly denied by a lover, God, or even a homeland like Kashmir. This stanza conveys a bleak
sense of longing. Then, in the second stanza, the mood lifts as the speaker suggests that even in the absence of
rapture, “Fabrics” and “Trinkets” can bring beauty. This optimism is supported by a quote from an Emily Dickinson
poem, “I am ashamed—I hide,” in which the speaker overcomes material deficiencies with spiritual pride.
Dickinson’s speaker ultimately becomes “too proud—for Pride” (l. 26), showing a reversal from shame to
confidence.
However, in the third stanza, the mood turns again, as the speaker “beg[s] for haven” (5), showing vulnerability and
desperation. These emotional shifts, enabled by the closed-couplet structure of the ghazal, convey deep internal
conflict. The speaker’s ability to move so quickly between feelings reveals a fragmented sense of self, mirroring a
broader difficulty in defining a cohesive national, religious, or cultural identity.
In the sixth stanza, Ali introduces the phrase “Mughal ceilings,” which carries rich historical and artistic allusions
(l. 11). This refers to the architecture and art of the Mughal Empire, a powerful Muslim dynasty in South Asia.
Although Mughal art is geographically linked to Kashmir, it was historically labeled “Islamic art,” distinct from
Indian art (Singh 1045). This reflects the complicated layering of faith and politics in South Asia. The Mughal
Empire itself was religiously inclusive—Emperor Akbar’s court welcomed “Hindus, Jains, Christians, Jews, and
Zoroastrians” (Department of Islamic Art). Thus, within a stanza surrounded by religious exclusivity, Ali places a
moment of inclusive heritage. The line “under [the] spell” evokes not just the beauty of Mughal art but the haunting
influence of this mixed legacy (l. 12).
Ali also uses the image of “mirrored convexities” that “multiply” the speaker. These mirrors reflect the disjointed
form of the poem itself, with each couplet acting like a fragmented reflection. This metaphor suggests that both the
ghazal and the Mughal ceilings represent not just artistic beauty but the complexity of having multiple, overlapping
identities in Kashmir.
The first and twelfth stanzas are especially ambiguous, offering multiple interpretations and enriching the poem’s
layered meaning. The question “who has rapture tonight?” in the first stanza could refer to God, a lover, or even a
homeland. If we read the “who” as God, then the poem becomes a “blasphemous rant against a God who would
leave his devoted followers lonely.” In this interpretation, the “rivals for [God’s] love” in the final stanza are sinful
temptations trying to lure the speaker away from divine devotion.
This blasphemous tone is reinforced by several provocative religious references throughout the poem. The speaker
references the use of “idols” to “[convert] the infidel” (9–10), a “priest in saffron,” likely a Hindu priest (16), and
the line “Damn you, Elijah, I’ll bless Jezebel tonight,” which favors a biblical villain over a prophet. Finally, in the
last line, the speaker declares that “God sobs in [his] arms.” These images challenge traditional religious reverence
and underscore the speaker’s turmoil.
Alternatively, the speaker may be addressing a lost lover, not God. In this reading, the religious allusions become
metaphors for intense human emotion. “God’s vintage loneliness has turned to vinegar— / All the archangels … fell
tonight” can represent not divine sorrow, but the bitterness of heartbreak (7–8). When the speaker says the “doors of
Hell” are “left open—for God,” it symbolizes a descent into despair (14). The romantic reading continues in stanza
eight, where the destruction of religion represents the speaker’s emotional devastation. The “heart’s veined temple”
stands as the last remnant of a lost love (15). In traditional ghazals, erotic love often symbolizes religious devotion.
Here, Ali inverts that idea, using religious language to represent romantic loss (Burt 235).
Ali’s speaker is also caught between literary traditions. He draws not just on Arabic and South Asian references, but
also Western literature. The epigraph quotes Laurence Hope’s poem “Kashmiri Song.” Like Ali, Hope (pen
name of Adela Nicolson) was shaped by multiple cultures. Though British, she viewed India as home. In her poem,
Hope’s speaker mourns a lost lover, using religious imagery to express secular love. Ali mirrors this structure in
“Tonight.” The emotional loss in Hope’s poem is echoed in Ali’s final stanza: “this is no farewell” (l. 24). This
intertextuality deepens the romantic reading of the poem and illustrates the speaker’s multicultural lens.
Ali also quotes Emily Dickinson, a major American poet known for her critiques of Christianity. By referencing
Dickinson, the speaker connects with a Western voice that questions institutional religion. Ali rearranges
Dickinson’s lines, reversing the spiritual triumph in her poem. In Ali’s version, “spiritual depravity” is masked or
overcome by “material beauty.” Dickinson’s mention of “Cashmere” (an old spelling of Kashmir) adds another layer
—Dickinson seeks Kashmir’s beauty to adorn her life, just as Ali seeks American literary tradition to enrich his
ghazal.
The final line—“Call Me Ishmael” (l. 26)—draws from Herman Melville’s novel Moby Dick. Ishmael, an outcast
sailor, seeks meaning at sea. Like Ishmael, the speaker in “Tonight” is spiritually adrift, turning to the “Mughal
ceilings” for answers (l. 11). Both characters are wanderers—lost and seeking community. Melville’s novel also
wrestles with religion and morality, and the line aligns with the speaker’s conflicted identity.
The allusion to Ishmael carries deep biblical and Quranic meaning. In the Bible, Ishmael is Abraham’s son but is
cast out in favor of Isaac. In Islam, Ishmael is revered as an ancestor of the Prophet Muhammad. As Burt notes, this
allusion may mean the speaker “affirms himself decidedly with Islamic tradition” (239). However, the stanza also
quotes the Book of Job from the King James Bible, indicating a connection to Judeo-Christian scripture. Thus, the
speaker does not choose between religious traditions but embraces his identity as “the messenger, the blasphemer,
the devout, the migrant, the exiled, and the forefather” all at once.
Ultimately, “Tonight” uses form to reflect personal conflict. Each couplet, as Ali says, should “shine in that vivid
isolation …” (Ravishing 2–3). While this essay traces connections across couplets, the ghazal form resists linear
meaning. The poem doesn’t answer the first stanza’s questions—it leaves the reader with a sense of unresolved
searching. In a 21st-century United States, where religion and immigration shape political identity, “Tonight” offers
a nuanced portrayal of the immigrant experience. It shows that identity is never simple or singular. Rather than
giving clear answers, the poem compels us to ask ourselves: “Who are you now?”