burn to ashes and let everyone think it's love
the moth and the flame
The Urdu word for moth is parwana (پروانہ), which interestingly also means a devout lover or aashiq (عاشق). This is because of the nature of the moth, flying towards a candle or any light source, and then burning. For centuries, people have had different opinions on why moths orbit lights and head in its direction. There are many theories on why moths do this, but the one that is the most popular in literature and media is that moths are attracted to the warmth of light, which is the opinion I've believed my entire life.
The parwana has been a big part in literature, art and Bollywood movies. A lot of it is because the metaphor "the moth drawn to flame" is a popular theme in some Persian poems, and that has found its way into South Asian media centuries ago.
Mir Taqi Mir:
کہتے ہیں اڑ بھی گئے جل کے پرِ پروانہ
کچھ سنی سوختگاں تم خبرِ پروانہ
kehte hain ur bhi gaye jal ke par-e-parwana
kuch suni sokhtagan tum khabar-e parwana
They say that the moth's burned wings were blown away
Burned hearts have you heard about the moth's fate?
(translation by Mehr Farooqi)
There was also this English poem trending here on susbtack, which also mentioned the moth.
And check out this reel by @ huztory on Instagram about The Fable of the Flies.
The concept of something so small and fragile, going too close to the flame of the candle—until it burns into ashes—has always intrigued the poets. Its fragility, its nocturnal and metamorphical qualities, and the way it flutters to death, all percieved as passion for the warmth of the candle. Is love attainable without lighting yourself aflame? What is passion if it doesn't burn? That is why parwana has two meanings.
Poets and writers ache to be understood. That's why we pour strong emotion into things that may not have any, because we find solace in the ordinary. We don't need to know to understand. And so, to the poets, the parwana was always a devout lover, a suicidal passionate creature, knowing that love doesn't come without pain, that to yearn you must live, but also sacrifice, again and again. The parwana is basically a fragile mirror for us humans.
Think like a poet now, do you ever wonder if the moth wanted to be understood? That maybe it isn't so attracted to the fire, but it was forced to? In our eyes, the parwana looks like Icarus, fluttering his magnificent wings towards the sky, not realizing that it is fatal. But what if the moth never dreamed of it at all?
In a new study published in January 2024 in the Nature Journal, there has been a new suggestion of why moths seemingly go towards light sources, with proper experimentation and analysis, using 3 dimensional flight data.
Due to the nature and the aerodynamics of flying creatures, they need to determine their orientation while in flight, as they can't tell what's up or down. And because the sky is obviously a lot brighter than the ground, it has been used as a way for flying insects to know which way is up. Therefore, their dorsums (the top part of their bodies) are quite sensitive and responsive to light (dorsal-light-response, DLR) that has developed due to evolution. It helps them to maintain their flight and altitude, making sure they don't fall or become unstable.
In brief, it was found that flying insects, including moths, do not steer their heads directly towards the light due to attraction, rather they turn their backs towards the source of light, as a sensory response for biological survival. So whenever you see a moth going towards the streetlight outside your house, know that they're not doing it willingly, and their backs/dorsums are the ones that are facing it.
The moth's attraction to thermal radiation is refuted in this study, as when they used LED light, (which gives out barely any infrared radiation so no heat), a vast majority of the insects were still orbiting and going near it. Other theories, like celestial navigation, didn't match the results either. There are many more questions to be answered, this is just the beginning.
The thing is, I keep thinking about how this study, and future ones, will affect literature and media on moths today. You may think I'm being sentimental about these moths, but imagine being misunderstood for centuries, imagine everyone thinking you're dying out of desire but it was really just misery. When the thing that is percieved as love and warmth to everyone else is really just a trap, a prison they cannot escape nor seek help from.
Will this knowledge change anything now? It isn't complete, there's so much more to research but we at least have an idea. My dad says that science will never affect literature. That literature is based on what you see and feel, but science is always changing, there is always new knowledge being found out. However, I think that it could affect our perception at least, even if the literature itself will remain the same. I think for some people, knowing that moths aren't as exaggerated as they're described in ghazals and essays, that it's not about passion but rather a trap, they might feel disappointed. We want to find comfort in others' experiences, even if those experiences are not real, but what does it matter? It's all so interesting to me, and this new knowledge is still evoking the same (or more) degree of emotion in me as the old belief of parwane loving light. To be understood. Maybe all this is just me finding solace in the paradox of the moth's delicate wings and dorsum, having a survival response to light yet still turning into a waft of ashes, but everyone thinks it just wants to do it. I want to extinguish the flame of my never melting candle. I want my wings back.
Science and literature is quite conflicting—one is so obsessed with quickly seeking the truth and the other wants to slow you down, but I believe we need both together. There needs to be a balance. I wonder if the next generations will keep the metaphor of the moth, just for the sake of preservation. Will it still make its way into poems and movies?
The double-meaning of parwana has already been grooved into the bare palms of literature, and maybe it will remain like that forever. But this time, we'll know, and we'll understand.
love,
afifa
I found your reflections on the parwana deeply moving, particularly the contrast between literature’s portrayal of moths and the newer scientific findings.
It’s fascinating how we often become so entrenched in the analogies we use to describe something—love, sacrifice, desire—that we forget they are just that: analogies. They serve to convey meaning, but sometimes we end up mistaking them for the full truth.
Your thoughts reminded me of another metaphor in Urdu poetry, one where it’s not the flame that kills the moth, but rather something more indirect and unintentional. Consider this couplet:
مگس کو باغ میں جانے نہ دیجیو
کہ ناحق خون ہو گا پروانے کا
Mags ko bagh mein janay na dijiyo
Ke nahq khoon ho ga parwane ka
Translation:
Do not let the bee enter the garden,
For the moth’s blood will be spilled unjustly.
By preventing the مگس (bee) from entering the garden, the poet is warning that the seemingly harmless act of the bee gathering nutrients will eventually lead to a chain of events—producing honey, wax, and ultimately a candle—whose flame will cause the death of the پروانہ (moth).
Here, it’s not the flame that burns the moth, but the bee’s presence in the garden that sets off a chain of events leading to the moth’s death. It highlights how causality can be complex, even when unintentional. Just like the moth isn’t “attracted” to the flame for warmth in the scientific sense, but rather orients itself towards light as a survival mechanism, the bee in this couplet doesn’t actively intend to harm the moth. Yet, its very existence in that space contributes to the moth’s demise.
The interplay of these unintended actions makes us question: how many times do we, like the bee or the moth, find ourselves caught up in events we didn’t foresee, with outcomes far beyond our control? Perhaps both the moth and the bee are trapped in cycles beyond their own desires.
It’s a powerful reminder that our understanding—whether scientific or poetic—of behavior is often incomplete. As you pointed out, both literature and science have their role: one gives us the metaphors we live by, and the other helps us question and refine those metaphors. Maybe the balance lies in knowing when to let go of the analogy and accept the deeper, often more elusive, meaning beneath it.
I loved the scientific exploration of the moth being drawn to light really interesting consideration that perhaps they are misunderstood. Perhaps future literature will surround this concept of the moth being misunderstood. Great read!