This time describing how confusing love can be…

“Khusrau, dariya prem ka,
Ulti wa ki dhaar,
Jo utra so doob gaya,
Jo dooba, so paar”

Translated, it means:

Oh Khusrau, the river of love
Flows erratically in opposite directions
(S)he who tries to cross it, inevitably drowns in it.
But (s)he who drowns in it, is the one who gets across!!!

Main to piya se / Naina laga aayi ray,
Ghar naari kanwari / Kahay so kahay,
Main to piya se / Naina laga aayi ray.
Sohni suratiya / Mohni muratiya,
Main to hriday ke peechay / Samaa aayi ray;
Ghar naari kanwari / Kahay so kahay,
Main to piya say / Naina laga aayi ray.

This is a poem by Amir Khusrao – one of the most versatile poets from the Indian subcontinent dating back nearly eight centuries. Credited with bringing Qawwalis to the subcontinent, he is often also credited for creating the Ghazal style. He was certainly responsible for creating the percussion instrument “tabla” – that I have played for thirty five years or so. He is called the “Parrot of India”.

This poem was incorporated in Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan’s rendition of the very popular Qawwali “Chhap Tilak”.

The true meaning and impact of this poem is perhaps difficult to appreciate in this age and time when you meet your opposite sex on date.com. In those days society frowned heavily on young men and women getting to meet or know each other. All marriages were arranged by parents or social elders. It is in this context, that this girl (the poem is written from the point of view of the girl) who has softness for a neighborhood boy meets him (although it is translated as “had an affair”, the literal meaning is simply “my eyes engaged with his” ) and then writes about her feelings. She realizes that some neighborhood friend of her will tell on her and there will be dire consequences, but she simply does not care.

I am sure many of my friends growing up with me in India a few decades back can relate to that neighborhood girl or boy (as the case might be) and the trysts on the sly and the painful consequences later 🙂 Wonder what was the parallel situation in USA at around that time. I am sure there was that high school girl or boy that parents did not approve of but my guess is that the retribution was not as harsh, if it was there at all. Maybe I need to go back a century in this country to get a parallel.

In any case, here is the translation:

I have just had an affair with my darling,
I don’t care what the neighborhood girls say;
For I just had an affair with my darling.
Oh, his beautiful face, charming like an idol,
I have just earned a place in the very bottom of his heart.
I don’t care what the neighborhood girls say,
For I just had an affair with my darling.

This has been morphed and modified multiple times over the decades. It is part of the qawwali “Yeh jo halka halka” made memorable by Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan’s rendition

“Main ne un ke saamne awwal ka khanjar rakh diya
Phir kaleja rakh diya,
Dil rakh diya,
Sar rakh diya,
Aur arz kiya ke:
Ab mere baad kisko sataaogey?
Mujhe kis tarha se mitaaogey?
Kahan jaa ke teer chalaaogey?
Meri dosti ki balaayen lo
Mujhe haath utha kar duaaein do
Ke tumhein ek kaatil bana diya”

Very rough translation:

In front of her, I first laid down the dagger
Then I laid down my heart
Then my soul
Finally I laid down my head
And asked:

Now, who are you going to torture after me?
How are you going to take me out of your life?
Where will you go to aim your arrows of glances?

Someday you will value my friendship
And lift your arms in thankfulness
That because of me you became the most charming killer.

(the last line might be alternatively interpreted to refer to her killer instincts)

Stiff cocktail, bright sun, poolside siesta and Nusrat on the Beats…

“ae fana shukr hae, aaj baad-e-fana,
ussne rakhli mere pyaar kee aabruu,
apnay haathon se ussne meri qabr pe ,
chaadar-e-gul charhayee, mazah aa gaya”

Awesome words by Ustad Qamar Jalalvi. Born in India in the late 1800s, he moved to Pakistan after the partition and died there. Most of his life, he earned his livelihood by working at a bicycle repair shop!!

Roughly translated…

“O death, I thank thee that, after my death,
She finally honored my love; with her own hands,
On my grave, she spread a sheet of roses,
And I die very satisfied now”

(Unbelievably enough, he was a sessions judge at Allahabad High Court at the turn of the twentieth century).

“Udhar zulfon mein kangi ho rahi hai, kham nikalta hai
Idhar ruk ruk key, khnich khnich key hamara dam nikalta hai
Ilahi khair ho, uljhan pe uljhan parti jati hai
Na un ka kham nikalta hai, na hamara dam nikalta hai”

Sitting out in the dark and the moon blurred by the clouds, a glass of wine and and some old poems were perfect to close out a long week. This one from Gulzar (in Hindi) stuck in my mind :

Nazm uljhi hui hai seene mein
Misare atke hue hain hothon par
Udate phirte hain titaliyon ki tarah
Lafz kaagaz pe baithate hi nahin
Kab se baithaa hun main jaanam
Saade kaagaz pe likh ke naam tera
Bas tera naam hi mukammal hai
Is se behtar bhi nazm kyaa hogi

Roughly translated, he is saying:

A poem is entangled in my chest
The lines are stuck in my lips
The words are flitting around like butterflies
But refusing to settle down on my paper
I have been sitting here for so long
Having only written your name on a white paper
Only your name exists on the paper
And I ask, how can there be a better poem than that?

“Aa gayaa mera aankhon mein dam,
Ab to jalvaa dikhaa deejiye
Aap ki baat reh jaayegii,
Mera armaan nikal jaayegaa”

Rough translation …

Now that my (eternal) sleep is coming to my eyes
You should show yourself once before me
That way you will stay true to your words
And my dreams will be fulfilled too!