This was is from Hakim Momin Khan Momin. Commonly referred to as “Momin”, the poet lived in Delhi and was contemporary to Mirza Ghalib.

“Woh jo humme tumme qaraar thaa
Tumhein yaad ho ke naa yaad ho
Wohi yaani vaada nibhaah kaa
Tumhein yaad ho ke naa yaad ho

Woh jo lutf mujh pe the beshtar
Woh qaram ke thaa mere haal par
Mujhe sab hai yaad zaraa-zaraa
Tumhein yaad ho ke naa yaad ho”

Roughly translated,
“The agreement that we had between us
Maybe you remember, maybe you do not
That promise of being together
Maybe you remember, maybe you do not

That joy that was always with me
That kindness that was bestowed upon me
Every bit of those memories are still with me
Maybe you remember, maybe you do not”

“Naye kapde badal kar jaun kahan
Aur bal banaun kis ke liye

Wo shakhs to shahar hi chhor gaya
Main bahaar jaaun kiske liye


Muddat se koi aaya na gayaa
Sunsaan padi hai ghar ki faza

In khali kamron mein ‘Nasir’
Ab shamma jalaun kis k liye”

The rendition for this evening was by Ustad Gulshan Mir – dad of the Noorani sisters.

“Unki nazron ne kuch aisa jadoo kiya
Loot gaye hum to pehli mulaqat mein
Sharaab seekh pe daali,
Kabaab sheeshe mein
Jo baat thi unko kehne ki
Wo baat hi kehna bhul gaye
Gairon ke fasane yaad rahe
Hum apna fasana bhul gaye”

Roughly translated…

“Her mesmerizing glance had this magic on me
I got devastated the first time I met her

(/*so discombobulated I was by her beauty that */)

I poured the wine on barbecue skewers
And served the meat in the chalice

What I was going to chat her up about
I completely forgot to bring up
I remembered to tell the stories of total strangers
But forgot to tell her my own story”

Meri nazar ko junoon ka payaam de saaqi
Meri hayaat ko laafani shaam de saaqi
Yeh roz roz ka peene mujhe pasand nahi
Kabhi na hosh mein aaun wo jaam de saaqi

To remind ourselves, “saaqi” refers to the (female) partner that is usually either pouring the drink or accompanying you in drinking.

Oh Saaqi! Give my eyes that vision of frenzy
Offer to my life that evening that dies, Oh Saaqi!
I am tired of this drinking every single evening
This time give me that drink that never gets me back to my senses.

From the pen of Fana Bulandshahari. The real name of the poet was Muhammad Haneef. He was born in Bulandshahar (in Uttar Pradesh in India) and derives his second name from that. Fana was the pen name he had adopted.

“Maine maana janaab peeta hoon
Bakhuda Behisaab peeta hoon
Log logon ka khoon peete hain
Main toh phir bhi sharaab peeta hoon

Zindagi ka azaab peeta hoon
Bann ke khana-kharaab peeta hoon
Roz-e-mehshar hisaab ho na sake
Is liye behisaab peeta hoon”

Better translations welcome…

“Agreed, your honor, I am given to drinking
By God, I drink without keeping any count
But other people drink others’ blood often
I am merely given to drinking alcohol

I drink to all the torments of my life
And I drink to my own ruin
Never knew how to count to the Day of Judgment
Never thus knew how to count while drinking

“Subh-e-Azal ye mujh se kaha Jibraeel ne,

Jo akal ka ghulam ho, woh dil na kar qabool.”

These are words from the immortal poet Allama Iqbal (Muhammad Iqbal). Iqbal, who is the national poet of Pakistan (I think his birthday used to be a national holiday in Pakistan but no more), is widely respected for his poetry in all Farsi, Urdu and Hindi speaking countries in Asia.

Jibraeel is the archangel in Islam that corresponds to Gabriel in all Abrahamic religions (Judaism, Christianity, Modern Day Saints …). The meaning of the lines are:

“At the dawn of creation, Gabriel (Jibraeel) said this to me
Do not ever accept a heart that has surrendered to the mind”

I remember in 1980 my sister had learnt how to sing this song. And I had accompanied her on the tabla. That was forty years back. The words and the tune are by the famous Bengali poet – Nazrul Islam.

“Musafir! mochh re aankhijol
Phirey chol aponaarey niya
Aponi phhutechhilo phool
Giyaachhhey aponi jhoriya

Re pagol! Eki durasha
Jol-e tui bnadhbi baasa
Metey na hetaa-y piyasa
Heta naai trishna doriya”

Roughly translated…

“Oh wayfarer! wipe your tears
Let’s return; collect yourself
The flower that had bloomed itself
Has also shed on its own

Oh madcap! what insane hope is this
That you will build your home on water
Your thirst won’t be quenched here
There is no fountain of elixir here”

“Pehlu Mein Hai Raqib Tumhare Khuda Ki Shaan
Kaanta Bi Hai Woheen Pe Jahan Pe Gulaab Hai
Kehte Hain Jaam Bhar Ke Woh Kaisi Adaa Ke Saath
Pee Lo Humaare Hath Se Peena Sawaab Hai”

I will need some help in translating the first line (or for that matter, all the lines) from somebody who is well versed in Urdu. I think it goes something like this…

“God’s grace is (unfortunately) on your rival’s side // raqib often refers to your rival with who you are vying for the lady’s attention
When you find a rose, there will be thorns too // meaning a thing of beauty will always come with pain
Filling my glass with wine, she says playfully
Drink from my own hand; drinking is my reward” // meaning your only reward is that you get to drink the wine she is serving

“Sitaron se aage jahaan aur bhi hain
Abhi ishq ke imtihan aur bhi hain
Har ek maqam se aage maqam hai tera
Hayat zauq-e-safar ke siwa kuch aur nahin”

Roughly translated…

There is a universe beyond the stars we behold
There are even more tests of our love awaiting us
Your destination is beyond every known destination
The entire joy of life is in the journey itself ! (Not the destination)

Being on the other side of 50, song choices are often rooted in nostalgia. This evening’s song is dedicated to all those folks that have crossed my path – influenced me in so many ways – some small, some big – and I never got a chance to cross their paths again – to say a simple “Thank You.” My life was enriched by every such friend I have had, their parents who often guided me, my teachers, my family, those strangers who often left a big mark on me, those who became very close to me and then became strangers, my colleagues, those fellow passengers, those random foks that I met at restaurants, bars and streets… in so many ways, life has been nothing but an enriching collage of those meetings…

From the pen of Anand Bakshi..

“Zindagi ke safar mein
Guzaar jate hain jo makaam
Woh phir nahin aate.
 
Phool khilte hain, log milte hain, magar
Patjhad main jo phool murjha jate hain
Woh baharon ke aane se khilte nahin

Kuchh log ek roz jo bichad jate hain
Wo hazaron ke aane se milte nahin
Umr bhar chahe koi pukara kare unka naam

Woh phir nahin aate”

Roughly translated (improvements welcome)

In this caravan of life, all those places you pass…
They never come back again!

Flowers bloom; people meet; but
That flower that wilted in Fall,
Does not bloom again in Spring

Some people that split paths with you once
Never show up again, despite the milieu that you meet
Try as much as you might call out for them

They never come back again!