Baba Najmi’s little poem
Iko Tera mera payu (You and I share the same father)
Iko teri meri maan (We share the same mother)
Iko saadi janam bhon (one is our birth place)
Tu Sardar tey mein kammi kiyon? (why are you the chief and I a slave)
Chal Way Bullehya Chal O’thay Chaliyay – Let’s go where everyone is blind
Folklore sans frontiers
There is no alternative to peaceful coexistence within South Asia, says Raza Rumi
As we crossed the blood lined Waagah, after three hours of soul-destroying bureaucratic tangles and multiple forms filled in by the guardians of our borders, nothing changed. It was an eerie reminder of how the two Punjabs are but one. The roads were dusty and rural life remains as time-warped as ever. The street vendors were selling dirty, unhygienic food items wrapped in a thick cover of flies; and the money changers and CD-sellers attacked you with a frenzy that one is used to back home.
I was part of a delegation from Pakistan that was driving to Chandigarh to attend the SAARC folklore festival organized by Punjab’s legendary writer Ajeet Caur. This was a motley crew: ten Punjabis of various stripes, and five Sindhis who have travelled all the way from Bhit Shah to Lahore. We were greeted with garlands and the usual Punjabi warmth by our hosts at the border. This was my first trip to India via land or, as they say on visa forms, “on foot”. One could not escape the strange sensation of striding across a “hostile” frontier.
When will my beloved visit my courtyard
The soulful poetry of Khawaja Ghulam Farid (1845-1901) best represents the essence of Seraiki language. Diwan-e-Farid, a collection of the poet’s verses, happens to be an outstanding masterpiece of Seraiki mystical poetry that reaches the poetic excellence and transcendence found in the messages of Rumi and Iqbal in terms of exploring the metaphysics of knowledge and being.
Shahzad Qaiser has undertaken a major labour of love by rendering the Diwan-e-Farid into English and issuing another separate volume – The Metaphysics of Khawaja Ghulam Farid – that explores the vastness of meaning in Khawaja Farid’s poetry. It is rare these days to find a civil servant who can spare time to devote himself to the cause 
of letters. In contrast to past traditions, present day civil service has become a vehicle for playing along with palace intrigues and extracting opportunities from the vicissitudes of power. Rejecting this trend, Qaiser appears to have shunned the ordinary power-mongering culture and delved deeper into the mysteries of divine love. Therefore, his endeavour to search for the inner meanings of Khawaja Ghulam Farid’s poetry has been eminently successful. These two volumes are highly readable and well-presented for specialists and lay readers alike.
Khawaja Ghulam Farid was born in Chachran, located in the south of present day Pakistan’s Punjab province. His spiritual ancestry was somewhere linked with the revered Baba Farid Ganj-e-Shakar of Pakpattan and hence he was named after the master saint of the family. It is the metaphysical understanding which talks of reality as the divine essence and removes the difference between Ahad and Wahad and one and many that constitutes the doctrine of ‘oneness of being’
The devolution saga
My op-ed published in the NEWS yesterday
The debate on the scrapping of Musharraf’s devolution experiment cannot hide or ignore two key imperatives. First, that all military dictators have a penchant for local democracy at the expense of provincial autonomy and the country’s parliamentary structure. Second, never has Pakistan been so vulnerable to state’s fragmentation and erosion of trust in public institutions. This is why the elected government, with bipartisan consensus, has proceeded to restructure the 2002 Local Government Ordinances.
But, the debate remains obsessed with the district management group (DMG), a cadre that is a much weaker and tainted inheritor of administrative structures instituted by the Mughal and British empires. Therefore, the proposed restoration of executive magistracy has been termed yet another big conspiracy by the supposedly powerful DMG, which allegedly has influenced the political elites to revive the colonial institution of the district magistrate. The simple question is if the DMG were so powerful, it would have saved its field structure and magistracy nearly a decade ago.
Bulleh Shah – on rejecting caste
A popular kafi of Bulleh Shah, sung by Abida Parveen "BULHE NU SAMJHAWAN AAINAN BHAINAN TE BHARJAIAN" earlier posted as " A stove is better than Bulleh" am posting its english translation thanks to Shahidain's invaluable contributions.
People discouraged Bulleh Shah from accepting Inayat Shah as his master and said " Bulleh you are a scholar and a descendent of of prophet Mohammad (pbuh). Does it seem right to you to go to an ordinary gardener of low caste and become his disciple? Is it not embarrassing?" But Bulleh showed great love and reverence for his master and did not pay any heed to this objection.
Loveable Murree
I was recently asked to write where I would spend my summer. For a few minutes I kept my anguish at Pakistan's situation aside and wrote the following lines for the NEWS. Indulgent and nostalgic, it was fun nevertheless.
Hackneyed as it may sound but Murree remains my favourite destination for the summer.
Alas, the luxury of spending months at the alluring foothills of Himalayas is no longer available with the day-jobs, and other commitments. But there was a time, over a decade ago, when I lived in Murree for three glorious years. It was May when I moved there with a wild rose bush joyously waving with the
Capitulating Rajas: why Taliban might not be resisted
My new piece for The Friday Times
South Asian history is a tale of capitulation of local elites before external invaders. Be it the Aryans, the Mongols or East India Company officials, we have always relented, and sometimes quite painlessly. This is an area of history that remains less explored as it conflicts with the grand narratives of ‘resistance’ and nationalist myths we love to construct.
A phrase locked into our cultural memory – Hunooz Dilli Door Ast (Delhi is as yet far away) explains this historical pattern. It has become a metaphor for the insularity of the elites and the powerlessness of the common people. The complacency that Delhi, the capital of the Islamic empire was not accessible to the hordes of invaders, was the tragic reaction by debauched kings, local Rajas and their henchmen who were either men of straw or active collaborators.
A new book on the Partition saga
Changing mindsets by SYED ALI NAQVI
One might cry out, humanity is dead if there was any, in disgust and disbelief after going through the events of the partition of the subcontinent. It is hard to believe that hatred and instinctual savagery can derive men to the edge of morality. Politics, religious bias and ethnicity do have the poison to make men so vulnerable that they get ready to put everything at stake.
Partition of the Indian subcontinent is seen as one of the most brutal and unfortunate events in the world history. There are incidents of mass murder by every religious and ethnic community of each other as well as rapes and abductions of women, looting and separation of families during the
Na mai Sussi
Na mai sussi
Na mai sohni
Na mai heer sayal
phair we sajna
dil kyouN mera
Ja lagayaa teray naal
Baba Bulleh Shah’s gift
Dr Manzur Ejaz writing for the TFT
According to myth, if perfectly sung by a master, the classical raga Malkauns can set a river on fire. And if you want a description of Malkauns personified, it would be the tall red-eyed jogi or Ustad Chote Ghulam Ali Khan. In a freshly laundered, blazing white and starched kurta-pajama, Khan Sahib was a well dressed and handsome man even in old age. Despite his appearance, Khan Sahib was at heart a jogi who had wandered and meditated in the limitless jungle of classical music his entire life.
Both Bade Ghulam Ali Khan and Chote Ghulam Ali Khan belong to this gharana. They were cousins with identical names but because one was older he was known as precisely that, Bade, and the younger as Chote. The classical singers of the Qasur gharana are sometimes called “Qasur kay qawwal bankay” (children of Qasur qawwals) because their forefathers were traditional qawwals at the shrine of Baba Bulleh Shah.
Khan Sahib worked hard to enhance Samina Hussain Syed’s skills in classical music because she had a very powerful, deep and melodious voice that constitutes the core of a classical singer. In fact, she had more potential than anyone else in the world of music at that time. Khan Sahib knew her potential and that is why he would come daily for her training; it was never just for the money.
Akhtari Bai Faizabadi, whom Khan Sahib romanced
Closing the gap
Delhi based writer Tridivesh Singh Maini sent this piece that was published here
The Indo-Pak relationship has been so enmeshed in political issues - mostly disputes - that often both countries tend to neglect important developments which facilitate cultural cooperation between them. Foreign ministries in both countries are engrossed in thinking of CBM’s, though if one were to look, not much progress has been made with regard to educational and cultural exchanges. Meanwhile, a Washington-based non-profit organisation named APNA, (Academy of the Punjab in North America) has taken a significant step — publishing a quarterly Punjabi magazine by the name of Saanjh (which means commonality in this context) in both Gurmukhi, the Punjabi script used in East Punjab), and Shahmukhi, the script used in West Punjab.
Bulleh’s virtuous thoughts-
Shahidain has sent these couplets
Main NeevaaN Mera Murshid Uccha
Main UcchiyaaN naal sang laayee
I am lowly my spiritual guide is lofty!
I have tied my fate to such lofty ones!
---------------------------------------
Bulleh naaloN chullaah changaa
jis te ann pakaaee daa
ral faqeera majlas keetee
bhora bhora khaaee daa
A stove is better than Bulleh
because at least you can cook food on it
Saints sit together to eat
and share their food with each other.
A voice for peace from the other side
My friend Sidhusaaheb across the border wrote these poignant lines some months ago - just discovered these musings in my files:
A little less than two years ago, I visited Pakistan along with my family. This was a unique experience, not only for me, but also for my parents and younger brother. None of us had been to that country before and, given the mercurial relationship between India and Pakistan, it is always difficult to say as to when or if at all there would be a next time.
Being Punjabis visiting the part of Punjab that lies on the other side of the border, we were glad to note that almost everything, apart from the religious faith that most people practise over there, is very similar to that in the Indian part of Punjab. There were a lot of interesting asides too, in addition to a heavy dose of nostalgia and a nice, warm kind of feeling inspired by the shared Punjabiyat.
So, when we returned home, after having spent ten days that were among the most memorable ones of our lives, enjoying the neighbours' hospitality, I wanted to share the experience with friends and family. I would have written a series of emails to them, but then I discovered blogging and it offered the prospect of not only sharing a lot of all that I had seen and heard with a lot more people, but, possibly, could also afford me the chance to make a tiny contribution towards the promotion of peace and friendship. So, here we are!
And these are the lines he wrote on another blog:
"... the only time the West hears of the borders you speak of is when there's fighting. This leaves the impression that all that exists is violence. We know this not to be true, of course, but every message of peace, understanding, acceptance and tolerance counts massively."
Indeed Sidhu-ji, it does!
Read the full post here and enjoy....
Urs of Bulleh Shah in Kasur
The annual Urs of Bulleh Shah, the Punjabi mystic poet, commenced yesterday in Kasur yesterday. Bulleh’s poetry reflected his rejection of orthodox hold of mullahs over Islam, the nexus between the clergy and the rulers and all the trappings of formal religion that created a gulf between man and his Creator. A common theme of his poetry is the pursuit of self-knowledge that is essential for the mystical union with the Beloved. Among Bulleh's timeless verse, I love this one
South Asian Cooperation and the Role of the Punjabs
South Asian Cooperation and the Role of the Punjabs. Tridivesh Singh Maini. New Delhi: Siddharth Publications , 2007
South Asian Cooperation and the Role of the Punjabs is a book that approaches the topic of conflict resolution with a difference. Trividesh Singh Maini’s book does not approach peaceful cooperation from the normative security framework. Nor, for that matter, does the author take the increasingly emergent economic approach to conflict resolution despite the fact that the book’s content deals with the subject of regional cooperation. Alternatively, Maini’s book helps its reader understand the dynamics of cooperation and peace among members of the South Asian Association for Regional Cooperation or SAARC (India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Nepal, Bhutan, Afghanistan and the island nations of Sri Lanka and Maldives) by presenting a cultural analysis.
This use of culture is persuasive. The author posits himself and his book as scholarship that thinks outside the bureaucratic box of normal research on South Asia with its vested interests in the region to reveal the “emotional” trajectory of cooperation that is occurring in this region. Using culture to support his thesis, Maini illustrates for the reader various cultural exchanges between two cities, Amritsar in East Punjab in India and Lahore in West Punjab in Pakistan. These include visits to religious shrines, literary exchanges and especially recent transportation events such as the initiation of bus services to help people meet their relatives on the other side of the border.
Amrita Pritam: 1919-2005
Amrita Pritam never woke up on the afternoon of October 31, 2005 and the world is emptier without her musings. She embodied the fullness of poetic expression, creativity and the intensity of a woman in the perpetual state of love. Amrita’s voice was rooted in the South Asian idiom with all its contradictions, diversity and a faint recognition of fate. Her remarkable affinity with the depths of the Punjabi language adds to her iconoclastic status in India, Pakistan and wherever Punjabi is spoken and appreciated. Yet her audience has been global as well: her work was translated into dozens of world languages.
One of her poems makes the following confession:
Today I have erased the number of my house
And removed the stain of identity on my street’s forehead
And I have wiped the direction on each road
But if you really want to meet me
Then knock at the doors of every country
Every city, every street
And wherever a glimpse of a free spirit exists
That will be my home
(translation by author)
Through the course of her life, this ‘free spirit’ generated controversy but she never concerned herself with the mundane. Outspoken, prolific and deeply spiritual, Amrita existed within self-defined, non-conformist parameters. She lived with her partner for 41 years, shunned religious and sectarian identities and rejected the political divide of the left and right:
No absolutes for something as relative as a human life
No rules for something so tender as a heart..
Amrita was born in 1919 in the Gujranwala district and educated in Lahore. Her first collection of poetry, Amrit Lehran (Ripples of Nectar) was published in 1936 when she was hardly 17. By the early 1940s, five collections of her poetry had been published. However, it was in the tragic turn of events during Partition that Amrita’s poetic genius found the real groundswell of expression. Her meteoric fame is often ascribed to the masterpiece poem "Aj Aakhaan Waris Shah Nu" when a neo-Heer emerged on the literary landscape of the Punjab during the 1947 trauma. This poem, addressed to Waris Shah – the author of the Punjabi epic of immortal love, Heer Ranjha – summed up the anguish of millions, particularly women in the Punjab who suffered a disproportionate share of the tragedy.
I say to Waris Shah today, speak from your grave
And add a new page to your book of love
Once one daughter of Punjab wept, and you wrote your long saga;
Today thousands weep, calling to you Waris Shah:
Arise, o friend of the afflicted; arise and see the state of Punjab,
Corpses strewn on fields, and the Chenaab flowing with much blood.
Someone filled the five rivers with poison,
And this same water now irrigates our soil.
Where was lost the flute, where the songs of love sounded?
And all Ranjha’s brothers forgot to play the flute.
Blood has rained on the soil, graves are oozing with blood,
The princesses of love cry their hearts out in the graveyards.
Today all the Quaidos have become the thieves of love and beauty,
Where can we find another one like Waris Shah?
Waris Shah! I say to you, speak from your grave
And add a new page to your book of love.
(Translation by Darshan Singh Maini)
Four poems by Bulleh Shah (new translations)
Who I am
I know not who I am,
I am neither a believer going to the mosque
Nor given to non-believing ways.
Neither clean nor unclean,
Neither Moses nor Pharaoh.
I know not who I am.
I am neither among sinners nor among saints,
Neither happy nor unhappy,
I belong neither to water nor to earth.
I am neither fire nor air,
I know not who I am.
Neither do I know the secret of religion,
Nor am I born of Adam and Eve.
I have given myself no name,
I belong neither to those who squat and pray,
Nor to those who have gone astray.
I know not who I am.
I was in the beginning; I'd be there in the end.
I know not any one other than the One.
Who could be wiser than Bulleh Shah
Whose Master is ever there to tend?
I know not who I am.
Come my Love, take care of me
Come my Love, take care of me,
I am in great agony.
Ever separated, my dreams are dreary,
Looking for you, my eyes are weary.
All alone I am robbed in a desert,
Waylaid by a bunch of waywards.
The Mulla and Qazi show me the way,
Their maze of dharma that is in sway.
They are the confirmed thieves of time.
They spread their net of saintly crime.
Their time-worn norms are seldom right,
With these they chain my feet so tight!
My love cares not for caste or creed.
To the ritual faith I pay no head.
My Master lives on yonder bank
While I am caught in the gale of greed.
With his boat at anchor, He stands in wait,
I must hasten I can’t be late.
Bulleh Shah must find his love,
He needn’t have the least fright.
His Love is around, yet he looks for him
Misled in the broad daylight.
Come my love take care of me,
I am in great agony.
**************
Strange are the times!
Crows swoop on hawks
Sparrows do eagles stalk
Strange are the times!
The Iraqis are despised
While the donkeys are prized
Strange are the times!
Those with coarse blankets are kings;
The erstwhile kings watch them from the ring.
Strange are the times!
Its not without reason or rhyme,
Strange are the times
Says Bulleh, kill your ego
And throw away your pride.
You need to forget yourself
To find Him by your side.
It’s all in One contained
Understand the One and forget the rest.
Shake off your ways of an apostate pest.
Leading to the grave to hell and torture,
Rid your mind of dreams of disaster.
This is how is the argument maintained,
It’s all in One contained.
What use is it bowing one’s head?
To what avail has prostrating led?
Reading Kalma you make them laugh,
Absorbing not a word while the Quran you quaff.
The truth must be here and there sustained,
It’s all in One contained.
Some retire to the jungles in vain.
Others restrict their meals to a grain.
Misled they waste away unfed
And come back home half alive, half dead.
Emaciated in the ascetic postures feigned,
it’s all in One contained,
Seek your master, say your prayers and surrender to God,
It will lead you to mystic abandon
And help you to get attuned to the Lord.
It’s all the truth that Bulleh has gained.
It’s all in One contained.
Bulleh Shah, a renowned Muslim spiritual leader of the sub continent of Indo-Pakistan, was a Punjabi Sufi poet. His spiritual master was Shah Inayat Qadiri of Lahore and because of this Bulleh was referred to as a saint or spiritual leader. Bulleh's real name was Abdullah Shah, but he was known as Bulleh to his family and that was the name he chose to use as a poet.
The distasteful side of fedual shrine culture
In a story entitled Punjab grants ‘divine man’ obscene rights, Hamid Asghar of DAWN had written this report about the way the Sufi descendants of today can use their influence. I had saved the story and forgot where I had saved it. Today, I stumbled upon it. And, here it is - this is why the Sufis and their shrines are a target of negative comments.
GUJAR KHAN: That a “divine man†wants to drive in style in our VIP culture would not surprise many, but that the government helps him in the obscenity would.
That is how the local traffic police felt when it stopped a car for travelling with hooter blaring and blue light flashing on its roof and was confronted with a carte blanche in the form of an official letter addressed “To Whom It May Concernâ€.
The flashing light was just one sign that the car belonged to Badshah Ghosia Qalandar Baba Sarkar. His eminence were also proclaimed through a green flag, with Kalima on it, flying from the bonnet and Allah-o-Akbar and “786†emblazoned on either side of the personalised “Ghospak†green number plate.
Only you, know my pains – Rabba Meray Haal Da Mehrem Tu
"O God, you are my state of being" is what this Kafi of Shah Hussain loosely means. It is about the internal and external knowledge of Reality. I have been singing this Kafi for the last few days. Here is a translation (courtesy Shahidain) followed by an audio version and the Punjabi lyrics-
"O God, only You know all my pains.
You are within me and You are outside me( You are everywhere)
In every pore of mine (from top to toe) only you dwell.
You are the warp, You are the woof.
You are every thing for me.
Says Hussain, the Humble Faqir, I am nothing, You are everything".
Interpretation by Naveed Siraj: Divine Love is ingrained in every fibre of ones’ self & this Love is overwhelming and ever-present. Like Pathanay Khan wailing “charkha bolay sain sainâ€; i.e., even the common household chores remind one of the Lord, so one loses the distinction between the begining of this love and its manifestation and its end. [this is why “andarâ€, “baharâ€, “room room vich toonh†captivates ones imagination]
And once again Abida Parveen sings it so beautifully:
Myth of Channan Peer
Earlier I posted on Khowaja Ghulam Fareed, the Sufi poet from Cholistan. A famous festival takes place each year attracting thousands of people in the vast desert that Cholistan is. About this mela or gathering I found this charming piece by Zia Zaidi.
Unveiling the mysteries – Bulleh Shah
Bulleh Shah discloses that the Lord pervades in everyone. He is not only to be found in Mansur, but also his executioner, as also the spectator.
Here is the Punjabi version followed by a crisp translation - a labour of love by Shahidain..
Â
"Behad Ramzaan dasda nee
Meyndaa Dholann maahee
Meem de Ohley wasdaa nee
Meyndaa Dholann maahee
Auliyaa mansoor kahaawey
Ramz anal-haq aap bataaway
Aapey aap noon soolee charhaaway
Te kol khaloke hasdaa nee
Meyndaa Dholann maahee
Behad Ramzaan dasda nee,
Meyndaa Dholann maahee
Boundless signs He reveals
My Beloved Lover
In [letter] 'M' His dwelling conceals*
My Beloved Lover
Â
As a saint Mansur gets Himself hailed
As the metaphor 'I am Truth' gets Himself hanged
On the gallows gets Himself impaled
Standing nearby with laughter He peals
My Beloved Lover
Â
Boundless signs He reveals
My Beloved Lover
In 'm' His dwelling conceals
My Beloved Lover ( Translation by Prof Muzaffar Ghaffaar)
* The letter meem phonetically M in English is a mystical letter and meant to contain Divine mysteries apparent only to the ones who develop the inner eye through mystical knowledge. Another verse speaks of Meem as the only difference between Ahad (Singularity of God) and Ahmad (another name for Prophet Mohammad- who accordint to some was the foremost mystic/Sufi in Islam)
Another translation follows -
Real Naanak/Can prove dangerous to us
My friend Jasdeep Singh has shared his translation of a Punjabi poem Naanak by Jaswant Singh Zafar. I like the way poet brings out the essential side of Guru-Saint Naanak and his contemporaries from the Bhakti movement and alludes to the fact that how iconoclastic this was. Alas, all such movements and thoughts become boxed in rituals supervised by power hungry clergies..
Excuse Us
Its quite hard for us
To idolize real image of Naanak
Legs messed up with dust of the tiring paths
Cramped feet
rouged up beard by ..
eyes popping from the facial bone structure
dazzling renegade eyes
eyes –
which challenge
the family
the regime
and every ritual
Real Naanak
can prove dangerous to us
Naanak imitated in the paintings of Sobha Singh
is well suited for us
peaceful
spiritual
hand shown like Goddess Lakhsmi
and the generosity withering from the hand
eyes full of delicacy
clean sun silked beard
round fair cheeks
fair and lovely
rosy tipsy lips
soft gemini feet
delicate barbie hands
The walls of our home can only hold
Naanak imitated in the paintings of Sobha Singh
Naanak who challenged the paths traveled by others
That Dangerous Naanak’s real picture
is quite bulky for our walls..
Excuse us..
the homes we created with labour of blood,
we can’t afford ruining them,
kids we got with God’s grace,
we can’t afford losing them,
we can not idolize the real image of Naanak
Excuse us
Punjabi version in roman can be found below:
Bulleh Shah – I long for you, what can be done?
Contribution by Shahidain
In this kafi, the Sufi poet Bulleh Shah reveals the unbearble pain of seperation from his Beloved. He can not give up love and the seperation makes him restless and unable to sleep. So he hangs between life and death. Please find below the Punjabi version followed by English translations (from here).
Ab lagan lagi ki kariye?
Na ji sakiye te na mariye.
Tum suno hamaari baena,
Mohe raat diney nahi chaena,
Hun pi bin palak na sariye,
Ab lagan lagi ki kariye?
Eh agan birhon di jaari.
Koi hamari peedd nivaari.
Bin darshan kaise tariye?
Ab lagan lagi ki kariye?
Bulle payi musibat bhaari,
Koi kare hamaari kaari,
Ik ajihe dukh kaise jariye.
Ab lagan lagi ki kariye?
"I long for you, what can be done?
I cannot live, I cannot die.
I long for you.
Listen to my plea,
Night or day, I have no peace.
Not another moment can I exist without you.
I long for you, what can be done?
This separation-torment is unending!
Does anyone have a cure for it?
If I do not see him, how will I live?
I long for you, what can be done?
Says Bulha, I am in great distress,
O please find a remedy.
How can I endure such pain?
I long for you, what can be done?" (Translation By Suman Kashyap)
Another translation that might make the meaning a little clearer
On Bhagat Singh, his vision and Jinnah’s support for his struggle
A few days ago, Irfan Habib, a noted researcher and author of TO MAKE THE DEAF HEAR - Ideology and Programme of Bhagat Singh and His Comrades sent his thoughtful piece on the legendary Bhagat Singh.
Incidentally, Bhagat Singh was hanged on Pakistan's Republic Day - March 23 though nine years prior to that - in Lahore - thereby adding another dimension to the symbolism of March 23 for Pakistanis. Bhagat Singh for his principles, struggle for just causes and valour is a shared hero.
I am quoting some of the passages from Habib's article below. Citing a Tamil newspaper editorial of 1931, Habib writes:
One of the most articulate and strong reaction was seen in far away Tamil Weekly called Kudi Arasu, where Periyar E.V. Ramasami wrote an editorial on March 29, 1931. Besides being critical of Gandhi and the Congress for failing to save him, Periyar saw in young Bhagat Singh an ally who stood for rationalism and spoke against caste oppression. He began by writing there is no one who has not condoled the death of Mr. Bhagat Singh by hanging. There is none who has not condemned the government for hanging him.
The above lines reflect the widespread acceptance of Bhagat Singh as a national hero, much beyond the limits of Punjab, and more significantly, within this short political life. There is no reason to believe that his persona was created by scholars through their exploration and interpretation of historical records.
Habib concludes with these words-
Bulleh, the Beloved is hidden and sits aside
I am grateful to Shahidain for introducing me to another majestic poem of Bulleh Shah with the translation and a preamble:
Ever since the soul has been seperated from its source, it has been pining to go back to it. The feeling of loneliness by man will not end till the soul unites back with the Lord. When God had not manifested himelf, all the the souls were united with Him. When they were seperated , there was a covenant between them, that He would reunite those with Him, who were really desirous to do so. So the Lord is as keen to end the period of seperation as is the yearning soul.
O Maid! Who is this well clad Person?
O Maid! Offer Him a seat and enquire Him sincerely
He has a staff in hand, a blanket on His shoulder
He has glowing eyes
He is not aservant but some one ecstatic
Ask Him politely and sincerely
Do not call Him a servant or a herdman
He is not without any deep secret
He seems seperated (from his Beloved) on the very first night of Union
He has come here looking for his Beloved, O Maid
O Maid! Who is this well clad Person?
O Maid! Offer Him a seat and enquire Him sincerely
He is neither a servant
nor has He any interest in tending buffaloes
He is neither fong of milk nor yoghurt
Neither He feels hungry nor thirsty, O Maid
O Maid! Who is this well clad Person?
O Maid! Offer Him a seat and enquire Him sincerely
Bulleh, the Beloved is hidden and sits aside
Neither He speaks nor reveals any secrets
My father is trying to find a fiance from Kheras
O Maid, whereas my Fiance is with me
O Maid! Who is this well clad Person?
O Maid! Offer Him a seat and enquire Him sincerely
(translated by Saeed Ahmad)
The original Punjabi version is posted below:
I will inflame the fiery Sun…..Bulleh Shah
In Punjabi followed by a not-so-great translation....
Bulleh Shah on worldly knowledge
PaRh paRh ilm hazaar kitaabaN
qaddi apnay aap nou paRhiya naee
jaaN jaaN waRhday mandir maseedi
qaddi mann apnay wich waRhiya naee
aa-vaiN laRda aye shaitan de naal bandeaa
qaddi nafss apnay naal laRiya naee
[yes, yes, you have read thousands of books
but you have never tried to read your own self
you rush in, into your Mandirs, into your Mosques
but you have never tried to enter your own heart
futile are all your battles with Satan
for you have never tried to fight your own desires]
Why search for God?
Bulleh Shah - the master Sufi poet from medieval Punjab - identified where to find Love and the Divine presence. Nowhere, but within one's self. And do check out a great rendition by Abida Parveen here.
The following lines and their translation are from here
Bulleh Shah on dogs
Read the symbol-laden verses of Bulleh Shah with the translation contributed by Shahidain:
RaateeN jaageyN kareyN ibaadat
RaateeN jaagan kuttey teython utey
bhonkanon band mool naa hundey
jaa ruree tey suttey, teythoN uttey
khasam apney da dar na chhaddey
bhaaweyN so so wajjan jutey
Bulleh shah kooee rakht weyhaaj ley
baazee ley gaey kuttey tethoN uttey
----------------------
You wake and keep praying throughout night
Dogs also keep praying throughout night
They are superior to you
They do not stop barking
and ultimately sleep on a dirty pile of waste
They are superior to you
They do not leave their master’s door even
if they are beaten by shoes.
Bulleh Shah! perform good deeds otherwise dogs will supersde you.
They are superior to you.
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Posts Archive
Raza Rumi @ flickr
- Asim Butt's mural for T2F, Karachi
- T2F remembers Asim Butt
- Haris Gazdar at the memorial
- Asim's friends will always miss him
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- In attendance -
- The tribute to Asim Butt
- Asim's picture published by GT
- Another mural for The Second Floor-Asim Butt
Pak Tea House
- Never A Lamentation
- Wake up Punjab
- Zardari signs 2 laws aimed at protecting working class
- “Hakeem” Zaid Hamid
- Wake Up Call For Civil Society
- Technology Betrayal Continued
- Technology Betrayal
- Ode to Karachi
- Visit to Khewra Salt mines Pakistan
- Unbordered Memories – Sindhi Stories of Partition.
Development Industry
- Learn from the UK. Open up data sources in South Asia
- Kiran Bir Sethi teaches kids to take charge
- State of research in Pakistan…
- Reforming Pakistan Civil Service
- Pakistan – Restructuring of PSEs
- Newinpk
- PAKISTAN: Reinventing microfinance
- Dissent as Democracy
- Pakistan 4th on regional list of adult illiterates
- International Development Law Organization on Davos
World music on NPR
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- Elis Regina: The Feeling Between The Notes
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Tags
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Pages
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- About Thumri
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- adsense sample
- Amrita Pritam is no more 2/6
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- An Essay on Nizamuddin by Marta Franceschini
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- A little more recogniton..
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- Against Forgetting and No Poem is Mine
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- Go not without me
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- Ominous shadows
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- Qurratulain Hyder
- Sonargaon – A poem by HUR
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- Faiz translated by Vikram Seth
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- Halaku, when you will come to Baghdad this time…
- I found Roses in Konya… 2/3
- I found Roses in Konya… 3/3
- I will meet you yet again – Amrita Pritam
- Ideology of intolerance
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- Jal gaya tha ik roshniyon ka shaher
- Kafka Country – published in the Friday Times
- Kafka Country published in the Friday Times
- Links
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- Open the Door
- Peace to Beirut with all my heart… 2/3
- Petal to Petal …..More of Parveen Shakir
- Qasmi – Urdu literature mourns a giant 2/4
- Qasmi, Literary Fueds and National Neglect
- Rare objects discovery points to ruins treasure
- Raza Rumi
- Revisiting Kabir – the Weaver, the Myth, the Master
- Sadequain 20 years later
- Shared visions: Khushwant Singh and Fahmida Riaz 2/2
- Standing Alone in Mecca (book review)
- Surveys show that Pakistanis (and Muslims) reject “terrorism”
- Teray Ishq Nachaya – Bulleh Shah – full text
- The Lost Jewel – Rediscovering Hazrat Ali’s Letter
- The roar of Rumi – 800 years on
- The Sultan of Hearts – Hazrat Nizamuddin Auliya
- This world without Dr. Schimmel… 2/3
- Tum bilkul hum jaisey nikley
- Ustad Bismillah Khan is no more
- Web resources on Qurrutalain Hyder
- Why I love Pakistan? Top 5 reasons
- Darwin and the grand unity of life
- Khusrau: The shadow of power
