Without the eyes – two clouds – the lightning of the heart:
The fire of God’s threat, how could it be allayed?
How would the herbage grow of union, sweet to taste?
How would the fountains all gush forth with water pure?
How would the rosebed tell its secret to the meadow?
How would the violet make contracts with jasmine?
How would the plane tree lift its hands in prayer, say?
How would the trees’ heads toss free in the air of Love?
How would the blossoms shake their sleeves in days of
spring
To shed their lovely coins about the garden wide?
How would the tulip’s cheek be red like flames and blood?
How would the rose draw out its gold now from its purse?
How would the ringdoves call like seekers, “Where, oh
where?”
How would the stork repeat his laklak from his soul,
To say: “O Helper high, Thine is the kingdom, Thine!”
How would the dust reveal the secrets of its heart?
How would the sky become a garden full of light?
Rumi
Translation by Annemarie Schimmel
“I Am Wind, You are Fire”
Shambhala, 1992
The Risalo of Shah Latif is divided into chapters called Surs which are composed on the lines of musical notes. Each sur is based on symbols taken from stories which are part of Sindhi folklore. Sur Kamod in the Risalo of Shah Latif is based on the love story of Noori Jam-Tamachee:
Noori Jam-Tamachee
King Jam Tamachi was a Samo ruler of lower Sind at the end of the 14th century A.D. While on a shooting expedition, he chanced to see a fisher girl named Noori, falling madly in love with her and offered to married her, his love for her blind to the social disparity between them.
When they returned back to his capital, he was made aware of the general disapproval of this match. He merely observed that the detractors did not know her as much as he did. In order to display her character and appease the cynics, one day, he announced to his queens, that he would take one of them for a ride on an outing. (more…)
Sadi has written a wonderful post here - I am cross posting it here.
Couple of nights back (24, April, 08) came an unanticipated opportunity to watch and listen to two of great contemporary pakistani sufi Qawwali singers at famous UCLA Royce Hall. The concert was titled, Qawwali Music of Pakistan: Sufi devotional music.Among the audience was both americans and sub-continental audience. What was striking, is Qawwali’s ability to transcend language with its sheer power and captivating devotion. The nature of improvisation makes each Qawwali, even if its sung by the same group of singers, very unique and every new listening is a new experience.Sometime the depth of the verses, fused with the presentation takes audience to an otherly high which was felt last night too. At times there were goosebumps and surges with the strong emotion that is created in Qawwali performance. The Sufi Qawwalis are considered as zikr or Divine remembrance if listened with spiritual understanding and depth.:: What is Sufi Qawwali? | Qawwali is derived from the Arabic word qaul, literally meaning “saying” but has taken on the meaning of “belief”or “credo” in South Asian languages. Qawwali is spiritual in essence; it is the devotional music of the Sufis to attain trance and mystical experience - originating in the 10th century and blossoming into its present form from the 13th century onwards. (more…)
Do not worry if our harp breaks
thousands more will appear.
We have fallen in the arms of love where all is music.
If all the harps in the world were burned down,
still inside the heart
there will be hidden music playing.
Do not worry if all the candles in the world flicker and die
we have the spark that starts the fire.
The songs we sing
are like foam on the surface of the sea of being
while the precious gems lie deep beneath.
But the tenderness in our songs
is a reflection of what is hidden in the depths.
Stop the flow of your words,
open the window of your heart and
let the spirit speak.
– Translation by Azima Melita Kolin
and Maryam Mafi
“Rumi: Hidden Music”
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd, 2001
Spring is here, friends.
Let’s stay in the garden
And be guests to the strangers of the green.
We’ll fly from one flower to the other,
Like bees making the six corners
Of this earth’s hives prosperous.
An envoy came from this fortress
And said, “Don’t beat the drum secretly.
With our yells, we would tear down the place
Where that Love’s drum is beating.”
Hear that voice which comes from the sky,
“Rise, all insane ones.
I sacrifice my Soul to the insane.
Let’s scatter our Soul today.”
Let’s break all the chains.
Every one of us is a blacksmith.
Let’s go to the fireplace where the pincers are.
Let’s fan the flame of the Heart’s fire
Like the furnace of blacksmiths.
So we can have iron Hearts
Under our control with breath.
We’ll put fire in this universe,
Incite riots in the sky,
Make his sober, resisting mind
Turn around, become dizzy like ours.
We are like a ball, without hands and feet,
Sometimes at the end
And sometimes at the beginning of the square.
Who told you we could do what we want?
Who told you we are independent?
No, no. We are like a club
In the hand of the Sultan.
We send hundreds of thousands of balls
To His feet.
Let’s be silent. Silence is made
With some material like craziness.
His mind is such a fire
That we hide this fire by wrapping it in cotton.
– Translation by Nevit O. Ergin
“Divan-i Kebir” — Meter 1
Walla Walla, Washington: Current, 1995.
I am a pagan (worshiper) of love: the creed (of Muslims) I do not need;
Every vein of mine has become (taut like a) wire; the (pagan) girdle I do not need.
Leave from my bedside, you ignorant physician!
The only cure for the patient of love is the sight of his beloved –
other than this no medicine does he need.
If there be no pilot on our ship, let there be none:
We have God in our midst: the pilot we do not need.
The people of the world say that Khusrau worships idols.
So I do, so I do; the people I do not need,
the world I do not need.
If you don’t have the Beloved
why aren’t you looking for Him?
If you have the Beloved
why aren’t you rejoicing?
If the Friend is truly your friend
Why not stay with Him?
If the rebec does not wail,
Why not teach it how to sing?
If someone bars you from the truth,
Why not fight him
and his brother as well?
You sit quietly and say to yourself,
“Something strange is going on.”
The only thing strange
is that your best friend is a stranger. (more…)
An essay contributed by the celebrated singer,writer and spiritualist Vidya Rao
I often ask myself the question why I choose, above all things, to sing, and then to sing a traditional gayaki like thumri. The images that are gleaned from its poetic texts are so often open to misunderstand: pining nayikas, heartless piyas, rakish Krishnas, divine Rams. I ask myself that question again today when ‘tradition’ is in danger of being smothered by sectarianism, communal violence and a whole culture lies bleeding.
I turn to the music itself for my answer. It has never failed me before—it does not fail me now. (more…)
This afternoon I discovered two souls at the workplace who were talking of the inner self and how we often let the world and its trappings conceal it. The result is that we never know who we are.. As we sipped a nice brew of coffee, we talked of the heart’s mirror that gets polluted. And we need to re-discover that.
So as I was talking of being one with one’s self, I read this poem by Rumi this evening and thought it needs to posted here.
this time i must confess
i feel a total hate for myself
while crowded and swarmed
my heart wishes to be a single self (more…)
“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 sain”; 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 “andar”, “bahar”, “room room vich toonh” captivates ones imagination]
And once again Abida Parveen sings it so beautifully: (more…)
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
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
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)
Someone once said Abida Parveen is not a singer or an artist… she is an experience….. her voice and expression takes you to a different universe… when she collaborated with India’s ace filmmaker, poet, artist, revivalist, musician and activist Muzaffar Ali the result had to be something divine … something out of ordinary, something that transcends all boundaries… it was purest of the pure Raqs-e-Bismil (dance of the injured)… totally unforgettable and soulful … In Abida’s own words Raqs-e-Bismil has the glow of Almighty in it…one can become wali by listening to it…. sufi poetry has a magic that is beyond any explanation, any comprehension … it fascinates me as each time it takes me into a new realm of discovery.
I am sharing my favorite ghazal from the album with translation… although each piece is a priceless gem yet this ghazal has the power to take you beyond yourself. Abida is at her best here.
The English translation is done by Muzaffar Ali himself.
Hairat mara ze har do jahan be niaz kard
Een khab kaare daulat e bedaar meekunad
(Rumi)
Bewilderment has absolved me of both the worlds
This is the consequence of awakening from my dreams
Khuli jab ki chashm e dil e hazeen,
to vo nam raha na teri rahi
Hui hairat aisi kuch aankh par ki asar ki be asari rahi
Pari goshe jaan mein ajab nida ki jigar na bejigari rahi
Khabare tahhayyur e ishq sun na junoon raha na pari rahi
Na to tu raha na to main raha jo rahi bekhabari rahi…
(Khamsa by Nazeer Akbarabadi for Siraj Aurangabadi)
The eyes of an anguished heart open…
No longer moist.. Bereft of tears
The perplexed vision
Remained unmoved.. Devoid of response
The soul heard.. An unusual sound
That took the pluck of life away
As wondrous love revealed itself
The fairy vanished..The ecstasy lost
Nor you remained.. Nor I was found
mere oblivion was all there was…
Mujhe bekhudi ye tune bhali chashni chakhayi
Kisi aarzoo ki dil mein nahi ab rahi samayi
O surrender in love,
You have given me a taste that pales all worldliness
No desire remains
In the heart filled with submission
Na hazar hai na khatar hai, na raja hai ne dua hai
Na khayaal e bandagi hai na tamana e khudai
Neither distance nor fear…
neither hope nor prayer
neither thoughts of subjugation
nor desire of godliness
Na muqqam e guftagu hai na mahhall e justaju hai
Na wahan havaas pahunche na khirad ko hai rasai
No place for exchange of words…
no occasion for further quest
Where neither consciousness reaches
nor thoughts transcend its realm
Na makin hai ne makan hai na zameen hai ne zaman hai
Dil e be nava ne mere jahan chhavni hai chayi
No one resides..Neither habitation exist…
Is where this wandering heart has come to camp
Na visaal hai na hijraan na suroor hai na gham hai
Jise kahiye khwab e ghaflat so woh neend mujh ko aayi
Where there is no union… No separation
no sorrow… no joy
What is said to be an endless oblivion
I enter such a slumber
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 (more…)
Bulleh Shah of Kasur in Central Punjab is another towering voice that provided a mystical message beyond caste, institutionalized religion and ideologies of power. Born in 1860 in a Syed family, he found a Murshid (spiritual master) in Shah Inayat who was an Arain (a lower caste). This enraged his family and they almost disowned him. However, intoxicated with the love for his master and driven by ideas of Unity of existence and equality of humans, he rejected such notions and stuck to his humanism.
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.
The yearning for anonymity and connecting with the Beloved requires that there are no distractions, no priorities and no illusions of attachment. Bulleh Shah’s verse and its translation say it so directly and passionately -(thanks again to Shahidain for sharing the translations by Muzaffar Ghafar):
Chal Way Bullehya Chal O’thay Chaliyay
Jithay Saaray Annay
Na Koi Saadee Zaat PichHanay
Tay Na Koi Saanu Mannay
O’ Bulleh Shah let’s go there
Where everyone is blind
Where no one recognizes our caste (or race, or family name)
And where no one believes in us
Ab to jaag Musaffir pyare
Raeen gayi latke taare
Kar le aj karni da weera
Mod na ho si aawen tera…
Awake, dear traveller, you’ve got to move on.
Trailing its stars, the night is gone.
Do what you have to do, do it today.
You will never be back this way.
Your companions are calling.
“Let us go.”
Awake, dear traveller, you’ve got to move on.
Trailing its stars, the night is gone.
A pearl, a ruby, the touchstone and dice…
With all that you thirst by the waterside.
Awake, dear traveller, you’ve got to move on.
Trailing its stars, the night is gone. (more…)
“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
“Bulleh Pi sharaab tey kha kabab,
par baal haddaan di ag,
Chooree kartay bhan ghar rab da,
ais thuggan de thug noo thug.”
O Bulleha, Drench yourself in wine and feast
ignite the fires flaming out of the bones.
stealing, break into the house of God
and swindle the cheat of cheats.
