And Tonight The Moon - Gulzar
And again in the fragrant night I will have to burn.
And again from the face of moon lifts the fog.
And again deep in the chest few suppressed sighs
Will fall and shatter all over the floor.
Where did you hide the night?
Where did you hide the cool shadows
of your rosy hands?
Where are the many faces and masks
of your lips?
Where are you tonight, tonight where are you? Whose sadness is this, sleeping in my bed?
Translated from the Hindustani
Translations
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from Heer - Waris Shah
Ever new, ever fresh is the Spring of Love!
Ever new, ever fresh is the Spring of Love!
When I learnt the lesson of love, My heart dreaded the sight of the mosque. I went into the temple, Where a thousand horns were blowing.
When I grasped the hint of love, I beat and drove out all senses of "I" and " You”, Both my heart and vision became clear. Now in whatsoever direction I look, I see only the lord.
I am tired of reading Vedas and Qur'ans; My forehead is worn by constant prostrations in the mosque. But the lord is neither at Hindu shrines nor at Mecca, Whoever found him, found him in the light of his own beauty.
Burn the prayer mat, break the bucket, And do not touch the beads or the staff. The lovers are proclaiming at the top of their voices, "Give up the lawful and eat carrion."
I have lived all my life in a mosque, But my heart is still full of dirt. I had never vowed for the prayer of unity of God Now why do I rave and cry.
Love has made me forget to prostrate myself before you, Now why do you quarrel with me in vain? Waris is doing his best to keep silent about it, But love says "Kill‑‑destroy all show and formality."
Inspite of not knowing Punjabi, Abida's rendition of Waris Shah's Heer is proving to be soothing to my sleepless sickness. I suppose this is the effect of Waris Shah's great masterpiece on someone as screwed up as me, as it attacks from all the directions leaping beyond the mere syntax of language or comprehension.
Big Book Of Poetry
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Figuring it out, somewhat.
He thinks about his recent course of actions to see what he could and should have done otherwise, and more importantly what could he learn?
Not civility. That much effort he made. To be civil, not to degrade what was a long relationship with name calling, which any case doesn't offer anything to learn. Yet he couldn't avoid the muck of it. Perhaps there is no gentle enough method to say, "this is where I stop, and I will go no further on this path", especially if the path happens to be her life, or what he could percieve of it.
That said there is always the question in his mind: is this the best possible route, or is it just the most expedient route? When he poses this question to himself, both his intellect and heart affirm the former, and yet wonder about the latter. This is the paradox of choice: the good choice, the bad choice, and the indifferent choice.
What then was the basis of his choice? Was it delebrative or instinctual, all based on the small fund of his previous experiences? Perhaps a mixture of both, but always revolving around the cardinal priniciple of living, i.e., interacting and interweaving with other, an integral life, or at least making a delibrate effort to do so. What such a process, as he understands it, would lead to is fidelity.
Then this question follows in his mind: is it possible for a person who conceals significant personal facts for whatever reasons (perhaps, these can be termed the 'big' lies), and to backup such a coverup invents a continuum of 'small' lies, to become integral at some point of time in the now and the future? And even if this were possible (inner work can be done to overcome unethical habits), is it possible to regain trust, which is the basic coin of any living bond?
He has no answers to these quandries. But then, perhaps, the idea is not to seek answers to these quandries but to live with an awareness of these questions of integrity, fidelity and trust, as he turns, as he must, from suspicion to openess, from anger to letting go, and from indifference to compassion.
My Daily Notes
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