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Sahib Hain Rangrez- Shobha Mudgal


ahib Hai Rangrej Chunri Mori Rang Daari
Syaahi Rang Churaye ke re Diyo Majitha Rang
Dhoye Se Chhute Nahin Re Din Din Hote Surang
Bhav Ke Kundi Neh Ke Jal Mein Prem Rang Dayee Bore
Dukh Deh Mael Lutaye De Re Khoob Rangi JhakJhore
Sahib Ne Chunri Rangi Re Preetam Chatur Sujaan
Sab Kutch Un Par Vaar Dun Re Tan Man Dhan Aur Pran
Kahat Kabir Rangrej Piyare Mujh Par Huye Dayal
Seetal Chunri Orike Re Bhayee Haun Magan Nihaal

Translation
The Master is an expert Dyer, He has colored my veil
Removing the dark stains, he gave that color of love
By washing which fades not but becomes brighter by the day
Using water of affection in the tub of feelings, He poured the color of love
Rinsing away the bodily sorrows and dirt, the Expert dyed it deftly
The Master who dyed the veil is expert, beloved and great
I surrender everything to Him : Body, Mind, Wealth and Life
Says Kabir, The Beloved Dyer is benevolent on me
Covered with this cool veil, My being is blissfully fulfilled.
Explanation
In this wonderful love song, Kabir brings into focus the sense of completeness, fulfillment and realization of the Truth within.

Most of the worldly acquisitions (referred as colorings) lose their luster over time. In other words, even though they may attract us immensely in the beginning, they lose their charm as time progresses. For example if we buy a new car, we feel so thrilled to have it as our possession. Even other people compliment us on our new acquisition. We take extreme care that it doesn’t get dirty, stained or scratched/bumped by another vehicle. But as time progresses, it slowly becomes just like any other possession we have.

Kabir, in this song, points how a spiritual or inward-directed coloring is the onlyreality that actually grows in its beauty and luster with time. The veil, in this song, represents the sheaths of perception that cover our innermost being. These sheaths, in turn, are the mechanism of how we perceive reality. The coloring of spirituality (given to us by the Guru) indeed permeates all these sheaths. While normally our perceptions are covered by a myriad of worldly colors, the spiritual coloring, on the other hand, is unique, one-pointed and singular. That is, it replaces our dispersed perspective by a single color of love for God. This oneness removes confusion and cleanses the root of all maladies. And once an unalloyed clarity emerges even this color disappears, making us the display the glorious radiance of our inner being in all its purity and joy.

August 12, 2001Maalok

ONLY IF THE PASTURES ON THE OTHER SIDE WERE THAT GREEN


My home phone rings.
“Hello, this is Akshita here”
“Akhsita?Oh yes I remember.”

It took me a few seconds to place her- a young 26 year old Indian doctor, from Chandigarh who I had met on Oct 25, 2010 during a day long exam for Canadian Licence for medical practice.

I had noticed her sitting huddled up in a corner during the hour long break in the exam and I sat next to her with the usual smile to initiate a dialogue

“Are you from India?” she asked
“Yes from Delhi.”

We deicide to go upto the coffee shop to buy cofee and stand in the queue exchanging the usual data about each other.

“But I need some coins too so that I can call my husband once the exam is done.”
“So you don’t have a cell phone,” I stop short of asking her. Yes it isnt mandatory for all of us to have a cell phone.

We talk of the exam and the time flies away.

She mentions to me how ‘homesick’ she feels and it has been months since she talked to another Indian and another doctor.

“So you dont study in a study group”.
“No” she replied again.

Yes I too dont like group study so just give this answer a pass.
As we pack up to turn back for the next session and she asks me, as if unsure if this was an appropriate thing to ask:

Can I have your phone number? If I need to, can I ever call you?”

I dictate out the number again too involved in my next exam without giving my name or even asking her number in return, even out of politeness.

We disperse and she is out of my mind.

Today she calls up to ask about the outcome of the exam result and poor soul declares that she could not pass. I reassure her, and to stay put until she succeeds. Next exam is 6 months on and enough to make a strong preparation.

She explains that she can only talk till her mother in law is in the shower.

She breaks down with the news that she cant even appear again until she reimburses the fees for this exam to her in laws .

“You couldn’t succeed, the fee of $1500 dollars was a total waste”—she is repeatedly taunted by her husband.

We talked for about 20 minutes or so, and she seemed  keen to do most of the talking. I let her.

She confided is being nagged to compensate for the fees. How? She has no clues nor have they hinted how. Go out to work? She says but they dont let her even step out alone from the house. Or maybe if she does go out to do an odd job of $10.25 an hour, they may change their mind.

Or graver still , maybe they expect her to demand this from her family back home to refund. But they are so kind that they do not say it in so many words.

They are letting her use her ‘independence’ to decide how she would reimburse.

“I feel miserable.I dont know what to do’”?

The word homesickness strikes my mind. Now I get a clue to what ‘homesickness’ she was going through in her new home in Canada.

She is being reminded several times a day and in several ways that they got her married to their son, for doctors here earn good money and she has proved to be an expensive daughter-in-law on the contrary.

She is now here since 3 years and lives with her inlaws. She has been attempting to clear the licensing exam since past two years in order to come into the medical practice in Canada.The expenses for the fees are pretty fat and generally it takes a few attempts for the average foreign trained proffessional to pass the exams.

Since she’s been feeding on the family’s expenses for these past 3 years, who had even financed her $ 2000+  airticket when she arrived in the country after marriage and the expenses of her books, exams fees she has been convinced. With all this already spent on her,  she has been convicned she cannot be provided with a cell phone.

“Here the person is paid on an hourly basis and half of the money is taken away in taxes’, she is told time and again.

Hence, to make long story short—she does not need to have a cell phone.

She is ‘allowed’ by her generous inlaws to make a 5-10 min call to her parents every 15 days and they are so kind they stand by her for everyminute of the call she makes to her ‘contented’  parents. Why shouldn’t they be, their girl is settled in Canada.

Any deviation in her expressions to her parents over the phone from ”alls well’ tone is greeted with eyes popping from the mother in law’s sockets,  or for days when her husband “neither looks, talks or touches” her. (in her own words).

She has no relatives or acquaintnaces in the town she lives, and before she got my telephone number, she did not have even a single phone number to call in times, good or bad.
Mother in law is a retired lady and hence she is fortunate to be escorted by her all those hours when her husband is away. When he arrives only does she do her other social obligations.

She feels she and her husabnd are   literally “remote controlled” by the  mother in law.  But she is ‘kind’ enough tolet  her study time from 8 am to 12 noon, soon after her husband leaves for work, but past noon onwards she does the house chores of cooking and cleaning, unsupervised, while the mother in law makes a one hour telephone call to her daughter in another city.

Three years and she has not been even dropped a hint at learning to drive, with a simple assumption from her that she can only do it once she has her Canadian passport.

 I offer her if I could help her in any way, she feels extremely undecided and then wants to wait that if she passes next time the attitudes will get better. At times she contradicts herself and justifies that the husband is “really bearing too much of her expenses”.

I ask her if she could give me her Indian phone number so that at least I can drop a hint to her parents—but she confides that the father is a heart patient and the mom has advised to refrain from any bad news.

I reassure her that there are various places and resources available for help but then it will need a huge courage on her part to come out. I also tell her to take her own decision—nor can I force her to take the action of my choice and then should go in with strong conviction. She repeats, “I think once I pass things will be different.”

As we were just in the midst of this discussion she hangs up the phone. Maybe it got disconnected. I wait. 

But the ring doesn’t ring again.It hasnt rung till now—almost 3 hrs since her call.

I feel extremely disturbed. Can I return the call? What if  other family members are home? What if she hasn’t told them about me and it might rebound on her. Hope she calls back. Hope she stays safe and in control of her situation
 

How can I take the baton for her? She has to run her own relay.
We can just guide her, reassure her and empower her to take her own sound decisions.

But the courage has to be her own.

I’ve never been so puzzled in life. I find it hard to get back to business as usual.

A perfect recipe for me to stay up all night, staring the roof .

Very often we hear of the cries of stories wherein the western desi girls are subjected to forced marriages by their families to cousins or other family members.

In Pakistan I know, there has been a special cell in the British HC for rescuing such girls from the clutches of forced marriages. Majority of these girls are at least school graduates and well aware of their rights and still they find it hard to rebel against what goes on.

A similiar but reverse trend of bringing girls from back home  is thriving too. Many desi households  in the west live a terrifically balanced life —by adopting those western values which suit them and conveniently being amnesic to those norms which donot suit them.

Prevailing social and economic hardships, over population, and fascination for the ‘foreign country’ or ‘west’ lures equally the parents and the girls back home to aspire for a foreign rishta. It offers a quick escape from the hardships in the heat and dust back home. The guy’s family too finds it a lot convenient to look for a simpleton bride from their homeland with the impression that the girls back there are still make ‘bholi bhali bahus’ as they had known when they migrated a couple or more  decades ago. Majority of them live in the time freeze of the times they had last lived back home.

The parents quite often, convince the boy,  after he has done enough of ‘playing around’ in high school or college days, that now it is worthwhile or rather safe to go for a desi girl with a desi frame of mind—fulfilling everyones convenient dreams—most of all of parents themselves,  of  a desi seedhi saadi bahu. It also  enables obliging the relatives ‘behind’  by choosing their daughter, hence opening their gateway to the west.

The guy is convinced that the girl who comes will be adjusting and law abiding at home, wouldn’t be a threat to the marriage, and will never know her rights or claims if at all the marriage fails.
This is one mindset which atunes  all diaspora of the South Asians,  to the same wavelength, across all subgroups, all faiths, all languages and all economic classes.

Doctor girls are in huge demand by the foreign settled rishta parents from our subcontinent.

Principally it is a noble profession, it makes  great news to announce that the bahu is a doctor, if she gets into the system she will mint money and will be the blue eyed of her husband and his family as their mortgages will be finished soon.

Back home with 4:1 ratio of girls in medical colleges, and the valid aspiration of every medical graduate to find a suitor of equal professional aptitude is tough, hence getting a proposal from a foreign settled graduate is like  “her man in shining armour riding  a white horse, who will come, and lo will vanish  all the miseries in her life.”
.
Of course the  cousin marriages, in Muslims,  need no cross check. In other communities, the girl’s family is so enamoured by the foreign rishta that they believe on word of mouth or get impressed by a tour of the photoalbums, and consent to the foreign damaad  without much investigation. Even if they wish to inquire, ‘the distance, the visa, the expense’ constraints  are enough to dampen the ‘evil’ thought.

Investigations for what?  She is a doctor and she will earn well over there.
A lot of them do not even explore how tough the licensinfg exams are, and that barely a fraction of them are able to make into the field of medical practice.

Majority of doctors end up being grateful housewives or doing odd jobs or even diversifying into diametrically opposite fields like interior decoration, beautician, research assistant or a teacher.

This is not the srtory of one Akshita. The situation on ground is overwhelming in volume.
.

The idea here is not to create a paranoia but to inform about the various vulnerabilities one faces—be it in professional terms or socail viewpoint.

Despite the tremendous pressures for a right match or aspirations to move over to the greener pastures, it is mandatory for the parents to cross check the degrees that the boys claim to possess and the the possibilities of one’s daughter to be able to pursue her career.

She should be aware of her rights as well as the duties which takes to make marriage a compatible, pleasant and a worthwhile experience. It certainly does not imply that all are alike but a lot of girls I have personally known do find it tough to adjust to the controlling ways of their insecure inlaws.

Getting one’s daughter maried off to a stranger residing thousands of miles away needs a truck load of courage. It should be embarked upon with wisdom and with all the possible issues in mind.

It has been, now, 4 hours since Akshita called me. She did not ring back. Hope she is fine and safe. Hope her controlling mother in law hasn’t heard her talk on phone.

I hope she gets enough courage to stand up on her two legs and her husband grows a spine in his back —to at least lend a moral support to his wife, who has come a 4000 miles just to spend the rest of her life with him,  and who is going to be a mother of his kids in future.

If the mother in happy, their children too would grow happy.

Most likely, I am afraid her situation will prevail as such with cyclical pattern of frequent taunts and then a few happy moments— typical of  abuse—and she will go on for years being unsure whether it is appropriate for her raise an alarm and she will be listened to.

Every doctor girl coming here to Canada or west in general, has to go through the challenges—of adjusting to the new way of life, pressures of completing the battery exams in order to get back into practice, feeling homesick but unable to visit parents and with loads of expectations that one day she will turn into “a goose that will lay gold eggs.”

In this era of information explosion it is an abominable sin to embark on a life long decision unaware of it’s pros and cons. It is mandatory on all parents and girls to please take wise decisions.
Please look before you let your daughters leap.

Decide carefully and wisely…

Ilmana Fasih
16 December 2010
(PS: This is a true story of today itself. However, Akshita is not her real name).

THE YOUNGEST REVOLUTIONARY MARTYR — KHUDIRAM BOSE


It was this young lad who threw the first bomb at the British who were ruling India. Even while at school, he was attracted towards the sacred words ‘VandeMataram’ (I bow to Mother India!) and plunged into the war of independence. The boy of sixteen defied the police. And at the age of 18 years 7 months & 11 days had already become a martyr.
The hero was Khudiram Bose, born on Dec 3, 1889 in a tiny village in Bengal. He was the only surviving son of his parents who also passed away when he was barely six yrs of age. Brought up by his elder sister and her husband who aspired of this intelligent boy to become a big officer.
Khudiram, like all brilliant kids found the school curriculum too boring and uninteresting to enjoy. He never paid attention to the teachers lectures and would be lost in his own dream world.
At the age of seven when kids think of foot balls and cars he was haunted by thoughts, ‘India is our country. It is a great country. Elders say that this has been the home of knowledge for thousands of years. Why, then, are the red-faced British here? Under them, our people cannot even live as they wish. When I grow up, I must somehow drive them out.’
Day in and day out, he would brood on these thoughts. Even on opening his books, he would see the images of red faced, green eyed gora men. The mere thought of these goras ruling over India made him have a strange uncomfortable feeling creep within him.
To the outsiders he appeared as a lost, anxious boy .
While visitng a temple once, and on seeing some sick people lying if front of their God begging for cure, Khudiram thought for a moment and said, “One day I too will have to give up all ‘thought of hunger and thirst and lie on the ground like these people.”
“What disease has struck you?” A man asked the boy.
Khudiram laughed, and said, “Can there be a disease worse than slavery? I will have to drive it out.”
He was inspired by the words of Bankim Chand Chatterjee’s patriotic poetry Vande Mataram (I salute the Mother), which had become the inspiration of many in British India.
The British out of panick reminiscing the 1857 revolt and in adesperate attempt to thwart the movement—orchestrated a rift between Hindus and Muslims in the shape of Partition of Bengal in 1905 as the brainchild of Lord Curzon—west Bengal being a Hindu Majority and east that of Muslims.
Patriots from different parts of the country opposed the partition of Bengal with one voice. In many places meetings, processions and non-violent strikes (satyagraha) were held, with the words Vande Mataram( I salute my motherland) on everyone’s lips.
He revered the freedom fighters of his time and finally dropped out of school in 1905 to join their activities. With reluctance and and after going through several tests he was accepted to join their ranks. Khudiram formally learnt the use of weapons like the pistol, the dagger and the lathi, and gained an expertise pretty soon.
He became obsessed with teaching the song Vande Mataram and its meaning to his friends and youth. ‘How could one fight for the mother if one did ‘not know” her? And could there be a better means of educating people than by teaching the gospel of Vande Mataram’?, he thought.
He undertook the task to distribute the hand bills of Vande Mataram during events in his home district of Medinipur. As the fire of Vande Mataram spread,the tempers of the British rose too. They started to physicalIy reprimand anyone who was caught shouting the slogan ‘ Vande Mataram’.
People starting wishing each other with salutations of Vande Mataram
The greater the tyranny of the British got, the greater grew the pride of Indians. People started boycotting foreign clothes. They left foreign schools and colleges. ‘Swadeshi’ (made in our country) became the mantra of salutation to patriots.
Even children as old as 14 or 15 years weren’t spared the 15 lashes for saying Vande Matatram by the Magistrate Kingfor . His stance being, “You have broken the law by attacking a British Policeman engaged in maintaining peace.” The magistrate was rewarded with quick promotions as a reward for his actions.
As the resentment grew, the revolutionaries began to plan the assassination of Magistrate Kingford.
Khudiram volunteered to do so.
“Can you do this grim work?” The leader bluntly asked him.
“With your blessings, what is impossible?” Khudiram answered him with a question.
“This is not so easy as going to jail. Do you know what will happen, if you are caught?” The leader asked him in a tone of warning.
Khudiram said calmly but firmly, “I know. At the worst, they can hang me. Master, I take it as a boon. Bharat Mata is my father, mother and all. To give up my life for her is, I consider, an act of merit. My sole desire is only this. Till our country wins freedom, I will be born here again and again, and sacrifice my life.”
On April 30 ,1908 Khudiram walked towards the Europeon Club at Muzaffarpur .The bomb leapt from his youthful hands and landed in the carriage that emerged out of Kingsford bungalow. A deafening explosion and then heart wrenching cries were heard one after the other.
Kingsford was lucky but two women in the carriage succumbed to the explosion.
Khudiram was caught a few days later by some local shopkeeper who reported him in order to grab the reward that went with his arrest.
The trial sentenced him to ‘death’ and he showed no remorse even when the judgement was being read.
The judge was surprised that a boy of eighteen years accepted death so calmly.
“Do you know what this judgment means?” he asked.
Khudiram replied with a smile ”I know its meaning better than you.”
The judge asked, “Have you anything to say?”
“Yes. I have to explain a few things about making bombs.”
The fearing that he might spell out the bomb-making technique in the court disallowed the boy to make further statement .
Rappeal in the high court too led to the same ruling as the judge had judged his fearless eyes and the determined face as ‘arrogance’ towards the British.
“Do you wish to say anything ?” the judge asked.
Khudiram said, ”Like all heroic men, I wish to die for the freedom of my country. The thought of the gallows does not make me unhappy in the least. My only regret is that Kingsford could not be punished for his crimes.”
Ironically, it is said, he had gained two pounds of weight during the wait for his death.
As had been decided, Khudiram was brought to the gallows at 6 am on August 19,1908. Even the arrival of the moment could not shake his love for his homeland.
Serenely, the lean and thin boy, walked up to the post with his shoulders wide and head held high. His lips wore a smile and eyes bore a twinkle. For the very last time he cried aloud, ‘Vande Mataram’ and then put his hand into the noose.
Finally in a few minutes, at the age on 18 years, 7 months and 11 days Khudiram was declared martyred and was laid to a penultimate rest in the very lap of the mother who he used to salute day in and day out.
Despite having remained alive, Kingsford had no peace of mind. He suffered from major depression and resigned from his post and settled at Mussorie.
The huge political crisis and the storm that was unleashed by the Partition of Bengal carried on unabated for 3 years. Ultimately in 1911 the British were forced to reverse their ‘divide and rule’ tactics and the two parts of Bengal were reunited.
Khudiram’s sacrifice did not entirely go waste…
Vande Mataram in Sanskrit:
Vande Mataram वन्दे मातरम्
Sujalam sufalam Malayaja sheetalam सुजलां सुफलां मलयजशीतला
Shasya shamalaam maataram म्सस्य श्यामलां मातरम् |
Shubra jyotsana pulakita yaminim शुभ्र ज्योत्स्ना पुलकित यामिनी
Fulla kusumita drumadala shobhinim म्फुल्ल कुसुमित द्रुमदलशोभिनीम्
Suhasinim sumadhura bhashinim सुहासिनीं सुमधुर भाषिणी
Sukhadam varadam mataram. म्सुखदां वरदां मातरम्
Vande Mataram वन्दे मातरम्

Translation(English by Aurobindo)
Mother, I salute thee!
Rich with thy hurrying streams
,bright with orchard gleams,
Cool with thy winds of delight,
Green fields waving
Mother of might,
Mother free.
Glory of moonlight dreams,
Over thy branches and lordly streams,
Clad in thy blossoming trees,
Mother, giver of ease
Laughing low and sweet!
Mother I kiss thy feet,
Speaker sweet and low!
Mother, to thee I bow.
Urdu version(by Arif Mohammed Khan)( compliments to Mr. S F A Jaffery for providing it)
Tasleemat, maan tasleemattu
bhari hai meethe pani se
phal phoolon ki shadabi se
dakkin ki thandi hawaon se
faslon ki suhani fizaaon se
tasleemat, maan tasleemat
teri raaten roshan chand se
teri raunaq sabze faam se
teri pyar bhari muskan hai
teri meethi bahut zuban hai
teri banhon mein meri rahat ha
itere qadmon mein meri jannat hai
tasleemat, maan tasleemat –
A R Rehman’s version:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TImOBenn3XY

Ilmana Fasih
3 December 2010

Habba Khatoon – The nightingale of Kashmir


Habba Khatoon, was a legendary Muslim poetess that lived in Kashmir in the 16th Century. She was born, in the small village Chandrahar,known for its  saffron fields. It is known that she was extremely beautiful and hence named Zoon  (the Moon).

Unlike typical peasant girls, she learnt to  read and write from the village moulvi. She was married to a fellow peasant boy at an early age. Her new family  could not understand the relevance of her poetic being, which led to deeper differences with them with  each new day.  Feuds with the husband and mother in law turned abusive, and ultimately she was divorced.

She narrates in her own verse :

“The mother-in law grabbed me by my hair, which stung me more than the pangs of death. I fell asleep on the supporting plank of the spinning wheel, and in this way, the circular wheel got damaged. I cannot reconcile myself with the atrocities of the in laws, O! my parents, please come to my rescue.”

However, she bore all the torture with great patience,  until one day, her mother in law could not tolerate her tolerance, anymore.   She was separated from her husband  and sent to her parents home. To which she complained in anther verse,

“I have been waiting for long with extreme patience for you – O! my love (or Aziz) do not be cross with your moon (zoon)! I have adorned myself lusciously from top to toe; so enjoy my youth as lively and inviting as a pomegranate flower.”

Laden with pain and sorrow, she  resorted to writing more pensive  poetry and singing songs of separation,  in Kashmiri.

Zoon sang, roaming in the saffron fields and sitting under the shade of chinar trees.

One version of  her further life is :

One day,  in a fairy tale manner,  a prince Yusuf Shah Chak, was out hunting that way on horseback. He  passed by  the place where Zoon was singing under the tree.

He heard her melancholic melodies, and went to look at her and was stunned by her beauty. As soon as their eyes met, they fell in love. And soon,  Zoon and Yusuf Shah Chak were married. She was given the title of  Habba Khatoon.

The couple lived a ‘happily ever after’ life, and Yusuf Shah became the ruler of Kashmir, until Yususk Cahk was decieved and imprisoned by Mughal Emperor Akber.

The other version narrated by Birbal Kachroo and Hassan Khohyami :

” ‘Habba’ at such a tender and impressionably age could not recover from the rebuff she received at the very threshold of her conjugal life. Her despondency flowed out in the form of poetry pulsating with unartificial fusion of sound and sense. Her fame reached the amorous ears of Yusuf Shah, who admitted her to his harem as a ‘Keep’, and did not allow her the status of a queen.”

“So, when her paramour Yusuf  fell on bad stars, ( arrested by Akber) , Habba must have eaten her heart away in disgust and dismay. This was the second rebuff she received at the bands of the destiny, and this impulsive Lady unresponsive in love, unaccepted by the society still did not own defeat. She created an exuberant world of her own, punctuated it with her emotions resonant with the dirge of what she had got and what she lost. She lived in her thoughts, so to say.” 

It is said, Habba Khatoon languished in separation from her beloved husband, and composed several heart wrenching lyrics which she sang while wandering from village to village in the Kashmir valley.

One such original verse is:

مَنز سرایے لوسُم دوٕه

یارَ میانے یاون رایے
مَنز سرایے لوسُم دوٕه
کیازِ زایے کونہ موٍیایے
‎پوو کٓتھ کیُتھ سوِندر ناو
‎کاُلی وسُن چھُ میژِه شایے
‎مَنز سرایے لوسُم دوٕه
‎دور دنیا بوز طوفانیے
‎تورٕ روستُے لدَنَے آو
‎کور مے ساُلا یِرٕوُنہ نایے
‎مَنز سرایے لوسُم دوٕه
‎باغ بوستان بُلبُل آیے
‎مَنز چَمنَن ماُرِکھ ژھوِ
‎گُل گیہ بَرٕ بُلبُل ضایے
‎مَنز سرایے لوسُم دوٕه
‎تَتہ کٕریزیم پنُن سایے
‎ییتہ آسم محشرُن تاو
‎حبہ خوتون نادا لایے
‎مَنز سرایے لوسُم دوٕه

English Translation:

My friend‪,‬ this youth is loss
‏I lost all day on the way

‏Why were we born‪?‬
‏Why did we not die‪?‬
‏Why such beautiful name‪s?‬
‏We must wait for the Judgment Day
‏And I lost all day on the way

‏The way of the world is a meaningless storm
‏I invited a difficult fate
‏And I lost all day on the way

‏Many nightingales entered the garden
‏And they had their play
‏The flowers left the garden
‏To make way for the nightingales
‏And I lost all day on the way

‏Please protect me on the Day
‏Where there will be fire of Hell
‏Habba Khatoon will give you a call
‏And I lost all day on the way

Habba Khatoon introduced “lol”  ( please don’t read it ‘laugh out loud’ 🙂  ) to Kashmiri poetry.

 “lol” is more or less equivalent to the English ‘lyric’.

It conveys one brief thought and is full of melody and love.

Habba’s forte is love-in-separation. She has not sung even a single verse eulogizing the munificence of Yusuf Shah when she was in her company.  Habba like a born-poet selected ‘separation’ for her treatment of love. Her verses throughout waft an air of restlessness and not contentment. Calm, composure and resignation to be in turmoil to fate are absent in her poetry.” says  Prof KN Dhar.

An example of her Lol:

Lol of the Lonely Pine

The one who dazzles – have you seen that one ?

Upon him look !

A sleepless stream in search of him I run,

A restless brook.

In far off woods, a lonely pine I stood

Till he appeared,

My woodcutter, and came to cut the wood.

His fire I feared,

Yet though he burn my logs, behold I shine,

My ashes wine !

Here is a Habba Khatoon lol:


Ilmana Fasih
31 October 2010

Source: http://www.koausa.org/Poets/HabbaKhatoon/article2.html

SHAYAD KHATM YE FAASLE HO JAYENGE


Armaan Khan bhai again writes with his soul.
Let me do the explaining.This kavita (poem) is in context with the much awaited Court ruling on Ayodhya-Babri Masjid controversy.Any time this issue comes to limelight, a visible tension crops up among the two communities, who have essentially been living side by side for centuries.
I hope each word of this poem reflects the feelings of each one in India and extends to ‘us’ across the ‘border ke us paar too.’ 🙂
शायद खत्म ये फ़ासले हो जायेंगे,
जब हमारे बीच फ़ैसले हो जायेंगे !
अयोध्या भी सुकून से हो जायेगी,
हम तुम भी अच्छे भले हो जायेंगे !
अब बदगुमानियाँ भी मिट जाएँगी,
दूर, सब शिकवे गिले हो जायेंगे !
हाथों से नही, दिल से मिलेंगे तो,
दिल से दिल के मरहले हो जायेंगे !
नफ़रत ढूँढने से भी ना मिलेगी,
मोहब्बत के सिलसिले हो जायेंगे !
– अरमान
Shayad khatm ye faasle ho jaayenge,Jab hamare beech faisle ho jayenge.
Ayodhya bhi sukoon se ho jayegi, hum tum ache bhale ho jayenge.
Ab badgumaniyan bhi mit jayengi, door sab shikwe gile ho jayenge.
Haathon se nahin dil se milenge to, dil se dil marhale ho jayenge.
Nafrat dhoondne se bhi na milegi, mohabbat ke silsile ho jayenge.
—- Armaan Khan
In reply, Ibrahim Shishmahal says:
Dil mil sakein subhi kay, kuch aisaa payaam de
Nufrat na ho kahin pe, sukun subho shaam de
Pur amn ho watun, kahin dehshut na ho zara
Meri dua ye ‘Faisla’, khushiyan tamaam de!!
And Amit adds:
main na himdu na musalman mujhe jeene do..
dosti hai mera emaan mujhe jeene do…

Taj Mahal | Music of Ancient India


FACTS, FIGURES & TRIVIA:                                                                                           Year of Construction: 1631

Completed In: 1653
Time Taken: 22 years
Built By: Shah Jahan
Dedicated to: Mumtaz Mahal (Arjumand Bano Begum), the wife of Shah Jahan
Location: Agra (Uttar Pradesh)
Building Type: Islamic tomb
Architecture: Islamic
Cost of Construction: 32 crore rupees
Number of workers: 20,000
Highlights: One of the Seven Wonders of the World
A UNESCO World Heritage site

Some more Taj Mahal trivia:
Before his accession to the throne, Shah Jahan was popularly known as Prince Khurram.
Shah Jahan fell in love with the beautiful Arjumand Bano Begum and married her, making her his third wife.
Arjumand Bano Begum christened by Shah Jahan as Mumtaz Mahal, meaning the “chosen one”.
Shah Jahan lost Mumtaz Mahal when she got giving birth to their 14h child.
It is believed that in her last breath Mumtaz secured a promise from Shah Jahan that he would construct the most beautiful monument in the her memory.
For the transportation of the construction materials, more than 1,000 elephants were made use of.
As many as 28 different varieties of semi-precious and precious stones were used to adorn the Taj with exquisite inlay work.

SIYASAT


A poem in Hindi by Armaan Khan

Ye to siyasat hai, Ise kab hamara dil,
Gham se bhara dikhai deta hai.
Kisi ne sach kaha hai bhayya,

Sawan ke andhe ko sab hara dikhayee deta hai.

Ise mere maathe ki , badhti shikan nahin dikhti,
Mere dard mere aansoo, meri uljhan nahi dikhti,
Ise to ye mehngai bhi daayan nahi dikhti,
Mere ankhon ka dariya bhi ise qatra dikhai deta hai.
Kisi ne sach kaha hai bhayya,
Sawan ke andhe ko sab hara dikhayee deta hai.

Jab sham dhale, dhoop apne ghar ko bhagti hai,
Bhhok hamari angrai lete hue,neend se jaagti hai,
Aur hamari bebasi,pet pe pathar baandhti hai,
Lekin siyasat kehti hai, Tumhara pet to bhara dikhaee deta hai.
Kisi ne sach kaha hai bhayya,
Sawan ke andhe ko sab hara dikhayee deta hai.

Jo bhi qasoor hai apna hai, mazaa bhi hamein hi chakhna hai,
Kyonke har paanch baras mein, hum khud bhi andhe ho jaate hain,
Hamien jo khara hai who khota aur jo khota hai who khara dikhaee deta hai.
To ismein kya bura hai bhayya,
Sawan ke andhe ko, sab hara dikhayee deta hai.

LET’S ERASE THE PSYCHOLOGICAL BORDERS


Panchee nadiya aur pawan ke jhonke, koi sarhad na inhen na roke;
Sarhad to insanono ke liye hai socho tumne aur main ne kya paya insaan ho ke.

(Bird, river and the gust of wind, no border inhibits them:
Borders are for people, think about what have you and I obtained by being born as humans?)

This couplet by Javed Akhtar from a Bollywood blockbuster entered through my ears but shook my soul. Wow ! Javed Akhtar knows what I feel each time when I go to the Indian consulate to ask for a visa for my family to visit my parents in New Delhi.

“In January 1990, a girl in her mid twenties in New Delhi ties a knot with a Pakistani man in his late twenties. Happily, but quite unsure how the things in her life would unfold after that. She wasn’t a poor small town girl from India who gets married to her well off cousin in Karachi on her parents decision. She was a typical city girl, who made it to a premier medical school in Delhi and was full of patriotic fervour for her homeland. Her parents did not consent for it until she approved of it herself. No good decisions are made on a swivel chair. It took her four painful and paranoid years to decide if this was the right decision. The young man across the border erased all his egos despite repeated refusals to convince her that they can make it.”

Twenty years on, now I can confidently say that we have really made it. The road of life together hasn’t been all tulips and roses, though. We had our share of bumps and puddles on the way, in addition to the usual hurdles any random couple faces. Both of us being passionately patriotic about our respective homelands, it wasn’t an easy task. The only thing which made us sail through was the erasing of psychological borders, knowing very well that humanity on both sides of the border had same needs and aspirations. We promised to uphold sanity in the heads above our shoulders and not indulge in spewing of patriotic venom against each other. Not that the outsiders spared us in peace. Any bitter comment on the annihilation of the other side by a “patriotic acquaintance” from either sides, left me more enraged than my husband.

At times I would even cry for being “punished“ for this decision, only to be comforted by my husband with a “mitti pao” attitude. This is an experience to be lived, to realise what goes within one’s heart when someone recklessly passes a casual snide remark about your homeland sitting on the other side of the border. With every news of bomb blast or riots in my city, amidst the indifference of the friends and relatives, but I would sit paranoid, glued to the TV wondering about the safety of my parents and sibs.

Even in the kindergarten my kids were hurled questions by their curious friends—if we had fights at home when there’s a cricket match between India and Pakistan ? For several years in the early childhood, my son would come home crying that his friends tease him saying, “Your mom is a traitor!” It did take him some years to get confident that his mom wasn’t a traitor.

Months and days passed by as usual. The only time I really, if ever, regretted my decision was when I had to queue up outside the visa window in the consulate of a country I called homeland. Miserable is an understatement of how I felt when the man behind the counter would frown at my kids as if I was taking terrorist recruits with me to my beloved city. And then on return to their homeland my kids and husband would be scrutinised by the airport security questioning about the frequency of their visits across the border.

One has to live it to feel it.

The upbringing in a home with parents teaching international politics- my sibs and I grew up with our eyes open to the world issues. We were trained to look beyond our boundaries and feel the empathy for the suffering of others be it in Palestine or Apartheid in South Africa or Gen Zia’s martial Law in Pakistan. I salute my parents for raising me and my sibs into “human “ beings with a wide horizon.
Many a times my critical comments on the Dawn blog or FaceBook, on political issues in Pakistan are retorted back at me attributing them to my “Indian roots”.

Yes I am proud of my roots but I also have a very patriotic husband and two passionate kids who say: they own Pakistan they love both the places.

A for me, I claim that I  own both the places and love both too.

But more than that we know both sides have their good and bad. And don’t indulge in mutual blame games. We have erased the psychological borders at home and at the same time respect the sanctity of political borders. And we love this feeling.

What if the one and half billions across both the borders could erase the psychological borders one day?

Believe me it isn’t really impossible, for the humanity on both sides of the border is made of the same flesh n bones, has the same shade of blood and shares the same genetic pool.

I wonder if I will live to see that day!

llmana Fasih
27 August 2010.

I CLEARLY REMEMBER THAT LANKY YOUNG LAD…


Saw a familiar name on FB
A train of beautiful memories followed
Instantly taking me back
Three decades and a half
Place : Our house in Kasmir Univ Campus
Year: Some time in mid seventies
Me: Barely nine or ten
Clad in a red polka dot frock.

I cleary remember
A lanky handsome lad
Walks in with my dad
Thin, tall ,black framed glasses
Barely in his mid twenties
Who is he? I wonder
Dad calls my mon to tell
“He is a distant kin,
A dear friend’s son”
Him: appointed lecturer in Kasmir
Department of English
“He will live in our guestroom”
My dad announces
He settles down.

I clearly remember
A kind of a shy, reserved
Man of few words to begin with
As the days pass by,
The ice really breaks
He becomes the best pal
Of my twin brothers
Barely seven or eight
They would always be found
Sitting and listening to stories
In his room and laughing
Enjoying the mimicry he did
Of various clowns and characters

I clearly remember
A lanky young man
So sober and loving
To my mom
He called her ‘chachijan’
Shared his pain and secrets with her
Stood by her in the kitchen
Loved the ‘aaloo gosht’ she made.

I clearly remember
That tall young man
So quiet and thoughtful
So respectful to my dad
Talked with him for hours
In from of the bukhari
About the current politics,
Of Kasmir university gossip,
Of English literature
Of Urdu poetry
The poetry which we kids
Were told he had learnt
By heart as a little kid.

I clearly remember
That lanky young lad
Know not who he was
To the outside world
What was his job
What was his passion
All I knew that he was
Our Safder Bhai
Who told us wonderful stories
In that cosy outhouse
In grey winter evenings
In a beautiful place
We call Kashmir
Yes he was our Safder bhai
Who the rest know as
Late Safder Hashmi.
….
….
….
By Ilmana Fasih
7 Jan 2011

WHEN ASKING FOR EQUALITY & HUMAN RIGHTS BECOMES A CRIME


A news flashes a couple of days ago:
60-year-old Indian rights activist jailed for life
By ASHOK SHARMA
The Associated Press
Saturday, December 25, 2010; 2:51 AM
NEW DELHI — An Indian court has convicted a human rights activist of aiding communist rebels in eastern India and sentenced him to life in prison, his attorney said Saturday.
Dr. Binayak Sen, a 60-year-old physician and outspoken government critic, has worked in tribal villages and repeatedly tried to rally people to fight for their rights, often invoking the ire of authorities.
On Friday, Judge B.P. Verma found Sen and two others guilty of sedition and sentenced them to life, according to attorney Amit Banerjee. However, he acquitted the three of the charge of waging war against the state, which is punishable by death, Banerjee said.
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2010/12/25/AR2010122500111.html
THIS IS WHAT AMNESTY INTERNATIONAL SAYS:
http://www.amnesty.org/en/news-and-updates/indian-doctor-binayak-sens-conviction-and-life-sentence-mock-justice-2010-12-25
AN INTRODUCTION OF THE MAN AND HIS STRUGGLE:
Dr Binayak Sen is a 60 year old Paediatrician and public health specialist since the past 35 years, in the eastern Indian state of CHATTISGARH. He is also a health and a human rights activist. He is the national Vice President of the People’s Union for Civil Liberties (PUCL) and General Secretary of its Chhattisgarh unit.
Dr Sen along with his wife Dr Ilina Sen has played huge contributions in establishing a General Hospital in the poor and tribal dominant state of Chattisgarh—a hospital which is owned and run by the worker’s organisation and a community based NGO.
Dr Sen is an outspoken government critic, has worked in tribal villages and repeatedly tried to rally people to fight for their rights, and inequalities in the economic and health fronts , often invoking the ire of the authorities.
He is a practicing physicain and an activist who has been suspected by the govt to be supporting the Naxalites in the state.
The govt cliams that he had met the jailed leadet Narayan Sanyal 33 times and found certain documents alleging his links to the banned organisation. For these charges he was detained in May 2007 but after repeated refusals for the bail from the lower courts he was finally granted a bail in May 2005 by the Supreme Court.
In a 2008 interview, Sen stated that he doesn’t condone the Naxalites, doesn’t approve of their violent methods, and has spoken strongly against them several times. But, he also expressed his opposition to the violent activities carried out by Salwa Judum, which he believes, have created a split in the tribal community.Sen advocates peaceful methods such as negotiations to solve the Naxalite problem.
In May and June, 2007, the supporters of Binayak Sen organized a series of rallies in several cities including Raipur, Delhi, Kolkata, Mumbai London, Boston and New York, to protest against his arrest.
Various delegations of physicians and human rights activists meet chief secretary and law secretary to appeal for Sen’s release.
The government and the people who were against the bail to Binayak Sen claimed that the protestors were not well versed with the workings of Binayak Sen or the Naxalite-Maoist insurgency.
Amnesty International too had seen the arrest of Dr Sen in 2007 as a harrassment of a human right activist, declared his detention as a ‘breach of international law’. It called for the immediate release of the doctor then.
In June 2007 even the British House of Commons published a motion titled “Arrest of Dr Binayak Sen” supported by many MPs across the party lines.
In June 2007, the British Medical Journal published an article about Sen’s arrest .The journal wrote:
“Dr Sen is a champion of peace and fair play and an internationally respected medical doctor who has devoted his whole life to peaceful service of the poorest people. He should be released immediately.”
In the article Ramesh Gopalakrishnan, of Amnesty International, comments to BMJ : “These offences allow sweeping interpretations of criminal intent. Activists in India are arrested all the time on such charges, which give wide, arbitrary powers to police.”
Sen was kept in solitary confinement during the period from 15 March to 11 April 2008.
In April 2008, Human Rights Watch in New York issued a public statement regarding the trial of Sen due to begin in Raipur on 30 April 2008: “the district court’s limit of one supporter of the defendant at the trial is unnecessarily restrictive and raises broader concerns about the fairness of the trial.”
Various delegations of physicians and human rights activists meet chief secretary and law secretary to appeal for Sen’s release. The people who were against the bail to Binayak Sen claimed that the protestors were not well versed with the workings of Binayak Sen or the Naxalite-Maoist insurgency.
Sen is the recipient in 2004 of the Paul Harrison award for a lifetime of service to the rural poor. This award is given annually by the Christian Medical College in Vellore, India to its alumni.
Sen was selected for the Jonathan Mann Award for Global Health and Human Rights in 2008
The Global Health Council issued a public statement:
“Dr. Sen’s accomplishments speak volumes about what can be achieved in very poor areas when health practitioners are also committed community leaders. He staffed a hospital created by and funded by impoverished mine workers, and he has spent his lifetime educating people about health practices and civil liberties—providing information that has saved lives and improved conditions for thousands of people. His good works need to be recognized as a major contribution to India and to global health; they are certainly not a threat to state security.”
The Global Health Council, Harvard School of Public Health, Harvard Medical School and several other prominent global health organizations issued a joint statement of support for Sen, requesting that Indian authorities allow the doctor to receive the Jonathan Mann Award for Health and Human Rights in person in Washington, D.C. on 29 May 2008, at the 35th Annual International Conference on Global Health.
Twenty-two Nobel laureates— ranging from medicine winners to economics honorees – from around the world wrote to India’s President and Prime Minister and Chhattisgarh state authorities. They begged that Sen should be allowed to travel to the US to receive the Jonathan Mann Award for Global Health and Human Rights.
Doctors across India held free clinics for the poor in tribute to the example of Sen and to peacefully campaign for his release.
The Government of India led by the Indian National Congress which is the opposition party in the state of Chhattisgarh reacted strongly to international appeals for the release of Dr Binayak Sen. The Government was of the opinion that the issue around Dr Binayak Sen is a well orchestrated campaign and just because he is selected for a western award, doesn’t make him less guilty in their view. The Ministry of Home Affairs (MHA) said that the State Government was justified in opposing Dr Sen’s appeal.
THE JUDGEMENT:
After a trial of three and a half years and 22 months in jail finally on Friday, December 24, 2010, Judge B.P. Verma found Sen and two others guilty of sedition and sentenced them to LIFE IMPRISONMENT.
However, he acquitted the three of the charge of waging war against the state, which is punishable by death. The two others convicted in the case were Narayan Sanyal, a Maoist, whom Sen used to meet in the prison, and a Calcutta-based trader, Piyush Guha, who prosecutors said carried Sen’s messages to the Maoist rebels.
VARIOUS POST VERDICT REACTIONS:
Amnesty International issued a statement against the conviction.
”Dr. Sen, who is considered a prisoner of conscience by Amnesty International, was convicted under laws that are impermissibly vague and fall well short of international standards for criminal prosecution,”
The statement also claimed that Sen’s conviction violated international fair trial standards and would intimidate other human rights activists who provide a peaceful outlet for people’s grievances.
Sam Zarifi, the rights group’s Asia-Pacific director, asks the Indian authorities to ”immediately drop these politically motivated charges against Dr. Sen and release him.”
Nobel laurate economist and thinker Amartya Sen also criticised the recent verdict for Sen’s imprisonment. He stated that instead of getting his due honor for his service, Sen had met with an unfortunate verdict.
Soli Sorabjee, a former attorney general, called the ruling “shocking.”“Binayak Sen has a fine record. The evidence against him seems flimsy. The judge has misapplied the section. And in any case, the sentence is atrocious, savage.”
Historian Ramachandra Guha wrote in the Hindustan Times:”Binayak Sen has never fired a gun. He probably does not know how to hold one. He has explicitly condemned Maoist violence, and even said of the armed revolutionaries that theirs is an invalid and unsustainable movement. His conviction will and should be challenged.”
Kavita Srivastava, national secretary of thePeople’s Union for Civil Liberties, of which Sen is a vice president: ”Anyone in India who dissents or questions the superpower script is ostracized. Sen’s arrest is happening because this government is extremely anti-poor. Our much-praised 9 percent growth is coming at the cost of displacing millions of people with land that is being given away for mining and corporate development.”
Sen’s wife, Dr Ilina Sen said. ”He is a person who has worked for the poor of the country for 30 years. If that person is found guilty of sedition activities when gangsters and scamsters are walking free, well, that’s a disgrace to our democracy.”
A growing number of Indian intellectuals and human rights activists have spoken out on his behalf after the sentence..
Street protests spread across India.
WHAT NEXT?
Dr Sen’s attorney Amit Bannerjee has expressed:”I will appeal the verdict in a higher court next week”
But as the long and tedious process of appeal, reappeal, hearings in the courts and the wait for final verdict in a higher court will go on — a qualified, dedicated doctor, a hero of the poor and a champion voice of Human Rights shall have to content with staying behind the bars.
It is indeed yet another tragic news to the credit of the YEAR 2010.
What shall be the next verdict only time will tell…
IlmanaFasih
28 December 2010