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A lifetime encounter with Sain Zahoor ~Part 2


Contd..from Part 1

I repeat, these two days were like a trip to the world of Bulleh Shah, his life and philosophy in the company of Sain Zahoor.

Having been over awed by his deep mystical eyes, I had to gather some courage to ask him all the valid and invalid questions I had in my mind.

For most of the questions I pounced at him, he bounced the answers back with verses from Bulleh Shah’s poetry .

I began with an inquiry about the details of how his life began as a devotee, and he remarked that it was destined. He had a great passion for singing sufi songs from a young age, despite the opposition from his peasant parents.

It was his ‘famous dream’ of a hand calling him, that took him at the age of 10 from one Sufi shrine to the other all over Pakistan for next 7 years. At last some indications made him realise that the hand was from a Dargah ( shrine) at Uch Sharif. From there he was ordered to go to the Shrine of Bulleh Shah at Kasur, and reside there.
Learning about Bulleh Shah’s life, he said , he was astonished to know how similar he was to Bulleh Shah in terms of his love for music and it’s opposition from his family.

He recalled how he was first noticed by the professor cum TV producer Dildar Bhatti, on the shrine of Lal Hussain and was called to sing on PTV. The first words that were aired were:

Na Kar Bandeya Meri, Meri,
Na Teri Na Meri,
Char Dinan Da Mela, Duniya
Pher Mitti Di Dheri
( Do not indulge in self,
Life is neither yours nor mine.
It’s a 4 day trip and then shall all be a mound of earth.).

He mentioned of the honour he was given as the best folk singer by BBC for the year 2006, an Award in France and a Presidential Award in Pakistan, but what he really takes pride is in how he converted two Japanese boys to follow the path of Sufism and Islam.

He talked of the selflessness one needs to have in devoting one’s life to Sufi singing.

On a question of the purpose of sufi music—he mentioned that music was Sufi’s innovative method to attract common man towards the path of peaceful religion. It served the purpose to diffuse the inter-communal tensions and the hegemony of the orthodox religion that existed in the 16 th or 17th century. He said the music was like a magnet for those who wanted to escape from hatred and were attracted to peace and love. .

He said that even in todays world where there is hatred widespread everywhere, he wishes to contribute for world peace, his bit, through Sufi music, like a drop in the ocean.

Quoting Bulleh Shah he remarked, the eseensce of his life was to spread the message of love:

Masjid Dha Day, Mandir Dha Day
Dha Day Jo Kujh Disda
Par Kissay Da Dil Na Dhawee(n)
Rub Dilaa(n) Wich Wasda

Tear down the Mosque, tear down the temple
Tear down every thing in sight
But don’t (tear down) break anyone’s heart
Because God lives there

While talking, came up the fact that he was unlettered, and when I asked if he did he think that education would bring more awareness and openness in the minds of those who spread hatred he remarked:

Parrh Parrh Aalim Faazil Hoya
Kaddi Apney Aap noo Parrheya hi nahin
Jaa Jaa Warda Mandir Maseetaan
Kaddi Mun Apney Vich tun Wardeya ee Nahin

Reading books over and over you want to be a learned man
but you never study your innerself.
You run to enter mosques and temples
but you never enter into your innerself.

He took out a paper from his pocket remarking, “This is my ‘parhai’ ( literacy)”, and he tried to read some meaning out of those pictures. It was beyond me, perhaps because I was illiterate in that language.

On asking about his travels he said that his music has take him to over to 35 countries explaining it simply as “ 5 passports have been filled up with with stamps and visas for different countries.”
I asked him of the place that he liked to visit the most?
He remarked with a diplomatic smile:
“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

I asked: “Is really any such place on Earth? “
He retorted: “Why do you need a place on land, if your heart is that place, where you do not differentiate ? Is it not enough ?”

As the time passed and my audacity to ask him personal questions increased, an informal Sain Zahoor with a great sense of humour emerged out too.

While talking to him, I could not meet his gaze. I was staring at his ektara, which he calls tumba.
He remarked: “I think you like my tumba more.”
It was embarrassing, but I retorted without a second thought “Yes, I like it a lot”.
And so he offered to teach me how to hold and play it. It was his idea to click a picture with the tumba in my hand.

We talked about his family and his sons, two of whom were part of the orchestra and the third one sings independently.

I was keen to know about his wife, and asked him if he took his wife with him on the tours.
He just smiled and nodded a ‘No’.
“Doesn’t she get angry on your frequent trips and you don’t take her”, I complained.
He smiled and said : “ I have learnt from Bulleh Shah, how to appease her.”
“How? ” was my obviously inquisitive question.
He narrated with a naughty sparkle in his eyes: “ I sing to her:
‘Bas kar ji hun bas kar ji,
Ik baat asan naal has kar ji.’
and my old lady smiles.

I found the verses very intriguing, so he offered to narrate the whole poem, which indeed was beautiful. And I share the first stanza here…
Bas kar ji hun bas kar ji,
Ik baat asan naal has kar ji.
Tuseen dil mere vich vasde ho,
aiven saathon duur kyon nasde ho.
Naale ghat jaadu dil khasde ho,
hun kit val jaaso nas kar ji.
Bas kar ji hun bas kar ji,
Enough! Now enough!
Smile! Speak to me!
You inhabit my heart.
What is the use of running away?
Using magic, you pulled my heart toward you.
Whom do you run toward now?
Enough! Now enough!

I couldn’t help ask: “Did Bulleh Shah also appease his wife by this poetry?.”
“No he was never married, but he loved his Master Inayat Qadri like a woman loves her beloved.”

And he narrated the interesting story of how Bulleh Shah has once faultered in front of his master by being ‘snobbish’ referring himself as ‘Syed Bulleh”. The master felt offended and disowned Bulleh Shah as a disciple. And his master had set extremely high standards for his disciple, he would not agree to any easy means of appeasement.

Since Bulleh Shah knew appeasing his beloved was no easy task, he dressed himself like a woman, adorned the nath (nose ring), wore ghungroo( ankle bells) and hid behind a veil.
“Why did he have to become a woman?” I asked.
He said “He wanted to show his master that he had given up all his masculine ego and acted like a helpless woman.”

Bulleh Shah sang and danced in front of his master, till the master’s heart melted . He recognised, this extreme devotion could be from none other than BullehShah, so he asked : “Are you Bulleh?”
From behind the veil came the reply: “No master, I am Bhullah( the defaulter).”

He narrated the words which Bulleh Shah used during the appeasement:
Tere ishaq nachaya kar ke thia thia
Tere ishaq ne dira mere ander kita
Bhar ke zehar piala, main taan aape pita
jhabde bohrin we tabiba, nahin taan main mar gai a
Compelled by love, I dance, I dance.
This love has set up camp inside me.
I Physician, come back! my life is ebbing away.
It is I who filled the cup with this poison and drank it.
Come back right away, else I will surely die.
Compelled by love, I dance, I dance.

As the time for the group came to pack up and leave for the Hotel, I joked: “Sain, are you taking back my tumba?”
He smiled and said: “Come to Pakistan, I will give you an identical one, but the condition is that you will have to learn to play it.”

He did not give me the ektara, but the time he gave to answer my unending questions and the interest with which he offered to answer my queries about him, his poetry and Bulleh Shah, I shall chesrish for rest of my life.

Ektara will remain as mine in the memories and the pictures, for sure 🙂

Category:

Art, CULTURE, Indo-Pak, Instrumental Music, International, Music, Pakistan, Peace, Poetry, Uncategorized

Revisiting the First man on moon.


With July 20, 2011 comes the 42nd anniversary of the first time man landed on Moon.

After nerve wrecking moments, for the scientists sitting in the NASA observation room and 30 billion USDollars of investment at stake, finally Apollo11 mission landed on Moon on July 20, 1969 with just a few seconds of fuel left.

The mission sent message from the spaceship to Earth:
“Houston, Tranquility Base here. The Eagle has landed.”

The nervous scientists took a sigh of relief replying:
“Roger, Tranquility. We copy you on the ground. You got a bunch of guys about to turn blue. We’re breathing again.”

Finally Neil Armstrong climbed down the ladder and went down in history as the first man to step his foot on moon. And came those famous words:
“That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.”

It indeed was a giant leap for the mankind, but more so for the anxious Americans, who were extremely nervous that the Communist Soviet Union had left them behind in the space race with the launching in space for the first time of Sputnik 1, on October 1957. It had come as a bolt in the blue for the Americans.

President Kennedy could not hold his anxiety and had ‘inspired’ the American public by a speech in the Congress in May 25 , 1961:
“I believe that this nation should commit itself to achieving the goal, before this decade is out, of landing a man on the moon and returning him safely to the earth.”

Neil Armstrong and his companion Buzz Aldrin strolled on the moon for two hours and 31 minutes. They has already unfurled an American flag on landing which they were leaving behind along with a plaque which read:

“Here men from the planet earth first set foot upon the moon. July 1969, A.D. We came in peace for all mankind.”

How I wish that this was all they had left. But on their first journey to the moon, like we have done on Earth, they littered it too. To lighten their load they threw off their moon boots, a camera, urine bags and some backpacks. And this trash is to sit there for all times to come, to mark the arrival on man(un)kind on the moon.

Interestingly, 42 years on still conspiracy theories are afloat that the whole mission was a hoax. It began with a book published in 1974 called ‘We never went on moon…”. The author Bill Kaysing published some sensational arguments which caught the interest of public like wild fire. It was a spicy topic of science fiction for the common man to indulge in.

In 1978 came a film “Capricorn One” which talked of a fake journey to Mars. The spaceship in the film bore a stark resemblance to Apollo 11 of the Moon mission. Hence the hot saucy news loving people immediately saw connections between this fiction and the fake moon landing.
There are more than a dozen, supposedly, logical arguments against the moon landing, mostly based on the information from the photos.

A couple of them being: the background sky is pitch dark with no stars visible, and that the flag which was unfurled was waving as if there was air on moon.

There is even the conspiracy theory that the rock samples they brought had been collected from Antarctica, by the director of NASA who led a scientific expedition there to collect the samples of Moon rocks. Apparently some rocks separated from the moon had fallen in Antarctica as meteors millions of years ago.

Most of their ‘scientific’ arguments have been ruled and logically explained by the scientists. There is also third party evidences from the Russians themselves, Japanese Satellites pictures and certain other reliable sources, that the Moon mission was real.

However, in a poll in 1999, about 15 million(6%) Americans still continued to believed that the moon mission was a hoax.
The theories that have been propounded for the reasons of the fraud : either to show to the Soviets that we can do it too, or to grab a huge budget for NASA, in the pretext of this mission.

The conspiracy theory of Moon mission as hoax lives on and the way we think, it will probably not lose its spark for a long time to come.

The reason? It lies within the human mind: no matter what amount of evidence is presented, the sceptics shall always refute it because of a phenomenon called Cognitive Dissonance, by virtue of which people have a bias to consider them self righteous despite the presence of a contrary evidence.

Category:

Uncategorized

Dreaming of a world without hatred


The day for me, yesterday, began with the news of Mumbai blasts. Being an Indian origin who migrated after having married a Pakistani 20 years ago, first thing that occurred to me on hearing the blasts was that again the Indo-Pak peace talks shall be stalled and the same cascade of blame game, public statements from both sides, mudslinging, demanding ‘do more’ shall start. All it will serve to do is to reset the peace talks from the scratch. Spurts of cortisol laden with anxiety were rushing through my veins. As the mound of dead in the blasts were piling up, so was my fear in me, that a statement would come blaming Pakistan directly or implying of some group trained there. I knew it would be a sleepless night for me, following every minute of the TV coverage.

Later in the evening, Mumbai incident instantly vanished. There was an instant focus on the venomous words wagged by a rabid tongue. What was tragic was the cascade of events that took place, not just on land but on the walls of various Face Book friends.

It was not just the streets and the vehicles which were torched in anger, but many of the FB friends came out in the open, on their walls, in agreement with these insane words and splattered their share of fuel to the fire, against a whole community.

Within a couple of hours, one could see virtual borders drawn between the various ethnic groups, on a borderless virtual world of Face Book.

The frenzy of mindless hate did not spare me either. As I heard the statement, there was a severe convulsion of the ethnic Urdu speaking aka Muhajir in me. As if all of a sudden a sleeping immigrant woke up overpowering the ‘me’ in me, who till a moment ago took pride in rising above all kinds of differences. I never felt so much rage in me as at that moment. The hate in me wanted to avenge him.
I could sense the positivity drained out of me and replaced by an intense negative feeling of hate and loathing for this man. I would be lying if I would say that my mind did not wander trying to attempt hate for the community to which this mad man belonged. But thankfully, I still had intact memories of wonderful friends and great personalities from the same community and they kept my hateful sentiments in check. However hateful thoughts of this man kept jolting my head. I wanted him and all the ‘virtual’ friends on FB, who agreed with him, to be taught a ‘real’ lesson.
As if commenting on their walls wasn’t enough, I wanted to burn down their walls. In a couple of hours there was so much of energy drained out of me that instead of having spent this night in insomnia ( which is generally the rule when anything like the Mumbai blasts occurs) that I lay listless, and did not realise when was I lost into sleep. It was a restless sleep with visions of fire and blood splattered all over , on streets, on the FB walls. For a change these images did not make me sick. It did not make me feel good either, but it certainly wasn’t a sick feeling.

As I woke up in the morning, I reflected on my thoughts. I did not feel myself. This certainly was not me,.The monster of hate had engulfed me, last night.
After ages, I wept like a child. I cried how 25 years of my upbringing by staunchly secular parents and the rest 20 years of my own strong conviction in humanity as one were undone in a fraction of a second by the blurting of thoughtless statements by an insane man. I could see clearly now that it was a racist slur by a singular man not a community. I was grateful to my conscience, that the ‘me’ in me , who is blind to any color or creed, is taking control of me again.

I now realise exactly of what we read in history, of how passions go out of control, when incited with hateful words.

I also know now, first hand, how the feeling of intense loathing weakens a person physically and mentally in contrast to the strength of soul one gets in loving the whole humanity.

I also know now, first hand, how much of a sense of right vs wrong is blurred when one is overwhelmed with hatred.

I know now that my dream of a world without borders and a world without wars, on which I grew up, shall only be realised if we dream of a world without hatred.

I know exactly what do Pakistanis need, they need to shun hatred of all sorts.

Ilmana Fasih
July 14, 2011

Category:

My world, Pakistan, Peace, Personal, Social Issues, Uncategorized

Que sera sera~Music without borders


When I was just a little girl
I asked my mother, what will I be
Will I be pretty, will I be rich
Here’s what she said to me.

Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future’s not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.

When I was young, I fell in love
I asked my sweetheart what lies ahead
Will we have rainbows, day after day
Here’s what my sweetheart said.

Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future’s not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.

Now I have children of my own
They ask their mother, what will I be
Will I be handsome, will I be rich
I tell them tenderly.

Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future’s not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.

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Uncategorized

On the Seashore from Gitanjali ~Rabindranath Tagore


On the seashore of endless worlds children meet.
The infinite sky is motionless overhead and the restless water is boisterous.
On the seashore of endless worlds the children meet with shouts and dances.
They build their houses with sand, and they play with empty shells.
With withered leaves they weave their boats and smilingly float them on the vast deep.
Children have their play on the seashore of worlds.
They know not how to swim, they know not how to cast nets.
Pearl-fishers dive for pearls, merchants sail in their ships, while children gather pebbles and scatter them again.
They seek not for hidden treasures, they know not how to cast nets.
The sea surges up with laughter, and pale gleams the smile of the sea-beach.
Death-dealing waves sing meaningless ballads to the children, even like a mother while rocking her baby’s cradle.
The sea plays with children, and pale gleams the smile of the sea-beach.
On the seashore of endless worlds children meet.
Tempest roams in the pathless sky, ships are wrecked in the trackless water, death is abroad and children play.
On the seashore of endless worlds is the great meeting of children.

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Uncategorized

River~ Apoem by Susan Marie


A beautiful poetry written by a virtual friend Susan Marie. And I bear witness how she wrote this in a few seconds with a supersonic speed.
I paste it from her blog: http://networkedblogs.com/jOFNO?ref=nf
River *for Ilmana*

river

selfless, unending
love
you give life

your heart
washes hands of maidens
princes and kings
paupers

priceless lines of life
rebirthed, clean, pure
again

river

i have no name for you
you need no title
no right in this existence to be
as i do
human
fallible
unworthy of your
kiss

i take solemn refuge
by your face
damsel flies dance
upon the surface of your skin
ageless

my river
unconditional grace
i am not worthy
of a solitary drink
i bring to parched lips

yet you pay no heed
river

you are silent in speech
yet your cries
fill my spirit with agony

how do you remain in motion
and at peace?

© Susan Marie 2011 For Ilmana Fasih

Posted by Susan Marie at 5:20 PM

Category:

Uncategorized

Sorry


I’m sorry!
I know,
that hurt.
It hurt me too.
Of all you know
I’m here
To hurt.
You.
Expect no more
That’s for sure.
Yeah, for sure.

Sorry in Japanese: すみません/すいません(sumimasen)

Category:

Uncategorized

Allah Hooo~by Sain Zahoor


hoooooo
hoooooo
aukhe painde lammiyaan raavan ishq diyaan
dard jigar sakht sazavan ishq diyan
allah hooooo
allah ho allah ho allah allah ho allah
allah hooooo
haye phullan vargi jindri nu ishq rulla charhada
sare bajar jo jaave ishq nacha chadada
haye kakh naa chadde dekh vafavan ishq diyan
aukhe painde lammiyaan raavan ishq diyaan
allah hooo
allah ho allah ho allah allah ho allah
allah hooooo
sajjana bhajon jaat sifaataan ishq diyaan
vakhri kulli din te raataan ishq diyaan
haye vich chodan tabtan under thavaan ishq diyaan
aukhe painde lammiyaan raavan ishq diyaan
allah hooooo
allah ho allah ho allah allah ho allah
allah hooooo
har har dil har thhan vich ishq samaaya ae
arsh farsh te ishq ne kadam tikaya ae
aien paatan anal haq sadavan ishq diyaan
aukhe painde lammiyaan raavan ishq diyaan
allah hoooo
allah ho allh ho allah allah ho allah
allah hooooo
har har dil har thhan vich ishq samaaya ae
arsh farsh te ishq ne kadam tikaya ae
haye vich chodan tabtan under thavaan ishq diyaan
aukhe painde lammiyaan raavan ishq diyaan
allah hoooo
allah ho allah ho allah allah ho allah
allah hooooo
ishq di hasti masti yaar mitta deve
agge ishq di dil di dhuni jaga deve
bulle vaang nachavan taraan ishq diyaan
aukhe painde lammiyaan raavan ishq diyaan
allah hoooo
allah ho allah ho allah allah ho allah
allah hooooo

Category:

Uncategorized

Happy Father’s Day -It’s a DAD LIFE !


Ha ha
This is dad life
It’s how we live
24/7, 365
Check me

Gas station glasses
Don’t care what the masses
Think about me wit my sweet goatee
I’m rockin’ my Dockers
With a cuff and a crease
I got that St. John’s Bay
And a clip for my piece

I look nice
I got dozens of dollars
And that’s right
It goes straight to my daughters and my wife
I’m a miracle dad
Makin’ magic with the checkbook is a talent I have

I roll hard in the yard
With a 60-inch cut
Zero turn radius
My neighbors say what?
They be drivin’ by
Peepin’ my landscape
Yo, these greens got nothin’ on my manscape

Hydrangeas (what), Begonias (naw)
Crape Myrtle (tight), ornamental turtle!
Hold up
Is that a weed in my fescue?
Aw naw, Round Up to the rescue

It’s the dad life, it’s the dad life
Take my daughty to the potty, it’s the dad life
(bringin’ home the bacon)
It’s the dad life, it’s the dad life
Shootin’ vids of the kids, it’s the dad life

Roll up to the splash pad, 10 AM
My whole entourage
Hops out the minivan
We splishy splashy for an hour or two
Then it’s back to the house
Preppin’ for the barbeque

Brats, dogs, rack of ribs, whateva (tight)
Get me on the Weber
Man, nobody does it betta
Call me lord of the grill
I’m king of the coals
Nana’s secret recipe, you know how I roll

1080p, 16×9
I’m rockin’ man cave status
With a screen like mine
Keep your peanut butter hands
Off my 50-inch Vizio
Pop up the corn, roll the Disney video

{ “A whole new world…” }

We got Aladdin, Jasmine
Abu, the genie (hey)
With kids like mine, everybody wants to be me
Sing a nigh-night song and then it’s off to bed
This is the dad life, no more to be said

It’s the dad life, it’s the dad life
Hit the mall, coaching ball, it’s the dad life
(bringin’ home the bacon)
It’s the dad life, it’s the dad life
Playing rough, fixing stuff, it’s the dad life
(bringin’ home the bacon)
It’s the dad life, it’s the dad life
Yeah, you know how we do it
It’s the dad life.

Producer – Whitney George, Angie Woods
Director – Gary Hornstien, Chris Munch
Director of Photography – Corey Lack

Written by – Chris Munch, Whitney George,
Joshua Andersen, Andrew Dale, Roman Johnson,
Adam Bush

Category:

Uncategorized

Hope


I’m stuck like a dope
With a thing called hope
Soul slides in stress
On a downhill slope
Stretched to the max
Nerves refuse to cope
The mind says ‘quit’
But the heart says ‘NOPE’.

Category:

Uncategorized