Shivpreet Singh
Shivpreet Singh
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Emily Dickinson’s poem “I stepped from Plank to Plank” reflects her ability to use simple imagery—stepping on planks—to explore profound existential themes like uncertainty, mortality, and human experience. The "plank" represents the precarious and finite path of life, where every step is deliberate, cautious, and imbued with the fear of collapse. The poem conveys how this experience of careful, often fearful, navigation through life becomes what we call "experience." The tension between the vast unknowns—the "stars" above and the "sea" below—creates a sense of both awe and vulnerability.

“I stepped from Plank to Plank…” (875)

I stepped from Plank to Plank
A slow and cautious way
The Stars about my Head I felt
About my Feet the Sea.

I knew not but the next
Would be my final inch —
This gave me that precarious Gait
Some call Experience.


Key Themes in the Poem:

  1. Precariousness of Life:
    Dickinson uses the metaphor of stepping on planks to symbolize the fragility of life. Each step carries the potential of falling, a reminder of the uncertainty we navigate daily.

  2. Finite Nature of Experience:
    The lines "I knew not but the next / Would be my final inch" capture the inevitability of mortality, with every step being a potential last.

  3. Dual Nature of Existence:
    The poem contrasts the infinite—stars and sea—with the finite—planks and steps—suggesting that human life exists at the intersection of vast, unknowable forces and personal, limited experience.

  4. Experience as Growth:
    The "precarious Gait" born of uncertainty becomes a metaphor for how experience shapes us. It is not through certainty but through fear and caution that we develop what Dickinson calls "Experience."

Relating the Poem to Gurbani:

Gurbani often reflects on the transitory nature of life, emphasizing the precariousness of human existence and the necessity of spiritual awareness. For instance, the following shabads resonate deeply with Dickinson’s themes:

1. Precariousness of Life (Dukh of Maya):

Gurbani describes life as a fragile bridge, much like Dickinson's planks:

"ਜਿਨਿ ਏਹਿ ਕਲ ਧਾਰੀ ਸਗਲੀ, ਤੇਰਾ ਅੰਤੁ ਨ ਜਾਈ ਲਖਿਆ ॥"
"The One who created this fragile expanse—Your limits cannot be known."
(Sri Guru Granth Sahib, Ang 3)

Both the poem and this shabad express life as a delicate journey across a narrow and uncertain path. Just as Dickinson’s planks might break, Gurbani reminds us of the illusionary nature of worldly stability, which is ultimately under the Creator's control.

2. Finite Nature of Experience and Mortality:

Dickinson’s awareness of mortality echoes the Sikh understanding of life as fleeting:

"ਰੈਣਿ ਗਵਾਈ ਸੋਇ ਕੈ ਦਿਵਸੁ ਗਵਾਇਆ ਖਾਇ ॥"
"You lose the night in sleep, and the day is wasted in eating."
(Sri Guru Granth Sahib, Ang 156)

The "final inch" in Dickinson’s poem aligns with Gurbani’s reminder that life is limited, urging reflection on whether we are spending our moments meaningfully.

3. Duality of Existence:

The stars and sea in Dickinson's poem mirror the contrasting aspects of human experience: spiritual aspiration and worldly attachment. Gurbani often speaks of the pull between these two realms:

"ਸੁਖ ਦੁਖ ਦੁਇ ਦਾਰਿ ਕਪੜੇ ਪਹਿਰੇ ਜਾਇ ਮਨੁੱਖ ॥"
"Pleasure and pain are the two garments the mortal wears."
(Sri Guru Granth Sahib, Ang 149)

Dickinson’s tension between the vast unknown (stars and sea) and the fragile present (planks) parallels Gurbani’s discussion of the soul caught between transcendence and material attachments.

4. Experience as Grace (Anubhav and Gyaan):

For Dickinson, the precarious steps create "Experience," which can be likened to the Sikh concept of anubhav—direct spiritual realization:

"ਗੁਰ ਪਰਸਾਦਿ ਪਾਰਸੁ ਪਰਚਾ ਜਪਿ ਤਤੁ ਗੁਰੂ ਜਸੁ ਲਾਇ ॥"
"By Guru's Grace, the soul experiences the essence of truth and praises the Divine."
(Sri Guru Granth Sahib, Ang 414)

Just as Dickinson suggests that fear and uncertainty lead to growth, Gurbani reveals that life’s challenges lead to self-realization and closeness to the Divine when approached with faith.


The Ocean, the Stars, and Divine Connection:

In Dickinson’s poem, the sea represents the unknown depths of life, while the stars represent the infinite possibilities of existence. Similarly, Gurbani often uses metaphors of the ocean (samundar) for the Divine and stars (taare) for spiritual knowledge. Guru Nanak says:

"ਮਃ ੧ ॥ ਅਖਰੀ ਨਾਮੁ ਅਖਰੀ ਸਾਲਾਹ ॥ ਅਖਰੀ ਗਿਆਨੁ ਗੀਤ ਗੁਣ ਗਾਹ ॥ ਅਖਰੀ ਲਿਖਣੁ ਬੋਲਣੁ ਬਾਣਿ ॥"
"Through letters comes the Name; through letters comes praise; through letters comes spiritual knowledge and hymns."
(Sri Guru Granth Sahib, Ang 4)

This aligns with Dickinson’s step-by-step movement through planks (or words), where the cautious gait toward experience can also be interpreted as a spiritual journey.


While Dickinson’s final image of "precarious Gait" points to a human experience shaped by uncertainty, Gurbani offers a vision of transcendence:

"ਸਭੁ ਕੋਈ ਬਹੁਤੁ ਬਿਆਪੈ ਬਉਰਾ ॥ ਹਰਿ ਚਰਣੀ ਲਗਿ ਸੁਖੁ ਪਾਵੈ ਨਾਉ ॥"
"All are engulfed by fear and anxiety, but those who attach to the Divine Feet find peace through the Name."
(Sri Guru Granth Sahib, Ang 258)

Dickinson’s poem can thus inspire us to approach life’s uncertainties not with fear alone, but with faith, as Gurbani reminds us that even the smallest step in remembrance of the Divine offers stability amidst life’s fragile planks.


“I stepped from Plank to Plank…” (875)


I stepped from Plank to Plank
A slow and cautious way
The Stars about my Head I felt
About my Feet the Sea.

I knew not but the next
Would be my final inch —
This gave me that precarious Gait
Some call Experience.

- Emily Dickinson




New Composition: 21052
Raag Asa
Guru Arjan

Kavan Bani Ri Teri Laali




Celebrating a colorful Holi with this new shabad by Guru Arjan Dev in Raag Asa. Really a question answer with the soul bride ... How did you become so beautifully crimson, asks the seeker. The answer is shared by Guru Arjan at the end of the shabad. Share with you minds, hearts, souls, friends and family! Happy Holi from California!

[I will likely continue to write on this shabad later this month]

The Music

Unlike other compositions which often take years, this studio recording was completed in a week - from composing the melody, singing the vocals, playing the music, mixing and mastering. I only read this shabad for the first time a week before Holi and I wanted to complete this on time to share for Holi.  I really wanted Rajesh Prasanna to flute the bansuri on this track -- it would go really well with the holi theme. I did what I normally hardly ever do -- to make it easier (and faster) for him, I roughly recording the interludes in a mix of alaaps, sargams and taranas and sent it to Rajesh. While I was waiting for him to send me his flute parts, I finalized the rhythms and the arrangement in a couple of days.  But it was too bad that he felt sick and couldn't finish the recording; so then I just layered my rough interludes with a sampled cello library that I played on the keyboard to finish the interludes.  It is a highly unusual way to do interludes, but I am never afraid of the unusual -- and it sounded heartful. So that is how I left it and that is what you hear in the interludes.  Rajesh sent me a really nice holi greeting with an old picture of ours which I am sharing here; hopefully sometime in the future we will do a bansuri version of this shabad. 

Lyrics in English 

Rāg āsā gẖar 7 mėhlā 5.
Asa Measure 5th Guru.

Lāl cẖolnā ṯai ṯan sohiā.
Surjan bẖānī ṯāʼn man mohiā. ||1||

Kavan banī rī ṯerī lālī.
Kavan rang ṯūʼn bẖaī gulālī. ||1|| rahāo.

Ŧum hī sunḏar ṯumėh suhāg.
Ŧum gẖar lālan ṯum gẖar bẖāg. ||2||

Ŧūʼn saṯvanṯī ṯūʼn parḏẖān.
Ŧūʼn parīṯam bẖānī ṯuhī sur giān. ||3||

Parīṯam bẖānī ṯāʼn rang gulāl.
Kaho Nānak subẖ ḏarisat nihāl. ||4||

Sun rī sakẖī ih hamrī gẖāl.
Listen thou, O my mate, this is the only toil of mine.

Parabẖ āp sīgār savāranhār. ||1|| rahāo ḏūjā. ||1||52||
The Lord himself is the Decker and Adorner. Pause second.

Translation by Bhai Manmohan Singh

The red gown looks beautiful on thy body.
When thou became pleasing to the Lord, then, is His heart bewitched.

What has given thee this red bloom?
Whose love has rendered thee tulip-crimsons. Pause.

Thou art beautiful and thou the happy wife.
In thy home is the beloved and in thy home is good fortune.

Thou art chaste and thou the most distinguished.
Thou art pleasing to thy beloved and thou possesseth superior understanding.

I am pleasing to my darling, therefore I have assumed tulip-red dye.
Say Nanak that the Lord has looked on me with a favouring glance.

Translation by Sant Singh Khalsa


That red dress looks so beautiful on your body.
Your Husband Lord is pleased, and His heart is enticed. ||1||

Whose handiwork is this red beauty of yours?
Whose love has rendered the poppy so red? ||1||Pause||

You are so beautiful; you are the happy soul-bride.
Your Beloved is in your home; good fortune is in your home. ||2||

You are pure and chaste, you are most distinguished.
You are pleasing to Your Beloved, and you have sublime understanding. ||3||

I am pleasing to my Beloved, and so I am imbued with the deep red color.
Says Nanak, I have been totally blessed with the Lord's Glance of Grace. ||4||


Translation


What makes you bloom in red?
Who's color of love has made you so crimson? [rahao]

Your red robe beautifies your body
It pleases your love, it entices the mind [1]

You are beautiful
You are soul's bride.
Your Beloved is in your home
good fortune is in your home. [2]

You are true, you are distinguished
You are pleasing to love, you hold divine wisdom


Lyrics and Translation in Punjabi by Prof. Sahib Singh


ੴ ਸਤਿਗੁਰ ਪ੍ਰਸਾਦਿ ॥ ਰਾਗੁ ਆਸਾ ਘਰੁ ੭ ਮਹਲਾ ੫ ॥ ਲਾਲੁ ਚੋਲਨਾ ਤੈ ਤਨਿ ਸੋਹਿਆ ॥ ਸੁਰਿਜਨ ਭਾਨੀ ਤਾਂ ਮਨੁ ਮੋਹਿਆ ॥੧॥ ਕਵਨ ਬਨੀ ਰੀ ਤੇਰੀ ਲਾਲੀ ॥ ਕਵਨ ਰੰਗਿ ਤੂੰ ਭਈ ਗੁਲਾਲੀ ॥੧॥ ਰਹਾਉ ॥ ਤੁਮ ਹੀ ਸੁੰਦਰਿ ਤੁਮਹਿ ਸੁਹਾਗੁ ॥ ਤੁਮ ਘਰਿ ਲਾਲਨੁ ਤੁਮ ਘਰਿ ਭਾਗੁ ॥੨॥ ਤੂੰ ਸਤਵੰਤੀ ਤੂੰ ਪਰਧਾਨਿ ॥ ਤੂੰ ਪ੍ਰੀਤਮ ਭਾਨੀ ਤੁਹੀ ਸੁਰ ਗਿਆਨਿ ॥੩॥ ਪ੍ਰੀਤਮ ਭਾਨੀ ਤਾਂ ਰੰਗਿ ਗੁਲਾਲ ॥ ਕਹੁ ਨਾਨਕ ਸੁਭ ਦ੍ਰਿਸਟਿ ਨਿਹਾਲ ॥੪॥ ਸੁਨਿ ਰੀ ਸਖੀ ਇਹ ਹਮਰੀ ਘਾਲ ॥ ਪ੍ਰਭ ਆਪਿ ਸੀਗਾਰਿ ਸਵਾਰਨਹਾਰ ॥੧॥ ਰਹਾਉ ਦੂਜਾ ॥੧॥੫੨॥ {ਪੰਨਾ 384}

ਨੋਟ: ਇਥੋਂ ਅਗਾਂਹ 'ਘਰੁ 7' ਵਿਚ ਗਾਏ ਜਾਣ ਵਾਲੇ ਸ਼ਬਦਾਂ ਦਾ ਸੰਗ੍ਰਹ ਸ਼ੁਰੂ ਹੁੰਦਾ ਹੈ।

ਪਦ ਅਰਥ: 

ਤੈ ਤਨਿ = ਤੇਰੇ ਸਰੀਰ ਉਤੇ। ਸੋਹਿਆ = ਸੋਭ ਰਿਹਾ ਹੈ, ਸੋਹਣਾ ਲੱਗ ਰਿਹਾ ਹੈ। ਸੁਰਿਜਨ ਭਾਨੀ = ਸੱਜਣ ਹਰੀ ਨੂੰ ਪਿਆਰੀ ਲੱਗੀ। ਤਾਂ = ਤਾਂਹੀਏਂ। ਮੋਹਿਆ = ਮੋਹ ਲਿਆ ਹੈ।1।

ਕਵਨ = ਕਿਵੇਂ? ਰੀ = ਹੇ ਸਹੇਲੀ! ਲਾਲੀ = ਮੂੰਹ ਦੀ ਲਾਲੀ। ਰੰਗਿ = ਰੰਗ ਨਾਲ। ਗੁਲਾਲੀ = ਗੂੜ੍ਹੇ ਰੰਗ ਵਾਲੀ।1। ਰਹਾਉ।

ਸੁੰਦਰਿ = {ਇਸਤ੍ਰੀ ਲਿੰਗ} ਸੋਹਣੀ। ਤੁਮਹਿ ਸੁਹਾਗੁ = ਤੇਰਾ ਹੀ ਸੁਹਾਗ। ਤੁਮ ਘਰਿ = ਤੇਰੇ ਹਿਰਦੇ-ਘਰ ਵਿਚ। ਲਾਲਨੁ = ਪ੍ਰੀਤਮ-ਪ੍ਰਭੂ।2।

ਸਤਸੰਗੀ = ਉੱਚੇ ਆਚਰਨ ਵਾਲੀ। ਪਰਧਾਨਿ = ਮੰਨੀ-ਪ੍ਰਮੰਨੀ। ਪ੍ਰੀਤਮ ਭਾਨੀ = ਪ੍ਰੀਤਮ-ਪ੍ਰਭੂ ਨੂੰ ਪਿਆਰੀ ਲੱਗੀ। ਸੁਰ ਗਿਆਨਿ = ਸ੍ਰੇਸ਼ਟ ਗਿਆਨ ਵਾਲੀ।3।

ਰੰਗਿ ਗੁਲਾਲ = ਗੂੜ੍ਹੇ ਰੰਗ ਵਿਚ। ਨਿਹਾਲ = ਵੇਖਿਆ, ਤੱਕਿਆ।4।

ਘਾਲ = ਮੇਹਨਤ। ਪ੍ਰਭ ਆਪਿ = ਪ੍ਰਭੂ ਨੇ ਆਪ ਹੀ। ਸੀਗਾਰਿ = ਸਿੰਗਾਰ ਕੇ, ਸਜਾ ਕੇ। ਰਹਾਉ ਦੂਜਾ।

ਨੋਟ: 'ਰਹਾਉ ਦੂਜਾ' ਵਿਚ ਪਹਿਲੇ 'ਰਹਾਉ' ਵਿਚ ਕੀਤੇ ਪ੍ਰਸ਼ਨ ਦਾ ਉੱਤਰ ਹੈ।

ਅਰਥ: 


ਹੇ ਭੈਣ! (ਦੱਸ,) ਤੇਰੇ ਚੇਹਰੇ ਉਤੇ ਲਾਲੀ ਕਿਵੇਂ ਆ ਬਣੀ ਹੈ? ਕਿਸ ਰੰਗ ਦੀ ਬਰਕਤਿ ਨਾਲ ਤੂੰ ਸੋਹਣੇ ਗੂੜ੍ਹੇ ਰੰਗ ਵਾਲੀ ਬਣ ਗਈ ਹੈਂ?।1। ਰਹਾਉ।

(ਹੇ ਭੈਣ!) ਤੇਰੇ ਸਰੀਰ ਉਤੇ ਲਾਲ ਰੰਗ ਦਾ ਚੋਲਾ ਸੋਹਣਾ ਲੱਗ ਰਿਹਾ ਹੈ (ਤੇਰੇ ਮੂੰਹ ਦੀ ਲਾਲੀ ਸੋਹਣੀ ਡਲ੍ਹਕ ਮਾਰ ਰਹੀ ਹੈ। ਸ਼ਾਇਦ) ਤੂੰ ਸੱਜਣ-ਹਰੀ ਨੂੰ ਪਿਆਰੀ ਲੱਗ ਰਹੀ ਹੈਂ, ਤਾਹੀਏਂ ਤੂੰ ਮੇਰਾ ਮਨ (ਭੀ) ਮੋਹ ਲਿਆ ਹੈ।1।

ਹੇ ਭੈਣ! ਤੂੰ ਬੜੀ ਸੋਹਣੀ ਦਿੱਸ ਰਹੀ ਹੈਂ, ਤੇਰਾ ਸੁਹਾਗ-ਭਾਗ ਉੱਘੜ ਆਇਆ ਹੈ (ਇਉਂ ਜਾਪਦਾ ਹੈ ਕਿ) ਤੇਰੇ ਹਿਰਦੇ-ਘਰ ਵਿਚ ਪ੍ਰੀਤਮ-ਪ੍ਰਭੂ ਆ ਵੱਸਿਆ ਹੈ; ਤੇਰੇ ਹਿਰਦੇ-ਘਰ ਵਿਚ ਕਿਸਮਤ ਜਾਗ ਪਈ ਹੈ।2।

ਹੇ ਭੈਣ! ਤੂੰ ਸੁੱਚੇ ਆਚਰਨ ਵਾਲੀ ਹੋ ਗਈ ਹੈਂ ਤੂੰ ਹੁਣ ਸਭ ਥਾਂ ਆਦਰ-ਮਾਣ ਪਾ ਰਹੀ ਹੈਂ। (ਜੇ) ਤੂੰ ਪ੍ਰੀਤਮ-ਪ੍ਰਭੂ ਨੂੰ ਚੰਗੀ ਲੱਗ ਰਹੀ ਹੈਂ (ਤਾਂ) ਤੂੰ ਸ੍ਰੇਸ਼ਟ ਗਿਆਨ ਵਾਲੀ ਬਣ ਗਈ ਹੈਂ।3।

ਹੇ ਨਾਨਕ! ਆਖ– (ਹੇ ਭੈਣ! ਮੈਂ) ਪ੍ਰੀਤਮ-ਪ੍ਰਭੂ ਨੂੰ ਚੰਗੀ ਲੱਗ ਗਈ ਹਾਂ, ਤਾਹੀਏਂ, ਮੈਂ ਗੂੜ੍ਹੇ ਪ੍ਰੇਮ-ਰੰਗ ਵਿਚ ਰੰਗੀ ਗਈ ਹਾਂ, ਉਹ ਪ੍ਰੀਤਮ-ਪ੍ਰਭੂ ਮੈਨੂੰ ਚੰਗੀ (ਪਿਆਰ-ਭਰੀ) ਨਿਗਾਹ ਨਾਲ ਤੱਕਦਾ ਹੈ।4।

(ਪਰ) ਹੇ ਸਹੇਲੀ! ਤੂੰ ਪੁੱਛਦੀ ਹੈਂ (ਮੈਂ ਕੇਹੜੀ ਮੇਹਨਤ ਕੀਤੀ, ਬੱਸ!) ਇਹੀ ਹੈ ਮੇਹਨਤ ਜੋ ਮੈਂ ਕੀਤੀ ਕਿ ਉਸ ਸੁੰਦਰਤਾ ਦੀ ਦਾਤਿ ਦੇਣ ਵਾਲੇ ਪ੍ਰਭੂ ਨੇ ਆਪ ਹੀ ਮੈਨੂੰ (ਆਪਣੇ ਪਿਆਰ ਦੀ ਦਾਤਿ ਦੇ ਕੇ) ਸੋਹਣੀ ਬਣਾ ਲਿਆ ਹੈ।1। ਰਹਾਉ ਦੂਜਾ।1। 52।

Lyrics and Translation and Discussion in Hindi - Prof. Sahib Singh

ੴ सतिगुर प्रसादि ॥ रागु आसा घरु ७ महला ५ ॥
नोट: यहां से आगे ‘घरु ७’ में गाए जाने वाले शबदों का संग्रह आरम्भ होता है।

लालु चोलना तै तनि सोहिआ ॥ सुरिजन भानी तां मनु मोहिआ ॥१॥

पद्अर्थ: तै तनि = तेरे शरीर पर। सोहिआ = शोभा दे रहा है, सुंदर लग रहा है। सुरिजन भानी = सज्जन हरि को प्यारी लगी। तां = तभी। मोहिआ = मोह लिया है।1।

अर्थ: (हे बहिन!) तेरे शरीर पे लाल रंग का चोला सुंदर लग रहा है (तेरे मुंह की लाली सुंदर झलक मार रही है। शायद) तू सज्जन हरि को प्यारी लग रही है, तभी तो तूने मेरा मन (भी) मोह लिया है।1।

कवन बनी री तेरी लाली ॥ कवन रंगि तूं भई गुलाली ॥१॥ रहाउ॥

पद्अर्थ: कवन = कैसे? री = हे सहेली! लाली = मुँह की लाली। रंगि = रंग से। गुलाली = गाढ़े रंग वाली।1। रहाउ।

अर्थ: हे बहिन! (बता,) तेरे चेहरे पे लाली कैसे आ गई है? किस रंग की इनायत से तू सुंदर गाढ़े गुलाल रंग वाली बन गई है?।1। रहाउ।

तुम ही सुंदरि तुमहि सुहागु ॥ तुम घरि लालनु तुम घरि भागु ॥२॥

पद्अर्थ: सुंदरि = (स्त्री-लिंग) सुंदरी। तुमहि सुहागु = तेरा ही सुहाग। तुम घरि = तेरे हृदय घर में। लालनु = प्रीतम प्रभु।2।

अर्थ: हे बहिन! तू बड़ी खूबसूरति दिख रही है। तेरे सुहाग-भाग्य उघड़ के सामने आ गए हैं (ऐसा प्रतीत होता है कि) तेरे हृदय घर में प्रीतम प्रभु आ बसा है, तेरे हृदय घर मेंकिस्मत जाग पड़ी है।2।

तूं सतवंती तूं परधानि ॥ तूं प्रीतम भानी तुही सुर गिआनि ॥३॥

पद्अर्थ: सतसंगी = ऊँचे आचरण वाली। परधानि = जानी मानी। प्रीतम भानी = प्रीतम प्रभु को भाने लगी। सुर गिआनि = श्रेष्ठ ज्ञान वाली।3।

अर्थ: हे बहिन! तू स्वच्छ आचरण वाली हो गई है तू अब हर जगह आदर-मान पा रही है। (अगर) तू प्रीतम प्रभु को अच्छी लग रही है (तो) तू श्रेष्ठ ज्ञान वाली बन गई है।3।

प्रीतम भानी तां रंगि गुलाल ॥ कहु नानक सुभ द्रिसटि निहाल ॥४॥

पद्अर्थ: रंगि गुलाल = गाढ़े रंग में। निहाल = देखा, ताका।4।

अर्थ: हे नानक! कह: (हे बहिन! मैं) प्रीतम प्रभु को अच्छी लग गई हूँ, तभी तो मैं गाढ़े प्रेम रंग में रंगी गई हूँ। वह प्रीतम प्रभु मुझे अच्छी (प्यार भरी) निगाह से देखता है।4।

सुनि री सखी इह हमरी घाल ॥ प्रभ आपि सीगारि सवारनहार ॥१॥ रहाउ दूजा ॥१॥५२॥

नोट: ‘रहाउ दूजा’ में पहले ‘रहाउ’ में किए गए प्रश्न का उत्तर है।

पद्अर्थ: घाल = मेहनत। प्रभ आपि = प्रभु ने खुद ही। सीगारि = श्रृंगार के, सजा के। रहाउ दूजा।

अर्थ: (पर) हे सहेली! तू पूछती है (मैंने कौन सी मेहनत की, बस!) यही है मेहनत जो मैंने की कि उस सुंदरता की दाति देने वाले प्रभु ने खुद ही मुझे (अपने प्यार की दाति दे के) सुंदरी बना लिया है।1। रहाउ दूसरा।1।52।

नोट: आखिरी अंक १ बताता है कि ‘घरु’ ८ का ये पहला शब्द है। अब तक महला ५ के कुल 52 शब्द आ चुके हैं।




Meetha Meetha is on Spotify and iTunes as of yesterday. For many of the shabads that were just live practices, I had not added them to the distribution but folks have been asking me to put these shabads so they can have them on their playlists. So I'll try to add them routinely going forward. Thanks for the prodding! Your words appear sweet to me!

Spotify Link:
https://open.spotify.com/track/0pM5Vj5NGaiYBQTD1iPDZ8?si=b6032b3bd8a64793

Apple Music Link:
https://music.apple.com/us/album/meetha-meetha-live-single/1559781510

Meetha Meetha: Translation and Notes

Shabad: Guru Arjan
Bansuri: Rajesh Prasanna
Raag: Asa

Today I was listening to a lecture by Tony Hoagland and I heard how he was inspired by John Tate's style.  I tried finding John Tate on Amazon I found a $200 book. I know some of the poetry compilations could be expensive, but this was over the top. Maybe the poems were that good; and now I was even more intrigued. It turns out that the John Tate I found was a mathematician. And now it all makes sense.  The stupid world puts a lot more value on Math than poetry. What are the chances?  This echoes with the last poem of John Tate that was found on his typewriter. What Guru Tegh Bahadur says about life so pensively in Ab Main Kahaa Karon Ri Mai: "I have wasted my whole life in poisonous pursuits. Now what should I do O Mother?" is said by John Tate rather funnily and sarcastically.  Both the poems are great meditations on life. All colors of Naam are sweet!

In John Tate's case he seems to believe he hasn't really accomplished much this year; so the poem goes on to make obviously ridiculous claims.  What are the chances we have accomplished anything this year or this life!  

While this is a humorous poem, the reminiscence and reflection on life reminds me of John Milton's poem at the end of his life: On His Blindness 

Here is a picture of the poem that was found on his typewriter:



I sat at my desk and contemplated all that I had accomplished
this year. I had won the hot dog eating contest on Rhode Island.
No, I hadn’t. I was just kidding. I was the arm wrestling champion
in Portland, Maine. False. I caught the largest boa constrictor
in Southern Brazil. In my dreams. I built the largest house
out of matchsticks in all the United States. Wow! I caught
a wolf by its tail. Yumee. I married the Princess of Monaco.
Can you believe it? I fell off of Mount Everest. Ouch! I walked
back up again. It was tiring. Snore. I set a record for sitting
in my chair and snoring longer than anybody. Awake! I set a record
for swimming from one end of my bath to the other in No Count,
Nebraska. Blurb. I read a book written by a dove. Great! I slept
in my chair all day and all night for thirty days. Whew! I ate
a cheeseburger every day for a year. I never want to do that again.
A trout bit me when I was washing the dishes. But I couldn’t catch
him. I flew over my hometown and didn’t recognize anyone. That’s
how long it’s been. A policeman stopped me on the street and said
he was sorry. He was looking for someone who looked just like
me and had the same name. What are the chances?

*This poem was found in the poet’s typewriter after his death.


I touch God in my song


I touch God in my song
as the hill touches the far-away sea
with its waterfall.

The butterfly counts not months but moments,
and has time enough.

Let my love, like sunlight, surround you
and yet give you illumined freedom.

Love remains a secret even when spoken,
for only a lover truly knows that he is loved.

Emancipation from the bondage of the soil
is no freedom for thee.

In love I pay my endless debt to thee
for what thou art.

- Rabindranath Tagore

/ Photo by smerfeo /

Tagore and Karma Yoga: Focusing on Moments


…only a lover truly knows that he is loved.

In this poem’s few short lines, Rabindranath Tagore marries the bhakti path of utter love for God with the heart of karma yoga’s union through service and action.

In traditional Indian metaphysics, the goal is usually understood to be enlightenment and freedom from the karmic tug that traps us in the cycle of earthly embodiment, “emancipation from the bondage of the soil.” But here Tagore challenges the otherworldliness that often engenders.

Even the spiritual idea of liberation can become a selfish goal. For one utterly in love with God, the paying of that “debt” is simply a labor of love. Every effort, every experience, even suffering, is simply an expression of one’s love for God. That is enough right there for the true lover of God. Rather than seeking escape from “the soil,” the world is seen as a panorama that offers endless opportunities to worship and experience the Divine.

This is the great vision of karma yoga.

It is also the attitude that finally allows us to be at rest on our spiritual journey, rather than live as a convict on the run. What some see as the prison yard, becomes instead an exercise yard… or a playground! It is a courageous way of acknowledging that freedom is not escape, it is deep presence.

And we find that we live not in fleeting time, but in the ever expanding present moment.

The butterfly counts not months but moments,
and has time enough.

Rabindranath Tagore

Background on Rabindranath Tagore


Rabindranath Tagore (sometimes rendered in a more modern transliteration as Thakur or Thakura) was one of the great writers of the early 20th century.

Rabindranath Tagore was born to a wealthy Brahmin family in Calcutta (Kolkata) in West Bengal during the British occupation of India.

His mother died when “Rabi” was a young child and his father’s responsibilities often required travel, leaving Rabindranath to be raised by elder siblings and family servants. His family was central to regional political, intellectual, and artistic social circles, however, ensuring that the young Tagore was exposed to great art and learning from an early age.

Tagore began composing poetry by the age of six and showed such a natural gift that he, at the age of sixteen, published a set of poems under a pseudonym that was mistakenly received by critics as a long-lost masterpiece. Only later was it revealed that the author was the adolescent Tagore.

As an older teenager, Tagore was sent to study in England, but soon left school to more actively feed his wide-ranging interests through self-study.

At the beginning of the 20th century, Tagore established an ashram as a place for learning, teaching, and agricultural experimentation.

Tagore was a strong advocate for Indian nationalism in opposition to British imperial rule, while criticizing the most violent expressions of revolution.

During his lifetime, Tagore traveled extensively, meeting the world’s great writers, scientists, political leaders, and social reformers.

Rabindranath Tagore was also an accomplished painter, as well as a musician and prolific composer, with more than 2,000 songs to his credit.

Tagore’s poetry draws from the rich devotional poetic traditions of India, but rendered in a highly fluid, contemporary style. His impact on world poetry and literature is immense, especially writing that explores the modern mind through the mystic’s lens. Countless literary figures of the 20th century cite Tagore as an important influence and source of inspiration. Although his library of poetry is extensive, his most widely read and loved collection is The Gitanjali.

In 1913, he became the first non-European to with the Nobel Prize in Literature.

More on this poem and Rabindranath Tagore from Poetry Chaikhana

I am reading a poem of hope by the first poet laureate of California, Ina Coolbirth. I found out today that I share my birthday with her, an abode in California and after every winter, a spring. And apparently also, the philosophy of optimism and the metaphor of singing! Below is her poem, followed by a short biography. 

After the Winter Rain 


After the winter rain,
Sing, robin! Sing, swallow!
Grasses are in the lane,
Buds and flowers will follow.

Woods shall ring, blithe and gay,
With bird-trill and twitter,
Though the skies weep to-day,
And the winds are bitter.

Though deep call unto deep
As calls the thunder,
And white the billows leap
The tempest under;

Softly the waves shall come
Up the long, bright beaches,
With dainty, flowers of foam
And tenderest speeches…

After the wintry pain,
And the long, long sorrow,
Sing, heart!—for thee again
Joy comes with the morrow.

- Ina Coolbirth

Ina Coolbrith


Biography of Ina Coolbirth

Ina Coolbirth was an important figure in the literary community of 19th- and early 20th-century San Francisco. 

Ina Coolbrith was born as Josephine Smith to Mormon parents in Nauvoo, Illinois. Her uncle, Joseph Smith, was the founder of the Mormon Church, and her father passed away when she was an infant. After her mother left the church and remarried, the family relocated to California in pursuit of the Gold Rush in 1849. Ina was educated in Los Angeles and published her first poems as a teenager in local newspapers. However, a tumultuous and abusive marriage, followed by the death of her infant son, marked a difficult period in her teenage years.

In 1865, Josephine took her mother's maiden name and became Ina Donna Coolbrith. She settled in San Francisco, where she hosted salons, co-edited the journal Overland Monthly with Bret Harte, and became the first woman to be an honorary member of the Bohemian Club. In 1874, she adopted three foster children and embarked on a career as a librarian, working at the Oakland Free Public Library and fostering the early reading of Jack London and Isadora Duncan.

Ina published four collections of poetry, including A Perfect Day (1881) and Wings of Sunset (1929), showcasing her versatility in formal structures. Despite the destruction of her home and many of her poems in the 1906 San Francisco earthquake, she became California's first poet laureate in 1915. She served as the poet laureate of California until her death on February 29, 1928, in Berkeley, California.

Ina Coolbrith Park is located in San Francisco's Russian Hill and she is buried at Oakland's Mountain View Cemetery. Her grave went unmarked until 1986, when the Ina Coolbrith Circle erected a headstone in her honor.



I’m reading Billy Collin’s Today on #worldpoetryday. What a poem can do is it can create magic. It can make it spring when it’s winter. It can release prisoners who had life imprisonment. It can let the birds of wonder and hope fly. It can inspire gratitude. It can make life perfect. And all of it in just a few lines. 








Today
If ever there were a spring day so perfect,
so uplifted by a warm intermittent breeze

that it made you want to throw
open all the windows in the house

and unlatch the door to the canary's cage,
indeed, rip the little door from its jamb,

a day when the cool brick paths
and the garden bursting with peonies

seemed so etched in sunlight
that you felt like taking

a hammer to the glass paperweight
on the living room end table,

releasing the inhabitants
from their snow-covered cottage

so they could walk out,
holding hands and squinting

into this larger dome of blue and white,
well, today is just that kind of day.

Shakespeare the playwright thinks the world is a stage and everyone is playing a part in it. Likewise it would be apt for a poet to think that the world is poetry.  Whatever the world is then decides what we are to do in it.  In Shakespeare's world we are all actors and this is a stage.  And a drama is happening on each day. An interesting take from Mary Oliver is how she takes out the actors from the play, and makes the play a poem. Why not? She is a poet after all. The poet thinks that the world is a poem. 

Mary Oliver's emphasis is on taking it all in. The emphasis on looking and listening. And then not needing to do anything else. This is a poet that is well versed in vismaad, in wonder, it is her.  It only makes sense that wonder is no less service than writing poetry or acting on the world stage.  John Milton so aptly said that God doesn't need "man's work or his own gifts;" even the ones who are standing and waiting, the blind folk like him, are serving!  But while they are standing and waiting, they can be looking and listening; and Mary asserts that is the "real work." What other purpose of life is better?  You don't need to be at your desk writing poetry when it is spring. You just need to look at the woods and listen to the thrush. Looking, listening, smelling, breathing ... taking it all in. 

The Book of Time

I rose this morning early as usual, and went to my desk.
But it’s spring,
and the thrush is in the woods,
somewhere in the twirled branches, and he is singing.
And so, now, I am standing by the open door.
And now I am stepping down onto the grass.
I am touching a few leaves.
I am noticing the way the yellow butterflies
move together, in a twinkling cloud, over the field.
And I am thinking: maybe just looking and listening
is the real work.
Maybe the world, without us,
is the real poem.


- Mary Oliver
The Leaf and the Cloud.


More from the Book of Time

1.

I rose this morning early as usual, and went to my desk
But it’s spring,

and the thrush is in the woods,
somewhere in the twirled branches, and he is singing.

And so, now, I am standing by the open door.
And now I am stepping down onto the grass.

I am touching a few leaves.
I am noticing the way the yellow butterflies
move together, in a twinkling cloud, over the field.

And I am thinking: maybe just looking and listening
is the real work.

Maybe the world, without us,
is the real poem.


2.

For how many years have you gone through the house
    shutting the windows,
while the rain was still five miles away

and veering, o plum-colored clouds, to the north,
away from you

and you did not even know enough
to be sorry,

you were glad
those silver sheets, with the occasional golden staple,

were sweeping on, elsewhere,
violent and electric and uncontrollable–

and will you find yourself finally wanting to forget
all enclosures, including

the enclosure of yourself, o lonely leaf, and will you
dash finally, frantically,

to the windows and haul them open and lean out
to the dark, silvered sky, to everything

that is beyond capture, shouting
I’m here, I’m here! Now, now, now, now, now.

3.

I dreamed
I was traveling

from one country
to another

jogging
on the back
of a white horse
whose hooves

were the music
of dust and gravel
whose halter
was made of the leafy braids

of flowers,
whose name
was Earth.
And it never

grew tired
though the sun
went down
like a thousand roses

and the stars
put their white faces
in front of the black branches
above us

and then
there was nothing around us
but water
and the white horse

turned suddenly
like a bolt of white cloth

opening
under the cloth cutter’s deft hands

and became
a swan.
Its red tongue
flickered out

as it perceived
my great surprise
my huge and unruly pleasure
my almost unmanageable relief. . . .

4.

“‘Whoever shall be guided so far towards the mysteries of love, by
contemplating beautiful things rightly in due order, is approaching the last
grade. Suddenly he will behold a beauty marvellous in its nature, that very
Beauty, Socrates, for the sake of which all the earlier hardships had been
borne: in the first place, everlasting, and never being born nor perishing,
neither increasing nor diminishing; secondly, not beautiful here and ugly
there, not beautiful now and ugly then, not beautiful in one direction and
ugly in another direction, not beautiful in one place and ugly in another
place. Again, this beauty will not show itself like a face or hands or any
bodily thing at all, nor as a discourse or a science, nor indeed as residing in
anything, as in a living creature or in earth or heaven or anything else,
but being by itself with itself always in simplicity; while all the beautiful
things elsewhere partake of this beauty in such manner, that when they are
born and perish it becomes neither less nor more and nothing at all
happens to it. . . .'”

5.

What secrets fly out of the earth
when I push the shovel-edge,
when I heave the dirt open?

And if there are no secrets
what is that smell that sweetness rising?

What is my name,
o what is my name
that I may offer it back
to the beautiful world?

Have I walked
long enough
where the sea breaks raspingly
all day and all night upon the pale sand?

Have I admired sufficiently the little hurricane
of the hummingbird?

the heavy
thumb
of the blackberry?

the falling star?

6.

Count the roses, red and fluttering.
Count the roses, wrinkled and salt.
Each with its yellow lint at the center.
Each with its honey pooled and ready.
Do you have a question that can’t be answered?
Do the stars frighten you by their heaviness
    and their endless number?
Does it bother you, that mercy is so difficult to
    understand?
For some souls it’s easy; they lie down on the sand
    and are soon asleep.
For others, the mind shivers in its glacial palace,
    and won’t come.
Yes, the mind takes a long time, is otherwise occupied
than by happiness, and deep breathing.
Now, in the distance, some bird is singing.
And now I have gathered six or seven deep red,
    half-opened cups of petals between my hands,
and now I have put my face against them
and now I am moving my face back and forth, slowly,
    against them.
The body is not much more than two feet and a tongue.
Come to me, says the blue sky, and say the word.
And finally even the mind comes running, like a wild thing,
    and lies down in the sand.
Eternity is not later, or in any unfindable place.
Roses, roses, roses, roses.

7.

Even now
I remember something

the way a flower
in a jar of water

remembers its life
in the perfect garden

the way a flower
in a jar of water

remembers its life
as a closed seed

the way a flower
in a jar of water

steadies itself
remembering itself

long ago
the plunging roots

the gravel the rain
the glossy stem

the wings of the leaves
the swords of the leaves

rising and clashing
for the rose of the sun

the salt of the stars
the crown of the wind

the beds of the clouds
the blue dream

the unbreakable circle.

"All the world's a stage" is the phrase that begins a monologue from William Shakespeare's pastoral comedy As You Like It, spoken by the melancholy Jaques in Act II Scene VII Line 139. The speech compares the world to a stage and life to a play and catalogues the seven stages of a man's life, sometimes referred to as the seven ages of man. 

Oscar Wilde put his own spin on this phrase and says, “The world is a stage, and the play is badly cast.” Allan Moore in his novel, V for Vendetta, says, “All the world’s a stage, and everything else is vaudeville.”

It reminds me of Guru Nanak's poem in Raag Shri, Jag Supna Baaji Bani, where he says "the world is a drama staged in a dream. It only takes a moment to play out. The fortunate ones are united in joy, while others are separated in sadness. Whatever the director pleases happen; nothing is in our hands."


All the world’s a stage

                                        All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms;
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lin’d,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper’d pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well sav’d, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion;
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

- William Shakespeare
(from As You Like It, spoken by Jaques)



 Introduction and Video - Kaise Man Tarega Re

This beautiful shabad was written by Bhagat Namdev, the saint poet from Maharashtra.  I continue to celebrate Bhagat Namdev's 750th birth anniversary by creating several media projects based on his poetry.  The odds were against him but despite Bhagat Namdev being from a family of cheepas, or calico printers, he was able to swim across the toxic ocean of life to meet Paarbrahm and describes his experience in this shabad. Guru Nanak found this shabad inspirational and sang it in a raag he created himself, Raag Asa, the raag of hope.


In this blog I start out with the lyrics of the shabad and the traditional translation in English, followed by a discussion of some of the words in the shabad. In the end I have posted lyrics in Hindi and Punjabi. 




Lyrics and Translation in English

Āsā - Shabad by Bhagat Namdev

Pārbarahm jė cẖīnĥsī āsā ṯe na bẖāvsī.
Rāmā bẖagṯah cẖeṯīale acẖinṯ man rākẖsī. ||1||

Kaise man ṯarhegā re sansār sāgar bikẖai ko banā.
Jẖūṯẖī māiā ḏekẖ kai bẖūlā re manā. ||1|| rahā▫o.

Cẖẖīpe ke gẖar janam ḏailā gur upḏes bẖailā.
Sanṯėh kai parsāḏ nāmā har bẖetulā. ||2||5||

Aasaa - Translation by Bhai Manmohan Singh

He, who sees the Supreme Lord, likes not other desires.
He thinks of Lord's devotional service and keeps his mind free from care.

O my soul, how shalt thou cross over the world-ocean filled with the water of vice?
Beholding the false worldly valuables thou has gone astray, O my mind. Pause.

Thou hast given me birth in a calico-printer's house (O Lord), but I have attained the Guru's instruction.
By saints' grace, Nam Dev has met his Lord.

Original Translation 


If you understand infinity, desires will not trap you
By remembering Raam, your mind will be free of worries

O mind, 
How will you swim across the world full of toxins?
Seeing this false maya you have gone astray!

Despite being born in a calico-printer family, I was blessed with the Guru's teachings
With the blessings of saints, I was able to meet Hari

Vocabulary and Shabad Discussion

Aasaa/Asa

The shabad is sung in Raag Asa, Guru Nanak's raag of hope. Aasaa (also Asa) means hope and is the same as the hindi word Asha.  This is the fourth raag in the Guru Granth Sahib after Raags Shriraag, Maajh, and Gauri. It is said that Guru Nanak composed this raag himself.  Guru Nanak has written several shabads in composed a vaar, a ballad in Asa as well. This is one of my favorite raags and I have recorded many of Guru Nanak's shabads in Raag Asa: Vadde Mere Sahiba, Baba Jai Ghar Karte Keerat Hoye, and Balhaari Kudrat Vaseya.  Several other Guru's and bhagats have written shabads in raag Asa; some of my favorite Asa shabads include Bhinni Rainariye Chamkan Taare, Tera Kiya Meetha Lagai, and Sant Kabir's Paati Torai Malini.

Paarbrahm 

Pārbarahm or Paarbrahm (u). transcendent Lord. Paarbrahm is made of two words: Paar and Brahm where paar means "beyond" or "across" and brahm implies ultimate reality (from the Sanskrit brahman). The verb "brihate" in sanskrit is used for something that is expanding. Brahmaand refers to the universe.  In this shabad, paarbrahma beautifully implies the ultimate reality that is found across the ocean. In Sanskrit paar also means "higher" in some contexts, and "highest or supreme."  So paarbrahm is the "Supreme Brahman" that which is beyond all descriptions and conceptualizations. 

Par according to Sanskrit-English Dictionary by McDonnell: “पर pár-a [leading beyond: √2. pri], 1. of place: farther, than ; remoter, ulterior; opposite (shore); next (life); 2. of time: past, previous; future, subsequent; following (ab.); latest, extreme (age), high (time); 3. of amount: exceeding, more than ; remaining over; 4. of sequence: following, coming next after ; repeated: each successive; 5. of degree: superior, higher, better, worse, than ; supreme, pre-eminent, best; utmost, deepest, greatest; 6. of range: transcending ; etc.”

Usage of Paarbrahm (para brahma): 

  • In Advaita Vedanta, the Para Brahman is defined as nirguna brahman, or brahman without form or qualities and is a state of complete knowledge of self as being identical with the transcendental Brahman, a state of mental-spiritual enlightenment. It contrasts with Saguna Brahman which is a state of loving awareness. Advaita Vedanta non-dualistically holds that Brahman is divine, the divine is Brahman, and this is identical to that which is Atman (one's soul, innermost self) and nirguna (attribute-less), infinite, love, truth, knowledge, "being-consciousness-bliss".

  • Paarbrahm versus Pooran Brahm: Bhai Gurdas wrote a poem about Guru Nanak (Kal Taaran Guru Nanak Aaya) where he says, Paarbrahm Pooran Brahm Kaljug Andar Ik Dikhaayaa (ਪਾਰਬ੍ਰਹਮ ਪੂਰਨ ਬ੍ਰਹਮ ਕਲਿਜੁਗ ਅੰਦਰਿ ਇਕ ਦਿਖਾਇਆ).  Which means, "[Guru Nanak] showed [through his own example] in this dark age (kalyug) that, the one with all the attributes including form (Pooran Brahm) and the one beyond all attributes (Paarbrahm) are the same and identical. 

  • Toon Paarbrahma Beant: Guru Ramdas in Raag Asa sings, Toon Paarbrahm be-ant be-ant ji tere kya gun aakh vakhaanaa (ਤੂੰ ਪਾਰਬ੍ਰਹਮੁ ਬੇਅੰਤੁ ਬੇਅੰਤੁ ਜੀ ਤੇਰੇ ਕਿਆ ਗੁਣ ਆਖਿ ਵਖਾਣਾ ॥). You are the endless endless Paarbrahm; how can I say your virtues? Raga Aaasaa 4, Sohilaa, 1, 2:4 (Guru Granth Sahib, page 11).

  • The sixth element: Here is another way to look at it from the point of view of Sankhya philosophy:  The universe -- or brahmand -- is made of five elements. This universe maybe called prakriti of the Sankhya philosophy.  It is really the same as maaya. However, there is a sixth element, the truth, also called purusha, which is beyond the universe is the same as paarbrahma.  Guru Gobind Singh in Sanyasa calls this the aatam tatva or the 'soul element'.


Chheepa

Bhagat Namdev says Cẖẖīpe ke gẖar janam ḏailā literally meaning "I have obtained birth in the family of chhipa".  The word chhipa is derived from the word chhaap, which means print; chhaap can be a noun as well as a verb.  Some people have their last names as chheepa.  The chheepa (alternatively spelled Chhipa, chheeppa chhippa, or chhimpa) are a community or clan of people with ancestral roots tracing back to India. They are found in the state of Maharashtra, Gujarat, Rajasthan, Madhya Pradesh, Sindh and Punjab. 


It is said that the community was originally found in Nagaur in Rajasthan. After their settlement in Rajasthan and Gujarat, the community took up the occupation of dyeing and printing clothes. The community speak Marwari and Gujarati, and many can still be found mainly in Rajasthan and in north Gujarat, in the districts of Ahmedabad, Nadiad, Baroda and Bharuch. 

Chheepa is often translated as "calico printer." Calico is a raw form of cotton we often call 'khaddar." Calico fabric is a plain-woven textile, made from half-processed and unbleached cotton fibers. It’s a coarse and rough fabric, but not as sturdy as denim or canvas, nor as fine as Muslin. Calico is generally very cheap due to its unfinished nature, and it often remains un-dyed and raw.

The cheepa clan were categorized as one of the lower classes in the Hindu caste system. The relevance here is that the shabad is about crossing the toxin filled ocean of the world; being born in a lower class chheepa family Bhagat Namdev did not have the opportunity to learn about the vedas, the highest knowledge of Brahman. Still, with the grace of the guru's teachings he was able to "meet" Hari. 

Lyrics in Punjabi and Hindi

ਆਸਾ ॥

ਪਾਰਬ੍ਰਹਮੁ ਜਿ ਚੀਨ੍ਹ੍ਹਸੀ ਆਸਾ ਤੇ ਨ ਭਾਵਸੀ ॥
ਰਾਮਾ ਭਗਤਹ ਚੇਤੀਅਲੇ ਅਚਿੰਤ ਮਨੁ ਰਾਖਸੀ ॥੧॥

ਕੈਸੇ ਮਨ ਤਰਹਿਗਾ ਰੇ ਸੰਸਾਰੁ ਸਾਗਰੁ ਬਿਖੈ ਕੋ ਬਨਾ ॥
ਝੂਠੀ ਮਾਇਆ ਦੇਖਿ ਕੈ ਭੂਲਾ ਰੇ ਮਨਾ ॥੧॥ ਰਹਾਉ ॥

ਛੀਪੇ ਕੇ ਘਰਿ ਜਨਮੁ ਦੈਲਾ ਗੁਰ ਉਪਦੇਸੁ ਭੈਲਾ ॥
ਸੰਤਹ ਕੈ ਪਰਸਾਦਿ ਨਾਮਾ ਹਰਿ ਭੇਟੁਲਾ ॥੨॥੫॥

आसा ॥

पारब्रहमु जि चीन्हसी आसा ते न भावसी ॥
रामा भगतह चेतीअले अचिंत मनु राखसी ॥१॥

कैसे मन तरहिगा रे संसारु सागरु बिखै को बना ॥
झूठी माइआ देखि कै भूला रे मना ॥१॥ रहाउ ॥

छीपे के घरि जनमु दैला गुर उपदेसु भैला ॥
संतह कै परसादि नामा हरि भेटुला ॥२॥५॥

On Saint Patrick's day today I am reading this beautiful poem inspiring courage. Much like Rabindranath Tagore evergreen poem Ekala Chalo Re implores the fighter to keep walking even even if they are alone, a new leaf comes out fighting following the winter.  A fighting spirit like the poems of Walt Whitman's compilation named Leaves of Grass apparently as a pun (grass was a term given by publishers to works of minor value).  

Likewise the slick new leaf fights in Ad Limon's poem and takes more points than the more beautiful flowers:

 

Instructions on Not Giving Up

More than the fuchsia funnels breaking out
of the crabapple tree, more than the neighbor’s
almost obscene display of cherry limbs shoving
their cotton candy-colored blossoms to the slate
sky of Spring rains, it’s the greening of the trees
that really gets to me. When all the shock of white
and taffy, the world’s baubles and trinkets, leave
the pavement strewn with the confetti of aftermath,
the leaves come. Patient, plodding, a green skin
growing over whatever winter did to us, a return
to the strange idea of continuous living despite
the mess of us, the hurt, the empty. Fine then,
I’ll take it, the tree seems to say, a new slick leaf
unfurling like a fist to an open palm, I’ll take it all.

- Ada Limón


This is the 31st of 52 sections in Walt Whitman's Song of Myself.  This is one of the places Whitman clarifies what he means by Leaves of Grass, the name of his compilation of poetry,  On May 15, 1855, Whitman registered the title Leaves of Grass with the clerk of the United States District Court, Southern District of New Jersey, and received its copyright. The title was a pun, as grass was a term given by publishers to works of minor value, and leaves is another name for the pages on which they were printed.  The poem sings of oneness, like the rest of the poem. It starts with comparing the common grass leaf with the extraordinary shiny stars of the night. 


I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey-work of the stars,
And the pismire is equally perfect, and a grain of sand, and the
egg of the wren,

And the tree-toad is a chef-d'oeuvre for the highest,
And the running blackberry would adorn the parlors of heaven,
And the narrowest hinge in my hand puts to scorn all machinery,
And the cow crunching with depress'd head surpasses any statue,
And a mouse is miracle enough to stagger sextillions of infidels.

I find I incorporate gneiss, coal, long-threaded moss, fruits, grains,
esculent roots,
And am stucco'd with quadrupeds and birds all over,
And have distanced what is behind me for good reasons,
But call any thing back again when I desire it.

In vain the speeding or shyness,
In vain the plutonic rocks send their old heat against my approach,
In vain the mastodon retreats beneath its own powder'd bones,
In vain objects stand leagues off and assume manifold shapes,
In vain the ocean settling in hollows and the great monsters lying
low,
In vain the buzzard houses herself with the sky,
In vain the snake slides through the creepers and logs,
In vain the elk takes to the inner passes of the woods,
In vain the razor-bill'd auk sails far north to Labrador,
I follow quickly, I ascend to the nest in the fissure of the cliff.

- Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass, Song of Myself (32)

I read the following lines from a Rumi translation ... 

By day I praised you
and never knew it.
By night I stayed with you
and never knew it.
I always thought that
I was me--but no,
I was you
and never knew it.

I was reminded of Kabir's Tu Tu Karta 

Saying you you, I have lost myself. 
Now everywhere I look, I see you.



Here is the full poem translated by Shahram Shiva:

Seven Pearls

Neither I am me,
nor you are you,
nor you are me.
Also, I am me,
you are you
and you are me.
We have become one
in such a way,
That I am confused whether
I am you,
or you are me.

The Lovers
will drink wine night and day.
They will drink until they can
tear away the veils of intellect and
melt away the layers of shame and modesty.
When in Love,
body, mind, heart and soul don’t even exist.
Become this,
fall in Love,
and you will not be separated again.

Do you know what you are?
You are a manuscript of a divine letter.
You are a mirror reflecting a noble face.
This universe is not outside of you.
Look inside yourself;
everything that you want,
you are already that.

Tonight
is the night.
It is the creation of that land of eternity.
It is not an ordinary night,
It is a wedding of those who seek unity.
Tonight, the bride and groom
speak in one tongue.
Tonight, the bridal chamber
is looking particularly bright.

Go ahead: ask me!
Ask me about Love,
and I will tell you the essence of madness.
Ask me of an intellect gone mad,
and I will show you a soul departed for good.
Ask me of a hundred calamities,
of a hundred life transformations.
Ask me of a hundred deserts engulfed in fire.
Ask me of a hundred oceans red with blood.

I am an atom;
you are like the countenance of the Sun for me.
I am a patient of Love
you are like medicine for me.
Without wings, without feathers,
I fly about looking for you.
I have become a rose petal
and you are like the wind for me.
Take me for a ride.

By day I praised you
and never knew it.
By night I stayed with you
and never knew it.
I always thought that
I was me--but no,
I was you
and never knew it.

- Rumi
(translated by Shahram Shiva)
I was composing an Iqbal ghazal today and ran across this beautiful ghazal by Siraj Aurangabadi, a sufi poet form Aurangabad form the 18th century.  Khabar-e-tahayyur-e-ishq sun is his most famous ghazal. The following note has three translations for this ghazal.  I also came across a great rendition of a few verses of this ghazal as a qawwali by Ustad Farid Ayaz and Ustad Abu Muhammad:



Lyrics


ḳhabar-e-tahayyur-e-ishq sun na junūñ rahā na parī rahī 
na to tū rahā na to maiñ rahā jo rahī so be-ḳhabarī rahī 

shah-e-be-ḳhudī ne atā kiyā mujhe ab libās-e-barahnagī 
na ḳhirad kī baḳhiya-garī rahī na junūñ kī parda-darī rahī 

chalī samt-e-ġhaib siiñ kyā havā ki chaman zuhūr kā jal gayā 
magar ek shāḳh-e-nihāl-e-ġham jise dil kaho so harī rahī 

nazar-e-taġhāful-e-yār kā gila kis zabāñ siiñ bayāñ karūñ 
ki sharāb-e-sad-qadah aarzū ḳhum-e-dil meñ thī so bharī rahī 

vo ajab ghaḌī thī maiñ jis ghaḌī liyā dars nusḳha-e-ishq kā 
ki kitāb aql kī taaq par juuñ dharī thī tyuuñ hī dharī rahī 

tire josh-e-hairat-e-husn kā asar is qadar siiñ yahāñ huā 
ki na ā.īne meñ rahī jilā na parī kuuñ jalvagarī rahī 

kiyā ḳhaak ātish-e-ishq ne dil-e-be-navā-e-'sirāj' kuuñ 
na ḳhatar rahā na hazar rahā magar ek be-ḳhatarī rahī 

Translation and Discussion

By Kashikeya Vats

Khabar-e-tahayyur-e-ishq sunn, na junoon raha na pari rahi
Na toh tu raha na toh mein raha, jo rahi so be-khabari rahi
On learning the amazing saga of love, neither the frenzy (junoon) was left, nor did the sweetheart (pari) remain. I was ‘me’ no more, you were ‘thee’ no more; only a state of oblivion remained.

This she'r reminds me of the lines from Rumi:

I always thought that
I was me — but no, I was you
and never knew it.

The consciousness of self is obstructive and it is only the removal of 'knowledge' and 'thought' (Rumi has used the words ‘thought’ and ‘knew’) that leads to the state of self-unconsciousness where the lover and the beloved become one.

Shah-e-bekhudi ne ataa kia, mujhay ab libas-e-barahanagi

Na khirad ki bakhiyagari rahi, na junoon ki pardadari rahi

The gift of the ‘Lord of Ecstasy’ to me was a garb of nakedness. All that the wisdom had stitched was gone; the veil of madness no longer remained.
At the spiritual level the couplet can be interpreted like this: My beloved, the shah-e-bekhudi has ripped naked my heart and soul, ridding them of the layers of stitching by the misguided intellect, which is nothing more than a veil of madness. The extreme of love endows the heart with divine purity. Reason and intellect have been viewed as hindrances, and the perceived sanity as madness. 
Chali simt-e-ghaib se aik hava, ke chaman zahoor ka jal gaya
Magar aik shakh-e-nihal-e-gham, jise dil kahe so hari rahi
A sweeping wind, which came from beyond the visible world, consumed the visible garden with fire; just one branch on the tree of grief, which they call heart, despite the blaze retained its green.
The reference here is to the lost Paradise, and the perennial quest to re-unite with it. The Divine breeze would burn the worldly existence leaving behind the hope for reunion. The worldly existence (chaman) has been likened to a tree of sorrow and suffering, and the Divine breeze as the liberator. Nothing grows on that tree except sadness, caused by the separation from his beloved. Now that entire existence is gone, only the abode of the beloved (heart) has survived.

Nazar-e-taghaful-e-yaar ka, gila kis zuban se bayan karoon
Ke sharab-e-sad-qadaah aarzu, khum-e-dil mein thi so bhari rahi
I am speechless to complain about the indifferent and uncaring glances (nazar-e-taghaful-e-yaar) of my beloved; the wine of desire that filled the heart remained suppressed, concealed.
At the temporal level, these lines would simply suggest that there is a heart overflowing with desires which one is unable to express due to the indifferent looks of the beloved. At the metaphysical level it would suggest that the worldly desires are often out of sync with the Divine commandments.

Woh ajab ghari thi mein jis ghari, liya dars nuskha-e-ishq ka
Ke kitab aql ki taaq main, jyun dhari thi tyun hi dhari rahi

It was at a moment strange that I read a book of love; the book of reason, brushed aside, remained shelved 
and sheathed.

Reason (aql-o-khirad), the product of mind is considered a detriment, hindering the spontaneity of heart. A person guided by logic and reason is too calculative to be able to devote to pure love; whereas selfless love is motivated by heart and not mind. For that reason love and brain are just incompatible. Mind is deceitful, untrustworthy, selfish and devious whereas heart is pure, untainted and selfless. As Iqbal said: bekhatar kuud para aatishe-namrood mein ishq/aql thi mehvi-tamasha-e-lab-baam abhi


Tere josh-e-hairat-e-husn ka, asar iss qadar so yahan hua
Ke na aayine main jila rahi, na pari kuun jalva gari rahi
Your bewitching beauty, love, such a spell did cast; the mirror stood bereft of gloss and beauty seemed to freeze.

Bewildered by your beauty (Josh-e-hairat-e-husn), I had such a mark on my heart (yahan is a pointer towards the heart) that the heart (aayina , the mirror of heart) has lost all its shine (the basic quality of a mirror) and angel (pari is used as simile to refer profound beauty) had no beauty left to reveal (‘kuun’means ko).

Kiya khak aatish-e-ishq ne dil-e-benava-e-Siraj ko
Na khatar raha na hazar raha, magar aik be-khatari rahi
The fire of love reduced to ashes Siraj’s voiceless heart; fears and cares got consumed, intrepid courage held the field.

The fire of love (aatish-e-ishq) has burnt the voiceless heart (dil-e-benava) of Siraj to ashes. The heart is so liberated from fears (be-khatari) that there is no feeling of vulnerability or threat left. (As Iqbal has used the word bekhatar: bekhatar kood para aatish-e-namrood mein ishq).

Second Translation


trans: Divana Nakujabadi [Saiyad Nizamuddin Ahmad]
The Tale of Love’s Perplexity (khabar-e tahayyur-e 'ishq)


[1]  Hearken to the tale of Love’s [metaphysical] perplexity:
   neither the ardour of madness remained,
   nor the angelic beloved remained;
 Neither did you remain, nor did I remain,
   only unawareness remained.


[2]  The Shah of no-self-ness has now bestowed upon me
   the garment of nakedness;
 Neither the stitching of reason remained,
   neither the veiling of madness’ ardour remained.

[3]  A wind blew from the threshold of the unseen,
   and the garden of bliss was consumed.
 Yet, but a branch of the tree of sorrow
   ―known as the heart― green remained.


[4]  With which tongue am I to recount the indifference of the beloved?
   Desire akin to the wine of a hundred goblets brimmed up
     in the vessel of the heart yet, therein remained.

[5]  What a marvelous instant it was that I learned of the elixir of Love!
   The book of reason placed on the shelf,
      on the shelf remained.

[6]  The intensity of the perplexity of your beauty,
   was so brilliantly revealed, that
    neither the mirror’s shine remained,
    neither the angelic beloved’s beauty remained.

[7]  The fire of love has reduced the mute heart of Siraj to ashes,
    neither fright remained,
    nor caution remained,
     only
fearlessness remained.


Third Translation


Khabar-e-tahayyur-e-ishq sunn, na junoon raha na pari rahi
Na toh tu raha na toh mein raha, jo rahi so be-khabari rahi
Learn oh absorbing love that neither the obsession (for the beloved) is left nor and the object (pari) of love survived. The only thing that is left is a state of self-unconsciousness: where neither you exist nor I exist.

Shah-e-bekhudi ne ataa kia, mujhay ab libas-e-barahanagi
Na khirad ki bakhiyagari rahi, na junoon ki pardadari rahi
My beloved (shah-e-bekhudi is a reference to the beloved. Knowing what little I know about Siraj I am leaning towards God as his object of love rather then a worldly being) has bestowed me with a dress of nakedness (libas-e-barahanagi). Neither the intellect (khirad) can repair it nor does the insanity (junoon) rip it. Meaning what a dress (nakedness) my beloved has conferred upon me! I am now free from the trouble of ripping it or mending it (depending on the mental state I am in). My focus is my beloved not my own appearance or even existence.

Chali simt-e-ghaib se aik hava, ke chaman zahoor ka jal gaya
Magar aik shakh-e-nihal-e-gham, jise dil kahe so hari rahi
A breeze came from the outer space (simt-e-ghaib) and burned the entire garden of existence (zahoor) but a branch of the tree of sorrow (nihal-e-gham) that is called heart remained green. Since in the first line poet is referring to a wind coming from the direction of God (ghaib) that has burned the whole existence (chaman) it can be assumed that tree of sorrow is a symbol of the poets own being. In the burned garden of existence he stood like a sad tree. Nothing grows on that tree except sadness, caused by the separation from his beloved. Now that entire existence is gone, only the abode of the beloved (heart) is survived.

Nazar-e-taghaful-e-yaar ka, gila kis zuban se bayan karoon
Ke sharab-e-sad-qadaah aarzu, khum-e-dil mein thi so bhari rahi
I am speechless (kis zuban). How can I complain the indifferent and uncaring glances (nazar-e-taghaful-e-yaar) of my beloved? After reading, the second line it is clear that he trying to say that I cannot complain about those cold looks or eyes that have granted me so much. I am indebted to those eyes. Why? My heart is brimming with his desire (aarzu) as if a vessel (khum) is filled with hundred goblets of wine (sharaab-e-sad-qadaah).

Woh ajab ghari thi mein jis ghari, liya dars nuskha-e-ishq ka
Ke kitab aql ki taaq main, jyun dhari thi tyun hi dhari rahi
In Urdu poetry, reason (aql-o-khirad) the product of mind is considered a source of selfishness and as it causes a person to make calculated move; as against altruistic emotions that come out of heart. A thoughtful person thinks about the consequences before taking any action. That is why it is assumed that a selfless love is motivated by heart and not mind. For that reason love and brain are just incompatible. Mind is deceitful, untrustworthy, selfish and devious whereas heart is pure, untainted and selfless. As Iqbal said:

bekhatar kuud para aatishe-namrood mein ishq aql thi mehvi-tamasha-e-lab-baam abhi

That is what Siraj is saying that at that strange moment when I started taking lesson in love (dars-e-nuskha-e-ishq) I left my intellect or brain (kitaab-e-aql- book is synonymous with intellect as one needs brain to read or write) in an alcove, where it is lying ever since.

Tere josh-e-hairat-e-husn ka, asar iss qadar so yahan hua
Ke na aayine main jila rahi, na pari kuun jalva gari rahi
Bewildered by your beauty (Josh-e-hairat-e-husn), I had such a mark on my heart (yahan is a pointer towards the heart) that the heart (aayina means heart) has lost all its shine (the basic quality of a mirror) and angel (pari is used as simile to refer profound beauty) had no beauty left to reveal. (“so” means se and “kuun” means ko).

Kiya khak-e-aatish-e-ishq ne dil-e-benava-e-Siraj ko
Na khatar raha na hazar raha, magar aik be-khatari rahi
The fire of love (aatish-e-ishq) has burned the voiceless heart (dil-e-benava) of Siraj to the ashes. There is no feeling of vulnerability or threat left. Only freedom from fear (be-khatari) is left. (As Iqbal has used the word bekhatar: bekhatar kood para aatish-e-namrood mein ishq.)



This morning I am reading 300 Goats by Naomi Shihab Nye. Goats were on top of her mind that year because she had returned from China where there had been an active debate on whether it was the year of the sheep or goat. With her heightened state of awareness about goats she seems worried about Goats on a ranch in Texas which was experiencing icy cold weather. 

The poem reminds me of Guru Arjan’s poem, “kahe re man chitveh uddam”. Why O mind  ?  The ants that live on rocks find food. Flamingos fly off after laying their eggs; when the young ones hatch they find what they need to survive. 

It also reminds me of Jane Hirshfield’s poem about saving an ant. We take on the responsibility of the savior. But are we really saving anyone?


Naomi Shihab Nye: “300 Goats”

In icy fields.

Is water flowing in the tank?

Will they huddle together, warm bodies pressing?

(Is it the year of the goat or the sheep?

Scholars debating Chinese zodiac,

follower or leader.)

O lead them to a warm corner,

little ones toward bulkier bodies.

Lead them to the brush, which cuts the icy wind.

Another frigid night swooping down — 

Aren’t you worried about them? I ask my friend,

who lives by herself on the ranch of goats,

far from here near the town of Ozona.

She shrugs, “Not really,

they know what to do. They’re goats.”

Jack Kerouac through his poem In Vain asks the question, "Of what use are the best things in the world?"  It seems that some of the best things in the world, like the stars in the sky and the life of buddha are of no use because people are after materialistic things.  This reminds me of Guru Arjan's Durlabham where the Guru rejects all the material things in the world for the name of oneness. The repetition of "in vain" also reminds me of the repetition of "kood" or "false" by Guru Nanak in his poem kood raajaa rejecting materiality of the world. The repetition of "in vain" also creates a beautiful meditative lament. 

First the poem, and then analysis:  

In Vain


The stars in the sky
In vain
The tragedy of Hamlet
   In vain
The key in the lock
      In vain
The sleeping mother
      In vain
The lamp in the corner
         In vain
The lamp in the corner unlit
            In vain
Abraham Lincoln
                        In vain
The Aztec empire
                           In vain
The writing hand: in vain
(The shoetrees in the shoes
         In vain
The window shade string upon
            the hand bible
   In vain—
   The glitter of the green glass
         ashtray
In vain
The bear in the woods
         In vain
The Life of Buddha
         In vain)

- Jack Kerouac

Analysis

 
According to Dictionary.com, “in vain” is defined as “without real significance, value, or importance; baseless or worthless.” In this poem, Jack Kerouac uses this phrase to emphasize how society has lost its meaning. In the beginning of the poem, he writes “The stars in the sky/ In vain” (lines 1-2). Stars are a symbol of the misunderstood. Stars also symbolize distant or unattainable things because of their magnificent distance from Earth. These lines show how, in this time period, society yearned for progress and change. But since Kerouac was part of the Beat Generation, he and his fellow Beats completely opposed society’s materialistic goals. Kerouac is trying to get the point across that these materialistic goals are meaning. A message that comes from this is that nothing has a value unless we give it one. This directly relates to Kerouac’s perspective on how society, often values things not worthy of having one.

Human beings take a lot for granted. Kerouac shows this through the repetition of the line, “in vain” throughout his poem. Another way Kerouac displays this idea of society being unappreciative is when he writes, “Abraham Lincoln/ In vain” (lines 13-14). It is ironic Kerouac includes the allusion of Lincoln in his poem because Lincoln was the President that outlawed slavery and in the time period the poem was written, the Civil Rights Movement was going on. It shows how we fought a Civil War to end slavery in vain as there is still on going denial of equal rights to blacks. This expresses how society is claiming to progress but actually not progressing at all. A message that could be derived from this is that you have to learn from the past in order to progress. Kerouac believes society is too self-absorbed and too focused on moving forward to learn from the past. 

The Beat Generation believed in the rejection of mainstream American values, the exploring of alternate forms of sexuality like homosexuality, and the experimentation with drugs. The Beat Generation lived a relaxed lifestyle without any worries. This poem is a critique of society and illustrates to how the Beats rejected society’s goals. This connection is shown when Kerouac writes, “The sleeping mother/ In vain” (lines 7-8). Kerouac writes this to show how society in this time period made something as important as a mother figure irrelevant. This relates to why Beats did not like society’s direction. The Beat Generation thought society in this time did not appreciate anything The Establishment was doing. This theme is demonstrated throughout this poem.

This reminds me of the W.H.Auden's Musee des Beaux Arts which shows how major painting masters portrayed human nonchalance to major happenings like the birth of Jesus Christ and the fall of Icarus; we find seemingly important things in vain, and perhaps in the grand scheme of things, they are in vain. 

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SHIVPREET SINGH

Singing oneness!
- Shivpreet Singh

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