Shivpreet Singh

Translation - Kab Se Hoon, Kya Bataaon (Ghalib)

miltee hai khoo-e-yaar se naar iltihaab mein

kaafir hoon gar na miltee ho raahat 'azaab mein

Line 1/2 - The poet says his beloved's temperament matches the fiery flames of the fire. I would be an infidel if I do not find solace in sorrow. Ghalib in his despair says his lover's behavior is like the searing flames of the fire. It is passionate and intense, and I would be a non-believer if I do not find comfort in torment. I am in sorrow and already in anguish hence I find comfort in the fiery habits of my lover. They don't bother me. But if they start to annoy me, then assume that I am no more a believer that I used to be.

kab se hoon, kya bataaoon jahaan-e-kharaab mein?

shab haaye hijr ko bhee rakhoon gar hisaab mein

Line 3/4 - Ghalib says that 'What to say! Since how long I have been in this world of misfortune and misery'. Even if I account for the misery due to your nights of separation into this. Now this can be interpreted in multiple ways. The poet says that his life has long been in this world of grief and affliction. If I take care of the torment/misery due to our separation still my world would be sad and amiss. In other interpretation, Ghalib says his long he has been in wretched world and those nights of separation from you are just more addition in those woeful times. My beloved's company makes this world joyful and without her, it is another day in this wretched world.

taa fir na intezaar mein neend aaye 'umr bhar

aane ka 'ahad kar gaye aaye jo khwaab mein

Line 5/6 - The poet says 'So that, in waiting - sleep may never come in my entire lifetime, she came in my dreams and promised that she would come'. Ghalib says I am waiting for my beloved eagerly and so excited am I that I can not rest until she comes. Sleep may never come close to my eyes until I see her face for she came to my dreams and promised that she is going to come and meet me.

qaasid ke aate-aate khat ik aur likh rakhoon

main jaanta hoon jo woh likhenge jawaab mein

Line 7/8 - Ghalib says by the time the messenger comes, he will write another letter and keep it handy. For I know what she is going to write in her reply. Again couple of interpretation, One he knows his beloved so well that he knows what she has written in the letter and he want to keep his reply ready by the time the messenger comes. The other interpretation being the poet wants to keep another letter ready for he knows what she is going to say (she would not reply to his letters and he would therefore send another letter to her to evict response).

mujh tak kab unkee bazm mein aata tha daur-e-jaam

saaqee ne kuchch mila na diya ho sharaab mein

Line 9/10 - Ghalib says since when have the drinks doing the rounds in her meeting reached him. It never used to happen before. I wonder if the bartender has not mixed something in his drinks this time. The poet says that the wine never used to come this far as to reach him in the meetings organised by her. Maybe this time there is something in the wine. The interpretation being that earlier drinks never used to reach him in these meetings but somehow that is not the case today and I am just suspicious if the drink is adulterated to disrupt his meeting with the host this time around.

jo munkir-e-wafa ho fareb us pe kya chale?

kyoon badghumaan hoon dost se dushman ke baab mein?

Line 11/12 - The poet says the one who is unfaithful, what trick/fraud would work on him/her? Why am I suspicious of my friend in company of my enemy. The exact interpretation is unclear. Ghalib says that no trick or fraud will work on his beloved (he calls her denier of loyalty for she refuses to profess her love for him). What trick would work on her? Then why am I suspicious of my beloved in company of my enemy? I know she is too rebellious to be tricked, yet why am I wary of her in company of my rival?

main muztarib hoon wasl mein kaauf-e-raqeeb se

daala hai tumko weham ne kis pech-o-taab mein

Line 13/14 - I am a bit anxious/uneasy in midst of a meeting (with my beloved), from the fear of my opponent. In what predicament has this doubt/fancy put you in? Ghalib says I am in this awkward quandary caused by my doubt that I am having (about if his beloved is having feelings for his opponent). This fear of the rival is making me restless even in middle of union with my beloved.

maiy aur haz'z-e-wasl, khudaa_saaz baat hai

jaan nazr denee bhool gaya iztiraab mein

Line 15/16 - Wine and the joy of union (with my beloved), these are the gifts from God. I forgot to offer my life in return to God due to my anxiety caused by this sudden good luck. Ghalib says the glass of wine and the company of his beloved are like God's gift to him. These are the workings of the merciful one. I forgot to offer my self in return (for all this good luck) to that compassionate divinity in midst of this excitement and anxiety.

hai tevaree chadee huee andar naqaab ke

hai ik shikan padee huee tarf-e-naqaab mein

Line 17/18 - The face is frowned inside the veil, there is this wrinkle/fold on the cover of the veil. The poet says I can sense a frown on the beloved's face inside the veil for there is visible crinkle on the surface of the veil. How to interpret this is anybody guess! Ghalib says his beloved can not hide the displeasure that she displays inside the veil for I can perceive the frown by the wrinkles on the surface of the veil.

laakhaun lagaav, ik churaana nigaah ka

laakhaun banaav, ik bigaadna itaab mein

Line 19/20 - There are hundreds of thousands of ways of your fondness's and affection and yet there is this particular one way in which you steal away your glances. There are hundreds of thousands of ways of your ornaments and embellishments and yet there is this one particular way of showing anger and throwing tantrums. Ghalib says my beloved has countless ways of showing affection but nothing beats the subtle turning away of her eyes. She has countless ways of ornamentation and yet nothing like those momentary anger she displays at me!

woh naala_dil mein khas ke baraabar jagah na paaye

jis naale se shigaaf pade aaftaab mein

Line 21/22 - The heart is filled with such sorrow that one can not find space needed even for a small blade of grass to fit in. That sorrow which causes a crack to appear on your splendid face. Ghalib says the grief that caused that wrinkle to appear on his beloved's face, his heart is now so full of that grief that there is not even space in the heart to fit even a blade of grass in it. There is another possible meaning of the word - naala (i.e. request) and if we can interpret is as the request that causes a wrinkle on your face, that request even if it is as small as a blade of grass it won't find space inside my heart. Not really sure which is the correct interpretation!

woh sehar muddaa talbee mein na kaam aaye

jis sehar se safina ravaan ho saraab mein

Line 23/24 - That magic would not help/work in fulfilling your desires. The one which makes your boat sail in a mirage. Ghalib says the magic that makes a boat moves in a mirage, that magic won't help you in accomplishing your desires and seeking your goals. Your dreams that make you see magical things and enchanting narratives (like a boat sailing in a mirage) , those bewitching spells won't facilitate your purpose.

ghalib' chutee sharaab, par ab bhee kabhee-kabhee

peeta hoon roz-e-abr -o- shab-e-maahtaab mein

Line 25/26 - The poet says that I have quit drinking, but still sometimes from time to time. I do drink on days when it is cloudy (and the moon is hidden) and on days when moon shines in the night. Ghalib in his brilliant play on words, says he does not drink now, but does it sometimes on cloudy(moon-less) nights and moon-lit nights. Another way of saying that I am still a lover of wine (and drink daily) despite of what I proclaim.

Meaning of difficult words :-

khoo-e-yaar = lover's nature/behavior/habit

naar = fire

iltihaab = flame

'azaab = sorrow

jahaan-e-kharaab = world of problems

shab = night

hijr = separation

taa = so that

'ahad = promise

qaasid = messenger

bazm = meeting/"mehafil"

saaqee = bar tender

munkir-e-wafa = one who denies loyalty

fareb = illusion/fraud

badghumaan = suspicious

baab = company/relation

muztarib = anxious/disturbed

wasl = meeting with the lover

raqeeb = opponent

pech-o-taab = predicament

maiy = wine

haz'z-e-wasl = joy of meeting

khudaa_saaz = god's gift

iztiraab = anxiety

shikan = wrinkle

tarf = eyelid

naala_dil = crying heart

khas = hay/grass

shigaaf = crack

aaftaab = sun/face

itaab = anger

sehar = magic

muddaa talbee = fulfillment of a desire

safina = boat

ravaan = move

saraab = mirage

abr = clouds

roz-e-abr = cloudy day

maahtaab = moon

Maya Maha Thugni Hum Jaani

Tirgun Phans Liye Kar Dole Bole Madhuri Bani

Kesav Ke Kamla hvay Baithi Shiv Ki Bhavan Bhavani

Punda Ke Murat hvay Baithi Tirath Mein Bhai Pani

Yogi Ke Yogin Ve Baithi Raja Ke Ghar Rani

Kahu Ke Hira Ve Baithi Kahu Ke Kodi Kani

Bhaktan Ke Bhaktin Veh Baithi Brahma Ke Brahmani

Kahe Kabir Suno Bhai Sadho Yeh Sab Akath Kahani

From http://veerubhai1947.blogspot.com/2014/11/blog-post_41.html

Translation

I Have Come to Know the Illusory Power to be a Great Thug

Her Hands Sway Holding a Web-like Trap

She Speaks in a Sweet Voice

For Kesava, the Sustainer, She is Seated as the Embodiment of Abundance

For Shiva, the God of Dissolution, She is the Empress of the Worlds

For the Priest She is Seated as the Idol of Worship

And in Places of Pilgrimage She Manifests as the Holy Water

For Yogis She is Seated as the Spiritual Partner

In the King's Palace She is the Queen

For Some She is Seated as a Priceless Diamond

For Some She is a Mere Penny

For Devotees She is Seated in the Object of Devotion

For Brahma She is His Consort

Says Kabir Listen Oh Practicing Aspirant

All this is an Untold Story

Explanation

Maya has been traditionally described as illusion. Often the physical world itself is referred to as being not real or an illusion. However, in my experience, the illusion is really in our perception of the physical reality where we experience the outside world as different from ourselves. We believe that happiness is a function of this outside world, thereby making us put extraordinary effort in changing this external reality. This dynamic experience stimulated by the external world is seductive and change is its inherent property. Even though this changing transient reality is unable to give us lasting joy or happiness, we continue to fervently believe in its capability to give us exactly that. This is Maya or illusion.

Kabir succinctly describes this fact by illustrating how the life's focus, for everybody, is on an external reality. And this continuing externally-directed focus is illusory because of the transient nature of the relationship between the subject and the object. Whether it is a rich man looking for a diamond, a beggar wanting a penny, a devotee seeking the object of her worship, Maalok translating a Kabir song that will be well received by the readers or Rajender monitoring readers' comments and page views on the site - they all are rooted in Maya. Here is an exercise that I recommend (I fail in it more often than not) - Try to find a source of joy that is independent of anything (external) or any person. Doing that may require some effort but it should be possible. Now try to observe (and not act on) your tendency to teach/tell/discuss/write this with others - not that there is anything "wrong" in being motivated by the external world; however this exercise will help you clearly see whether the source of joy is indeed coming from within you. Perhaps this may embark you too on a journey that Kabir describes as the untold story.

मंगलवार, 25 अक्तूबर 2016

माया महा ठगनी हम जानी।।

तिरगुन फांस लिए कर डोले बोले मधुरे बानी।।

केसव के कमला वे बैठी शिव के भवन भवानी।।

पंडा के मूरत वे बैठीं तीरथ में भई पानी।।

योगी के योगन वे बैठी राजा के घर रानी।।

काहू के हीरा वे बैठी काहू के कौड़ी कानी।।

भगतन की भगतिन वे बैठी ब्रह्मा के ब्रह्माणी।।

कहे कबीर सुनो भई साधो यह सब अकथ कहानी।।

Alternative

माया महा ठगनी हम जानी।।

तिरगुन फांस लिए कर डोले बोले मधुरे बानी।।

केसव के कमला वे बैठी शिव के भवन भवानी।।

पंडा के मूरत वे बैठीं तीरथ में भई पानी।।

योगी के योगन वे बैठी राजा के घर रानी।।

काहू के हीरा वे बैठी काहू के कौड़ी कानी।।

भगतन की भगतिन वे बैठी बृह्मा के बृह्माणी।।

कहे कबीर सुनो भई साधो यह सब अकथ कहानी।।

भावार्थ करने की चेष्टा करते हैं। पहले यह जाने माया है क्या ?जो अभी है और अभी नहीं है ,नित बदलती रहती है हमारे शरीर की तरह ,जो म्यूटेबिल है वह माया है। जो सत्य भी नहीं है असत्य भी नहीं है और यह दोनों भी नहीं है ,वह माया है। जगत को मिथ्या कहा गया है जगत मिथ्या नहीं है ,उसके साथ हमारा लेन देन है ट्रांजेक्शन है वह मिथ्या कैसे हो सकता है। जगत स्वयं परमात्मा की अभिव्यक्ति है। उससे अलग नहीं है। माया परमात्मा की शक्ति है लेकिन जीव को विमोहित किये रहती है। माया को ही प्रकृति (त्रिगुणात्मक प्रकृति ,सतो-रजो-तमो गुणी सृष्टि )कहा गया है।

ईश्वर ,जीव और माया अनादि हैं। जीव माया के अधीन है। जीव और माया दोनों ईश्वर के अधीन है। माया से हमारे विमोहित होने का कारण हमारा अहंकार है। हम तो कृत हैं परमात्मा की और अपने को कर्ता मानने बूझने लगते है।

हम न करता हैं न भोक्ता ,भुक्त हैं। करता प्रकृति के तीनों गुण हैं हमारी ज्ञानेन्द्रियाँ अपने विषयों में आसक्त हो जाती हैं। हम आनंद को बाहर ढूंढने लगते हैं।जबकि आनंद तो हम स्वयं है।

आनंद अंदर की यात्रा है हम इसे बाहर ढूंढ रहे हैं। यही हमारे आत्म -विमोह का कारण है। जबकि सृष्टि भी कृत है और हम भी इससे जुदा नहीं हैं अलहदगी हमारी दृष्टि में है।

Translation and English below

मोको कहाँ ढूंढें बन्दे,

मैं तो तेरे पास में ।

ना तीरथ में ना मूरत में, ना एकांत निवास में ।

ना मंदिर में, ना मस्जिद में, ना काबे कैलाश में ॥

ना मैं जप में, ना मैं तप में, ना मैं व्रत उपास में ।

ना मैं क्रिया क्रम में रहता, ना ही योग संन्यास में ॥

नहीं प्राण में नहीं पिंड में, ना ब्रह्माण्ड आकाश में ।

ना मैं त्रिकुटी भवर में, सब स्वांसो के स्वास में ॥

खोजी होए तुरत मिल जाऊं एक पल की ही तलाश में ।

कहे कबीर सुनो भाई साधो, मैं तो हूँ विशवास में ॥

Moko Kahan Dhundhere Bande

Mein To Tere Paas Mein

Na Teerath Mein, Na Moorat Mein

Na Ekant Niwas Mein

Na Mandir Mein, Na Masjid Mein

Na Kabe Kailas Mein

Main To Tere Paas Mein

Oh Follower, Where do you search me?

I am always with you

Not in pilgrimage, nor in statues

Neither in solitude

Not in temples, nor in the mosque

Neither in the Kabha nor in Kailash

I am with you, oh follower

Bande Mein To Tere Paas Mein

Na Main Jap Mein, Na Main Tap Mein

Na Mein Barat Upaas Mein

Na Main Kiriya Karm Mein Rehta

Nahin Jog Sanyas Mein

Nahin Pran Mein Nahin Pind Mein

Na Brahmand Akas Mein

I am always with you

Not in prayers, nor in meditation

Neither in fasting

Not in yogic exercises

Neither in renunciation

Neither in the soul, nor in the body

Not even in the infinite space

Na Mein Prakuti Prawar Gufa Mein

Nahin Swasan Ki Swans Mein

Khoji Hoye Turat Mil Jaoon

Ik Pal Ki Talas Mein

Kahat Kabir Suno Bhai Sadho

Mein To Hun Viswas Mein

Neither in the womb of Nature

Not in the breath of the breath

Seek earnestly and you will discover me

In but a moment of search

Listen with care, says Kabir

Where your faith is, I am there.

My Tattoo

I thought I wanted to wear

the Sacred Heart, to represent

education through suffering,

how we’re pierced to flame.

But when I cruised

the inkshop’s dragons,

cobalt tigers and eagles

in billowy smokes,

my allegiance wavered.

Butch lexicon,

anchors and arrows,

a sailor’s iconic charms –

tempting, but none

of them me. What noun

would you want

spoken on your skin

your whole life through?

I tried to picture what

I’d never want erased

and saw a fire ring corona

of spiked rays,

flaring tongues

surrounding – an emptiness,

an open space?

I made my mind up.

I sat in the waiting room chair.

then something (my nerve?

faith in the guy

with biker boots

and indigo hands?)

wavered. It wasn’t fear;

nothing hurts like grief,

and I’m used to that.

His dreaming needle

was beside the point;

don’t I already bear

the etched and flaring marks

of an inky trade?

What once was skin

has turned to something

made; written and revised

beneath these sleeves:

hearts and banners,

daggers and flowers and names.

I fled. Then I came back again;

isn’t there always

a little more room

on the skin? It’s too late

to be unwritten,

and I’m much too scrawled

to ever be erased.

Go ahead: prick and stipple

and ink me in:

I’ll never be naked again.

From here on out,

I wear the sun,

albeit blue.

–Mark Doty

Tattooed in Light: Reading Mark Doty, Remembering Bhai Nand Lal
by Shivpreet Singh

There’s a moment in Mark Doty’s poem My Tattoo that lingers like smoke in the chest:

“don’t I already bear / the etched and flaring marks / of an inky trade?”

He’s talking about grief, of course—how pain has already left its marks on the skin, on the heart, even before the tattoo needle ever hums to life. But reading that line, I found myself drifting not toward pain, but toward love. Not toward ink, but Naam—the sacred Name.

Because somewhere, centuries earlier, another poet wrote his own version of this idea. Bhai Nand Lal, the Persian-Sikh mystic and court poet of Guru Gobind Singh, once sang how the name of Guru Gobind Singh is written on his heart.

Actually not written. Not whispered. Struck. As if the Divine Name were a blow to the heart, leaving a bruise of love that would never fade. Bhai Nand Lal's verse is filled with this radiant ache—the sense that remembering the Beloved isn’t just a mental act, but something physical, something permanent. The body becomes a page. The heart, a manuscript.

Reading Doty, I felt that same yearning. His tattoo isn’t ornamental. It’s a question. What belongs to me so deeply that I want it written on my skin forever? What name? What symbol? What silence?

And so I began a poem of my own. It's called The Smell of Your Tattoo, and though it's still taking shape, it begins with this idea:
I already have your name tattooed on my heart. I just didn’t need ink to prove it.

In my version, the Divine is not a thunderous force, but the presence behind everything—behind the light bending through steam, behind the silence playing in the grocery store aisle, behind even the scent of rain. I'm trying to write about that feeling. About how memory, longing, and grace carve themselves into us, more indelibly than any needle could. I don’t know when I’ll finish it. But maybe that’s the point.

Some poems, like some loves, are never really finished. They just keep writing us.

Here is what I have for now:

The Smell of Your Tattoo

by Shivpreet Singh

I have your name

tattooed on my heart,

in a script that looks suspiciously

like your handwriting—

though I’ve never seen you

hold a pen.

You tend to write

in thunder,

or the way the light bends

through steam rising from a teacup.

It’s not visible, of course.

Unless you count the way

my chest aches in elevators,

or how I flinch

when your silence plays

on the grocery store speakers

near the discount olives.

Your name’s in there—

between the scar from a bicycle fall

and the faint caffeine tremor

from the year I fell for espresso

and prayer at the same time.

Sometimes I wonder

if it’s a washable ink,

like the kind kids use

on valentines.

But no.

You wrote it in fire—

the kind that stays blue

even in rain,

like the smell of rain

that never quite

goes away.

A temporary thing

on another temporary thing.

Maya raining.

My Tattoo

SHIVPREET SINGH

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