Posted by: Myself | May 12, 2011

Words & Emotions

These days thanks to longest holiday ever in my life i have been reading some of the gems of punjabi literature given the shape of words by likes of Amrita Pritam, Gurbaksh Singh, shiv Kumar Batalvi and so on. Anyone who loves this language and its roots will know how rich these names made this relatively young language. The simplicity yet the emotion portrayed in the lines blow you away every time you go through them. Be it words of Pritam asking the Waris Shah (man who penned legendry love story known as heer-ranjha) to rise up from the grave and look up to the state of his motherland drenched with blood at the time of partition or if it romantic verse by Batalvi they all show the dominant character of this beautiful language.

I always feel that every language is beautiful to anyone who listens to the heartbeat of words rather than reading them just as drawn symbols. Emotions just need some medium to reach from one person to other it could be a single gaze (most popular example as love at first sight) or a writing traversing 1000s of pages. Language just aid in transfer but the one which has special place in your heart makes the emotion even more meaningful. But if someone tries to relate, words make their own place in any heart whatever be the language. Found very beautiful lines written by Batalvi called ‘Arjoi’, the Request, expressing the emotions of a father in most subtle yet beautiful way i ever read. Though many will contest he has done much more legendary works but lets not go into that 🙂

I have found the lines as well as translation on a facebook page so copy pasting from there. First para is in punjabi but should be understandable to most hindi speaking population too. Translation of the same in english is below. Incase you don’t understand the original please read the translation and then read the original. I am sure you won’t be able to help but appreciate the work !
(for ease of reading word ‘nhera’ means darkness )

Tu jo sooraj chori keeta Mera si. Tu jis ghar vich nhera keeta, Mera si. Ih jo dhup tere ghar hasse, meri hae. Is de baajhoN meri umar haneri hae. Is vich mere gham di mehak batheri hae, Eh dhup kal si meri, aj vi meri hae. MaeN hi kiran-vihoona is da baabal haaN, Is de angi meri agan samoi hae, Is vich mere sooraj di khushboi hae, Sikhar dupehre jis di chori hoi hae. Par is chori vich tera kuj vi dosh naheeN, Sooraj di har yug vich chori hoi hae. RoNdi roNdi sooraj nu har yug aNdar, Koi na koi sada dupehri moi hae. MaeN nir-loa, risham-vichuna araz karaaN, MaeN ik baap adharmi tere duvaar khaRa, Aa hatheeN ik sooraj tere sees dharaaN, Aa aj aapni dhup lai tere paer phaRaaN. MaeN kalkhaai deh, tu maenu bakhsh daveeN, DhupaaN saahveN muR na mera naam laveeN. Je koi kiran kade kujh puCHe, chupp raveeN, Ja maenu ‘kaala sooraj’ keh ke Taal daveeN. Eh ik dhup de baabal di arjoi hae, Meri dhup mere lai aj toN moi hae, Sane sooraje teri aj toN hoi hae, Dhup jide ghar hasse, baabal soi hae. Tu jo sooraj chori keeta, Tera si. Mera ghar ta janam-divas toN Nhera si.

Translation
The sun that you stole Was mine. The house that you threw into darkness, Was mine. The sunshine that smiles in your home, is mine. My life is bleak without it, The odor of my grief is heavy on it, It was mine yesterday and is mine today. It is I, bereft of light, who am its father. It is my fire that is embedded in its limbs. The smell of my sun is in it, The sun that was stolen from me in broad daylight. But you cannot be blamed for this theft. The sun has been stolen in every era. An afternoon has always died, Weeping for the sun. I, lightless, beamless, have a request, I, a faithless father, stand at your door. Let me place a sun upon your forehead, And beg you for my sunlight. I, who died long ago, beg you to bestow this on me. Never utter my name again in the sunlight. If ever some ray asks a question, remain silent, Or call me a ‘black sun’ and let it go. This is the request of a father of sunlight. From this day, on my sunshine is dead to me Along with the sun it is yours now, Wherever it smiles, is the home if its father. The sun that you stole Was mine. The house that you threw into darkness, Was mine.

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Responses

  1. Welcome back……..its beautiful..Thanks for sharing this..& next I will definitely want to read something on Amrita Pritam’s collection.:)

    You better write on literature…:) suits you !:)


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