Naam Gum Jayega

I think the most difficult things we have to say are also the simplest. If only we find the right words.

And the right mind.
Or heart.
And. We. Run. With. It.

What happens when we don’t? What happens when you don’t do either of those things?

Poetry is born.

Naam Gum Jayega, written by Gulzar sahab and sung by the beautiful Lata Mangeshkar.
And it’s her birthday today! 😀 So cool.
Music is R.D. Burman’s and from the film Kinara.

Just listen?



Naam gum jayega
Chehra ye badal jayga
Meri aawaz hi pehchaan hai
‘Gar yaad rahe..

My name will fade away
My face will also change
My voice is thus, my only identity
You remember it..

Waqt ke sitam  kam haseen nahi
Aaj hain yahaan kal kahin nahi
Waqt se pare agar mil gaye kahin
Meri aawaz hi pehchaan hai
‘Gar yaad rahe..

The hardships time makes us go through
Aren’t any less charming

Today they’re here
Tomorrow they aren’t
And if we meet sometime
Beyond these realms of time
My voice will be my only identity
Should you remember..

Jo guzar gayi, kal ki baat thi
Umr toh nahi, ek raat thi
Raat ka sira, agar phir mile kahin
Meri aawaz hi pehchaan hai
‘Gar yaad rahe

You and I? We’re the past now
It wasn’t a lifetime, and only a night
If you ever find a strand of that one night again
Remember, you can find me from my voice
My only identity

Din dhale jahaan, raat pass ho
Zindagi ki lau, unchi kar chalo
Yaad aaye ‘gar kabhi, jee udaas ho
Meri aawaz hi pehchaan hai
‘Gar yaad rahe..

When the day fades away
And night’s about to fall
Raise the wick of life
Just a bit highter
Whenever you find yourself missing me
And you feel let down
My voice is how you’ll find me
If you remember..

Naam gum jayega
Chehra ye badal jayga
Meri aawaz hi pehchaan hai
‘Gar yaad rahe..



Devnagari script:

नाम गम जाएगा
चेहरा ये बदल जाएगा
मेरी आवाज़ ही पहचान है
‘गर याद रहे..

वक़्त के सितम काम हसीं नहीं
आज हैं यहां कल कहीं नहीं
वक़्त के परे अगर मिल गए कहीं
मेरी आवाज़ ही पहचान है
‘गर याद रहे..

जो गुज़र गयी, कल की बात थी
उम्र तो नहीं, एक रात थी
रात का सिरा, अगर फिर मिले कहीं
मेरी आवाज़ ही पहचान है
‘गर याद रहे..

दिन ढले जहाँ, रात पास हो
ज़िन्दगी की लौ, ऊँची कर चलो
याद आए ‘गर कभी, जी उदास हो
मेरी आवाज़ ही पहचान है
‘गर याद रहे..

नाम गम जाएगा
चेहरा ये बदल जाएगा
मेरी आवाज़ ही पहचान है
‘गर याद रहे..

Paar Chanaa De

This song that everyone’s been talking about.. Paar Chanaa De? It’s got a story. And if you don’t know this, I think you may be interested.

Before you go ahead and try to understand the meaning of the song, you need to know the story of Sohni and Mahiwal. Theirs was one of the tragic love stories from Punjab. If you don’t know what it was, hold tight, because this is gonna pull at your heart strings. And then go and listen to this song again. And read the lyrics.

It will make all the difference in the world. Honestly, it will only reveal how wonderful and hard love really is.

Here are the lyrics first. The story follows after.


Paar Chanaa de
Disse kulli yaar di
Ghadiya ghadiya
Aa ve ghadiya

Right there
Across the Chenab river is my lover’s hut
Dear pot, oh pot
Come on, let’s keep going

Raat haneri nadi thaa-thaan maardi
Adiye adiye..Haan ni adiye

The night is deathly dark
The river’s waters are clashing against us
Don’t go girl, don’t be stubborn.. Don’t get stuck

Paar Chanaa de
Disse kulli yaar di

Ghadeya ghadeya aa ve ghadeya
Raat haneri nadi thaa-thaan maardi
Adiye adiye.. haan ni adiye

Across the Chenab
Is my lover’s home
Dear pot, oh pot.. Come on, let’s get there
This night is dark and the river’s being rebellious
Don’t go don’t be stubborn.. Yes, let’s go


Kacchi meri mitti
Kaccha mera naam ni

Haan main nakaam ni
O main nakaam ni

Kacchiyaan da honda kaccha anjaam ni
Eh gal aam ni

I am made of only clay, unbaked
It’s only my fate that I’ll melt away in the waters
I have failed, I have
Yes, I have failed
Things which are unsound, like me, will have a fate like mine too- uncertain.
And this is usual. It is what it is.


Kaccheyaan te rakhiye na umeed paar di
Adiye adiye.. haan ni adiye

But don’t expect the unsound to help you cross this river
And you, girl, don’t be stubborn.. come on

Raat haneri nadi thaa-thaan maardi
Adiye adiye.. haan ni adiye

The night is deathly, the river’s clashing against us
But we can’t stop.. Let’s keep going

Paar Chanaa de disse kulli yaar di
Ghadeya ghadeya aa ve ghadeya
Raat haneri nadi thaa-thaan maardi
Adiye adiye haan ni adiye

*the utterly beautiful music of Noor Zehra on the Sagar Veena at 3.49*

Ho oh o.. Ho..

Vekh chhallan paindiyaan
Na chhadeen dil ve
Vekh chhallan paindiyaan
Na chhadeen dil ve
Ajj Mahiwaal nou..
Main jaana mil ve

Look, the tide is getting only getting higher 
But don’t lose heart, you, dear pot
Today I must go and meet Mahiwal..
At any cost

Ajj Mahiwaal nou.. Main jaana mil ve.

I must meet Mahiwal today.

Vekh chhallaan paindiyaan
Na chhadeen dil ve
Haan laike khil ve
Ajj Mahiwaal nou main jaana mil ve
Haan aiho dil ve

Look, the waves are crashing against us
But don’t lose heart

Come help me get there
I have to meet Mahiwal
My heart needs to

Yaar nou milegi ajj laash yaar di
Yaar nou milegi ajj laash yaar di

Yaar nou milegi ajj laash yaar di..
Ghadeya ghadeya.. aa ve ghadeya

Tonight a lover’s going to be greeted with his beloved’s corpse
Tonight her lover’s going to find her dead

Tonight he’ll find her corpse..
Dear pot, oh pot.. Keep going, get her there

Paar Chanaa de disse kulli yaar di
Ghadeya ghadeya aa ve ghadeya
Raat haneri nadi thaa-thaan maardi
Adiye adiye.. haan ni adiye

Paar chaana de disse kulli..
Haan kulli

Ve kulli yaar di
Ghadeya ghadeya.. aa ve ghadeya
Raat haneri nadi thaa-thaan maardi
Adiye adiye.. aa ni adiye

Phad pallara
Phad pallara pakke murshad da
Jehda.. tainu paar lagaave
Tainu paar lagaave.. Ghadiya

Hold on tight
Hold on to the pot and hold on strongly
It’ll get you across safely
It will
It will get you there.. Oh pot.


Ghadiya.. Ghadiya.. Ghadiya

Oh pot, dear pot.

Tainu paar lagaave
Tainu paar lagaave.. Tainu paar lagaave
Tainu paar lagaave.. Ghadiya

Ghadiya.. Tainu paar lagaave

Oh pot
It’s going to take you across
It will take you ashore.. Across
It will get you there, love.. This pot
This pot.. It’ll carry you there



The pot.



Sohni & Mahiwal.

The below text has been taken from:


“Sometime during the late Mughal period, there lived in a town on the banks of the Chenab, or one of its branches, a potter (kumhar) namedTulla. (The town is identified either as present day Gujrat or one of the nearby towns.) Tulla was a master craftsman and his earthenware was bought and sold throughout Northern India and even exported to Central Asia. To the potter and his wife was born a daughter. She was such a beautiful child that they named her Sohni, meaning beautiful in Punjabi.
Sohni spent her childhood playing and observing things in her father’s workshop. She watched clay kneaded and molded on the wheel into different shaped pots and pitchers, dried in the sun, and then fired and baked. Sohni grew up not only into a beautiful, young woman but also an accomplished artist who made floral designs on the pots and pitchers that came off her father’s wheel.
Sohni’s town was located on the trading route between Delhi and Central Asia, and trading caravans often made a stopover here. One such caravan that stopped here included a young, handsome trader from Bukhara, named Izzat Baig. While checking out the merchandise in town, Izzat Baig came upon Tulla’s workshop where he spotted Sohni sitting in a corner of the workshop painting floral designs on the pots. Izzat Baig was taken by Sohni’s rustic beauty and charm and couldn’t take his eyes off her. In order to linger at the workshop, he started purchasing random pieces of pottery. He returned the next day and made some more purchases at Tulla’s shop. His purchases were a pretext to be around Sohni for as long as he could. This became Izzat Baig’s routine until he had squandered most of his money.
When the time came for his caravan to leave, Izzat Baig found it impossible to leave Sohni’s town. He told his companions to leave, and that he would follow later. He took up permanent residence in the town and would visit Sohni at her father’s shop on one pretext or the other. Sohni also began to feel the heat of Izzat Baig’s love and gradually began to melt. The two started meeting secretly.
Izzat Baig soon ran out of money and started taking up odd jobs with different people, including Sohni’s father. One such job was that of grazing people’s cattle — mainly buffaloes. Because of his newfound occupation people started calling him Mahiwal, a short variation of Majhan-wala or the buffalo-man. That name stayed with him for the rest of his life — and thereafter.
Sohni and Mahiwal’s clandestine meetings soon became the talk of the town. When Sohni’s father came to know about the affair he hurriedly arranged Sohni’s marriage with one of her cousins, also a potter, and, ignoring Sohni’s protests and entreaties, bundled her off to her new home in a village somewhere on the other side of the river.
Mahiwal was devastated. He left town and became a wanderer, searching for Sohni’s whereabouts. Eventually, he found her house and managed to meet her in the guise of a beggar and gave her his new address — a hut across the river. Sohni’s husband, meanwhile, discovering that he could not win Sohni’s heart no matter what he did to please her, started spending more time away from home on business trips. Taking advantage of her husband’s absence, Sohni started meeting Mahiwal regularly. She would swim across the river at night with the help of a large water pitcher (gharra), a common swimming aid in the villages even today. They would spend most of the night together in Mahiwal’s hut and Sohni would swim back home before the crack of dawn. On reaching her side of the river, she would hide the pitcher in a bush to be used for her next trip the following night.


One day, Sohni’s sister-in-law (her husband’s sister) came visiting. Suspecting something unusual about Sohni’s nocturnal movements, she started spying on her. She followed Sohn,i one night, and saw her take out the pitcher from the bush, wade into the river and swim across. She reported the matter to her mother (Sohni’s mother-in-law). Both of them, rather than informing Sohni’s husband, decided to get rid of Sohni. This, they believed, was the only way to save their family’s honor. The sister-in-law quietly took out Sohni’s pitcher from the bush and replaced it with sun-dried, unbaked pitcher.
As usual, Sohni set out at night for her meeting with Mahiwal, picked the pitcher from the bush, as she always did, and entered the river. It was a stormy night. The river was in high flood. Sohni was soon engulfed in water. She discovered, to her horror, that the pitcher had begun to dissolve and disintegrate.
What shall she do now? Different thoughts rushed through Sohni’s mind. Abandon the trip? Or continue trying to swim without the help of a pitcher — and drown? Her inner struggle at this point is best expressed in a saraiki song made memorable by Pathanay Khan in his inimitable voice: Sohni gharray nu aakhdi aj mainu yaar mila gharrya
Roughly translated and paraphrased the song runs as follows:
Sohni (addressing the pitcher):
It’s dark and the river is in flood
There is water all around me
How am I going to meet Mahiwal?
If I keep going, I will surely drown
And if I turn back
I would be going back on my promise
And letting Mahiwal down
I beg you (O pitcher!), with folded hands,
Help me meet my Mahiwal
You always did it, please do it tonight, too
(The pitcher replies):
I wish I, too, were baked in the fire of love, like you are
But I am not. I apologize; I cannot help
Hearing Sohni’s cries, Mahiwal, from the other side, jumped into the river to save her. He barely managed to reach her. As the story goes, their bodies were washed ashore, and were found the next day, lying next to each other.
With their death, Sohni and Mahiwal entered into the world of legends and lore. And, in their death the sinners became saints.”



Main Tainu Fir Milaangi

Amrita Pritam. A name that I feel like I’ve known forever. Today being her birthday, I can’t help but contain my happiness that we were fortunate to have had someone like her amongst us.

And I am even more fortunate that of all the things I could have been doing in life at the time when I came across her name the first time, I paying attention to her. The way she draws me into her writing, her thoughts, her life, it never ever stops to amaze me.




She reminds me of me. What I am or will be like, hopefully. A lady of love. With the overpowering belief that the world will change if only we loved each other. And said that to each other more often.

If only we loved. It’s as simple and as difficult as that.

Here’s to Amrita Pritam, a poetess whose heart feels like it beats within mine.

Main Tainu Fir Milaangi.

The first time I heard this poem was in Hindi. And then I came across this beautiful recitation by Gulzar. They were friends, Amrita and Gulzar. But their stories are for a post for another time.



Here’s my attempt at the translation for her beautiful poem:

Main Tainu Fir Milaangi

Main tainu fir milaangi
Kithe? Kis trah? Pata nahi
Shayad tere takhiyl di chinag banke
Tere canvas te utraangi
Ya khore teri canvas dey utte
Ik rahasmayi lakeer banke
Khamosh tainu takdi rawangi
Main tainu fir milaangi

I will meet you yet again
How and where? I don’t know that.
Perhaps I could be a
figment of your imagination
Or maybe I will draw myself

As a mysterious line that shouldn’t be
On your canvas
Quietly, I will stare at you
And I will meet you again.


Jaa khore suraj di lau banke
Tere ranga vich ghulangi
Jaa ranga diyan bahwa vich baithke
Tere canvas nu wlangi
Pata nahi kish trah-kithe
Par tainu zarur milangi.

Perhaps I will become a ray of sunshine,
And revel in your colours

Or maybe I will paint me on your canvas
I know not how or where
but I will surely meet you.


Jaa khore ik chashma bani howangi
Te jivan jharneya da paani udd da
Main pani diyan bunda
Tere pinde te malangi
Te ik thandak jahi banke
Teri chhaati de naal lagaangi
Main hor kuch nahi jaandi
Par ena jaandiyan
Ki waqt jo vi karega
Ae janam mere naal turega

Maybe I will become a spring
And the water that sprouts from it
I’ll rub its droplets on your body
I’ll become the coolness from it

That rests on your burning chest
I don’t know anything else
But I know this much
That no matter what time does
This life will walk along with me.

Ae jism mukkda hai
Tan sab kuch mukk janda-e
Par cheteyan dey dhaage
Kaayenaati kana dey hunde
Main unha kana nu chunagi
Dhageyan nu walangi
Te tainu fir milaangi

This body? It perishes.
Everything does.
But the threads of memory
Are woven such
That the universe resides in its every bead
I will pick those tiny beads
I will weave the threads
And then.. I will meet you again.

amrita imroz

Amrita and Imroz.

Aadhi Raat Beete.. Kuch.

There are days when I write, and then there are days when I just mindlessly write. You know. That weird feeling when you aren’t writing, but something is making you?

Last night was pretty much that.

Somewhere around 3 AM.

I remembered this very powerful image I took yesterday and couldn’t help but wonder what could have been.

It’s a wonderfully weird thing to even try.

My own:


कोई उसे रोक कैसे सकता था?
कुछ अजीब सी थी वो
काली रात में सफ़ेद बादलों को देखकर हैरान जो होती थी
रात बीते दूर किसी रेल के शोर पर गाने लिखे थे उसने
आधी-आधी सिगरेट पीकर बुझा देती थी
जैसे मानो हवा और आग को उकसा रही हो-
“लो! जलाओ मुझे भी!”
हाँ, काफ़ी अजीब थी वो
फ़्लाईओवर के ऊपर से जो एक पेड़ था
कई बार उसकी नोकीली डालियों को सजाने चली थी
शायद इसलिए क्योंकि उसे लगता था-
सूना ही सही.. सजा होना चाहिए
शायद इसलिए उस रात लाल लिपस्टिक और चांदी की झुमकी पहन
वो आधी रात को कलकत्ता की सड़कों पर निकली थी
टैक्सी वाले को कहा “मिर्ज़ा ग़ालिब”
और उस बेचारे ने चुप चाप पार्क स्ट्रीट के एक कोने पे
उसे हिफ़ाज़त से उतार दिया
उसे क्या मालूम था की पलक झपकते ही
वो किसी और रास्ते चल पड़ेगी
वो कहाँ जानता था की वो शोर ढूँढ रही थी
ऐसा शोर.. जो तन्हाइयों को चीर सकता हो
सुबह होते जो वो घर को लौटी
ब्रेड और कॉफ़ी पर वो फिर ग़ालिब और इक़बाल की बातें कर रही थी
बहुत अजीब थी वो जो होकर भी होने को तरसती थी
सब हासिल था पर तक़दीर से झगड़ती थी
एक लाल से आसमां में संडे को उसे एक सफ़ेद कबूतर क्या उड़ता दिखा
उसे लगा की शायद आग और हवा का ये खेल बंद करना होगा
आखिर स्कोर कौन रख रहा है?
चुपके से वो रात भर फिर कुछ लिखती रही
कभी उर्दू कभी हिंदी तो कभी अंग्रेज़ी
कुछ भी
उसको कैद कहाँ कर पाया था ज़माना?
कुछ पागल सी वो रहती थी
एक मूरत बनाके बस एक छवि देदी उसे
जिसे वो कभी मिटा नहीं सकती थी
हाँ, वो बुलडोज़र भी लायी थी एक दिन
डंडों के डर से उसका ड्राइवर भाग गया था
और वो गुस्से से लाल हो, बस यही कहती गयी सबसे:
“बड़ी अजीब है ये दुनिया
ये दुनिया ही बड़ी अजीब है”

Mujhe Tum Nazar Se Gira Toh Rahe Ho

I heard this song a few months ago and I smiled. It’s one of those songs that you can just listen to and be, “Ah. That must have hurt.” Sure.

But this one’s also about moving on, in a way? Mujhe Tum Nazar Se Gira Toh Rahe Ho by Mehdi Hassan sahab. It’s a beautifully broken song. Breathe, and remember to listen to this song.

Sometimes I wish I hadn’t heard these songs. Awfully sad, aren’t they?


Mujhe tum nazar se gira to rahe ho
Mujhe tum kabhi bhi bhula na sakoge
Na jaane mujhe kyun yakeen ho chala hai
Mere pyaar ko tum mita na sakoge

Even though you’ve stopped seeing me
You won’t able to forget me completely
I don’t understand why, but I do believe
No matter what you do, my love is undying


Meri yaad hogi, jidhar jaaoge tum
Kabhi naghma banke, kabhi banke aansu
Tadapta mujhe har taraf paaoge tum
Shamaa jo jalaayi hai meri vafa ne
Bujhana bhi chaaho, bujha na sakoge

Wherever you go, you’ll remember me
Sometimes in a song, sometimes in a tear

Wherever you go, you’ll find me suffering
The fire that my faithfulness has given birth too
Cannot be diminished, no matter how hard you try


Kabhi naam baaton mein aaya jo mera
Toh bechain ho-ho ke dil thaam loge
Nigaahon pe chhaayega gam ka andhera
Kisi ne jo puchha, sabab aansuon ka
Batana bhi chaaho, bata na sakoge

And if someone were to mention in a conversation
You might get upset and you may give in to what your heart says

You will find yourself surrounded with sadness
If someone asks for the reason behind those tears
Even if you want to, you won’t be able to tell them


Mujhe tum nazar se gira to rahe ho
Mujhe tum kabhi bhi bhula na sakoge
Na jaane mujhe kyun yakeen ho chala hai
Mere pyaar ko tum mita na sakoge

Even though you’ve stopped seeing me anymore
You won’t able to forget me completely ever
I don’t understand why, but I do believe it’s true
No matter what you do, my love is undying


मुझे तुम नज़र से गिरा तो रहे हो
मुझे तुम कभी भी भुला ना सकोगे
ना जाने मुझे क्यों यक़ीं हो चला है
मेरे प्यार को तुम मिटा ना सकोगे

मेरी याद होगी, जिधर जाओगे तुम,
कभी नग़मा बनके, कभी बनके आँसू
तड़पता मुझे हर तरफ़ पाओगे तुम
शमा जो जलायी मेरी वफ़ा ने
बुझाना भी चाहो, बुझा ना सकोगे

कभी नाम बातों में आया जो मेरा
तो बेचैन हो-हो के दिल थाम लोगे
निगाहों पे छायेगा ग़म का अंधेरा
किसी ने जो पूछा, सबब आँसुओं का
बताना भी चाहो, बता ना सकोगे

मुझे तुम नज़र से गिरा तो रहे हो
मुझे तुम कभी भी भुला ना सकोगे
ना जाने मुझे क्यों यक़ीं हो चला है
मेरे प्यार को तुम मिटा ना सकोगे


[I started writing this post last week but something unbelievable happened and so. I stalled. Now it’s finished. READ!]

I can’t help but marvel at this thing called ‘life’.

No, really.

Mehrooni, the film, has been a personal favourite of mine for more than four years now. It is simply beautiful. 


I know I abuse that word (beautiful) way too much, but this film was it. The film, and its title track sung by Rekha Bhardwaj, which perfectly sealed every bit of space in the film where there was a possibility for the characters to either slip out of of, or for the story to become ‘predictable’ (whatever that means). The song was literally just perfectly woven. 

Apps will know, and maybe a handful of other people, that Mehrooni was the voice-over inspiration for Firaaq (my first film) for me. The way it was done, the way the scenes were shot and the story was communicated, laid the foundation for me somewhere. Or let’s say, a benchmark. I would go back and replay the entire audio file on my phone for days to understand its feel.


If *anyone* is trying to watch Firaaq (thank you!) on their mobile device and are unable to, you can find the film here too :



This continued even after Firaaq was born and grew into what it is today. Never have I ever forgotten this song in so many years.

So when a few days ago I decided to write a blog post about it (after a long, long month), I felt extremely foolish because I had no idea what one *major* line in the song meant. A crucial one.

I mean, that’s ridiculous right? On one hand, I know every inch of this song, but then.. I don’t.

“Ishq ke ark ki rami dhuni”

It’s tough, okay?  And so I decided to google it up.

No results.

And then I did the most ridiculous thing ever. Most.

I looked up the name of the lyricist of the song, Vayu Srivastava, and thought to myself that “Hey, it won’t be so bad if I just ask him.”

So. I creepily found him on Facebook, sent a shady ad request (with no hopes of it being accepted, by the way), and when I was fortunate enough to be added (whehehehehheee), I shamelessly messaged Vayu to ask him, well, if he did write the song.

And of course, explain what that line meant.

What happened next is why I often shake my head for what the Universe does to me:

Vayu explained it to me.

Clearly, this little obsession with words and lyrics and poetry is foolish max sometimes, but I can’t help but marvel at this thing called ‘life’. It is ridiculous.

Beautiful song. This. I secretly wished all along that I’d written it. I hope the translation does *some* justice to it. Credits to Vayu who even helped me figure out the right words in this translation below:

PS. He’s awesome.


Gaadhe rang mein
Ishq ke maine
Dhaagon ko
Dubaaya hai

        I’ve soaked each string 
        And they’ve taken this colour of deep love.
        The darkest red.. Maroon.

Chirmi chirmi
Muskaanon ko
Jodke piroya hai

        And in these strings
        I’ve put beads
        Of the bits of smiles we shared

Gaadhe rang mein
Ishq ke maine
Dhaagon ko
Dubaaya hai

        In this deep colour, this maroon,
        I’ve soaked all the threads of our love

Ishq ke ark ki
Rami dhuni
Maine ishq ki
Har ek baat suni
Maine apni shaam
Tere naam buni

         I’ve rubbed the essence of love
        All over me   (Like fakirs rub ashes on their bodies)
        I listed to everything love had to say to me
        And I chose to weave every day of my life
        In your name
        In maroon.

Yaadein banke seene se tere
Lipti rahungi
Saansein banke jism mein tere
Jeeti rahungi
Ishq ke ark ki..

        I’ll wrap myself around you
        Like memories do
        I will live within you
        Like the air you breathe
Ah, the essence of your love..

Maine apni shaam
Tere naam buni

          I’ve woven my days, my life
In your name.. In the colour of our love





PPS. Again. Thank you Vayu, for being kind and for bringing these words to life. Ok. Done praising.

*hops off*

Ik Kudi (One Girl)

I only heard this song last night and I had a dream today. I was sitting with a best friend, with my head on his shoulder and his hand in my hand and this beautiful song playing in the background. We gazed at the stars burning, the fire lighting up our souls and the torn down walls and wondered.. ‘and we wondered what magic we could call this place’.

Written by another genius- Shiv Kumar Batalvi, a Punjabi poet who glorified the romanticism movement with his brilliant works.

*runs to read more of his works*

Please listen. Listen to my heart beat to this song.


Ik kudi.

Strangely, someone once said, ‘The songs find you’. True?



Ik kudi
Jida naam mohabbat
Saad muraadi
Sohni fabbat

A girl
Whose name is Love
Simple, dainty

A sight so beautiful

Gumm hai gumm hai
Gumm hai
Gumm hai
Gumm hai

Lost, lost
She is lost
She is lost


Surat osdi
Pariyaan vargi
Seerat di o
Mariam lagdi
Hasdi hai taan
Phul ne jhardhey
Turdi hai taan
Ghazal hai lagdi
Lamm salami
Saru kadd di
Umar ajey hai mar ke agdi
Par naina di
Gal samajhdi

Her face
Is like a fairy’s

From the inside
She’s just like Mary
When she laughs
Flowers shed their leaves
When she walks away
She looks just like a ghazal
Her graceful height
Like a wicker tree’s
She’s still in her nascent years of life
But she understands
The language the eyes speak


Gummiyan janam janam
Haan hoye
Lagda iyon jyon kal di gal hai
Iyon lagdai jion ajj di gal hai
Iyon lagdai jion hun di gal hai

She’s been lost from many many births ago
It seems like it was only an affair of yesterday’s
It feels like it’s only today’s affair
It feels like it’s only this moment’s affair

Hune taan mere kol khadi si
Hune taan mere kol nahi hai
Ae keha chhal kahin bhatkan

Just a moment ago, she was right beside me
Now she’s vanished
What trick is this? What chase?


Soch meri
Hairaan badi hai

Os kudi nu
Tol rahi hai

My mind
Is in awe
It’s searching
For that girl


Os kudi nu meri saunh hai
Os kudi nu apni saunh hai
Os kudi nu sab di saunh hai
Os kudi nu rab di saunh hai

I call out to that girl in my name
I call out to her in her name
I call out to her in the name of all
I call out to her in the name of the Almighty


Je kittey parhdi sunhdi hove
Jeyundi jaan o maar rahi hovey
Ik vaari aa ke mil jaave
Wafa meri nu daag na laavey

If she ever reads or hears this
Whether she’s living or dying
Come and meet me once?
Do not sully my devotion, please


Nahi taan main toh jiya na jaanda
Geet koi likhiya na jaanda

Lest I can’t live
Nor can I ever write another song


Nahi taan main toh jiya na jaanda
Geet koi likhiya na jaanda

Lest I can’t live
Nor can I ever write another song


Nahi taan main toh..
Jiya na jaanda.

Lest I just can’t..





Day 2 of 3 Day Quote Challenge

I’ve felt a little lost lately, which is why I lost track of time. It’s running away way too fast, so much so, that I find it difficult to curse it or something.

Here are some more from the little pink diary:


“Chase down your passion like it’s the last bus of the night.”
Terry Guillemets

“God has given you one face, and you make yourself another.”
William Shakespeare

“Love one another and you will be happy. It’s as simple and as difficult as that.”
Michael Leunig

“I dreamed of a wedding of elaborate elegance,
A church filled with family and friends.
I asked him what kind of wedding he wished for,
He said one that would make me his wife.”

(Yes, ^that one’s cheesy, but a little cheesy-ness never killed anyone. And yes, I’ve been spoilt.)

“A Ma Vie De Coer Entier” 
A French Proverb

Walid Ki Wafat Par

I woke up this morning and checked my phone for aaaalll the updates that I usually see every morning. Instagram, Facebook, Whatsapp, SMSes, Emails. Wow. A lot of apps, yeah?

This morning I woke up to a message from my Mom. It was buried under the load of other hippy stuff, but this one was like no other.

Happy Father’s Day, every one.

This poem was written by the brilliant Nida Fazli, who left us this year, upon the demise of his beloved father. It makes me sad, it makes me warm. It makes me want to go and hug my Dad.



Tumhari qabr par
Main faatiha padhne nahi aaya
Mujhe malum tha tum mar nahi sakte

(faatiha: prayers made on the grave)

Upon your grave
I didn’t come to read prayers for you
I know you can’t die


Tumhari maut ki sachhi khabar jisne udaai thi
Wo jhootha tha
Wo tum kab the
Koi sookha hua patta hava se mil ke toota tha

The news of your death was true
But the one who brought it to me was a liar
It wasn’t you (who passed away)
It was a dry leaf that met with the wind and broke

Meri aankhein
Tumhare manzaron mein qaed hain ab tak
Main jo bhi dekhta hun
Sochta hun
Wo wahi hai

My eyes
Are caught up in remembering the times with you
And whatever I see
I think
You’re here

Jo tumhari nek-naami aur badnaami ki duniya thi
Kahin kuch bhi nahi badla
Tumhare haath meri ungliyon mein saans lete hain
Main likhne ke liye
Jab bhi qalam kaaghaz uthata hun
Tumhein baitha hua main apni hi kursi mein paata hun

Your world which was all about having a good name or being notorious
Nothing has changed anywhere
Your hands are breathing life in my fingers
Whenever I lift
A pen to a paper to write
I always find you sitting in my chair

Badan mein mere jitna bhi lahu hai
Wo tumhari
Lagzishon naakamiyon ke saath behta hai

Meri aawaz mein chhup kar

Tumhara zehn rehta hai
Meri bimaariyon mein tum
Meri laachariyon mein tum

(lagzishon: mistakes)

Whatever blood that runs in my veins
It runs
With your mistakes and failures within them

Hidden in my voice somewhere
Lives your wisdom within me
You were in my illnesses
And you were in my weaknesses

Tumhari qabr par jisne tumhara naam likha hai
Wo jhootha hai
Tumhari qabr mein main dafn hun
Tum mujh mein zinda ho
Kabhi fursat mile toh faatiha padhne chale aana.

Whoever has written your name on the grave
Is a liar
I am the one who’s buried inside
And you are alive in me
Whenever you find time, come and read the prayers on my grave, won’t you?




तुम्हारी कब्र पर
मैं फ़ातिहा पढ़ने नहीं आया
मुझे मालूम था तुम मर नही सकते

तुम्हारी मौत की सच्ची खबर जिसने उड़ाई थी
वो झूठा था
वो तुम कब थे
कोई सूखा हुआ पत्ता हवा से मिल के टूटा था

मेरी आँखें
तुम्हारे मंज़रों में क़ैद हैं अब तक
मैं जो भी देखता हूँ
सोचता हूँ
वो वही है

जो तुम्हारी नेक-नामी और बदनामी की दुनिया थी
कहीं कुछ भी नही बदला
तुम्हारे हाथ मेरी उँगलियों में सांस लेते हैं
मैं लिखने के लिए
जब भी क़लम कागज़ उठाता हूँ
तुम्हें बैठा हुआ मैं अपनी ही कुर्सी में पाटा हूँ

बदन में मेरे जितना भी लहू है
वो तुम्हारी
लग्जिशों नाकामियों के साथ बहता है

मेरी आवाज़ में छुप कर
तुम्हारा ज़ेहन रहता है
मेरी बीमारियों में तुम
मेरी लाचारियों में तुम

तुम्हारी क़ब्र पर जिसने तुम्हारा नाम लिखा है
वो झूठा है
तुम्हारी क़ब्र में मैं दफ़्न हूँ
तुम मुझ में ज़िंदा हो
कभी फुर्सत मिले तो फ़ातिहा पढ़ने चले आना।

Day 1 of 3 Day Quote Challenge

Hellew. My first challenge something on my blog. Thank you Advaita for nominating me! 😀




I’ve been an avid quote-hogger since school. Because I didn’t like random books in the library, I picked up Chicken Soup for the.. No, not Teen, Pre-teen, Post-teen soul, but *ahem* Mother’s Soul. It was heartbreaking and warm and beautiful and I enjoyed feeling the wide range of emotions that one book had. On days when I wasn’t re-reading that one (or quickly turning the pages of Goosebumps), I’d look for quote books and write away my favourite ones on bits of paper from my school diary.

See, I studied in a Convent so there were plenty of quote books on God and love and all things beautiful, so I have been spoilt with appreciation for the littlest of things. Not so bad, I’d say.

So this is how I’ll be going about this challenge:

I found one of the many diaries I’d started writing my favourite quotes in and gave up a few days after. (Many)

It’s funny and it’s fun because it’s like time travel for me. These are things that mattered to me 4-5 years ago. This is who I sort of was. These are ideas that helped shape my thinking, and these words are like words of an ex-lover: forgotten, bold, inspiring and beautiful.

So I’m going to write the ones that I managed to pen down in this little one which was brought to me by my fellow reader, Dino:


Such a lover.



“Instinct is the nose of the mind.”

Delphine de Girardin

“Be realistic. Wish for what is impossible.”

Paulo Coelho

“The difference between perseverance and obstinacy is that one comes with a strong will, and the other from a strong won’t.”

Henry Ward Beecher

“Look at a stone cutter hammering away at his rock, perhaps a hundred times without as much as a crack showing in it. Yet, at the hundred-and-first it will split into two and I know it was not the last blow that did it, but all that had gone before.”

Jacob A. Ries

“Being of no power to make his wishes good;
His promises fly so beyond his state
That when he speaks is all in debt; he owes
For every word”

William Shakespeare

The rules require me to nominate three bloggers each day, but I’d like to bend them a bit, so I’ll nominate three in the end. 😀