mujhse pehli si mohabbat

maine samjha tha ki tu hai to darakhshaan hai hayaat
tera gham hai, to gham-e-deher ka jhagda kya hai
teri surat se hai aalam mein bahaaron ko sabaat
teri aankhon ke siwa duniya mein rakkha kya hai

tu jo mil jaaye to taqdeer nigoon ho jaaye
yun na tha, maine faqat chaaha tha yun ho jaaye
mujhse pehli si mohabbat, mere mehboob, na maang


Perhaps he had heard it twenty times since last night, when he first heard it in this version. He had shed a few tears. As he wrote, the left eye was moist, a little drop rested at the lower eyelash, gently peering down at the cheek, waiting to descend into a rivulet.

There were very few people with who he could share the immense yet soft sense of beauty that these words awoke inside him. Most of his friends did not understand Urdu. Those who did, were not friends anymore. He would share it with her, but she did not really get there, even though she wanted to. The tear said all this and more.

Salman Rushdie had made a beautiful translation, although an inadequate one, like all translations.

the world then was luminous because you were in it
you were the source of all joy and pain
your face was spring itself
your eyes contained the world

beloved, don’t ask me now, for the love that was once ours

A profound writer hated and threatened for his life by his compatriots. A world full of sorrow. A world of beauty gone by. The song, the writer, the memories, all blended into a tale called life.

~ by tdcatss on July 11, 2014.

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