I have been hooked on to my class like a limpet on a rock. The much awaited sabbatical has arrived and the out-of-towners have fled home. Friday was a mellow one. The individual excitement of each outsider was overshadowed by the cumulative effect of them missing this city. What can you blame? Afterall, this city is addictive. That day I felt closer to them a lot more than ever and so did most others (as they vouch for, in so many words). I have had the tightest of hugs and the warmest of handshakes from almost all those who were off for the next fortnight. There was a four hour presentation session and not one of them felt any nervousness or complained about any ‘midnight oil’ getting to them. The mood was low, dim would be more apt but it all seemed positive. I don’t know why I am trying to explain this feeling in words, but it was so palpable that I felt like trying to lock that feeling up in a jar and preserve it for future gaze. This was the closest I could get to doing it. A few friends and I have decided to hook off for two days to my place at Khandala, so expect some reports in a short while. Maybe some photographs too, since we have an assignment on hand. I cant believe this course, you have to take a vacation to do an assignment… what more can one ask for?
On a different note, this is something I downloaded a couple of days back. I used to listen to a lot of Ghazals in the days of yore but somehow I lost touch. I got into the mood for it recently and this ghazal by Mirza Ghalib took my fancy. Prima facie, it looks difficult to understand but if you give it a closer dekko, it makes so much sense. “If you want to be a writer, show me your wounds”, says George Bernard Shaw and I couldn’t agree with him more. Rendering it in English was quite a task but nevertheless its still got a flavor one can taste from words that could fill only Ghalib’s genius mind and cloud ours. Who else could do it more justice other than Jagjit Singh? I love this ghazal.
Hazaaron Khwahishen Aisi…
Hazaaron Khwahishen aisi ki har khwahish pe dum nikle,
Bohot nikle mere armaan lekin, phir bhi kum nikle,
Nikalna khuldussir aadam ka, sunte aaye hai lekin,
Bohot be-aabroo hokar, tere kuuche se hum nikle.
Mohobbat mein nahi hai farq jeene aur marne ka,
Usi ko dekhkar jeete hai jis kaafir pe dum nikle.
Khuda ke waaste parda nakabi se uthaa zaalim,
Kahin aisa na ho yunhi, wohi kaafir sanam nikle
Kahaan maikhaane ka darwazaa Ghalib, aur kahaan vaayiz,
Par itna jaante hai, kal woh jaata tha ki hum nikle
Hazaaron Khwaishen aisi ki har khwahish pe dum nikle,
Bohot nikle mere armaan lekin, phir bhi kum nikle.
On a different note, this is something I downloaded a couple of days back. I used to listen to a lot of Ghazals in the days of yore but somehow I lost touch. I got into the mood for it recently and this ghazal by Mirza Ghalib took my fancy. Prima facie, it looks difficult to understand but if you give it a closer dekko, it makes so much sense. “If you want to be a writer, show me your wounds”, says George Bernard Shaw and I couldn’t agree with him more. Rendering it in English was quite a task but nevertheless its still got a flavor one can taste from words that could fill only Ghalib’s genius mind and cloud ours. Who else could do it more justice other than Jagjit Singh? I love this ghazal.
Hazaaron Khwahishen Aisi…
Hazaaron Khwahishen aisi ki har khwahish pe dum nikle,
Bohot nikle mere armaan lekin, phir bhi kum nikle,
Nikalna khuldussir aadam ka, sunte aaye hai lekin,
Bohot be-aabroo hokar, tere kuuche se hum nikle.
Mohobbat mein nahi hai farq jeene aur marne ka,
Usi ko dekhkar jeete hai jis kaafir pe dum nikle.
Khuda ke waaste parda nakabi se uthaa zaalim,
Kahin aisa na ho yunhi, wohi kaafir sanam nikle
Kahaan maikhaane ka darwazaa Ghalib, aur kahaan vaayiz,
Par itna jaante hai, kal woh jaata tha ki hum nikle
Hazaaron Khwaishen aisi ki har khwahish pe dum nikle,
Bohot nikle mere armaan lekin, phir bhi kum nikle.
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