Friday, July 2, 2010
Data Da Darbaar.. A Poem In Honour Of All The Wretched Poor Who Find Hope At Data Darbar, Lahore And those That Lost Their Lives.
A Poem by Meherzaidi.
Aik Khamosh tanhaaee,
Aik akailee cheekh
Mein chalee thee data dar te
Piyaar di mangan bheek
Raste vich the kankar, kaante
Raste vich the rordhe
Piyaar de payal paake ,sajke
Mein lagee thee theek.
Wahan pohanch kar dekha manzar
Dil mera te khaak hua
Khoon de cheentey
Dil de tukrde
Zehan khas-o-khashak hua!
Yehi who dar hai jahan pe dunya
Aatee thee sab aas liye
Bhook , aflaas, dard ke rogi
Paati thee sab us paas jiye
Faiz ke heerey, piyaar ke mukhre
Sukh di chaaya, dil di maaya
Ohon mein dekhi
Dil way tutya saraa
Thandi pardi thee degh fakir di
Bhooki, nangi chaaya.
Kaale saanp de khooni jabre
Tapak, tapak marjaya
Bhaag rahe the harsoo, kaaran
Sab log bachane jaanein
Mein bhooki, nangi sonch rahee thee
Hai konsee simt vich chaaya?
Sadyon tau yuheen khula tha Data da darbar
Bhooke, nange, paon tutte, aate the harbar.
Aake phenke dukh de kapre
Cheethrey dard de saarey.
Pait de aag noo thand pardhate
Dil dey dard utaare.
Jab koi aas na rahtee ho tau
Data hee paar utaaare
Baith ke uske dar toun bhookian
Karein singhaar saarey
Dil de muraadan payein sarey
Nange fakir, Shahsaware
Koi na lote khaali haathan
Jholiyan bharwein saarey
Aur yeh kale naag kidhar se aiye hain is baar?
Khoon ki holi khel rehein hein vich Data de darbar
Yeh mere Khuda se cheen ne nikley mujh jogan di parkar
Ulat ke rakhdein ge un ki dunya
Mere sayeen, ghareiban de sarkar
Faiz bakhshey ganj-e-alam, sab nu pata ai harbar
Piyaar di payal baje, baje gi aihoon, hi harbar
Lot awein gi is de ronqan, bhik mangee de dua hai
Ghareeb tareen, mayoos khalqat paati murad sada hai
Sadee manatan, saade zakhman Allah Weikh raha hai
Bhalee murad paye gi dunya, Allah hi deta hai!
Tu tordh de Masjid, phordh de sheeshey
Data di nagri phir bhi rawe gi
Lahore hai basya us de karam se
Data di faqri phir bhi rawe gi
Aayen ge Rahzan loot de marde
Nezon de upper saron ne udaate
Mulle ulte seedhe sabqan pardhate
Phir bhi nache ge khalqat
Faiz ki ulfat, bhook se fursat
Thukraye huey log japein ge
Data ki mala, data ki mala!
Ooper se Allah dekh raha hai
Mujh nangi ki phatee doshala
Data ki nagri aabad rahe gi
Har bar, sada, Insha Allah!
De ga Allah , khaye gi khalqat
Tum jhootey zaalim, firaun ke beito
Jao, bhago, pahar mein baitho
Allah ki maar tum par pardhe gi
Ghareeb ki phitkaar tum par pardhe gi
Mujh bechatee fakirnee ki tujh par aah hai
Jis ke shar se yeh kuhram macha hai
Data di nagri aabad rawe gi
Har dam sabz wa shaad rawe gi
Aayein ge saare bhooke mangte
Khayein ge khaja, fakir saare
Pawein ge muraadan, dil di saare
Naachein ge khushyaan vich be yaarey
Data di nagri shaad rawe gi
Data di basti abaad rawe gi!
Ah, this lonely quiet
Lo, this only scream!
I had started my journey to” Data darbar”
To get the alms of Love!
My path was strewn with thorns and stones
I had adorned the anklet of love
I had plumped up my vanity with Love!
What I saw at his abode, my heart was torn to pieces
The drops of blood, the pieces of heart
My mind has gone crazy!
This is the abode where all humanity comes
All hungry, wretched, lost to hope ,of painful hearts,
Get the diamonds of “Faiz”
Faces of Love
Treasures of the heart!
The “Fakir di Degh” was cold
Hungry poor and wretched
The black “Naag” sat with his jaws
Running helter skelter
Were people where safety bade.
I, the, hungry ,wretched woman
Was looking for a shade!
For centuries was open this” Data da darbar”
Hungry, naked, broken legged wretches
Came in hordes everytime from afar
They threw away their clothes of pain
They throw away their scraps of sorrow
They extinguished the fire of hunger
They removed the mantle of sorrows of the heart
When there is no hope, no way
Data is the one that rows your boat to the anchor.
Only at his doorstep sit the wretched, hungry, poor women
Adorning their ego, self and vanity!
Only at his doorstep find their desires fulfilled
Wretched poor and the horse mounted kings!
No one returns empty handed
Everyone has his “jholi filled”
But where have these black “Naags” come from?
Who are playing blood drenched “Holi”
At the “ Data darbar”.
They snatch the mantle of Love from me,
A wretched, lonely woman,
They will be overturned and destroyed by him
Master of the wretched, poor.
The giver of treasures of Love
Everyone knows about him.
The anklet of love will sing songs
In this city everytime.
The happy times will return here
This wretched alms seeker-woman prays
The poorest, wrtechedest people get their wishes fulfilled always.
Our “mannatan”, our wounds Allah sees
Our “Bhali Murad” will be fulfilled
It is God Who gives.
You can break the mosques, you can blow the glass
The city of Data will remain.
Lahore is flourishing because of his shadow
Data’s “Fakiri” will remain.
There will be dacoits plundering, looting,
Puting heads on the tips of their swords
Mullahs will teach right or wrong
But the “Allah di Khalqat” will dance.
He will always bestow “Faiz”
He will always feed the hungry
The wretched and forsaken, the poor and the needy
Will always sing his praise on beads, rosaries
Allah is watching from above
The torn scarf of me wretched, naked, hungry woman.
Data’s city will be always dwelled
Allah will give
And the hungry will eat.
You liars, you sons of “Firaun”
Run back to the mountains
Allah’s rage will be upon you,
The wretched poor’s “phitkaar” will be upon you.
Mine, this without a roof on her head- woman’s curse
Will be upon you
Those who have destroyed this peace.
“Data Nagri” will always be blessed
By the presence of us wretched , hungry and poor.
It will remain fertile land, green
Full of food for the absolutely hungry.
All the hungry, wretched will always come
All the “fakirs” will eat here.
All the people will find their hearts’ desires
All their wishes fulfilled.
All the people without friends will find hope and dance
Data’s world will always be there, flourishing
Data’s world will always be there, happy.
I wrote this poem on 2-6-2010 , a day after the twin suicide bombers attacked the shrine of Hazrat Data Gang Bakhsh, Ali Hajveri, one of the most popular Sufi saints of the sub-continent, who is revered in Pakistan. Here most wretched of the humanity come with hope of finding some solace, where people who have no hope , who have no means to allay their fears, solve their problems, millions find food. The attack was done at a time when thousands were praying.The first affectees will be the wretchedest poor who will go hungry. Inspite of strict orders in the holy book of Muslims that those will not find me who even stop people from feeding the hungry, wretched poor, these ugly people are killing innocent.
I have used Punjabi language mixed with Urdu words in the original version. My Punjabi is not so good, therefore I will seek pardon. This poem is the scream from my heart. A few words translation in English is given for those that do not understand Urdu or Punjabi.
Darbar: Shrine , palace.
Fakir Di Degh: the food cauldron that is cooked and distributed at shrines.
Naag: A python in sub-continent, fatal and feared.
Jholi: lap, usually the beggar asks for alms by putting his shirt edge forward. In praying also we seek help by the same gesture.
Holi: a festival of colour, here used as metaphor.
Mannatan: desires, prayers, wishes, usually asked at shrines.
Fakiri: The way to Godliness.
Firaun: Tyrant Pharoah.
Phitkaar: cursing wail.
Data Nagri: Lahore is known as Data Nagri . Nagri means town.
Fakirs: mystiques, those who tread the path of God.