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.

The Poet for the wretched, poor of the earth.

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!



Translation:



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

With hope,

All hungry, wretched, lost to hope ,of painful hearts,

All humanity

Get the diamonds of “Faiz”

Faces of Love

Peaceful shade

Treasures of the heart!



The “Fakir di Degh” was cold

Hungry poor and wretched

The black “Naag” sat with his jaws

Dripping blood!



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

Hide there.

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.
Faiz: benovelance.
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.
Khalqat: humanity.
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.