Lal Ded: Shiv Chuy Thali Thali Rozan

Lal Ded, Lal Didi, or Lalleshwari (1320–1392) was a Kashmiri Saivite mystic, whose mystic poetry (called vatsun or vakhs, i.e. that which flows, or speech, the Aryan name for the Oxus, the original Saraswati) constitute some of the earliest compositions in the Kashmiri language.

Born in Pandrethan (the ancient Puranadhisthana), now engulfed by Srinagar, in a Kashmiri Pandit family, Lal Ded was married off at the age of twelve; the marriage proved unhappy, she left home at twenty-four to take sanyas as a disciple of the Saivite mystic Siddha Srikantha (Sed Bayu.) The mystic tradition of Saivism in Kashmir (known as Trika) had a tremendous impact on Kashmiri Sufism. One of the greatest of popular Kashmiri Sufi figures, Sheikh Noor-ud-din Wali, the patron Sufi of Kashmiriyat, also known as Nooruddin Rishi or Nunda Rishi, was influenced by Lal Ded; the folk tradition holds that as a baby Nunda Rishi refused to be breast-fed by his mother and it was Lal Ded who breast-fed him, metaphorically locating in the sustenance of Kashmiri Sufism in the earlier tradition of Saivite mysticism.

Some vakhs of Lal Ded below.




Shiv chuy thali thali rozan
Mo zan Hindu ta Musalman
Truk ay chuk pan panun prazanav,
Soy chay sahibas zaniy zan.

Shiv lives in every, every place;
do not divide Hindu from Musalman.
Use thy sense, recognize thyself;
That's the true way to find the Lord.

Ami pana so'dras naavi ches lamaan
Kati bozi Day myon meyti diyi taar
Ameyn taakeyn poniy zan shemaan
Zuv chum bramaan gara gatshaha.

With rope of loose-spun thread I tow my boat
Would that God heard me and brought me across
Like water in cup of unbaked clay I run to waste.
Would that God helped me reach my home!

Kyaah kara paantsan dahan ta kaahan,
Vakhshun yath leyji jivak-shun karith gay
Saoriy samahan yeythi razi lamahan
Atma raavhe kaahan gaav?

Ah me! the Five (bhutas)  and the Ten (indriyas)
And the Eleventh (their lord the mind) scraped this pot and went away
Had all together pulled on the rope,
Why should the Eleventh have lost the cow ?
(Why should the soul have gone astray?)

(The five bhutas or elements are Earth, Water, Air, Fire and Quintessence or Space. The ten indriyas or mental faculties consist of the five "importers" seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, touching; and the five "exporters" moving, speaking, grasping, reproducing, eliminating. The notion of pot here is the Saivite metaphor for the material body.)

After his travels in Kashmir where he was exposed to Lal Ded's folklore, Swami Vivekananda wrote that he envisioned a future India arising from the present strife with Vedanta for its mind and Islam for its body. (For those of you who propose a subcontinental Butter Chicken XI consisting of Pakistani bowlers and Indian batsmen, you have an illustrious pedigree.)

A bibliography and collection of Lal Ded's vakhs is here.

शिव चुय थलि थलि रोज़ान, मो ज़ान हिंदू ता मुसलमान |

Sauda: Wo Soorat-e-Ilahi

Mirza Muhammad Rafi 'Sauda' (Urdu: مرزا محمد رفیع سودا ) was one of the best known poets of Urdu, and is still considered the best qasida poet of the language. His satire and ghazals, too, were acclaimed in his lifetime, though more recently he has been eclipsed in the latter department by Ghalib and Daagh. Sauda lived at the time of the decline of the Mughals - 1713 to 1781 -  the time of Muhammad Shah Rangeela, the sack of Delhi by Nadir Shah, the reign, and deposition, of Ahmad Shah Bahadur; as well as the subsequent rise of Rohilkhand and Awadh.

Abida Parveen renders Sauda here:

वह सूरत-ए-इलाही किस देस बस्तियाँ हैं ?
अब जिनके देखनेको आँखे तरस्तियाँ हैं ।

That visage divine, what land does it inhabit?
My eyes are in thirst, to catch but a glimpse of it.

बरसात का तो मौसम कब का निकल गया पर
मिज़्श्गाँ की ये घटायें अब तक बरस्तियाँ हैं ।

The season of rains has been long gone, still
Mine eyelash-clouds haven't stopped raining yet.


क्यों करना हो यह ज़ख्मी शीशा सा दिल हमारा ?
उस शौक की निगाहें पत्थर में धस्तियाँ हैं ।

Why so much labor to wound this glass-heart of mine ?
Thy glances made e'en in sport, crack any stone they hit.


कीमत में उनकी गो हम दो जुग को दे चुके हैं
उस यार की निगाहें इस पर भी सस्तियाँ हैं ।

In recompense for what, I have paid with two ages
That Beloved's glances, at that price are cheap yet.


जब मैं कहा यह उसे सौदा को अपने मिलके
इस साल तू है साकी और मैं परस्तियाँ हैं ।

Thus I said,  upon meeting Thy friend Trade (Sauda)
This year wine-girl Thee, and in worship will I sit.

(The notion of the wine-girl who pours the drink is extensible here to that of  a Divine Muse.)

In 1754, Ahmad Shah Bahadur was deposed due to the fracture lines between Turani, Irani and Afghani. In 1757, Sauda, a shi'i,  left Delhi at the age of 66 for Farrukhabad with the Khagzai (Rohilla) Nawab Bangash, and lived there to 1770. In 1771–72 he moved to court of the Nawab of Awadh (then housed in Faizabad.) When Lucknow became the state capital of Awadh, he moved there and won the khitab (title) of Malk-us-Shu'ara (Lord of Poets.) Nawab Āṣif ud-Daulah awarded him an annual pension of Rs. 6000, as much a recognition of Sauda's eminence as it was emblematic of Awadh's generosity as patron.

कीमत में उनकी गो हम दो जुग को दे चुके हैं
उस यार की निगाहें इस पर भी सस्तियाँ हैं ।

Nashid: Madad Madad

A nashid (Arabic: نشيد , plural أناشيد Anāshīd ) meaning "chant" is Islamic vocal music that is either sung a cappella or accompanied by the daf, typically in praise of the prophet Muhammad. It is a precursor to the Urdu Naat.

Here is the nashid Madad Madad, performed by the Burdah Ensemble, a Naqshbandi Sufi music troupe.



Qullul qulub
Qullul qulubi
ilal habibi tamilu

Every heart
Every heart melts
in the rapture of the beloved

Wa ma'ibi zalika shaahidun,
shaahidun wa dalilu:

And for that love I have a witness,
a witness and a proof:

Ammad dalilu iza zakhartu
Muhammadan

Regarding that proof, if I make mention
Of Muhammad

Sarath dumu'ul ashikin
at-tasilu

The eyes of the lovers
will be overrun with tears

Haza Rasulullah,
Haza Rasulullah,
Hazal-Mustafa
Haza li Rabbil-alamina khalilu

He is the Messenger of  God
He is the Messenger of  God
He is the Chosen One,
He is, to the Lord, a most trusted friend

al-Madad, al-Madad, al-Madad
al-Madad! Ya Rasul Allah!
al-Madad, al-Madad, al-Madad
al-Madad! Ya Habib Allah!

Aid us, Help us, Aid us
Support us oh God's Messenger!
Aid us, Help us, Aid us
Support us oh Most Beloved of God!

Rabbi wa j'al moujtama'na,
ghayatouh housnou al khitam
Wa akrimi alarwaha mina,
bilka khayri alanam.

Oh Lord, grant our gathering
a joyous purpose and conclusion
and bless all souls among us
to meet the Pearl of Your Creation.

... see here for a full translation.

In an age that needs 'positive images' of Islam, and hopes that mystical Islam will help stem extremism, the Naqshbandiyaa of North America are poster-children; in fact the recently-departed Shaykh Nazim al-Haqqani, who last carried the Golden Chain (the spiritual lineage that runs from Jilani through Rumi to the present day)  of the Naqshbandi Sufis, praised George W Bush and Tony Blair as modern day Islamic saints for "fighting tyrants and evils and devils."

Daagh: Mere Qaboo Mein Na

Daagh Dehlvi (Urdu: داغ دہلوی‎, Hindi: दाग़ देहलवी) born Nawab Mirza Khan (1831 – 1905) was the only ghazal writer of the old Delhi school who could hold a candle to his mentor, Ghalib. Daagh wrote sensuous ghazals in the simple Urdu of the mohalla, minimizing, unlike Ghalib, the usage of opaque Persianate words, and laying emphasis on everyday idiom, though his work was usually paid for by royal courts.

Daagh was considered swarthy and unattractive according to the court standards of the day, so he chose for himself the takahallus "Stain." Compared to the elitism of Ghalib (who gave him lessons), Daagh's  'khayal bandi' was often labeled pedestrian by his rivals, but the simple playfulness of his verse found resonance with people in all walks of life. 

To understand Daagh's darting tongue and pen we have to start with his mother, Wazir - a dusky painter's daughter of questionable morals, whose life and times have been exquisitely brought to life in Shamsur Rahman Faruqi's Mirror of Beauty.  'Suitor after suitor flings himself on the beauty of Wazir Khanum, but she tries to fend off the unworthy, reserving her charms for the love of the noble (or the noble of purse.) When William Fraser, the Political Resident of East India Company in Delhi, tries to force his entourage into Wazir Khanum's residence, he is blocked by cudgel bearers deployed by Nawab Shamsuddin Ahmed Khan, who Wazir professes to love. One of Fraser's horsemen rides up, and demands of a mace-man: "Hey You! You pecker-poker of your own mother! Have you lost your limbs? Do you dare not give way to the Sahib Bahadur's Elephant?" The cudgel-bearer, a true Mewati, tall, muscular and hardened ... spoke in cold, measured tones, "Telanga sahib, do put a bit of rein on your tongue, and also on your ancient pony a bit. If you hustle it further by a hand's length, the point of this staff will sink into its jaded liver." The word 'Telanga' was a deliberate insult, for it was used for the comparatively short-statured, dark soldiers from the south who were reputed to be uncouth, and somewhat cowardly."'

Alas, after the fall of Delhi and Oudh in 1857,  Wazir Khanum's son had to find refuge with the selfsame Telangas in Hyderabad, where he lived till the end of his days (1905) and where he is buried. 

Here is Iqbal Bano rendering Daagh.

मेरे क़ाबू में न पेहरों दिल-ए-नाशाद आया

वो मेरा भूलने वाला जो मुझे याद आया

I could not calm my unhappy heart for hours

When I remembered the one who forgot me.

दिल-ए-वीराँ से रक़ीबों ने मुरादें पाईं

काम किस किस के मेरा ख़िर्मन-ए-बर्बाद आया

From my desolate heart the rivals garnered their wishes

O the use they made of the spoils from that store.

लीजिये सुनिये अब अफ़साना-ए-फ़ुर्क़त मुझ से

आप ने याद दिलाया तो मुझे याद आया

Now listen to a fable of separation

I remember it now that you remind me:

दी मु'अज़्ज़िन ने अज़ाँ वस्ल की शब पिछले पहर

हाये कमबख़्त को किस वक़्त ख़ुदा याद आया

The muezzin called to prayer just when we were to meet

Ah, the hour the fool chose to remember the Lord.

बज़्म में उन के सभी कुछ है मगर "दाग़" नहीं

मुझ को वो ख़ाना-ख़राब आज बहुत याद आया

In her embrace where there's all but Daagh (the Stain)

O how I remember that bespoilt bosom today.

The playful quotidian aspect of Daagh's verse continues to keep him a peoples' poet, the last of the great Urdu poets before Jigar, Faiz and Insha-ji of whom that can be said.

दी मु'अज़्ज़िन ने अज़ाँ वस्ल की शब पिछले पहर

हाये कमबख़्त को किस वक़्त ख़ुदा याद आया |

Manqabat: Khwaja Ki Jogania

A manqabat is a Sufi devotional poem, sometimes sung in praise of 'Ali ibn Abi Talib (the son-in-law of Muhammad), at others in entreaties made of Sufi saints. The most well known of the qawwali manqabats is of course 'Man Kunto Maula', written by Amir Khusrau in the 14th century in praise of 'Ali.

In Khusrau's work, the Sufi often takes the female gender role as s/he contemplates union with a male Beloved. This female voice rises in supplication to Hazrat Moinuddin Chishti of Ajmer (here addressed as Khwaja or Lord/Master, asked, amongst other things, to make the supplicant fairer), though the musicians are almost always male (in the instance below, Abdul Rahim Fareedi and Abdul Ali Fareedi, at a 1983 diaspora performance in Birmingham.) The lyrics and melody are traditional.



ऐ महाराज मुईनुद्दीन हम आन पड़े तोर द्वार
ये गुल की पत राख निहारे जो तुम साँची सरकार

Ai Maharaj Moinuddin hum aan pare tor dwaar
Ye gul ki pat rakh nihare jo tum saanchi sarkar

O King Moinuddin, arrived am I at Thy door's view
This little flower keep in sight, if Thou be the Lord True.

मैं बे-गुण हूँ, जो तुम गुणवंत अब कैसे युतुन पार
मांगत मागंत समय गुज़रिओ आज न करिओ उदास

Main be-gun hoon, jo tum gunwant, ab kaise yutun paar
Maangat maangat samay guzario aaj na kario udaas

Worthless I, be Thou worthy, how to Thee cross-over I aught?
Beseeching, beseeching, time's passed, today Thou fail me not.

ख़्वाजा जी सुल्तान जी तुम बड़े ग़रीब-नवाज़
ख़्वाजा जी सुल्तान जी तुम बड़े ग़रीब-नवाज़

Khwaja ji, Sultan ji, tum bade ghareeb-nawaz
Khwaja ji, Sultan ji, tum bade ghareeb-nawaz

O Master, O Lord, Thou take'st the most pity on the poor
O Master, O Lord, Thou take'st the most pity on the poor

मैली मैली मैली सब कहे, उजली कहे न कोई
पर जो ख्वाजा तुम उजली कहो तो मैली कहे न कोई

Maili maili maili sab kahe, ujli kahe na koi
Par jo khwaja tum ujli kaho to maili kahe na koi

Dirty, dirty, dirty - say all, none will call me fair
If Master Thou call'st fair tho', then call Dirty none'll dare.

पहन के गले कफ़नी मैं दर पे जाऊँगी (ऐ सखी)
ख़्वाजा की जोगनिआ मैं बन जाऊँगी

Pehen ke gale kafani main dar pe jaoongi
Khwaja ki jogania main ban jaoongi

Draping shroud on neck to the door will I come (O friend)
The Master's Yogin will I become.

मोहे राम क़सम मोरे नैनन में ख़्वाजा की सुरतिआ पूर भइ
कैसो रतिअं गुजारूं चरणन मोर जाती नगरीआ दूर भइ

Mohe Ram qasam more nainan me khwaja ki suratiya pur bhayee
Kaiso ratiyan guzaroon charanan mor jaati nagariya door bhayee

I swear on Ram -  my eyes to Master's face did accede
How pass I night? Feet carried me, town far did recede

पहन के गले कफ़नी मैं दर पे जाऊँगी
ख़्वाजा की जोगनिआ मैं बन जाऊँगी |

Pehen ke gale kafani main dar pe jaoongi
Khwaja ki jogania main ban jaoongi.

Draping shroud on neck to the door will I come
The Master's Yogin will I become.

Fareedi Qawwal was a favorite pupil of the legendary Fateh Ali Khan (Nusrat's father). He preferred the more traditional style of his Ustad over the commercial approach taken by Nusrat; he said 'Main Nusrat nu aakhya si ke apne baap di raah te aaja, par us meri gal nahin mani.' (I had told Nusrat to follow the path of his father but he didn't listen to me.') Fareedi saheb was exclusively a 'darbari qawwal', that is he only performed at Sufi shrines and never thought of releasing music commercially - selling his performances was incomprehensible, he lived all his life on donations made by the audiences at the shrines. All his surviving recordings are bootlegs from his performances at various shrines -- chiefly Baba Fariduddin Ganj-i-Shakar's shrine at Pakpattan - or at public venues.

Fareedi Qawwal was accompanied by arguably one of the most talented group of 'humnava' (friends, i.e. chorus) any qawwal has possessed. Then there are the phenomenal 'baja' players - note their occasional baul dubki riffs. Fareedi was a meticulous performer, one not averse to physically hitting or loudly swearing at his humnava in the choicest Punjabi in the middle of performances if he felt they weren't being up to scratch.

मोहे राम क़सम मोरे नैनन में ख़्वाजा की सुरतिआ पूर भइ
कैसो रतिअं गुजारूं चरणन मोर जाती नगरीआ दूर भइ |

Faiz: Dasht-e-Tanhai Mein

Faiz Ahmad Faiz (Urdu: فیض احمد فیض ‎, 1911-1984) was one of the most famous 20th-century poets of Urdu. Nominated several times for the Nobel, he received both the Lenin Prize from the Soviet establishment and an MBE from the British one. Repeatedly accused of atheism in his native Pakistan (he was exiled by General Zia), Faiz's poetry suggests a more nuanced relationship with Sufi Islam.

A nazm by Faiz (a popular one) below, performed by the redoubtable Iqbal Bano. Nazms have looser rhyme than ghazals, typically a/b/c/b, and a structure that explores just one theme.



दश्त-ए-तन्हाई में, ऐ जान-ए-जहां, लरजाँ हैं
तेरी आवाज़ के साए, तेरे होंठों के सराब
दश्त-ए-तन्हाई में, दूरी के ख़स-ओ-ख़ाक तले
खिल रहे हैं तेरे पहलू के समन और गुलाब

In the desert of solitude, love of my life, shimmering
Are the shadows of your voice, the mirage of your lips
In the desert of solitude, distant, past the burnt stems
Bloom on the jasmine and the rose of your aspect.

उठ रही है कहीं कुर्बत से तेरी सांस की आँच
अपनी खुश्बू में सुलगती हुई मद्धम मद्धम
दूर उफक पर चमकती हुई क़तरा क़तरा
गिर रही है तेरी दिलदार नज़र की शबनम

From desolation somewhere rises your breath's warmth
Smoldering in its own fragrance, softly softly
Far, from that brilliant sky, shining, one by one
Fall the dewdrops of your tender loving gaze.

इस क़दर प्यार से ऐ जान-ए-जहां रक्खा है
दिल के रुखसार पे इस वक़्त तेरी याद ने हाथ
यूँ गुमाँ होता है गरचे है अभी सुबह-ए-फ़िराक
ढल गया हिज्र का दिन, आ भी गयी वस्ल की रात |

Why does it feel now, love, that you traced
The contour of my heart with the finger of your memory
That the stretch of the morn of separation now passes
The day of parting wanes, comes the night of union.

A song of union with not only love, but also with the truth that lies beyond this tired life, the eternal night of union.

यूँ गुमाँ होता है गरचे है अभी सुबह-ए-फ़िराक
ढल गया हिज्र का दिन, आ भी गयी वस्ल की रात |

Khusrau: Teri Re Main To

Bahauddin Khan Qawwal (1934-2006), today remembered more narrowly than his talent deserved, had had, in his day, The National Centre for the Performing Arts in India record his classical style of qawwali on golden tape for safe-keeping 'up to 200 years', as reference and guide for scholars of tomorrow.




घट के अंदर बैठ के करें प्रेम से पियार
ऐसे पिया से ख़ुसरो अपने तन मन दीजै वार ।

तेरी रे मैँ तो चरणन लागि
पीर निज़ामुद्दीन ख़्वाजा निज़ामुद्दीन

हर क़ौम रास्त रहे, दिनो क़िबला गाहे
मन क़िबला रास्त करदम बार सिम्त कजकुलाहे |

The first Farsi line was composed by Nizamuddin Aulia himself, who, while observing one day from his chilla or akhara how Hindu worshippers bathed in river Yamuna, remarked contentedly:

Har qaum rast rahe, deen-o [wa] qibla gahe

Every people has its right path, its faith and its focus of worship (the qibla is the direction to Mecca, towards which Muslims turn to pray.)

Khusrau, who was with him, at once completed the couplet with a verse that has come to represent (according to Regula Qureshi in her book) the central poetic statement of the Sufi in the subcontinent:

Man qibla rast kardam, bar samt kajkulahe

I, however, focus my worship on the crooked cap [of my Beloved.]

Khusrau goes on to say (I think Bahauddin Qawwal is singing a Farsi version of this qalam, the lines are a bit indistinct in the recording above):

Sansar har ko poojay, kul ko jagat sarahe,
Makke mein koyi dhoondhay, Kaashi ko koi jaye,
Guyyian main apnay pi kay payyian padun na kahe?
Har qaum rast rahe, deen-e wa qibla gahe.....
Teri re main to, charanan laagi ... etc.

The whole world worships something or the other,
Some look for God in Mecca, while some go to Kashi,
So why can’t I, Oh the Wise, just fall to my Beloved’s feet?
Every sect has a faith, a qibla ... I will here-fore stick to Thy feet.

The family of Bahauddin Qawwal have been granted permanent rooms adjacent to the shrines of Moinuddin Chishti, Nizamuddin Aulia and Alauddin Sabir Kaliari, in Ajmer, Delhi and Kaliar, due to their 700 years of service to these Sufi saints.

हर क़ौम रास्त रहे , दिनो क़िबला गाहे
मन क़िबला रास्त करदम बार सिम्त कजकुलाहे |

Bulleh Shah: Sajna

Bulleh Shah (Punjabi: بلہے شاہ , ਬੁੱਲ੍ਹੇ ਸ਼ਾਹ, 1680–1757), born Syed Abdullah Shah Qadri, was a Punjabi Sufi poet. His writings reveal a thinker alive to contemporary sociological problems of the Punjab; his poems highlight his quest through the four stages of Sufism: Shariat (Path), Tariqat (Observance), Haqiqat (Truth) and Marfat (Union). Bulleh Shah’s work never overtly questioned the Islamic religious orthodoxy of his day, but his metaphors often express frustration towards clerical Islam.

Here is a rendering.

Ghunghat orhley na, luk sajna; main mushtaq deedar de haan.

Wrap not the veil, hidden Beloved, I long to have a glimpse of you.

Terey bajhon deewani hoye, tokaan kardey log sabhoye
Je ker yaar karey diljoi, taan faryaad pukaar de haan.

Without you I go insane, people around poke fun at me.
Friend come heal my heart, that alone remains my plea.

Muft bikaindi jandi bandi, mil mahi jind aweien jandi
Ek dam hijr nahi seh pandi, bulbul main gulzar de haan.

Your slave-girl is being sold free, come, Beloved, rescue me.
Not moment's parting can withstand, I Bulbul of your garden be.

[Bulleh woh kaun tera yaar, ows dey hath Quran owsey janaar?]

[Who's this Bulleh your friend, in one hand Quran, in t'other (Sacred)Thread?]

In contemporary performance, the crispest, most crowd-pleasing verses are often juxtaposed from poems composed at different times; keeping that in mind, note how the point of gender changes during the course of the song, from a man entreating a woman to part her veil, to a slave-girl asking her master deliverance from being sold.

Kabir: Banjara Re

Kabīr (in vernacular,  Kabīra) (Hindi: कबीर, Punjabi: ਕਬੀਰ, Urdu: کبير‎) (c. 1440–c. 1518) was the greatest of the medieval mystic poets and saints of India, whose writings have greatly influenced the Bhakti movement and syncretism in contemporary Hinduism. In Arabic al-Kabīr means "The Great" – the 37th name of Allah.

Kabir composed a pithy style, replete with an inventive rural imagery. His work talks of the true Guru who reveals the divine through direct experience, and denounces ways of attempting God-union such as pilgrimages, austerities, or worship.  Kabir, illiterate, expressed his poems orally in vernacular Hindi, borrowing from various dialects including Avadhi, Brajbhasa, Maghi and Bhojpuri.




चक्की चल रही, कबीरा बैठा रोयी
दोनो पुड़ के बीच में साझा ना निकले कोयी ।
चक्की चल रही, कबीरा बैठा जोयी
खूंटा पकड़ो निज नाम का, तो साझा निकले जो सोयी ॥

Chakki chal rahi, Kabira baitha royee
Dono pud ke beech me saajha na nikle koi
Chakki chal rahi Kabira baitha joye
Khoonta pakdo nij Naam ka, to sajha nikle jo soyee

The millstone [of Time] grinds on, Kabir sits weeping [watching the inevitability]
From between the two stones [of wheeling heaven and turning earth below] no one passes unscathed
The millstone grinds on, Kabir is still there
Grab hold of the hub of the Name that is your's [by right], that is the path to deliverance.

छोड़ के मत जाअो एकली रे, बंजारा रे बंजारा रे ।
दूर देस रहे मामला अब जागो प्यारा रे ॥

Chhod ke mat jao ekli re Banjara re Banjara re
Duur des rahe mamla, ab jago pyara re.

Don't leave on this journey by yourself, O my Nomad, O Nomad
'Tis the matter of That Faraway Land, now come to your senses my dear.

अपना साहेब ने महल बनायी, बंजारा रे, बंजारा रे ।
गहरी गहरी माहे बीन बजायी, बंजारा हो ॥

Apna Saaheb ne mahal banayee, Banjara re
Gehri gehri mahe been bajai, Banjara ho.

Our Master made a palace for you, O my Nomad, O Nomad
Deep deep thence comes the call of His flute, Ah my Nomad.

अपना साहेब ने बाग़ बनायी, बंजारा रे, बंजारा रे ।
फूल भरी लायी छाब रे, बंजारा हो ॥

Apna Saahebne baag banayee, Banjara re
Phool bhari layee chhab re, Banjara ho

Our Master made a grove for you, O my Nomad, O Nomad
Flower'd bowers bring shade there, Ah my Nomad.

कहत कबीरा, कहत कबीरा, धर्मीदास को ।
संत अमरापुर मालना, बंजारा रे ॥

Kahat Kabira, Kahat Kabira Dharmidas ko
Sant amrapur maalna, Banjara re.

Says Kabir to Dharamidas, the saintly ones will surely be
Gardeners of this estate of immortality, O my Nomad.

Prahlad Tippaniya, absurdly pigeonholed as a Dalit singer, sings a variant:


Kabir has been  translated to English by Rabindranath Tagore. His greatest work is the Bijak (The Seedling), discussing the ideas of the fundamental One and an universal view of spirituality. Though his vocabulary is replete with Hindu spiritual concepts - Brahman, karma and reincarnation -  Kabir mocked dogma both in Hinduism and in Islam. Ideological messages in Kabir appealed to the poor and oppressed as a "protest against social discrimination and economic exploitation". At his death, both Hindus and Muslims claimed the remains, one side argued for cremation in Varanasi, the other for burial in Maghahar.

छोड़ के मत जाअो एकली रे, बंजारा रे बंजारा रे ।
दूर देस रहे मामला अब जागो प्यारा रे ॥

Rāmprasād: Man Re Krishi Kaaj Jano Na

The Bhakti tradition of India provides an interesting foil to the Sufi canon of Khorasan.

Rāmprasād Sen (Bengali: রামপ্রসাদ সেন; 1718-1775) was a Shakta poet and saint of eighteenth century Bengal. His Bhakti poems, usually addressed to the Hindu goddess Kali and known as Ramprasadi, are still popular in Bengal.

Born to a Tantric family, Rāmprasād became a disciple of Krishnananda Agamavagisha, a scholar and yogi in what is now Nadia in West Bengal. This was a time when forays of English, Danish, French and Portuguese power were consolidating military European bases and 'factories' in agricultural Bengal, displacing farmer and herder from these enclaves. Ramprasad became well known for his devotional songs, eventually becoming court poet for the king Krishna Chandra of Nadia.

Ramprasad created a new musical form that combined baul music with kirtan. The new style took root in Bengali culture with many poet-composers combining folk- and raga-based melodies. It was the fusion music of its time.

Structurally, the composition below is a ghazal, but the sublimation is no longer directed to a divine male or female 'Beloved' of the Sufi, it is a child's yearning for his Mother. Durga the ten-armed evil-slaying Goddess at the obverse, at the reverse Kali whose flames lick at the cremation ghat as she spreads her lap to take her child at the end of this life - that is the currency of sublimation in Ramprasadi.




মন রে কৃষি কাজ জান না, মন রে কৃষি কাজ জান না ।
এমন মানব-জমিন রইলো পতিত, আবাদ করলে ফলতো সোনা ।।

Man re, krishi-kaaj jano na, Man re, krishi-kaaj jano na
Eman manab-jamin railo patit, abad karle phalto sona.

O Mind, you know not to till; Mind, you know not to till
Such human-land stays fallow, tended would gold yield.

কালীনামে দাওরে বেড়া, ফসলে তছরূপ হবে না ।
সে যে মুক্তকেশীর শক্ত বেড়া, তার কাছেতে যম ঘেঁসে না ।।

Kali-name daore bera, fasale tachhrup habena
Se je mukta-keshi'r shakto bera, tar kachhete Yama ghneshena.

Make fence of Kali's name, none the harvest embezzle would
Strong fence - of She of unpinned locks - who Death'd elude.

অদ্য অব্দশতান্তে বা, ফসল বাজাপ্ত হবে জান না ।
আছে একতারে মন এইবেলা, তুই চুটিয়ে ফসল কেটে নে না ।।

Adya abda-shatante ba, fasal bajapta habe jano na
Achhe ek-taare Man eibela, tui chutiye fasal kete ne na.

Today or century-end somewhen, confiscated the harvest will be
Keep Mind on one Tune while you can, bring in the harvest free.

গুরুদত্ত বীজ রোপন ক'রে, ভক্তিবারি তায় সেচ না ।
ওরে একা যদি না পারিস মন, রামপ্রসাদকে সঙ্গে নে না ।।

Guru-datta beej ropan kare, bhati-bari tai secho na
Ore eka jadi na paris Man, Ramprasad-ke sange ne na.

Plant the Guru-given seed, irrigate with devotion all day
If you can't by yourself, Mind, let Ramprasad with you stay.

Nivedita compared Ramprasad to William Blake. The rhapsodic aspect of the Ramprasadi, however, is close to that of the works of Persian Sufis, and at the same time it has an interiority that reminds of the stoicism of Kabir.

এমন মানব-জমিন রইলো পতিত, আবাদ করলে ফলতো সোনা |