Rumi's Poetry: Life without devotion (worship or total submission) is a disgrace زندگی بے بندگی شرمندگی

In my childhood, I used to accompany my family to visit an uncle living in the then emerging and thriving colony 'Shad Bagh,' near Lahore Railways station across the 'Do Moria Pull - A bridge with two entrances)'. En route there was a mosque on which there was a big board displaying three words as written above. These were my father's favourite but I was too small to understand the literal meaning of these words.

It was only not many decades later when before proceeding on a yearlong course in Iran, I underwent a diploma level Persian language course at the National Institute of Modern Languages 'NIML' (now NUML after being elevated to the level of a university) that I came to know the true meaning of these three words:

زندگی آمد، برائے بندگی

زندگی بے بندگی شرمندگی

Zindagi Aamad Bara'ay Bandagi

Zindagi Be Bandagi Sharmindagi

Life is only for devotion.

Life without devotion (worship or total submission) is disgrace

And more so, it dawned on me that these mystical words flowed from the mind and pen of none other than one of the great Persian language poet Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Balkhī (جلال‌الدین محمد بلخى‎) - also known as Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Rūmī (جلال‌الدین محمد رومی). Rumi, a 13th-century Persian poet, jurist, theologian, and Sufi mystic, was born in Wakhsh (present-day Tajikistan) and rose to be highly revered poet and religious scholar.

Rumi drew spiritual aspiration from one of the great names in the mystic world Shams-i-Tabrīzī or Shams al-Din Mohammad. It is said that one day Rumi was reading next to a large stack of books. Shams Tabriz, passing by, asked him, "What are you doing?" Rumi scoffingly replied, "Something you cannot understand." On hearing this, Shams threw the stack of books into a nearby pool of water. Rumi hastily rescued the books and to his surprise they were all dry. Rumi then asked Shams, "What is this?" To which Shams replied, "Mowlana, this is what you cannot understand."

So, this the level of these two great names in poetry and spiritual world and both are revered til  today by Iranians, Turks, Afghans, Tajiks, and other Central Asian Muslims as well as the Muslims of the Pakistan and India. However, the name of Shams-i-Tabrīzī should not be confused with Shah Shams Tabrizi buried in Multan, Pakistan. 

Now with this background (or if you want to read more about these two spiritual personalities, hit on the highlighted links for details given in Wikipedia), I came to understand the true meaning of the three words which did not make sense to me in my childhood and I wondered then as to why my father liked these three words so much. Since my father knew Persian very well, he must have known the background, which I learnt many years later in my life.

Read the full poetry of Rumi given here in under and see how beautiful spiritual and mystic thinking can be be. And you would also know the correlation between زندگی بے بندگی شرمندگی with the rest of the poetry:

تو کریمی، من کمینہ بردہ عم

لیکں از لطف شمار پروردہ عم

Too Karimi Mun Kamina Barda Um

Laikin Az Lutf E Shuma Parwarda Um

You are gracious and I am the ignoble, standing at your door.

You are my cherisher.

زندگی آمد، برائے بندگی

زندگی بے بندگی شرمندگی

Zindagi Aamad Bara'ay Bandagi

Zindagi Be Bandagi Sharmindagi

Life is only for devotion.

Life without devotion (worship or total submission) is a disgrace.

یاد اے او سرمایہ ایماں بو ند

ھر جگہ، از یاد او سلطاں بوند

Yaad E Oo Sarmaya E Eeman Bo'ad

Har Gada Az Yaad E Oo Sultan Bo'ad

Remembrance of him is the foundation of faith.

The beggars are like kings due to his remembrance.

سید و سرور محمد(صلی اللا علیہ وسلم) نور جاں

معتر او بھتر شفیع مجرمان

Sayyad O Sarwar Mohammad Noor E Jaan

Mehtar O Behtar Shafi E Mujrimaan

Mohammad (pbuh) was purified of worldly things,

he got this reward:

God said to him, Whatever direction you face your prayer,

My face is to that direction.

His soul like an eagle of Heaven as God called him Mercy for all the creations of God.

چوں محمد(صلی اللا علیہ وسلم) پاک شد از نار او دود

ھر کجا روح کرد وج اوللا بود

Choon Muhammad Pak E Shud Az Nar O Dood

Her Kaja Roo Karad Wajhullah Bood

There is no greater or better of all the prophets than Mohammad (pbuh).

He is the praise of God and therefore has been praised very much.

He is the reflection of God in the shape of a worshipper of God.

شھباز لاماکانی جان او

رحمت لل عالعمیں در شان او

Shahbaaz Lamakani Jaan E Oo

Rehmatal Lil Aalameen Dar Shaan E Oo

The friends of God are like God because God is their friend and in this way he who has seen his spiritual leader, sees God.

one who doesn't see his spiritual leader as God is not a true spiritual disciple.

معترین او بھترین انبیاہ

جز محمد(صلی اللا علیہ وسلم) نیست در ارض و سماں

Mehtareen O Behtareen E Ambiyaah

Juz Muhammad Naist Dar Arz O Samaa

There is no greater or better of all the prophets than Mohammad (S.A.W)*.

* SallaAllah-u-Alaih-e-Wasslam (Peace be upon him)

آں محمد(صلی اللا علیہ وسلم) حامر او محمود شد

شکل عابد،صورت معبود شد

Aan Mohammad Hamid O Mahmoud Shud

Shakal E Abid, Sorat E Ma'bood Shud

اولیاہ، اللا ہ اللا اولیاہ،

یعنی دید پیر، دید کبریاہ

Auliyah Allah O Allah Auliyah

Yani Deed E Peer Deed E Kibriyah

ھرکہ پیر او زات حق راہ یک نہ دید

نے مرید او نے مرید او نے مرید

Her Ka Peer O Zaat Haqra Aik Na Deed

Nai Mureed O Nai Mureed O Nai Mureed

مولوی ھر گز نہ شر مولائے روم

تا غلام شمس تبریزی نہ شد

Maulvi Hargiz Na Shud Maula E Rum

Ta Ghulaam E Shams Tabraizi Na Shud

Maulvi (Rumi was also called Maulana / Maulvi Rumi for being a religious teacher as well) could never be Maula-i-Rum (spiritual leader or Master) if he had not devoted himself to Shams Tabrizi - The spiritual Master of Maulana Rumi (Rehmatullah-e-Alayeh)

The last verses are attributed by Rumi to his spiritual teacher and guide Shams Tabrizi - a great thing only great minds and hearts can do. Otherwise, small people like us disregard any attribution to our elders and take all undue credit to show our false elevation in literature and spiritualism. And perhaps for this Tabrizi had told Rumi: 'Mowlana, this is what you cannot understand' - not intended for Rumi but for us......

This post was originally posted in my blog: The Fire Within

Phot: Pixabay | References: | Wikipedia | Rumi's Poetry/Persian Text/Translation courtesy Sufi Music

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I always let it get too late

Procrastination is the action of unnecessarily and voluntarily delaying or postponing something despite knowing that there will be negative consequences for doing so. There are a large number of people around the world who for many known and unknown reasons delay doing things, and so do I.

I for one have suffered for delaying or postponing things for no good reasons and have suffered for not having done things in time - time when I could have picked up courage or strength and finished doing my work rather than delaying it for another day. 

While we are sitting idle and random thoughts wandering in our memory, there are times when some bright idea suddenly pops up - and that was the time to materialize that idea, just as E. L. Simpson said: "Getting an idea should be like sitting on a pin; it should make you jump up and do something." But if one does not feel the prick of the pin and let that idea get lost in many useless thoughts, one has lost a fortune.

Or as famous scientist Sir Alexander Graham Bell said: "The only difference between success and failure is the ability to take action." He cashed on to this idea and became known for many of his inventions, specially the telephone.

So back to losing time and delaying things, which can sometimes saves lives or save an innocent by being prosecuted by divulging the truth. and when talking of procrastination, one of my favourite poetry is by Pakistan's renowned poet Munir Niazi, whose poem "Hamesha dair kar deta hun main" or in other words I always let it get too late starts playing in my memory. 

Herein under is the Urdu text of Munir Niazi's poem - verses repeated in Roman English. This piece of poetry is a masterpiece to express one's inability to do things in time and delay these which often cause harm and regret for not acting in time: 

ہمیشہ دیر کر دیتا ہوں میں

Hamesha dair kr deta hoon main

ہمیشہ دیر کر دیتا ہوں میں

Hamesha dair kr deta hoon main

ضروری بات کہنی ہوں

Zarori baat kehni ho

کوئی وعدہ نبھانا ہو

Koi wadha nibhana ho

اُسے آواز دینی ہوں

Ussey awaz deni ho

اُسے واپس بُلانا ہو

Ussey wapis bulana ho

ہمیشہ دیر کر دیتا ہوں میں

Hamesha dair kr deta hoon main

مدد کرنی ہو اُس کی

Madad karni ho us ki

یار کی ڈھارس بندھانا ہو

Yaar ki dharas bandhana ho

بُہت دیرینہ رستوں پر

Buhat derina rastoon par

کسی سے ملنے جانا ہو

Kissi se milney jana ho

ہمیشہ دیر کر دیتا ہوں میں

Hamesha dair kr deta hoon main

بدلتے موسموں کی سیر میں

Badaltey mousmoon ki shair mein

دل کو لگانا ہو

Dil ko lagana ho

کسی کو یاد رکھنا ہو

Kissi ko yaad rakhna ho

کسی کو بُھول جانا ہو

Kissi ko bhool jana ho

ہمیشہ دیر کر دیتا ہوں میں

Hamesha dair kr deta hoon main

کسی کو موت سے پہلے

Kissi ko mout se phele

کسی غم سے بچانا ہو

Kissi gham se bachana ho

حقیقت اور تھی کچھ

Haqeeqat aor thi kuch

اُس کو جا کے یہ بتانا ہو

Us ko ja key yeh batana ho

ہمیشہ دیر کر دیتا ہوں میں

Hamesha dair kr deta hoon main

Now listen to the legendary poet Munir Niazi reciting the above said poem in his own very style (video is in Urdu with English sub titles):

How about you? Are you one of the people being referred to in this post? Has it ever left you in regret ever?

Photo | References | 1 | 2 | 

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Today, yet another meaningless day passed away

Is our life meaningless? Well for the ordinaries, life is full of challenges and there is hardly any time to ponder over the meaning of the true life or whether it is meaningless or not. For some who are depressed for some reasons, be economic, social, spiritual or family disturbances, at some point in time their depression makes their life meaningless. Under such circumstances, negativity surrounds him and living becomes difficult.

Poets are normally people who live in utter poverty or their circumstances builds an aura of melancholy around them which results in poetic works full of sadness and expression of one's difficult times. In such distress, they do not feel like doing anything except writing some superb poetry as famous Punjabi-Urdu language poet of Pakistan Munir Niazi wrote.

Herein under is a piece of his Punjabi poetry in which he laments of a wasteful day. I have tried to translate each worse in English. Though this translation cannot match the rhythmic tone of his poetry, yet it may give an idea what he is trying to say:

Scroll down for video of this poetic work by Munir Niazi himself 

Aj da din vi aenwein langya

yet another meaningless day passed away

koi vi kam na hoya

no worthwhile work could be done

purab valon charya suraj

The sun rose from the east

pascham vang khaloya

Came to set at the west

na milya mai khalqat nu

Neither did I meet any people

na mai yaad khuda nu kita

Nor did I remember God

na mai parhi namaz

Neither did I offer my prayers

na mai jaam sharab da pita

Nor did I drink a peg of wine

khushi na gham koi kol na aya

Happiness or sadness, nothing came near me

na hasya na roya

Neither did I laugh nor did I cry

Aj da din vi aenwei langya

yet another meaningless day passed away

Now listen to Munir Niazi in his very own style reading his above shared poetry:

About the poet: Munir Ahmed Niazi, (Punjabi: منیر نیازی ) (9 April 1923– 26 December 2006) was an Urdu and Punjabi language poet from Pakistan. He also wrote for newspapers, magazines and radio. Originally of Pashtun descent, Munir Ahmed used to call himself Punjabi as Punjabi definition is cultural and geographical and most of his poetic expression was done in the Punjabi language. He was awarded Sitara-e-Imtiaz (Star of Excellence) Award in 2005 and Pride of Performance Award in 1992 for his notable services in Urdu and Punjabi poetry.

Photo | Reference | 1 | 2 |

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Lake Saif ul Muluk – a Heavenly Lake on Earth

Lake Saif ul Muluk is one of the dream tourist resorts of Pakistan. Located in the Khyber Pakhtunkwa province at the northern end of picturesque Kaghan Valley at a height of 10.578 feet in the foothills of famous Malka Parbat (the Queen Mountain), the spectacular lake with its deep blue waters is a sight one comes across once in one’s lifetime. The reflection of Malka Parbat into its still blue waters add awe to the spectacular landscape.

Recently I came across a video on Saif ul Muluk that triggered memories of more than two decades when I visited the lake for the first time – and perhaps the only time of my life. While the video took me back into my memory lane, I was amazed find that the dirt track leading to the lake from the Naran town is still the same and to approach the lake one has to hire sturdy and robust Jeeps to reach the lake. One wonders why after so many years the dirt track has not been paved. But then one wonders if the dirt track is metaled, what the locals would do as it would rob them of the only livelihood available to them for carrying tourists up and down. So while visitors and tourist, both local and foreign, throng the Naran town in summers, the hotel and Jeep business flourishes – perhaps the only means to earn bread and butter of Naran town.

I visited Naran and the lake back in 1996 with a group of friends and family. Although it was July, the lake was still half frozen which is fed by the Kunhar River. The lake with a surface area of 2.75 square kilometers and with a maximum depth of 15 meters or 50 feet is famous for its brown trout with an average weight of seven kilograms. 

We lodged in an army run rest house ahead of Naran town and due to a glacier intervening the guest house, we had to park our vehicles well away and short of the glacier and walk on slippery glacial snow to reach the guest house – and this became our daily routine to pass over the glacier to go to Naran town and the lake.

Unlike hiring normal tourists who hire jeeps, we added a tinge of adventure by hiring horses from the base to the lake. Adding yet more adventure, I along with two other relatives decided to go up through a narrow track made in between a fallen glacier. While others reached safely, I had a fall and slipped down the frozen snow and had a free fall towards the gushing stream of water from the lake. And at that time I almost felt as if my time on earth was over as I could not find anything to hold on. But then Nature wanted me to live to narrate this incident and just feet away from the icy blue stream of water, a stone came in between I and the stream, stopping from sliding further.

Now I could not move as any move would have been fatal. Seeing my plight, a local lad, expert on such glaciers came down making holes in the ice and then rescued me and we both slowly moved up and back to track. The thought of the incident still shudders my body and I thank God for saving me from drowning and sending me an angel for my rescue. Thereafter we still followed the same track and suddenly there it was the almost frozen Lake Saif ul Muluk - a sight of lifetime for me.

Much relaxed I posing with my wife after the close to a deathly fall

That day was one of the days when the lake was almost frozen with its blue waters barely visible from under the frozen snow. We spent almost the entire day at the lake though a freezing cold wind was passing through our bodies. We had lunch and came back by evening fall. This time I did not opt for the track between the glacier and came down safely.

My family - less me (the photographer is generally missed out)

The lake remains frozen in winters and the best time to visit the lake is from June to early October. But sometimes the lake remains frozen in case the weather turn colder. When the snow has completely melted away, the lake looks like a heavenly place on earth. The snow clad Malika Parbat and its sister tops add more to the beauty of the lake. It looks as if these  snow clad mountain tops are fairies guarding the blue waters of the lake.

While people do boat in the lake, the real adventure is camping by the lake side, specially if it is a full moon and fantasying the tales of fairies and that of the famous Saif ul Muluk, a poetic work written by famous poet Muhammad Bakhsh, who in his own words has described the folklore of an Egyptian prince Saif ul Muluk who fell in love with a fairy princess Badi ual Jamal.

Now watch the video about Lake Saif ul Muluk which shows the rugged stony track leading from Naran to the lake which only sturdy Jeeps could endure.

Recently, the gush of tourists to Naran and Lake Saif ul Muluk has increased manifold. This while is a good healthy sigh of flourishing tourism industry, beneficial for the locals as well, it has added crowd, litter and garbage to the lake side. While the local administrations earns from tourists, it should also make sure that there are adequate arrangements for garbage disposal and cleanliness of area to preserve the natural beauty of the place and to ensure a healthy environment - lest the fairies run away....

Photo at the top: My sons Wahaab Jalal (left) and Waqaace Jalal (right) posing by the lake - 1996
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Just beyond the sunset

Just Beyond The Sunset

Just beyond the sunset
Someone waits for me
Just beyond the sunset
Lies my destiny
Where the purple mountains
Lie in deep tranquillity
There I’ll find the treasure
Of love eternally

Just beyond the sunset
Waits someone so fair
Just beyond the sunset
All alone they wait there
Their hair is golden
The colour of the sand
Their eyes sparkle in the night
Like diamonds in your hand

Just beyond the sunset
Lies a home for me
Where the world is peaceful
Like a paradise should be
Just beyond the sunset
Someday is where you’ll find me

Poetry by David Harris: Written - July or Aug 1966

Photo taken by Jalal HB 22 December 2007

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Mustafa Zaidi – a literate poet

I am no big fan poetry and poets, and my interest in poetry is only restricted to a melodious song on a well composed musical note. Although poets like Iqbal, Munir Niazi and Faiz attract me to their thought provoking verses more often than not. As for Mustafa Zaidi, all I knew of him was his mysterious death that made headlines decades ago.

A couple of days back, while cleaning my junk, as I have mentioned in some of my earlier posts, I found “Koh-e-Nida”, a compilation of published poetry of Mustafa Zaidi. And before going any further, I sat amid the heap of torn pages and old buttons, I opened the book and read about the man who was literate, well read and above all a bureaucrat. Born in 1930, he had a flare for reading and literature. He obtained his masters in English Literature from the prestigious Government College Lahore, and thus like me he was a Ravian too. He then joined the civil services of Pakistan and climbed to the ladders of success till he retired as a deputy secretary.

During his service, he got a chance to extensively travel abroad, which gave depth and meaning to his poetic work. He was sensitive by nature, which is a must for any poet to feel the wrath of the poor due injustice and unjust society. During his almost forty years of literary life, six volumes of his poetry were published and Koh-e-Nida was the seventh and the last. Besides poetry, photography was also his passion and he even had a dark room in his house where he developed his films. He also loved flying and had obtained a PPL (private pilot license) but a forced landing took away his flying hobby from which he barely survived.

Now coming back to his poetry. He is remembered as one of the few great progressive Urdu poets of the twentieth century. And it would not be wrong to say that his vision, thought and accomplishments are even relevant today, as I would go on to prove. I wish I could include many of his verses that showed his sensitivity and injustices he found around him. But would leave my readers ponder over a very small poem which was written in late sixties but is true and relevant even today. The coarse translation of this poem titled “Teacher” portrays the helplessness of students who even after graduating find no employment and return home dishearten and dejected. In the poem, a teacher addresses his students and says, “Oh my sons!! Do not see what you know, but see whom do you know.” It is not one’s qualification and intelligence that matters, it is one’s knowing of someone who can get him a job, even if the applicant is a fake and without any knowledge or qualification. Or for that matter even if he happens to have a fake degree ……

As a bureaucrat, he received the prestigious civil award of Tamgha-e-Quaid-e-Azam for outstanding service. While during his literary pursuits, he won prestigious accolades such as Professor Dunn’s Gold Medal; Dr. R.N Bhatia’s Medal; and Iqbal Gold Medal.


PS: And as my friend Shirazi points out, his famous couplet which he wrote while at Fort Munro, will always let people remember him for being a sensitive, though provoking poet, never seeking personal glory and admiration.

کسی اور غم میں اتنی خلش نہاں نہیں ہے 

غم دل مرے رفیقو غم رائگاں نہیں ہے 

کوئی ہم نفس نہیں ہے کوئی رازداں نہیں ہے 

فقط ایک دل تھا اب تک سو وہ مہرباں نہیں ہے 

مری روح کی حقیقت مرے آنسوؤں سے پوچھو 

مرا مجلسی تبسم مرا ترجماں نہیں ہے 

کسی زلف کو صدا دو کسی آنکھ کو پکارو 

بڑی دھوپ پڑ رہی ہے کوئی سائباں نہیں ہے 

انہیں پتھروں پہ چل کر اگر آ سکو تو آؤ 

مرے گھر کے راستے میں کوئی کہکشاں نہیں ہے

Come to me if you can by walking over these stones,

There is no galaxy en route my house

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I am better off abandoned in the wilderness..

Sometimes, the poetry written at the back of public transport, specially wagons and trucks is both amusing and thought provoking. While going to Islamabad the other day, I saw an innocent nightingale “Nadan Bulbul” – a wagon going on the Shah Faisal Avenue with the verse as shown above on its rear. In plain translation, the verse means, “From the bitter world and the bitter love, I am better off abandoned in the wilderness forever.”

One always find heart broken pieces of poetry, all addressed to the cruel lovers, who left their once poor acquaintances for the riches. One really has to be alert to preserve such “artful poetry” written by countless unsung poets throughout the country. I hear someone has compiled a small booklet on this peculiar poetry, exclusive to the rear sides of the public transport, specially the buses, trucks and wagons.

I remember there was one Kafeel Bhai from Gothki, Sind who had his name on every truck. His peculiar “right arm, left arm” type verses were very amusing and different. I once asked a friend from Ghotki to arrange for an interview with Kafeel Bhai, but I was told that he had left for Karachi in search of better avenues to earn money rather than restricting him to painting trucks only.

Sp whenever you are travelling, be on the lookout with a camera ready by your side to shoot these “masterpieces” from ordinary people that express and represent the aspirations and sentiments of the poor and downtrodden.

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