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Thanks to @evo3X3 for making tonight, a journey. The conversation started with Amir Khusrow’s rendition of Mann Kunto Maula [devotional kalaam to the father of Sufism, Hazrat Ali *]. What started with Man kunto Maula, Fa Ali-un Maula, Dara dil-e dara dil-e dar-e daani, Hum tum tanana nana, Nana nana ray, Yalali yalali yala, Yala yala ray… ends with  yeh toh apna apna hai hosla, yeh toh apni apni udaan hai…

The great Khan himself. The majestic Amir Khusrow  — the flight, the ecstacy, the trance and the pangs of separation. On 11th April, 2011 — when words ceased to have meaning.

Nami Daanam Chi Manzil from Tasawwuf on Vimeo.

Nami danam chi manzil bood shab jaay ki man boodam;
Baharsu raqs-e bismil bood shab jaay ki man boodam.
Pari paikar nigaar-e sarw qadde laala rukhsare;
Sarapa aafat-e dil bood shab jaay ki man boodam.
Khuda khud meer-e majlis bood andar laamakan Khusrau;
Muhammad shamm-e mehfil bood shab jaay ki man boodam.

English Translation.

I wonder what was the place where I was last night,
All around me were half-slaughtered victims of love,
tossing about in agony.
There was a nymph-like beloved with cypress-like form
and tulip-like face,
Ruthlessly playing havoc with the hearts of the lovers.
God himself was the master of ceremonies in that heavenly court,
oh Khusrau, where (the face of) the Prophet too was shedding light
like a candle.

Nusrat added some verses himself, which serve to salt the wounds.
———
Had e La fakaan say guzar gaya
Had e La makaan say guzar gaya
Teri Justuju Mein Khabar Nahin
Mein Kahan Kahan se Guzar Gaya
Yeh Apna Apna Hai Hosla
Yeh to Apni Apni Uraan hai
Koi Urh keh Reh Gaya Bam Tak
Koi Kehkashan se Guzar Gaya

Nami Daanam Chi Manzil
Nami Daanam Chi Manzil

Shab e hijr hans key guzaar li / Gham e ishq dil say laga lia ; Meray jazb e shouq ki dad day / mayn har imtehaan say guzar gaya!

Woh Maqaam Dair-o-haram Baney
Waheen Sab ki Gardanein Kham Hui
Waheen sar ka Sajda Hui Jabeen
Tu Jahan Jahan se Guzar Gaya

Manzil pay puhanch key bhi ura ata houn manzil say..

fikr e manzil na hosh e jata e manzil mujhay
Ja raha houn jiss taraf lay ja raha hai dil mujhay

Kisi say meri manzil ka pata paya nahi jata
Jahan may houn wahan farishton say jaya nahi jata

Abhi to asli Manzil pana baqi Hai
Abhi to irado ka imtihaan baqi Hai
Abhi to toli muthi bar zamin
Abhi tolna asman baqi hai.


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First published in The Islamabad Dateline (3rd April, 2011)

If music be the food of love, play on. 
— William Shakespeare

Music is an integral part of human life. Known as food for soul this art form penetrates social and cultural lives of humans to a great extent.

Whether used as a mean of entertainment or an anthem for uniting under a social, cultural or political cause, music plays an essential role in our daily lives. Ayerman and Jamison, in Music and Social Movements: Mobilizing Tradition in the Twentieth Century (1998) talk about the effect music had on social and political movements across the world.

They draw a conclusion that ‘protest songs gain power through their appropriation of tunes that are bearers of strong cultural traditions’. They recognize that music can be a vital force in preparing the emergence of a new movement.

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. described the freedom songs this way: “They invigorate the movement in a most significant way…these freedom songs serve to give unity to a movement” 

In the USA, the 19th-century music dealt for the most part, with three key issues: The American civil war with songs such as Johnny I Hardly Knew Ye from Ireland, and its American variant, When Johnny Comes Marching Home Again finding popularity in masses; The abolition of slavery with Song of the Abolitionist and No More Auction Block for Me among others and women’s right to vote.

The dawn of 20th century with the Great Depression, the Civil Rights movement, and the war in Vietnam all inspired great music.

Music seemed like an outlet for black musicians who protested against racial discrimination, such as Louis Armstrong’s What Did I Do to Be So Black and Blue in 1929.

It was also during this period that many African American blues singers were beginning to make their voices across America through their music.

This eventually led to birth of rap-music in the 1980s with bands like Grandmaster Flash, Boogie Down Productions with their famous Stop the Violence, N.W.A and Public Enemy with their hit Fight the Power and later Tupac Shakur who fervidly protested the discrimination and poverty which the black community faced in America.

In 1988 the Stop the Violence Movement was formed by rapper KRS-One in response to violence in the hip hop and black communities.

Every era gave birth to a genre. Blues, hardcore rap and then in 1990’s the hardcore rock with bands like Rage Against the Machine using music as a tool for social activism.

Not only in the Western world, even in Palestine music is used to voice out against injustice. One suchsong is Biladi, Biladi which has become the unofficial Palestinian national anthem. Chinese-Korean Cui Jian’s 1986 song Nothing to My Name was popular with protesters in Tiananmen Square

Pakistan too has a rich history in music. Sufis used music and poetry to speak against tyrants and rigid interpretation of religion for centuries.

Inspirational songs of Madam Nur Jahan like Aye Puttar Hattan Day Nae Wikday during 1965 war and Iqbal Bano’s Hum Dekhayn Gayn are sung by all and sundry.

In contemporary times, we have had artists united against extremism in Yeh Hum Naheen and Laal band using Habib Jalib’s rebellious poetry as a tool to inspire youth.

Laal’s rendition of Aitezaz Ahsan’s Kal Aaj aur Kal became the anthem of lawyer’s movement which eventually ousted the dictator Musharraf and reinstated judiciary.

Atif Aslam with his Ab Khud Kuch Karna Paray Ga and Shehzad Roy’s pinching numbers are also popular in youth.

I grew up listening to Bob Marley, Lennon and Tupac Shakur and I believe their art made me the person that I am today. Our rich folklore and its music is anti-dote to the venom of extremism which has been used as one in highly polarized societies quite successfully.

Music in television, radio, cinema, mobile phones and internet has become an indispensable commodity. It helps each one of us find our social niche, uniting us with those who share similar interests. It also documents the history of social and cultural changes in society and its evolution.

Sadly, we our educational curricula does not pay high accolade to this art form. It is high time the stakeholders of our educational system realize the importance of music and give it the attention and space it deserves.

 My music fights against the system that teaches to live and die. — Bob Marley

 Syed Ali Abbas Zaidi is an aeronautical engineer by force, an activist by mind, a wanderer by soul and lover by heart.


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Master Rumi’s words always find a way to pierce into your heart and make your soul dance to the divine music that his poetry composes.

Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan needs no introduction.  His voice can be referred to as a beckoning — in realm of  a mystical journey towards englighment, love and ecstacy.

The combo can make tears roll down your cheeks like you were some place else.

Na man behooda girde kocha
Wa bazaar megardam
Mazaj-e-ashiqee daram paye
dildar megardam

Khudaya rahm kon bar man
Pareeshan waar megardam

Khata karam gonahgaram
Ba hale zaar megardam

Sharabe showq menosham
Ba girde yaar megardam

Sukhan mastana megoyam
Walay hooshyaar megardam

No I am not roaming aimlessly
around the streets and bazaar
I am a lover searching for his beloved

God have mercy on me
I am walking around troubled

I have done wrong and sinned
and am walking around wounded

I have drunk the wine of desire
and am strolling around beloved

Though I may seem drunk
I am quite sober

– Source

Also,

Gahe khandam, gahe giryam, gahe aftam, gahe khezam,
Maseeha dar’dilam paida vaman beemar mi gardam.
Biya jana inayat kun wa maulana e Rumi ra,
Gulame Shams Tabrezam qalandar waar mi gardam

Laughing at times, crying at times, falling at times, rising at times,
The savior is at the doorstep of my heart, yet like a sick man I wander.
O Beloved! Come and help your Maulana Rumi
I am a slave of Shams Tabrizi, enraptured I wander.

Munshi Raziuddin’s version updated:


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My diary (log) was published in December issue of  Media Voice Magazine (Page 66-77)

Text version:

Syed Ali Abbas Zaidi and his friends took a journey from Islamabad to the flood-affected South Punjab with relief materials on October 23. From Nature’s fury and terrorism to snack stopovers, his log speaks of varied experiences.

1700hrs (October 23, 2010)
I was en-route Lahore with three volunteers to make a delivery of relief items to flood affected South Punjab. Hammid Ali, an MBA student, Shakeel Ahsan, an HR executive and Hammad Atta, a telecom engineer were with me on the trip started from Islamabad. We would meet more volunteers in Lahore where we will have to load three trucks with relief with relief items overnight and start our journey early morning the next day.

2000hrs (October 23, 2010)
Talking about the spot-fixing scandals of Pakistani cricketers on the Motorways we had a snack-break. Everyone had his own perception of what’s happening with Pakistan cricket, and same variation of perceptions existed about socio-political problems that we were facing. One wondered, if we will ever find common grounds to move forward.

2300hrs (October 23, 2010)
Markets and hang-out places remained open till late night in Lahore unlike Islamabad which closes down by 9pm. Lahori boys get hyper on weekends and horde the roads on their bikes. Driving through the haphazard traffic wasn’t an easy task. We finally reached the whole-sale bazaar near railway station in Mughalpura, where our trucks were ready to be loaded.

0200hrs (October 24, 2010)
Trucks were loaded. More volunteers arrived from Lahore. A US –based filmographer, Yasmin accompanied us to make a documentary. We had earlier asked for two trucks. One more truck had to be arranged, which demanded huge amount. Although I was angry at the truck-driver who was being unreasonable and cashing in on our emergency need, we had no other option but to hire him.

0500 (October 24, 2010)
Trucks were on their way to Daira Deen Panah, a town adversely affected by monstrous flood water. We had time to kill, and we decided to visit Data Sahib (mausoleum of Hazrat Ali Hajveri, the famous Sufi saint). This tomb recently faced the brunt of a terrorist attack killing many. Many malangs/wanderers were sitting around the tomb, and the atmosphere was simply ecstatic. After paying homage to Data Sahib, we then had to have sizzling breakfast of halva-puri in ‘andaroon’ Lahore (old Lahore which was a walled city).
 

0800 hrs [24th Oct, 2010]
We are on the way to South Punjab now. In the coaster with loud music playing ‘chal way Bulleya othay chaliyeh’ singing, chatting and some playing cards. We are total 12 relief workers. I and Maryam were talking about how after Ramadan, donations have dwindled and people are not donating open-heartedly. The initial phase of immediate relief did not require as much money as the rehabilitation phase. 
 
1500 hrs [24th Oct, 2010] 
After 10 hours journey, we reached Kot Addu, whose town Daira Din Panah we had to hit. We had been here twice before, but then it took 26 hours as roads were blocked and bridges dismantled. Situation had changed as now only traces of water and its destruction remained. Our trucks were still 2 hours behind and again, after having a delicious lunch we visited the shrine of Syed Abdul Wahab Bukhari, known as Deen Panah, on whom the town was named. Locals told us how flood waters could not drown one street in their town, that was, where the shrine was located. 
 
1600 hrs [24th Oct, 2010]
We started making lines of flood affectees, our one team was here yesterday to distribute coupons in affected families. Now we called all of them, and asked the head of families to stand in a line. This impossible process of filtering out genuine affectees, trying to make others, who did not have the coupons understand that we cannot accommodate them due to our limited capacity was tedious and heart wrenching. Female volunteers made females stand in a line, where as, male volunteers made males stand a triple line to ensure distribution without hassle. 
 
1700 hrs [24th Oct, 2010]
Now our trucks had arrived and we started the by-hand distribution process. Each victim had coupons signed and counter signed by us, along with his National ID card to ensure genuine-ness. This process continued till it was dark and after 3 hours of distribution, reaching out to 1000 families we called it a day.
 
2100 hrs [24th Oct, 2010]
We called this delivery, the mystical delivery as once again we decided to visit tombs of Shah Shams Tubrez and Shah Rukh ne Alam in Multan after having dinner at Pizza Hut. The driver and conductor with us strangely took interest in trying ‘how a pizza tastes like’. We went to the tombs, which are located adjacent to each other and had never seen such tight security ever before. Police officials told us, this area was under threat from terrorists, who had been on ‘blast a shrine’ spree. An old woman sat infront of Tubrez’s shrine, asked us to go back to Lahore and pay homage to Data Ali Hajveri on her behalf. 
 
2300 hrs [24th Oct, 2010]
Now we were on our way back to Lahore. On our minds, the sad faces of victims who had nothing left. Schools, hospitals, homes – all washed away. Another thing that continually became a topic of discussion was our nations reaction to national disasters which showed a ‘sudden burst of patriotism and then relative numbness’. Such was the case with Pakistan floods 2010. When the disaster struck, immediate emergency relief aide needed was nothing compared to what’s needed for rehabilitating 22 Million affected souls. Regular stops were made on juice corners, truck driver hotels and pan-shops on our way back as we had no deadline to meet. Most of us were so exhausted that we went to sleep in our coaster. Others continued to ‘fight’ on issues such as cricket, Zardari, US involvement in our internal affairs and what not.

Syed Ali Abbas Zaidi is an aeronautical engineer, a poet and a social activist who is the founding force & chairperson of Pakistan Youth Alliance(http://www.pya.org.pk/). He can be found tweeting @Ali_Abbas_Zaidi (http://twitter.com/#!/Ali_Abbas_Zaidi) & is available on facebook at http://www.facebook.com/aliabbaszaidi

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Hands waved overhead. Voices shouted lyrics and whooped with delight. Children were hoisted onto parents’ shoulders. In the tightly packed crowd a few dancers made room to jump. T-shirts were tossed to fans from the stage.

Yet in the songs that Abida Parveen was singing, saints were praised. They were Islamic saints, the poets and philosophers revered by Sufism, the mystical branch of Islam.

It was the first New York Sufi Music Festival, a free three-hour concert on Tuesday in Union Square, and it had music from the four provinces of Pakistan, including traditional faqirs who perform outside temples, Sufi rock and a kind of rapping from Baluchistan.

The concert was presented by a new organization called Pakistani Peace Builders, which was formed after the attempted bombing in Times Square by a Pakistani-American. The group seeks to counteract negative images of Pakistan by presenting a longtime Pakistani Islamic tradition that preaches love, peace and tolerance.

Sufism itself has been a target of Islamic fundamentalists; on July 1 suicide bombers attacked Pakistan’s most important Sufi shrine. Pakistan’s ambassador to the United Nations, Abdullah Hussain Haroon, spoke between sets on Tuesday. “What we’re here to do today,” he said, is “to be at peace with all of America.”

The music’s message was one of joyful devotion and improvisatory freedom. Ms. Parveen, one of Pakistan’s most celebrated musicians, was singing in a Sufi style called kafi. Like the qawwali music popularized worldwide by Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, kafi sets classical poems — about the love and intoxication of the divine, about seeking the spirit within — to visceral, handclapping rhythms and vocal lines that swoop and twist with passionate volatility.

Ms. Parveen carried songs from serene, hovering introductions to virtuosic euphoria. Long, sustained notes suddenly broke into phrases that zigzagged up and down an octave or more; repeated refrains took on an insistent rasp and became springboards for elaborate leaps and arabesques; quick syllables turned into percussive exchanges with the band. Each song was a continual revelation, making the old poems fully alive.

While the crowd was there for Ms. Parveen’s first New York City performance in a decade, the rest of the program was strong. The Soung Fakirs, from Sachal Sarmast Shrine in Sindh, danced in bright orange robes to devotional songs with vigorous, incantatory choruses. Akhtar Chanal Zehri, though he was introduced as a rapper, was backed by traditional instruments and seemed more of a folk singer, heartily intoning his rhythmic lyrics on a repeating note or two and, eventually, twirling like a Sufi dervish.

Rafaqat Ali Khan, the heir to his family’s school of classical singing (khayal), was backed only by percussion, pushing his long-breathed phrasing into ever more flamboyant swirls and quavers. The tabla player Tari Khan, who also accompanied Rafaqat Ali Khan, played a kinetic solo set that carried a 4/4 rhythm through variants from the Middle East, Europe, New York City and (joined by two more drummers) Africa. There was also instrumental music from the bansuri (wooden flute) player Ghaus Box Brohi.

On the modernizing side, Zeb and Haniya, two Pakistani women who started their duo as college students at Mount Holyoke and Smith, performed gentler songs in the Dari tradition, a Pakistani style with Central Asian roots, with Haniya adding syncopated electric guitar behind Zeb’s smoky voice. Under wooden flute and classical-style vocals the Mekaal Hasan Band plugged in with reggae, folk-rock and a tricky jazz-rock riff. But the lyrics quoted devotional poetry that was 900 years old, distant from the turmoil of the present.

Crossposted from New York times

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Saeen Zahoor

Can’t remember where I’ve heard it, but I always carry it around – this idea that the body is the soul. The body is all you have. It is the body that creates, the body that feels, the body that runs away, the body that gives up. You cannot lose more than a body. The body is ultimate.

This idea is reinforced every time I listen to good music. Being musically illiterate, (well, almost), I respond physically to most singing. In fact, my tastes can be summed up in one line: either the music should move me, or it should make me move. If it does neither, it’s not my sort of thing. But if it does, if it moves me, I feel it like food, like fabric, like flowers. Like, my gut responds to Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan. Like, my mouth responds to the peppy fifties filmy songs. Like, my chest responds to Begum Akhtar and Farida Khanum.

Sain Zahoor… I think the back of my head and eyes have decided that he bears a little of that magic. This man, whom the world is comparing to Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, this man who sings Sufiana kalam, they say, like the sufis did; this man was singing on the last day of the (awfully named) Hungry Hearts theatre festival. And I was listening. At first, with my eyes wide open. For he walked onto the stage carrying an ektara festooned with bright strings of multicoloured…. what is the word? They are like bunches of colourful parandas that village girls wear in their braids. Like the strings that auto-rickshaws in small towns will hang from their rear-view mirrors. Rarely have these strings acquired such brazen dignity as they did on that ektara.

We’d waited long enough for his performance, but the wait itself had been worthwhile. The first part of the evening, in fact, was absolutely enthralling. Sabir Sain and Abdur Ghafur Sain were on the dhol, in a jugalbandi with Warsi Ballu on the tabla. All I can say about it was that the drumming pulsed in my blood and despite the freezing air-conditioning, I felt warm. If I’d been in an open space instead of being confined to a seat in a packed auditorium, I’d have gotten up to whirl.

[The singer that followed this piece, Mohammad Hanif Multani was, well, alright. I suppose. He was followed by Inayat Ali Beli, who was fun. The energy was tremendous, and the audience was happily clapping along.]

And then, finally, Sain Zahoor walked onto the stage. With strings of ghungroos wrapped round both ankles, carrying his ektara in both arms, like you carry a sleeping child. Dressed in a shimmering, tinselled, red shalwaar-kameez, and a black turban, and quiet confidence. And he began to sing. And my eyes closed, my neck threw itself against the back of the seat; in minutes, I was filled with questions. About purity, about purpose. What is the purpose of this man here, his voice? What is the purpose of colour? Of sound? Of beauty? Of language itself? What are these words he is singing?

Bulleh Shah.. singing of dancing to please the beloved, and losing his caste, because a dancing girl has no caste. Bulle Shah… singing of black – his black beloved, the black letters of the Quran, and who wants the fair ones?

My heart is sold to words, and I only understand Punjabi in bits and snatches. Bulle Shah makes me work very hard. But Zahoor is making is easier – the words reach me, and even if they didn’t, they wouldn’t need to. His voice is translating them for me into a language that doesn’t beg understanding.

The accompanists weren’t helping. The harmonium was almost drowning out the ektara, the tabla and flute were irritants. I wanted them to stop, and when a stranger’s voice yelled out, between songs – ‘Sirf ektara!’ – it became obvious that that many others did, too.

This is a voice that does not need, and perhaps, does not even brook, any company. It is a voice you want to be alone with. Perhaps, it is not even a voice meant for auditorium and stage. It is a voice that calls to you as if from over a distance, and stops you, inside your head. It is the voice of a wandering singer. The voice of a sain.

Between verses, with a ‘ha!’, or is it a ‘haq!’, the voice snaps its fingers at you. That single syllable, that half-word is like a tap on the knee, and then he stamps his feet and begins to dance in circles, ghungroos filling the room.

And then, Zahoor is singing… Allah Hu…. Hu…. Hu….

And I’m wondering – what is the significance of this? All the sufi singers sing it so – ‘Allah Hu…’ In your prayers, you are supposed to say ‘allah hu akbar’. God is great. But they stop at ‘allah hu.’. God is. And sometimes, only ‘Hu…’ Just the verb. Is. What is this ‘is’? Is it an assertion of being, of existing, and thereby, of everything else?

Each time my mind wandered, with each drawn out, gently warbling ‘hu…’, Zahoor’s voice would drag me back. Like, being tugged at with muslin threads. Like, being woven in and out of a pattern. Of the here, and now. And forever.

Is he like Nusrat sahab? I don’t know. Not really. The great qawwal’s voice had something dry and crackling in it. I never heard him in concert, but even over the stifling distance of a CD or tape, even then, his voice would touch me like a fist. Zahoor is different. Like, something firm and baked.

And finally, when the accompanists are persuaded to stop, finally, after Zahoor has touched his fingers to his eyes and extended his hands to his listeners, and bowed, he is persuaded to sing one last song. There is his voice and his fingers on the ektara, and you can only draw in your breath once, deeply, and exhale.

It is a voice that calls out to you. Like a hand beckoning in a dream.

– Annie Zaidi

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The majestic Abida Parveen weaving magic with her voice and the words of Khawaja Ghulam Fareed.

Menda Ishq vi tu – Abida Parveen – download the song

Abida- arveen

The heart-piercing Pathanay Khan also sings the same kalam:

Menda Ishq vi tu – Pathanay Khan – download the song

Pathanay Khan

The piece sung by Abida Parveen is irregular. She has masterly knitted together various verses from different kalaams of Ghulam Fareed into one song. I am writing lyrics of the original few lines, detailed work on it would follow.

Every song that I share on my blog here is not a mere song. Please try to get mesmerized with Baba Ghulam Fareed’s love.  Through his words, Ghulam Fareed is trying to express his love for his beloved, Hazur Muhammad (PBHU)

Sufi Poetry would not be the same after reading Khawaja Ghulam Fareed. Sufi music wont be the same after listening to the songs above.

Menda ishq wi tu meda yaar wi tu
My love as well as my beloved is you
Menda deen wi tu eeman wi tu
My religion as well as my faith is you
Menda jism wi tu meda rooh wi tu
My body as well as my soul is you
Menda kalb wi tu jind jaan wi tu
My heart as well as my heartbeat is you.
Menda kaba kibla masjad te member
My ka’ba (in Mecca), Qiblah (direction of ka’ba), mosque, pulpit…
mus’haff te quraan we tu
Copy of the Qur’an as well as the Qur’an itself is you.
Menday farz fareezay haj zakatan
My religious duties and obligations, hajj (pilgrimages), Zakaat (charities)…
saum salatan azaan wi tu
Fasting, Salaat (Prayer), as well as the Azaan (the call to prayer) is you.
Mendi zuhid ibadat
My humble ibadat (worship)…
tooq taqwa
My fear and God-consciousness…
ilm vee tu irfan vee tu
Knowledge as well as intelligence is you.
Menda zikr vee tu
My remembrance is also you.
Menda fikr vee tu
My concern/worry is also you.
Menda tooq vee tu
My fear is you…
wajdan vee tu
Inner consciousness is also you.
Menda sanwal methra sham saloona
My sweet beloved… [sorry can’t translate literally]
mun mohan janan vee tu
desire and life is you. [sorry can’t translate literally
Menda murshad hadi peer treeqat
My spiritual guide, spiritual teacher…
shiekh haqiat jaan vee tu
sheikh of guiding me to know the truth is also you.
Menda aas umeed tay khatya wataya
My wish, hope and [can’t translate]
takya maan kalam vee tu
[can’t translate] My takya and kalam is also you ?
Menda bharm vee tu
My belief is also you.
Menda dharm vee tu
My religion is you.
Menda sharm vee tu
My shyness/decency is also you.
Menda shaan vee tu
My grandeur/glory is also you.
Menda dukh sukh roowan
My worries and relief, cries…
dard vee tu darmaan vee tu
pain as well as the cure is you,
Mendi khushian da asbaab vee tu
My source of happiness is also you.
Menda bakht vee tu
My good fortune is also you.
naam vee tu nishaan vee tu
My name as well as fame is you.
Menda husn tey bhag suhaag vee tu
My beauty, garden and wedding is also you!

Menda ishq wi tu meda yaar wi tu
My love as well as my beloved is you.

Like always, cant help writing another verse of Khawaja Ghulam Fareed:

Uth Farida sutiya tu duniya dekhan ja,

Je koi mil jaye bakshaya tan tu wi balshaya ja

 

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