“Wahwa Ramz Sajan di hor; Aashiq Bina na Samjhey Kor”
“Very different are the ways of my beloved; only a lover can understand that”
Every night I turn into a Sufi by choice, but in the morning world wants me to be a realist. In the night I read Bulleh Shah,but in the morning I can’t tell people about him, for the simple reason, I will get laughed at. Bulleh Shah, an 18th century Punjabi Sufi poet, though immortal his words, has no relevance today. But did he even have any relevance in his times? I mean it’s not that things have changed much from back then. Even today only a lover can understand the ways of his beloved, rest no one can. Today risking mockery, I am here to take a side, the side of a poet.
I have to take his side for he is alone. I picture it like a boxing match, between matters of the heart and logic of the brain. Representing the Heart on one corner is our Sufi Poet and representing the brain on opposite corner is the whole world and its practicality. World has its punches to throw, whereas the poet has just his words. This battle seems unequal, but when we desperately need to fight, we have to fight with all we got and I just have my poet.
The world starts throwing its punches. The world and its rationality want me to believe-
“Aashiq dohin jahanin mittey, naaz maashooqan de oh kathe,
(Lovers are losers of both the worlds; they are destroyed by their seduction of love)
Aashiq da phadeya koi na chathe, tenoon mil gaya thug lahore”
(Who captured by love cannot seek a release; love is like a conman you just met)
Round 1 and there has been a knock out. The poet has been bruised. World is claiming yet another victory. But it’s not over, for the poet never had any punches to pack, all he was doing was waiting for his opponents to bruise him as bad as they could.My poet just wants me to believe that-
“Aashiq phir de chup chupate, jaise mast sada mudh maatey
(Lovers keep silent; they almost cease to have a form)
Daam Zulf de andar phatey, othe challey wa naa zor”
(Lovers are lost in the beauty of love; no one can control them in this state)
The poet is lying fallen in the ring. The world has been declared the winner, by the world itself. Just between me and the poet, we know he never had a point to prove. He just had his faith, and it shall be forever intact. He just wants me to stand for him, risk a certain defeat and yet be ready to say with a smile “All in”. As his eyes close, with the fatigue of his fight, he makes me promise to not give up.
There may be the rules of the world which are to be followed, but sometimes we just can’t agree to comply, not to prove ourselves a rebel, but just as Bulle Shah says-
“Ab Lagan Lagi ki kariye” (I long for you, now what can be done!!)