Traces of the Beloved. Lost Songs of the Silk Road. Persia to India. Vaishnava Jana To Tene Kahiye Je. Raag Khamaj. Beloved is like MK Gandhi’s “Silken bonds of Love.” Flutist, Pandit Hariprasad Chaurasia.

Synagogue, Persia now Iran not.

Synagogue, Persia now Iran.


Lost songs of the silk road are my Traces of the Beloved.

 Lahu dil ka agaya hai, mere aansuon me dhal gaye,  vo nighah tere katil, rahi zindagi badal ke, deere nil, mujhe tumhi  kuch bathado, ye hasin chaand tharon vo kahan chale gaye hain meri zindagi badal ke, ye nighah hai naaz jaana hai ye dil me sal sheesha, kahin thes lag na jaaye zara dekh na sambhal ke. The blood of my heart flows with my tears. Your looks have changed my life. I ask the moon and stars where have you gone after changing it. O, the light of my eyes, my heart is like a mirror, treat it carefully so that it may not splinter.

دل کا آ گیا ہے میرے آنسوؤں میں ڈھل کے
وہ نگاہ تیری قاتل رہی زندگی بدل کے

مجھے تم ہی کچھ بتا دو اے حسین چاند تارو
وہ کہاں چلے گئے ہیں میری زندگی بدل کے

اے نگاہِ ناز جانا ہے یہ دل مثال شیشہ
کہیں ٹھیس لگ نہ جائے زرا دیکھنا سنبھل کے

Vaishanva Jana To Tene Kahiye Je. Music of the flute. I listen to the voice of the pious. A favorite of a law of value. Vaishanva Jana To Tene Kahiye Je.sabarmati ashram

The Song of the Reed By Rumi, Persian Poet of the 15th century.

Song of the Reed. Click on link  to listen in Persian by Fatemeh Keshavarz

Listen to the story told by the reed,
of being separated.

“Since I was cut from the reedbed,
I have made this crying sound.

Anyone apart from someone he loves
understands what I say.

Anyone pulled from a source
longs to go back.

At any gathering I am there,
mingling in the laughing and grieving,

a friend to each, but few
will hear the secrets hidden

within the notes. No ears for that.
Body flowing out of spirit,

spirit up from body: no concealing
that mixing. But it’s not given us

to see the soul. The reed flute
is fire, not wind. Be that empty.”

Hear the love fire tangled
in the reed notes, as bewilderment

melts into wine. The reed is a friend
to all who want the fabric torn

and drawn away. The reed is hurt
and salve combining. Intimacy

and longing for intimacy, one
song. A disastrous surrender

and a fine love, together. The one
who secretly hears this is senseless.

A tongue has one customer, the ear.
A sugarcane flute has such effect

because it was able to make sugar
in the reedbed. The sound it makes

is for everyone. Days full of wanting,
let them go by without worrying

that they do. Stay where you are
inside such a pure, hollow note.

Every thirst gets satisfied except
that of these fish, the mystics,

who swim a vast ocean of grace
still somehow longing for it!

No one lives in that without
being nourished every day.

But if someone doesn’t want to hear
the song of the reed flute,

it’s best to cut conversation
short, say good-bye, and leave.

Pt. Bhimsen Joshi: Raag Miyan Ki Malhar: How to Welcome The Beloved of The Rain Who Is Also Sadarangile, the Eternal Witness.

Synagogue Persia, Iran.

Synagogue Persia, Iran.

 Mumade charangil gariye balama tumme binne mai ke tori badaria eitna suhave mumade charangil, mumade rangile balama, balama rangile, rangile, mumade charangil gariye balama tumme bine mai ke tori badaria eitna suhave mumade charangil, ghumande, ghumande ghanna ghave naina chari lagaye, (lagave)ghanna ghave ri tumme bine mai ghanna ghave ghumande, ghumande ghanna ghaave naina saril lagave tarkave sada rangile ko adaaji chamakate bichate darave mumade charangil..dari e balama, tumme binne mai kya kari badariya, eitna suhave..rangile balama tumme bina mai ka kari badariya eitna suhave, mumade charangil.This garden of delight, Beloved, is nothing without you. The clouds of rain welcomed. They thunder and our eyes are forced to meet because I wander as a cloud. Our meeting was delayed I suffered greatly for You. I pay obeisance because thy power is like lightning and thunder and I get afraid. Without you then how can I as a cloud welcome You?

Constable, rain clouds.

Constable, rain clouds.