Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Shiv Kumar Batalvi's - Arjoi - The request (Presentation - Desh Ratna)

Arjoi

Tu jo sooraj chori keeta
Mera si.
Tu jis ghar vich nhera keeta,
Mera si.

Ih jo dhup tere ghar hasse, meri hae.
Is de baajhoN meri umar haneri hae.
Is vich mere gham di mehak batheri hae,
Eh dhup kal si meri, aj vi meri hae.

MaeN hi kiran-vihoona is da baabal haaN,
Is de angi meri agan samoi hae,
Is vich mere sooraj di khushboi hae,
Sikhar dupehre jis di chori hoi hae.

Par is chori vich tera kuj vi dosh naheeN,
Sooraj di har yug vich chori hoi hae.
RoNdi roNdi sooraj nu har yug aNdar,
Koi na koi sada dupehri moi hae.

MaeN nir-loa, risham-vichuna araz karaaN,
MaeN ik baap adharmi tere duvaar khaRa,
Aa hatheeN ik sooraj tere sees dharaaN,
Aa aj aapni dhup lai tere paer phaRaaN.

MaeN kalkhaai deh, tu maenu bakhsh daveeN,
DhupaaN saahveN muR na mera naam laveeN.
Je koi kiran kade kujh puCHe, chupp raveeN,
Ja maenu ‘kaala sooraj’ keh ke Taal daveeN.

Eh ik dhup de baabal di arjoi hae,
Meri dhup mere lai aj toN moi hae,
Sane sooraje teri aj toN hoi hae,
Dhup jide ghar hasse, baabal soi hae.

Tu jo sooraj chori keeta,
Tera si.
Mera ghar ta janam-divas toN
Nhera si.
The Request

The sun that you stole
Was mine.
The house that you threw into darkness,
Was mine.

The sunshine that smiles in your home, is mine.
My life is bleak without it,
The odor of my grief is heavy on it,
It was mine yesterday and is mine today.

It is I, bereft of light, who am its father.
It is my fire that is embedded in its limbs.
The smell of my sun is in it,
The sun that was stolen from me in broad daylight.

But you cannot be blamed for this theft.
The sun has been stolen in every era.
An afternoon has always died,
Weeping for the sun.

I, lightless, beamless, have a request,
I, a faithless father, stand at your door.
Let me place a sun upon your forehead,
And beg you for my sunlight.

I, who died long ago, beg you to bestow this on me.
Never utter my name again in the sunlight.
If ever some ray asks a question, remain silent,
Or call me a ‘black sun’ and let it go.

This is the request of a father of sunlight.
From this day, on my sunshine is dead to me
Along with the sun it is yours now,
Wherever it smiles, is the home if its father.

The sun that you stole
Was mine.
The house that you threw into darkness,
Was mine.

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