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Dil ki lagi kuch aur bhi by Nazia Hasan

by Vikram
written by Vikram
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TUIn20u3QGI

Dil Ki Lagi
Kuch Aur Bhi
Dil Ko Deewana Karay

Meri Iltija Hai
Khuda Say Dua Hai
Do Dil Juda Na Karay

Dil Ki Lagi
Kuch Aur Bhi
Dil Ko Deewana Karay

Deewanay Chup Kesay Rahain
Aao Dunya Say Yeh Kahain
Jissay Humsay Milna
Gawaara Nahin Hai
Hum Say Mila Na Karay

Dil Ki Lagi
Kuch Aur Bhi
Dil Ko Deewana Karay

Lay Kay Baahain Baahon Mein Hum
Likhtay Jayen Raahon Mein Hum
Woh Dil Hi Nahin Hai
Jo Naam-e-Mohabbat
Naam-e-Wafa Na Karay

Dil Ki Lagi
Kuch Aur Bhi
Dil Ko Deewana Karay

Meri Iltija Hai
Khuda Say Dua Hai
Do Dil Juda Na Karay

Dil Ki Lagi
Kuch Aur Bhi
Dil Ko Deewana Karay

Dil Ki Lagi
Kuch Aur Bhi
Dil Ko Deewana Karay

Dil Ki Lagi
Kuch Aur Bhi
Dil Ko Deewana Karay

….

Thanks to a special friend for this song…

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Mouzu-e-Sukhan by Faiz Ahmead Faiz

by Vikram
written by Vikram

मौज़ू-ए-सुखन

गुल हुई जाती है अफ़सुर्दा सुलगती हुई शाम
धुल के निकलेगी अभी चश्म-ए-माहताब से रात
और मुश्ताक निगाहों की सुनी जाएगी
और उन हाथों से मस होंगे ये तरसे हुए हाथ

उन का आंचल है कि रुखसार कि पैराहन है
कुछ तो है कि जिससे हुई जाती है चिलमन रंगीन
जाने उस ज़ुल्फ़ कि मौहूम घनी छावं में
टिमिटमाता है वो आवेज़ा अभी तक के नही

आज  फिर  हुस्न-ए-दिलारा की वो ही धज होगी
वो ही ख्वाबीदा सी आंखें वो ही काज़ल की लकीर
रंग-ए-रुखसार पे हल्का सा वो गाज़े का गुबार
सन्द्ली हाथों पे धुंधली सी हिना  की तहरीर

अपने अफ्कार के अशआर कि दुनिया है यही
जान-ए-मज़मून है ये शाहिद -ए-माना है यही
अपना मौज़ू-ए-सुखन इन  के सिवा और नही
तब्बा शायर का वतन इन कॆ सिवा और नही

ये खूं की महक है के लबे यार की खुशबू

किस राह की जानिब से सबा आती है देखो
गुलशन मे बहार आई  के ज़िन्दा  हुआ आबाद
किस  संग से नगमों की सदा आती है देखो

– फैज़ अहमद फैज़
Image Source: Wikipedia

Abida’s rendition

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You’ve Got To Be Carefully Taught

by Vikram
written by Vikram

You’ve got to be taught to hate and fear,
You’ve got to be taught from year to year,
It’s got to be drummed in your dear little ear,
You’ve got to be carefully taught.

You’ve got to be taught to be afraid
Of people whose eyes are oddly made,
And people whose skin is a diff’rent shade,
You’ve got to be carefully taught.

You’ve got to be taught before it’s too late,
Before you are six or seven or eight,
To hate all the people your relatives hate,
You’ve got to be carefully taught!

“You’ve Got To Be Carefully Taught,” (Lyrics from South Pacific.)
Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/You%27ve_Got_to_Be_Carefully_Taught

This is so true in our country. We are unfortunately tought to hate from the day we are born. Our mothers would tell us, beta/beti (son/daughter), marry any one but a muslim. Or how we are taught to ignore atrocities on lower casts but asked to stand up for the cast/community/religious honor… We are taught to hate woman by our religion, our customs, our socital bias, our overlooking for domestic voilance and rapes by relatives. All this we are carfuly taught.

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Dawn’s Highway

by Vikram
written by Vikram

Indian, Indian what did you die for? Indian says, nothing at all.

Indians scattered on dawn’s highway bleeding Ghosts crowd the young child’s fragile eggshell mind.

Me and my ?ah? mother and father ? and a grandmother and a grandfather ? were driving through the desert, at dawn, and a truck load of Indian workers had either hit another car, or just ? I don’t know what happened ? but there were Indians scattered all over the highway, bleeding to death.

So the car pulls up and stops. That was the first time I tasted fear. I musta’ been about four ? like a child is like a flower, his head is just floating in the breeze, man. The reaction I get now thinking about it, looking back ? is that the souls of the ghosts of those dead Indians …maybe one or two of ’em…were just running around freaking out, and just leaped into my soul. And they’re still in there.

Indians scattered on dawn’s highway bleeding Ghosts crowd the young child’s fragile eggshell mind.

Blood in the streets in the town of New Haven Blood stains the roofs and the palm trees of Venice Blood in my love in the terrible summer Bloody red sun of Phantastic L.A.

Blood screams her brain as they chop off her fingers Blood will be born in the birth if a nation Blood is the rose of mysterious union Blood on the rise, it’s following me.

Indian, Indian what did you die for? Indian says, nothing at all.

– Jim Morrison (The doors – American Payer)

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