Charkhah naulakha

Yaar, what is happening to me?
I yearn to be much closer, yet fear to become caged, staged,
Like just another bird of beauty tried, tied like a rakhi around one’s wrist;
For it’s in his absence that my longing grows -I become more fond of him each day.

I roamed the earth and soared the skies in search of You, of him, yaar,
Trying to trace what I faced upon my arrival, imbued as I am, the yarn
Of my pattern dyed a trillion colours red, green and blue like hues of prayer,
Layers spun by fingers sorrow sore, bleeding songs that rung throughout the ages

Ni mera eh charkhah naulakha, kure, ni mera eh charkhah naulakha…
And as eons passed, nothing lasts; it merely changed its form…

Yaar, my pride’s storm troopers fought to kept me caught, in chains, for years;
But I broke free, dismantled my aya from maya, to find You already waiting, at last!
Where and how have you been, sweet Beloved?
For here I am, like crazy, crying, smiling, dancing in the rain!

Yes, like attracts like, yaar, comes alive and dies in a never ending cycle,
Like the movements of the planets that come and go each time-
The infinite eight no weight upon our hearts, but a blessing in our veins,
Since Majesty reigns in his musical brilliance and -oh!- grace his lyrical flow…

I know that I love him for the beauty of his being, yaar; for the light of his soul-
His all enrapt by the divine, rather than fortune, rather than fame-
It’s about what resides within us now, and, when none of that remains,
Vows to refrain from entertaining worldly strings attached…

No need to marry me off, yaar, since for whatsoever reason
This love is bound by trust, foremost; a must for mast
I sense and see my wings unfold around him, nurturing his growth
As much as shielding mine, aligned in Truth – wah, the seeds of what we’ll sow!

So many beads have slipped yet through my fingers, yaar!
But I’m surrendering within, as change is taking over: I know I’ll never be the same
For by God, I’ll follow him, I’ll fly, convinced of where You’ll lead me;
I’ve stepped up to next level, to pass (and past) the knot, untied.

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