Some qawwalis and folk songs of Amir Khusrau tradition

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Some qawwalis and folk songs of Amir Khusrau tradition

Qawwalis and folk songs, the most popular area of the Khusrau tradition, have kept his name alive amongst the masses for more than seven centuries. The following popular verses, just like the rest of his Hindvi dohas and riddles, have reached us through oral traditions rather than authentic document sources, and there is a strong possibility that some of them may have been composed by much later qawwals and poets who tried to relate to Khusrau's legendary association with Nizamuddin Aulia.

Today you may find differences in words, or sequence of couplets, and even addition of new couplets in their performance or documentation in two different places. This page contains mostly Urdu / Hindi qawwalis - other Farsi ghazals of Khusrau that are sung as qawwali may be found elsewhere. The following have been collected from various sources including transcriptions from actual Qawwali performances.

Note that the English translations here - a bit literal - are meant only to guide the readers about the contents of these songs. For a better appreciation of the poetry, knowledge of Urdu/Hindi and even Persian will be an advantage.

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Chhap tilak sab cheeni ray mosay naina milaikay
Chhap tilak sab cheeni ray mosay naina milaikay
Prem bhatee ka madhva pilaikay
Matvali kar leeni ray mosay naina milaikay
Gori gori bayyan, hari hari churiyan
Bayyan pakar dhar leeni ray mosay naina milaikay
Bal bal jaaon mein toray rang rajwa
Apni see kar leeni ray mosay naina milaikay
Khusrau Nijaam kay bal bal jayyiye
Mohay Suhaagan keeni ray mosay naina milaikay
Chhap tilak sab cheeni ray mosay naina milaikay

You've taken away my looks, my identity, by just a glance.
By making me drink the wine of love-potion,
You've intoxicated me by just a glance;
My fair, delicate wrists with green bangles in them,
Have been held tightly by you with just a glance.

I give my life to you, Oh my cloth-dyer,

You've dyed me in yourself, by just a glance.
I give my whole life to you Oh, Nijam,
You've made me your bride, by just a glance.

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Man kunto maula,
Fa Ali-un maula
Man kunto maula.
Dara dil-e dara dil-e dar-e daani.
Hum tum tanana nana, nana nana ray
Yalali yalali yala, yalayala ray Man tunko maula......

"Whoever accepts me as a master,
Ali is his master too."
(The above is a hadith - a saying of the Prophet Mohammad (PBH).
Rest of the lines are tarana bols that are generally meaningless
and are used for rhythmic chanting by Sufis.)

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Aaj basant manaalay suhaagun,
Aaj basant manaalay;
Anjan manjan kar piya mori,
Lambay neher lagaaye;
Tu kya sovay neend ki maasi,
So jaagay teray bhaag, suhaagun,
Aaj basant manalay…..;
Oonchi naar kay oonchay chitvan,
Ayso diyo hai banaaye;
Shaah-e Amir tohay dekhan ko,
Nainon say naina milaaye,
Suhaagun, aaj basant manaalay.

Rejoice, my love, rejoice,
Its spring here, rejoice.
Bring out your lotions and toiletries,
And decorate your long hair.
Oh, you’re still enjoying your sleep, wake-up.
Even your destiny has woken up,
Its spring here, rejoice.
You snobbish lady with arrogant looks,
The King Amir is here to see you;
Let your eyes meet his,
Oh my love, rejoice;
Its spring here again.

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Bahut Kathin hai dagar panghat ki,
Kaisay main bhar laaun madhva say matki?
Paniya bharan ko main jo gayi thi,
Daud jhapat mori matki patki.
Bahut kathin hai dagar panghat ki.
Khusrau Nijaam kay bal bal jayyiye
Laaj rakho moray ghoonghat pat ki.
Bahut kathin hai dagar panghat ki.

The road to the Well is much too difficult,
How to get my pot filled?
When I went to fill the water,
In the furor, I broke my pot.
Khusrau has given his whole life to you Oh, Nijam.
Would you please take care of my veil (or self respect),
The road to the well is much too difficult.

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Mohay apnay hi rung mein rung lay,
Tu to saaheb mera Mehboob-e-Ilaahi;
Mohay apnay hi rung mein……
Humri chundariya, piyaa ki pagariya,
Woh to donon basanti rung day;
Tu to saaheb mera …….
Jo kuch mangay rung ki rungaai,
Mora joban girvi rakhlay;
Tu to saaheb mera…….
Aan pari darbaar tehaaray,
Mori laaj saram sab rakh lay;
Tu to saaheb mera Mehboob-e-Ilaahi,
Mohay apnay hi rung mein rung lay.

Dye me in your hue, my love,
You are my man, oh beloved of Almighty;
Dye me in your hue.
My scarf, and the beloved’s turban,
Both need to be dyed in the hue of spring;
Whatever be the price for dyeing, ask for it,
You can have my blossoming youth in mortgage;
Dye me in your hue.
I have come and fallen at your door step,
For you to safeguard my pride, my dignity,
You are my man, Oh beloved of Almighty,
Dye me in your hue.

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Tori soorat kay balihaari, Nijaam
Tori soorat kay balihaari.
Sab sakhiyan mein chundar meri mailee,
Dekh hansain nar naari, Nijaam........
Ab ke bahar chundar meri rang de,
Piya rakh lay laaj hamari, Nijaam......
Sadqa baba Ganj Shakar ka,
Rakh lay laaj hamari, Nijaam........
Qutab, Farid mil aaye barati,
'Khusrau' raajdulaari, Nijaam.......
Kouo saas kouo nanad say jhagday,
Hamko aas tihaari, Nijaam.....
Tori soorat kay balihaari, Nijaam.

Beholding your appearance, Oh Nijaam
I offer myself in sacrifice.
Amongst all the girls, my scarf is the most soiled,
Look, the girls are laughing at me.
This spring, please dye my scarf for me,
Oh Nijaam, protect my honour.
In the name of Ganj-e Shakar (Nizamuddin Aulia's pir),
Protect my honour, Oh beloved Nijaam.
Qutab and Farid have come in the wedding procession,
And Khusrau is the loving bride, Oh Nijaam.
Some have to fight with the mother-in-law,
While some with sisters-in-law,
But I have you for support, Oh Nijaam.

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Main to piya say naina lada aayi ray,
Ghar naari kanwari kahay so karay, Main to piya say naina lada aayi ray.
Sohni suratiya, mohni muratiya, Main to hriday kay peechay samaa aayi ray;
Khusrau Nijaam kay bal bal jayyiye Main to anmol cheli kaha aayi ray,
Ghar naari kanwari kahay so karay, Main to piya say naina lada aayi ray.

Hey, I’ve just had an affair with my darling,
Don’t care what the neighbourhood girls say;
Just had an affair with my darling.
Oh, his beautiful face, charming like an idol,
I’ve just made a place in the bottom of his heart.
I, Khusrau, give my life to Nizamuddin in sacrifice,
I’ve just had him call me his most favourite disciple;
Don’t care what the neighbourhood girls say,
Just had an affair with my darling.

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(This song, in the form of a dialogue between the married daughter in her in-laws’ home and her mother, is sung by girls in North India at the onset of Monsoon rains - usually while swinging on the Jhoolas in a garden.)

Amman meray baba ko bhaijo ri - Ke saavan ayaa
Beti tera baba to boodha ri - Ke saavan ayaa Amman meray bhai ko bhaijo ri - Ke saavan ayaa
Beti tera bhai to baala ri - Ke saavan ayaa Amman meray mamu ko bhaijo ri - Ke saavan ayaa
Beti tera mamu to baanka ri - Ke saavan ayaa

Dear Mom, send my dad across; the rainy season has come.
Oh, dear daughter, how can I?
Your dad's too old; the rainy season has come.
Dear Mom, send my brother across; the rainy season has come.
Oh, dear daughter, how can I?
Your brother's too young; the rainy season has come.


Dear Mom, send my uncle across; the rainy season has come.
Oh, dear daughter, how can I?
Your uncle's too dandy; the rainy season has come.

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aaj rung hai hey maan rung hai ri
Moray mehboob kay ghar rang hai ri
Sajan milaavra, sajan milaavra,
Sajan milaavra moray aangan ko
Aaj rung hai........
Mohay pir paayo Nijamudin aulia
Nijamudin aulia mohay pir payoo
Des bades mein dhoondh phiree hoon
Toraa rung man bhayo ri......,
Jag ujiyaaro, jagat ujiyaaro,
Main to aiso rang aur nahin dekhi ray
Main to jab dekhun moray sung hai,
Aaj rung hai hey maan rung hai ri.

(It is difficult to translate the word rung into English. It is not colour, hue or anything like that. May be something like glow or brilliance or gorgeousness may come close to it. There are many different legends explaining the use of this word in the qawwali. Most of them point to the fact that Amir Khusrau sang these line ecstatically when he came back to his mother after meeting Nizamuddin Aulia for the first time, after a long search for an ideal sufi master – reason why the lines are addressed to the mother.)

What a glow everywhere I see, Oh mother, what a glow;
I’ve found the beloved, yes I found him,
In my courtyard;
I have found my pir Nizamuddin Aulia.
I roamed around the entire world,
looking for an ideal beloved;
And finally this face has enchanted my heart.
The whole world has been opened for me,
Never seen a glow like this before.
Whenever I see now, he is with me,
Oh beloved, please dye me in yourself;
Dye me in the colour of the spring, beloved;
What a glow, Oh, what a glow.

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(The following song - called Babul - is very poignantly sung by women in much of North India when they part with their daughter on her wedding.)

Kaahay ko biyaahi bides, ray, lakhi baabul moray,
Kaahay ko biyaahi bides........
Bhayiyon ko diye babul mehlay do-mehlay,
Hum ko diya pardes, ray, lakhi babul......
Hum to hain babul teray khoontay ki gayyan,
Jid haankay hank jaayen, ray, lakhi babul......
Hum to hain babul teray belay ki kaliyan,
Ghar ghar maangi jaayen, ray lakhi babul......
Hum to hain babul teray pinjray ki chidiyan,
Bhor bhaye ud jaayen, ray, lakhi babul......
Taaqon bhari mainay gudiyan jo chhodeen
Choota sahelin ka saath, ray lakhi babul......
Kothay talay say palakiya jo nikli,
Beeran nay khaayi pachhad, ray, lakhi babul.....
Dolee ka parda uthakar jo dekha,
Aaya piya ka des, ray, lakhi babul moray.
Kaahay ko biyaahi bides, ray, lakhi baabul moray.

Why did you part me from yourself, dear father, why?
You’ve given houses with two stories to my brothers,
And to me, a foreign land? Why dear father, why?
We (daughters) are just cows tied to your peg,
Will move on to where ever you drive us to, dear father.
We are just flower-buds of your garden,
And are asked for, in every household, dear father.
We are just birds from your cage,
Will fly off when its dawn again, dear father.
I’ve left at home, alcoves full of dolls;
And parted from my buddies too, dear father.
When my palanquin passed beneath the terrace,
My brother fainted and fell, dear father.
As I remove the curtain from the palanquin,
I see we’ve reached the beloved’s house, dear father.
Why did you part me from yourself, dear father, why?

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Hajrat khaja sung khailiye dhamal,
Hajrat khaja sung.......
Baais khaja mil bun bun aaye,
Taamay hajrat Rasool saheb-e jamaal
Hajrat khaja sung khailiye.......
Arab yaar tori basant manaayo,
Sadaa rakhiyo laal gulaal.....
Hajrat khaja sung khailiye dhamal.

(Dhamal could be a song or a musical genre that aroused ecstasy amongst the sufis. It was usually performed at special occasions such as Basant.)

Let us play Dhamal with Hazrat Khwaja,
All dresses up, the twenty two saints have come,
So let us play Dhamal;
Give respect to our exalted Hazrat Rasool.
We celebrate spring for you, Oh Arab friend.
(This Arab friend is not meant for the Prophet)
Keep the colourful spirit alive for ever.
Let us play Dhamal with Hazrat Khwaja.

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Sakal bun (or Saghan bhun) phool rahi sarson,
Sakal bun phool rahi.....
Umbva phutay, tesu phulay, koyal bolay daar daar,
Aur gori karat singaar,
Malaniyan gadhwa lay aayin karson,
Sakal bun phool rahi.....
Tarah tarah kay phool lagaaye,
Lay gadhwa haathan mein aaye.
Nijamudin kay darwazay par,
Aawan keh gaye aashaq rung,
Aur beet gaye barson.
Sakal bun phool rahi sarson.

The yellow mustard is blooming in every field,
Mango buds are clicking open, other flowers too;
The koyal chirps from branch to branch,
And the maiden tries her make-up,
The gardener-girls have brought bouquets.
Colourful flowers of all kinds,
In hands everyone’s bringing;
But Aashiq-rung (the lover), who had promised to come
To Nizamuddin’s house in spring,
Hasn’t turned up - its been years.
The yellow mustard is blooming in every field.

(According to one tradition, the above song has been composed by a much later poet called Aashiq Rung - whose name features in the song)

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Mora jobana navelara, bhayo hai gulaal,
Kaisi dhar dini bikas mori maal.
Mora jobana navelara.......
Nijamudin aulia ko koyi samajhaaye,
Jyon jyon manaon, wo to rootha hi jaaye.
Mora jobana navelara......
Chudiyan phod palang pe daaron,
Is cholee ko doon main aag lagaai.
Sooni saij darawan laagay, virah agni mohay dus dus jaaye
Mora jobana navelara.......

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My youth is budding, is full of passion;
How can I spend this time without my beloved?
Would someone please coax Nizamuddin Aulia,
The more I appease him, the more annoyed he gets;
My youth is budding……
Want to break these bangles against the cot,
And throw up my blouse into fire,
The empty bed scares me,
The fire of separation keeps burning me.
Oh, beloved. My youth is budding.

(The above song is also sung as a Khayal composition)

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Har qaum raast raahay, deen-e wa qibla gaahay,
Mun qibla raast kardam, bar samt kajkulaahay.
Sansaar har ko poojay, kul ko jagat sarahay,
Makkay mein koyi dhoondhay, Kaashi ko koi jaaye,
Guyyian main apnay pi kay payyan padun na kaahay.
Har qaum raast raahay, deen-e wa qibla gaahay.....

Every sect has a faith, a direction (Qibla) to which they turn,
I have turned my face towards the crooked cap (of Nizamudin Aulia)
The whole world worships something or the other,
Some look for God in Mecca, while some go to Kashi (Banaras),
So why can’t I, Oh wise people, fall into my beloved’s feet?
Every sect has a faith, a Qibla.

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Chashmay mastay ajabay zulf daraazay ajabay,
Mai parastay ajabay fitna darazay ajabay,
Behray qatlam chu kushad taighe-nihaan sar basajud,
Oo ba-naazay ajabay mun be-neyaazay ajabay,
Turk taazay ajabay sho’bada baazay ajabay;
Kajkulahay ajabay arbada saazay ajabay;
Haq mago kalma-e kufr ast darein ja Khusrau;
Raaz daanay ajabay saaheb-e raaz-e ajabay.

O wondrous ecstatic eyes, o wondrous long locks,
O wondrous wine worshipper, o wondrous mischievous sweetheart.
As he draws the sword, I bow my head in prostration so as to be killed,
O wondrous is his beneficence, o wondrous my submission.
O wondrous amorous teasing, o wondrous beguiling,
O wondrous tilted cap, o wondrous tormentor.
Do not reveal the Truth; in this world blasphemy prevails, Khusrau;
O wondrous source of mystery, o wondrous knower of secrets.