I was an English girl, living in the colonies
And was trying to find some suitors,
Men who were brave, and kind, and loyal, whose hearts I could enter,
And make myself a home,
Then I shall let him have my hand, my body and my soul.
As a ball was going on,
Figures dancing gracefully across the marbled floors,
Chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, in the shape of flowers and diamonds,
Shining bright in the lights of candles, filling the room with warm rays like the sun,
I was dancing across the floor, going from man to man,
To find the one my heart desires.
But then a distaster struck, a fire started
Candles from the chandeliers spread their flames, jumping from wall to wall,
Setting ablaze the room in it’s entierty.
All the ladies and all the gents were running away to the door, fleeing for their life,
Nobody looking if there was anyone behind,
I tried to run to the doors too,
But part of the columns broke, and the chandelier fell, blocking my way to escape safely.
I cried and plead to the fleeing people, but none of them listened,
Too wrapped around in their panic, to scared to do anything.
As I was making peace with myself, getting ready to die,
A new hope arose through the smoke, a handsome man that ran to me, to try and save me.
He managed to get to me, but as he jumped over the broken shards,
The columns crumbled and the stone almost killed us,
But nonetheless we were together.
I looked at him and he looked at me, and suddenly the world stopped,
The fire around us wrapped itself into a fabric of pure magic,
And suddenly I wasn’t me, and he wasn’t he,
I was in a land, so warm and welcoming,
I heard a language so strange, yet so familiar,
I saw colors and flowers and birds that I never saw in my life, yet I felt like I have seen them all my life.
Flashes of this reality flew around me, looking into his eyes, so deep and hidden, so full of sorrow and devotion…love.
A crack of fire broke these flashes, and instinctively we took our hands, trying again to flee from certain death,
But in vain we ran through, the building collapsing on itself, Fueling the fire and it’s destructive power.
As our last breaths were taken by the bright red flames, I managed to tell him
Meri jaan, tumko paya hai toh jaise khoya hoon.
I didn’t knew what I said or how I said it, but deep within my heart I knew,
That he was the man who will have my heart, and I was the woman who will have his heart,
Even if we were complete strangers.
Then I was a Spanish teenager, meeting the love of my life, my first everything,
I loved him and he loved me, and we shared a life full of dolores and alegrías,
Going through everything together, as a team, as one alma.
We met at the gardens, of the palace I worked for, me a simple cook, he a simple gardner,
Our story beautifully entertwined, by the flavoured food and the mix of roses, their smell always creating what we called home.
But life has been cruel, life has been unfair,
Since I was to marry another man,
My padre arranged my marriage, out of convienience, for money and for status,
Something I do not want, something I do not care.
Life went on, and he got left behind, mi destino so heartless,
That it torn my heart apart, every move and every breath,
Living in pain years and years.
Soon I found out he got married,
So I assumed he went on with his life, like I did,
Forgetting my love and my cooking, but the truth is,
I never forgot the smell of rosas, the simple touches,
And the beautiful words he whispered to me,
When la luna was up on the dark, blue sky.
As life went on, I grew older, my husband died in las revoluciones during the 1820s
And I had always thought my love died in them too,
Until he sent me a letter.
He was asking for me to meet him again,
So I did, bringing with me one of his favourite dishes,
One of the only things that would bring me comfort,
In the lonely noches of pain.
As I arrived to see him in the hospital bed,
He got up and hugged me, the smell of rosas filling the room.
As we looked at eachother, a million words were spoken,
Hidden feelings, untold love and regret of wasting such precious time,
Filled us both,
Two lovers torn by life itself, a cruel destiny,
Which we had to bear.
Memories of our young days filled my mind,
Làgrimas rolling down my cheeks,
As I find myself in his embrace again,
Falling in love once more.
As I looked more deeply into his eyes and tried to remember,
How were we before life took everything from us,
In my head appeared images,
Flashbacks of places I never visited before,
The air was warm like the Spanish one, but the smell was different,
It was full of spices and scents of beautiful flowers that looked like the Garden of Eden,
I was wearing some kind of cloth,
Long, yet cool,
Heavy, yet soft,
And with each step I took,
The sounds of little bells would follow me.
I was running in a field of mustard, yellow flowers of beauty I have rarely seen,
And behind me was running mi amor, mi alma,
But he looked different too, cloth of different colours wrapped him up,
His eyes were contoured with black and his beard was clean and taken care of.
The same sound followed him too, and golden bracelets circled his bare arms.
As I blinked again, my love appeared in front of me,
Laying in bed, with death hovering over him,
Managing to say one last thing,
Koi mil gaya,
Mera dil gaya.
Then he died in front of me, leaving me as I left him all those years ago,
But this time I followed him,
Since my heart could not endure this pain again,
Surrouded by the smell of rosas and spices, the scent of mi casa.
I was an Arabian girl, grewing up in the 50′,
Life had more to offer than what we knew until those days,
And people were much more open to certain things.
I grew up, from the lost in books girl,
And was ready to enter society through our tradition, arranged marriage,
But my qalb dictated otherwise,
A certain boy stole it and didn’t want to give it back,
Until he got to marry me.
I was staying on the bank of a lake,
Reading something that catched my eyes,
Then he walked in front of me, and tripped over my bag,
Making this our first ever talk, in which he decided
To stay with me and talk to me.
He wanted me to marry him,
I blushed, my cheeks turning red.
I told him he will have to be brave, since my father is so rough,
But he managed to woe him and my mom since the first meetings.
Everything was going well, they talked and joked,
Laughter often filling the air, with the warm fire brewing inside our house.
He is my haya, he is my heart, I love him so much,
That it feels to good to be true.
The wedding preparations started,
Both of us excited to get married and to let the world
Witness the greatness of our habun.
When my father asked for money, in exchange for me,
Habibi told him that he did not have as much money as he asked for,
Making my father sad and dissapointed,
By the fact that he spent so much with the wedding,
And for my existance as a whole.
He told my lover that he can forget about my hand,
As he will never agree with our wedding,
My love begged my father, but to no avail
And so I was destined to marry a man 20 years older than me, because he had money.
I was heartbroken, I was in pieces,
I felt like my world crumbled in front of me,
Sweet bliss turning into darkness,
That drowned me with each breath,
And my tears fell infinitely,
As I cried for the lover I lost, due to something so cursed, money.
Only alnujum know, how much I suffered
How many prayers I sent to Allah,
To make my father change his mind and bless us for our wedding.
In my last night as a maiden, he paid me a visit,
The one my heart yearns for, the one I cried so many nights,
He told me to run with him,
To go in the world, anywhere I want,
I looked him in the eyes, and I could see the dreams in his eyes,
But we are tied by the traditions of these grounds.
As I was about to warn him of walidi, he catched us,
And his entire being was controlled by rage.
He took my lover, my heart, my soul,
And beheaded him right in front of me,
My screams filling the room, house and the entire neighbourhood.
He yelled and slapped me,
The blood of my other half, imprinted now on my face,
Made me vow to Allah, that I will run with my habibi
Through the oasis and the dunes of sands in the warm Arabian mornings.
My father sent me to my room and locked the door,
But he didn’t knew how determined I was,
To be reunited with my love,
So out the window I jumped, dressed in my wedding attire,
Looking at the place where food will be cooked,
Once the celebration starts.
I dropped some oil on the coals, and lit a match,
Starting a fire in the big pot, and spreading it with a piece of cloth from my own dress.
As I was looking at the fire that was consuming the wedding venue,
I looked in the flames,
And glimpses of another life appeared in front of me,
Where my lover chased me in a field of yellow mustard,
Both of us wearing kohl,
Both of us wearing little bells on our feet,
Both of us being happy in the moment.
I was covered in gold,
Head covered with a shaal,
Hands drawn with some kind of paint,
And our feet were also the color of the designs
That were so beautifully shown on our palms.
Then we were dancing to some kind of audience,
Our hands moving as one,
Our expressions telling people everything we couldn’t vocalise,
Our feet moving with the speed of rain,
Our bodies spinning with the precision of a vulture.
Then these glimpses faded in an instant,
As the voice of my father ripped through the quiet air of the night,
Asking me what I did.
I told him that no one will have me,
Because my qalb is my lover’s and my body is his’,
And since he died, I shall reunite with him,
To be able to build the home we couldn’t build in this life.
My father tried to stop me, but I jumped into the flames,
Whispering to myself,
Tujhe dekha toh yeh jaana sanam,
Pyar hota hai deewana sanam,
My heart being content, my mind being at peace,
Finally able to reunite with the one I love,
2 lovers separated by the traditions of their land,
2 hearts ripped apart because of old beliefs.
Finally I am an Indian girl, living the life in the 90′,
Spending time with my didi and my parents,
Living the life at it’s fullest.
Then, a wedding proposal came for my sister,
And she was charmed by her suitor, as he was with her,
Both of us being happy and excited to celebrate this binding of hearts.
My jija had a brother,
Who was playful, and kind, and sweet,
But most of all he was deewani,
Playing all sorts of teases on me and all sorts of games with me.
My sister went to her new family,
Soon telling us she was pregnant with my nephew,
A perfect occasion for me to visit her,
And spend some more time with her.
During my stay, her bhabhi confessed his love to me,
In a field of sunflowers,
All of them pointing at us,
Like we were the surya they expected for all their life,
Their heads fallen, into a respectul bow like we were Devas.
That is when I looked at him,
His beautiful blue eyes, like the depths of the Ganga,
Told me the story of our love,
And suddenly, I wasn’t in the field of sunflowers,
I was running in a field of yellow mustard,
Ghughroos filling the air along my laughter,
And behind me was my lover, who looked a little different,
But his face had the same warm smile, the same welcoming eyes,
The same love he had for me now.
Then we were in a court, we were dancing,
Both of us wearing kathak attire,
Me, draped in a lehenga and an odhni on my head,
Him, dressed in an elegant kurta and churidar,
Both wearing kajal,
Both adorned with golden jewlerry,
Both with ghunghroos tied to our feet,
Both with alta on our hands and feet.
We were spinning so graciously, yet so skillfully,
We were moving our hands at the same time, our bodies controlled by the heart,
Which seemed to be one entity, reunited by the powerful moves of the dance.
Mudras filled the spectacle, ghunghroos jingling, the dhols keeping the rhytms of our moves.
Then I was English girl in a ball, which tragically died,
In a fire so fierce that consumed the whole building,
With my lover by her side.
Then I was a Spanish girl, who was separated from her love,
And only in her final moments she could finally relive,
Her long lost love, with my lover, for a short time.
Then I was an Arabian girl,
Who was charmed by my lover and decided to marry her,
Only for her father to rip apart this dream,
Falling prey to the laws of the land,
And ending her life in the fire, commiting jauhar.
When I blinked, my eyes fell upon the one I share a bond,
It’s not pyar, it’s ishq,
Our love holding a tale, of centuries old,
Two lovers who were happy,
And then tried to reunite for over 300 years.
When I looked at him, his ruffled hair, his beautiful eyes, his sweet smile,
He pulled me into a hug, a feeling so familiar, yet so unique,
A feeling so warm, so safe,
A feeling of home.
I asked him „Who am I to you?”
And he responded
„At first, you were my body and my mind,
Then we were strangers who fell in love at first sight in their last moment,
Then we were lovers separated by their choice in life,
Then we were lovers who were separated by their traditions, but managed to find themselves again in death,
Now you are my lover and also my aatma. Let’s get married. Let the shaadi begin!”
Now I am on my way to get married,
The dreams of my past selves finally being fulfilled,
The desires of my heart finally listened,
The roaring thoughts in my mind finally tamed by the closeness of his presence.
When I was near him, I could smell the rosas and spices,
I could see the charming glances he shot at me,
I could feel the endless dedications of love he would chant me,
Only the chandra being our witness.
„Who am I to you?” He asked me when we circled the holy fire,
„Everything my heart was searching for hundreds of years.
You are my zindagi, you are my dil, you are my raja, you are my ishq.”
I answered, as we took our vows, and officially becoming husband and wife, blessed by the sitare and the chandra themselves.