Ajj Akhan Waris shah nu... Deepak Salwan

Yesterday, I was a on a long drive and as always, it was Warris Shah's "Heer" keeping me company. And like always, listening to it, mind drifted to my birthplace; Punjab!

A land that has been the forefront of the modern wars, ancient invasions, witnessed one of the worst massacres in its history and one of the largest exodus.So much blood spilled and yet, the most passionate of the love stories born in its soil. Heer-Ranjah, Shiri-Farhad, Sassi-Punnu , Mirza-Sahiba and Sohni-Mahiwal to name a few. The sufi renditions of these stories by sufi poets like Warris Shah, Bulle Shah, Farid take them to a plane which transcends from the romance in the heart to the love for the divine. 

My mind, flooded with the memories of my growing up years and some scenes came alive vividly. A milkman taking big cauldrons of milk on a cycle on a cold winter morning and finally disappearing in the fog. You only hear his fading voice chanting Gurbani and ting-ting of the cycle bell. Winter evenings - yellow mustard fields romancing with the hues of the setting sun; a hustle in the open kitchens of village homes towards preparation of dinner; a prayer in the temple and Gurbani recitation in the village Gurudwara and finally retiring in the cozy quilts listening to the stories. 

I'll leave the summer alone, not very pleasant but loved taking baths in the open tube wells and spending somnolent afternoons under the shades of the trees. 

A land, which is the birth place of Sufism, Vedas and Sikhism. A land of poets, writers, singers and warriors, had its fair share of quagmires. The politics tested the very fabric of the "Punjabiyat" but as intransigent as it is, the soil of Punjab kept returning to its halcyon days. Despite the blood shed in the name of the religion , the inclusiveness of Punjabis is so abstruse for a non-Punjabi when we enlighten them with the facts that foundation stone of the Golden temple was laid by a Muslim, lighting an oil lamp on the Mazaar (Muslim shrine) of a "pir" was a Thursday ritual for many of us, taking a dip in the holy pools of Gurudwaras on every "sangrand"(sankranti) continues to be of great reverence for Sikhs, Hindus and Muslims alike, no temple asks your cast, no Gurudwara door is closed for anyone and 24x7 langars (free kitchens)ensure that no one sleeps hungry. 

Rampant problem of the drugs haunt this beautiful land today and once again, it is in the throes. Seeing the youth detached from the culture, feeling the pain of the villages devoid of their charm, I could only think of these lines by Amrita Pritam…

ਅੱਜ ਆਖਾਂ ਵਾਰਿਸ ਸ਼ਾਹ ਨੂੰ ਕੇ ਤੂੰ ਕਬਰਾਂ ਵਿਚੋਂ ਬੋਲ 

ਤੇ ਅੱਜ ਕਿਤਾਬ ਏ ਇਸ਼ਕ ਦਾ ਕੋਈ ਅਗਲਾ ਵਾਰਕਾ ਫੋਲ 

Ajj Akhan Waris shah nu, ke tu kabran vichon bol,

(Today, I ask Waris Shah, to speak from his grave)

Te Ajj kitaab e ishq da, koi Agla warka phol

(And open next page in the book of love)