I said, because of my longing for you, I’m nuts!
Do I see your chains of curls in my sleep, or not?
He replied, shut up! Why spin a yarn about this:
Crazy and asleep? What phooey, O one well taught!
Notes: Like the chains that restrain the insane, chains
of curls restrain the crazed lover. But as a rule, the crazy
are insomniacs!
گفتم که ز عشقت شدهم دیوانه
زنجیر ترا بخواب بینم یا نه
گفتا که خمش چند ازین افسانه
دیوانه و خواب خه خه ای فرزانه
Mother Kali is beautiful and ferocious beyond belief;
Approach her as a lover, and you will know soon enough!
Kali is not a mother who preserves the status quo:
She loves to destroy all that impedes her creative flow.
Kali is consciousness passionate to reveal herself-
She will rip limb from body to uncover her pure self.
She stands on her consort Shiva whose body appears dead:
He breathes and lives through her blood-dripping, smiling head!
She is Shakti, and delights to display her holy prowess;
Her thirst for life is infinite and her courage boundless.
Kali is the dance of Spirit through form with fiery love:
She is the ecstatic dance of bliss as all veils are removed.
Darvish loves his wild mother for her perfect devotion;
She never rests from rescuing her lost, desperate son.
This fire of longing cooks me,
To the bar each night drags me;
With winos gives me a seat-
And where only drunks know me!
This quatrain is about the kharabat-
a place of ruin where love for God is
served.
این آتش عشق میپزاند مارا
هرشب بخرابات کشاند مارا
با اهل خرابت نشاند مارا
تا غیر خرابت نداند مارا
You left, and since you left, I weep tears of blood,
And heaving anguish turns my cries into a flood.
No! When you left, my very eyes followed you
And because now are lost, how am I to even sob?
رفتی و ز رفتنی تو من خون گریم
وز غصه افزون تو افزون گریم
نی خود چو تو رفتی پی تو دیده برفت
چون دیده برفت بعد ازان چون گریم
The dawn breeze kicks up the dust in lover’s lane;
My gritty speech praises the Rend’s lonely pain.
I reach for the bottle rolling across the floor-
My arm can reach so far, and then no more.
Where is the Friend with long black curly hair,
To fill my glass with glances that end all despair?
The Sun of mercy has left us sobbing for his face-
His shadow blinds with blackness in lieu of grace.
We can’t see you with stone eyes sunken in sockets;
The days bless with pity, and infinite regrets.
What light we have escapes from a broken heart,
That guides us to believe in our hopeless art.
Darvish’s song bites with grit but still inspires:
One day, he will see by the light of love’s desire.
We swear by the earth that supports us,
And by the dust that crowns us at last.
By the breath that infuses us with life,
And inspires with frank and honest strife.
By the fire that gives body and mind light,
And cooks our food and comforts at night.
By the water that makes all life vibrant,
And our land fruitful, happy and verdant.
We swear by the womb, the portal of birth,
And by the love that celebrates death.
We lift our hands in praise of your presence,
And proudly laugh at time’s senescence.
Darvish finds in nature your real mercy:
All that passes reveals your true glory!
1. Promulgator of the “Kalchuri Dynasty” fantasy on the holiest day of the Baba calendar, Amartithi- 31st January, on Meherabad Hill, babbling to an audience of tens of thousands priceless self-serving trash about imaginary self-importance.
2. Serial lying about the state of Trust finances- the Trust has many millions of dollars invested in interest bearing accounts, alleging that the Trust can not even pay its own employees, and promoting the fantastic proposition that donors to the Trust will be saved from the coming destruction of the world.
3. Repeated abusive fundraising efforts that shame donors into giving to the Trust, ie having a hapless sidekick dress up as a sadhu with begging bowl asking pilgrims to the Samadhi for rupees. (I am not joking!)
4. Interminable boring motormouth. Bhau has boasted of addressing a standing audience in Andhra, in the rain, for eight hours- as his “personal best”.
5. Has incorrectly predicted his death, not once- but twice, to coincide with his “abandonment” on March 15, when the pilgrim season (to Avatar Meher Baba’s Samadhi) comes to an end. Suffers generally from an abandonment complex, as when he was admitted into Mariposa hospital for medical tests but, when his coterie of “Mothers” was not allowed to be present, complained of his “crucifixion”.
6. President of the Jai Ho Club, a parallel universe of weird Baba lovers who exhibit sycophantic behavior, like dressing up for media events showcasing Bhau in sartorial bliss, babble Jai Ho, wear three rings representing the Hindu Trinity which Bhau taps while intoning their names (Brahma, Vishnu, Mahesh), and who regard him as an exalted being. (Evidently, the more demented Bhau gets, the more cute he gets and the more delighted his Hoes get. And the more bedeviled the Trustees get!)
7. Deleted, 7/10/2017, for insufficient evidence. A ton of innuendo is not enough. My apologies to MK and family.
8. Lying, over years, presumably to get attention (hey Bhau, what else is new?), about Meher Baba having broken his Silence of 44 years, to recently admit in the lamest possible terms, that he didn’t really mean it.
9. The most singular instance of a rogue Mandali in the advent of Avatar Meher Baba.
10. The pen has broken, and the paper burst into fire.
The ocean way is a trackless path with no shore,
an infinite horizon where the mind is insecure.
All the desperate search for stable identity
vomits with longing for permanent solidity.
Such immensity of rolling water and salty air
gives rise to rich and redolent green despair.
There is no remedy but to die. Long to die
to every thought, desire and nauseating lie!
Love is all dying to precious posturing before
the pitiless sky, and the ocean’s angry roar.
Our only Friend is to trust in our oblivion;
by grace, the mind will drown in pure elation.
Darvish retches with style as proved by his verse:
no one else writes ghazals so dark- and humorous!
On that day you passed by this house of drunks
And fluttered such amorous sideways looks,
Those who used to turn the world upside-down
You stood on their heads- like ordinary jerks!
روزی بخرابات گذر میکردی
کژ کژ بکرمشه نظر میکردی
آنها که جهان زیر و زبر میکردند
چون کار جهان زیر و زبر میکردی
In the beginning, God was sleeping and heaved a sigh
That breathed me into being with the gasp of my first cry:
I am born as gas! And thus began my cosmic journey-
To suffer all form in time, and from all form in time be free.
Gas is nothing but space, and without boundary;
To establish identity, however, this is a quandary.
I fell in love with dull rock and all its many edges;
I hugged myself intensely down through the ages.
At last, my self-regard wore away to reveal some light;
I became shiny metal- don’t think this advance was slight!
After millions of years, and I had become pure gold,
I longed to reach for the Sun as a puddle of mold.
This was more than brilliant, you see, because as vegetable,
I could breathe and twitch a bit, and become more colorful.
After eons as all kinds of plants, I still longed to move.
As a worm inching about, I found, I had lots to prove.
In short, my life as a reptile was rather cold and snaky:
I never had the slightest regard for my dinner’s plea!
But when I became a fish, I learned how to swim,
Although the deep dark depths of ocean got pretty dim.
At last, after I had become an acrobatic dolphin,
I yearned to get my wings, and began to start flying.
Ages after ages flew by as this and that kind of bird:
I got really tired of basically the same aerial mood.
Then, I began to grunt and discovered animal bliss;
I soon fell in love with my sharp, ferocious kiss.
Ages crawled, then clambered, pranced and raced by;
At last I was a chimpanzee, gesticulating with my cries.
Don’t laugh- I was about to master the syllable:
After many millions of years, I would start to babble!
O happy day, when I first found out about human speech-
I could draw upon all I had learned, and begin to teach.
Darvish, shut your mouth- you’re not quite believable.
Please fall at the feet of the dear Master, most lovable!
© 2010-2026 darvish khan writes All Rights Reserved -- Copyright notice by BLOGFORM
