The Voice of the heart


The voice of the heart….
The dress of thought…
The Identity of the masses..
The Power of the Classes…
The boundaries of Nations…
The Vehicle of Cultures.

I have been extremely fortunate in my life to have been exposed to a variety of Cultures and languages as a child of defence services…

I have grown up admiring, absorbing and respecting all languages…

I have also come across people propogating the superiority of their own dialects as compared to the dialect of other districts…

I think that is a common trait among humans in general and Indians specially…

I have heard the best of Urdu and Hindi among the classes in the upper circles of Hyderabad…

I have had the greatest pleasure in interacting with general public especially in and around Charminar area or old Hyderabad…

I am truly proud of the unity despite the diversity in my country…

A beautiful poem…

….Pure Hyderabadi Hindi …

Itta kaiku yaad aare tum?
Haula banaake ghumaare tum,
Kitte din hua apney ko mil ke,
Kaiku toh bhi tadpaare tum?

Thoda meri takleef ka khayal karo na,
Kaiko toh bhi tarsaare tum?
Na message karre na fone uthaare,
Baahar milne ka naam tak nahi lere,

Tumaare nakhre dekh ke lagraa,
Hona bolke sataare tum.
Mere ko aur phirao nakko,
Dilko aur jalao nakko,

Khali pili draame karke,
Kya taare zameen pe dikhaare tum?
Itta kaiku yaad aare tum !

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