بھر دو جھولی مری Bhar Do Jholi Meri — Fill The Cloth I Am Holding Out

Purnam Allahabadi

1940– 2009

Qawwali

A man is standing at a door holding out the front of his shirt, the way you do when you want somebody to drop something into it. He has already announced that he is not leaving until it is filled. That is the position the poem takes in its first word, and it never once stands up straight.

It is a naat, a poem in praise of the Prophet, and it spends remarkably little time praising. The man who wrote it was Purnam Allahabadi, a boy taken to Pakistan after Partition who went on living in one rented room off Anarkali in Lahore while his songs were being sung everywhere else. Six couplets ahead, nearly all of them reasons why the request should be granted, and not one of those reasons is about him.

01 — bhar do jholi miri ya mohammad laut kar main na jaunga khaali

بھر دو جھولی مری یا محمد لوٹ کر میں نہ جاؤں گا خالی
کچھ نواسوں کا صدقہ عطا ہو در پہ آیا ہوں بن کر سوالی

भर दो झोली मिरी या मोहम्मद लौट कर मैं न जाऊँगा ख़ाली
कुछ नवासों का सदक़ा अता हो दर पे आया हूँ बन कर सवाली

bhar do jholi miri ya mohammad laut kar main na jaunga khaali
kuchh navason ka sadqa ata ho dar pe aaya hoon ban kar savali

Fill the cloth I am holding out, O Muhammad — I will not go back from here empty-handed. Give me something for the sake of your grandsons. I have come to your door as a beggar.

Every word here belongs to begging. The jholi is the fold of cloth held out for alms, the door is somebody else's door, and savali is the one who asks. The claim he makes is not his own, either. Sadqa is charity given on someone else's behalf, so he is asking to be given something for the grandsons' sake rather than for his, which is a way of admitting he has nothing to bring.

جھولی jholi: the fold of a garment held out to receive alms
صدقہ sadqa: charity given for someone's sake, often to avert harm from them
سوالی savali: one who asks; a petitioner, a beggar

02 — haq se paai vo shan-e-karimi marhaba donon aalam ke vali

حق سے پائی وہ شانِ کریمی مرحبا دونوں عالم کے والی
اس کی قسمت کا چمکا ستارہ جس پہ نظرِ کرم تم نے ڈالی

हक़ से पाई वो शान-ए-करीमी मर्हबा दोनों आलम के वाली
उस की क़िस्मत का चमका सितारा जिस पे नज़र-ए-करम तुम ने डाली

haq se paai vo shan-e-karimi marhaba donon aalam ke vali
us ki qismat ka chamka sitara jis pe nazr-e-karam tum ne daali

You received that generosity from God himself — welcome, guardian of both worlds. Whoever you turned a kind glance on, their star began to shine.

The praise is careful about where the generosity comes from: haq se, from God. Nothing is being claimed independently. Then comes the mechanism the whole poem depends on, that a single look changes a person's fortune. Which is why the beggar in the first couplet only needs to be seen, not answered.

شانِ کریمی shan-e-karimi: the quality of open-handed generosity
مرحبا marhaba: welcome; an exclamation of greeting and praise
نظرِ کرم nazr-e-karam: a glance of kindness or favour

03 — zindagi bakhsh di bandagi ko aabru din-e-haq ki bacha li

زندگی بخش دی بندگی کو آبرو دینِ حق کی بچا لی
وہ محمد کا پیارا نواسہ جس نے سجدے میں گردن کٹا لی

ज़िंदगी बख़्श दी बंदगी को आबरू दीन-ए-हक़ की बचा ली
वो मोहम्मद का प्यारा नवासा जिस ने सज्दे में गर्दन कटा ली

zindagi bakhsh di bandagi ko aabru din-e-haq ki bacha li
vo mohammad ka pyara navasa jis ne sajde men gardan kata li

He gave devotion its life back and saved the honour of the true faith — that beloved grandson of Muhammad, who let his neck be cut while he was bowed in prayer.

This is Husain at Karbala. The couplet makes an enormous claim in its first line, that worship itself was revived by what he did, then hands you the evidence in one physical detail: the head bowed to the ground, and the blade. It is the sacrifice the first couplet was leaning on when it said for the sake of your grandsons.

بندگی bandagi: devotion, servitude to God
آبرو aabru: honour, standing
نواسہ navasa: a daughter's son
سجدہ sajda: prostration in prayer, forehead to the ground

04 — hashr men un ko dekhenge jis dam ummati ye kahenge khushi se

حشر میں ان کو دیکھیں گے جس دم امتی یہ کہیں گے خوشی سے
آ رہے ہیں وہ دیکھو محمد جن کے کاندھے پہ کملی ہے کالی

हश्र में उन को देखेंगे जिस दम उम्मती ये कहेंगे ख़ुशी से
आ रहे हैं वो देखो मोहम्मद जिन के काँधे पे कमली है काली

hashr men un ko dekhenge jis dam ummati ye kahenge khushi se
aa rahe hain vo dekho mohammad jin ke kandhe pe kamli hai kaali

On the day of gathering, the moment his community catches sight of him, they will say with joy: look, here he comes — Muhammad, with the black blanket over his shoulder.

The scene is the day of judgement, and the poem picks the plainest possible way to identify him. Not light, not a crown. A kamli, a rough woollen blanket, black. He is known by his poorest possession. And the line is written as overheard speech, people in a crowd pointing him out to each other.

حشر hashr: the day of gathering; the last judgement
امتی ummati: a member of the community that follows a prophet
کملی kamli: a coarse woollen blanket worn over the shoulder

05 — aashiq-e-mustafa ki azaan men allah allah kitna asar tha

عاشقِ مصطفیٰ کی اذاں میں اللہ اللہ کتنا اثر تھا
عرش والے بھی سنتے تھے جس کو کیا اذاں تھی اذانِ بلالی

आशिक़-ए-मुस्तफ़ा की अज़ाँ में अल्लह अल्लाह कितना असर था
अर्श वाले भी सुनते थे जिस को क्या अज़ाँ थी अज़ान-ए-बिलाली

aashiq-e-mustafa ki azaan men allah allah kitna asar tha
arsh vaale bhi sunte the jis ko kya azaan thi azaan-e-bilali

God, what power there was in the call to prayer of the man who loved the Prophet. Even those of the highest heaven listened to it. What a call that was — Bilal's call.

Bilal was Abyssinian, and enslaved before he was freed. He became the first to give the azaan. The couplet says his voice was heard in the highest heaven and only names him at the very end, after the effect has been described. As with the blanket in the couplet before it, the poem keeps finding its evidence in whoever had the least.

اذان azaan: the call to prayer
اثر asar: effect, the mark a thing leaves
عرش arsh: the highest heaven, the divine throne

06 — kaash purnam dayar-e-nabi men jite ji ho bulava kisi din Maqta · signed by the poet

کاش پرنمؔ دیارِ نبی میں جیتے جی ہو بلاوا کسی دن
حالِ غم مصطفیٰ کو سناؤں تھام کر ان کے روضے کی جالی

काश 'पुरनम' दयार-ए-नबी में जीते जी हो बुलावा किसी दिन
हाल-ए-ग़म मुस्तफ़ा को सुनाऊँ थाम कर उन के रौज़े की जाली

kaash purnam dayar-e-nabi men jite ji ho bulava kisi din
haal-e-gham mustafa ko sunaun tham kar un ke rauze ki jaali

If only, Purnam, the call to the Prophet's city came some day while I was still alive — so that I could hold the lattice of his tomb and tell him what my sorrow has been.

The poem ends by getting much smaller. No judgement day, no Karbala. One man, one journey he may not get to make, and one thing he wants to do when he arrives. Jite ji, while still alive, admits the fear that it will not happen in time. And the last image is a pair of hands on a metal screen, which is as close as the wish is allowed to get.

کاش kaash: if only — the word for a wish you do not expect
دیارِ نبی dayar-e-nabi: the country of the Prophet; Madina
روضہ rauza: a tomb, a shrine
جالی jaali: a lattice screen

Reading it whole

The strength of the poem is that the man asking has nothing to offer and says so outright. He puts forward no devotion of his own, no suffering, no merit at all. He asks to be given something on the strength of somebody else, which is what sadqa means: the charity you give for another person's sake. It is begging, with no attempt made to dress it up as anything else.

The somebody else is the Prophet's grandsons, and the third couplet is about Husain at Karbala. It says he gave devotion its life back and saved the honour of the faith, then names what he did in a single image: he let his neck be cut while bowed in prayer. That is the central event of Shia memory, and it is why this poem carries the weight it does in a gathering. A beggar's request is being backed by the sacrifice the tradition keeps returning to.

Then two couplets stop asking and simply look. On the day of gathering the community will recognise him by the rough black blanket over his shoulder. And Bilal, the Abyssinian who was first to call the prayer, a formerly enslaved man whose voice the dwellers of the highest heaven stopped to listen to. Two people who owned nothing, and the poem knows them by the one thing each of them had.

The last couplet drops the crowds and the history entirely and becomes one man's private wish. To be called to Madina while he is still alive, and to hold the lattice of the tomb and say what his grief has been. Kaash means if only, the word you use for the thing that probably will not happen. After five couplets of enormous claims it ends on a very small one, and it is the small one that has lasted.

The Sabri Brothers' recording made it famous, and qawwals still measure themselves against it. Amjad Sabri sang his father's piece until he was shot dead in Karachi in 2016. The poem also became the subject of a public dispute when a version turned up in the 2015 film Bajrangi Bhaijaan with no credit to Purnam or to the Sabris.

Recordings

Sabri Brothers

Ghulam Farid and Maqbool Ahmed Sabri. This is what people mean by the qawwali.
Amjad Sabri

Ghulam Farid's son, singing his father's piece. He was shot dead in Karachi in 2016.

Text and rights

Devanagari text supplied and checked by a reader who knows the language. The Urdu script and the transliteration follow that reading.

Qawwals sing this at far greater length than the text printed here, opening each couplet out with improvisation before moving on.

Authorship is sometimes muddled because the Sabri Brothers' recording is so dominant. The closing couplet settles it: the poet signs himself Purnam.

Purnam Allahabadi died in 2009, so this poem is still in copyright. It is quoted here as the subject of Harf's own criticism: the translation, the reading of each couplet and the essay around them are original work written for this page. If you hold the rights and would like something changed, tell us on Instagram.