دم مست قلندر Dam Mast Qalandar — The Breath Of The Ecstatic Dervish

The breath of the ecstatic qalandar, ecstatic. One chant there is, breath after breath: Ali, Ali. The generous Lal Qalandar, ecstatic. The swinging Lal Qalandar, ecstatic.

The piece declares itself in its first line and spends the rest of its time being it. Mast is the intoxication of the Sufi, and it is doubled and doubled again, mast mast, until the word stops meaning anything and starts meaning the state. The line that matters is the second: the song names itself a vird, the Sufi's repeated breathing of a name, and the name is Ali, the saint's and the tradition's first word.

دم dam

breath

مست mast

intoxicated; the ecstatic state

قلندر qalandar

a wandering dervish who has renounced the world's opinion

ورد vird

the repeated chanting of a name; a practice of remembrance

How many glories God has made. The one without grace, and he earns grace. Whoever comes to your door never goes back empty. One chant there is, breath after breath: Ali, Ali.

The first Punjabi invocation, and it sets the ground of the whole piece. Be-karma te karam kamaye: the ungraced, and he acquires grace. The line is the entire hope of the tradition in six words: the door of the saint is where the unlucky become lucky. The next two lines turn it into a rule of the house. Nobody who comes to your door leaves empty. Khaali jaaye is the only outcome the door refuses.

شان shaan

glory, splendour

کرم karam

grace, favour

در dar

a door; a threshold

Your thresholds are high, master. The darknesses grow distant, master. Your ways are mercy, master. Hear my prayer today, master. One chant there is, breath after breath: Ali, Ali.

Four lines, and every one of them ends with the same word, peera, master, so the stanza is built like steps leading up to the address itself. The thresholds are high, and the dark is pushed back by them. Then the request at last: hear my prayer. Ardaas is the word for petition in the Sufi and Sikh tradition alike, the formal raising of the hands, and the whole stanza has been clearing a space for that one word.

پیر peer

a spiritual master; a saint

ارداس ardaas

a formal prayer of petition

Grant me the glance of your grace, my lord. Let me run to you, bound like a bracelet's links. Let me not stray anywhere by mistake. What I have promised, let me keep. One chant there is, breath after breath: Ali, Ali.

The most personal of the invocations, and the word that carries it is laiyan, the knots, the ties. He asks to run to the saint bound like beriyan, the links of a chain that is also an ornament, and then he asks the hardest thing: let me keep the promises. Tod nibhaavi is to honour what one has tied. The stanza is a vow asking the saint to witness it, and the refrain then takes the vow and repeats it until it is worn smooth.

نظر nazar

a glance; the eye of a master

سئیں saiyaan

lord, master; the beloved

لائی laai

a knot, a tie, a promise

Where will my eyes go, wanderer, but to you, Ali, Ali, Ali. They will take their hearts to the beloved. Today and tomorrow, everyone will say Ali, Ali.

The closing call, sung out over the crowd. Malanga is the word for the wandering mendicant, and the question is answered by its own grammar: the wanderer's eyes have only one direction left. The line that follows hands the whole gathering its role, sajeya pe man lain ge, and the last line is the qawwali's claim about itself: today and tomorrow everyone will say the name. The piece ends by predicting the next time it will be sung.

ملنگا malanga

a wandering mendicant

سجیہ sajeya

the beloved, the one adorned