Harf
Script shown with the Urdu

دیکھا ایک خواب تو Dekha Ek Khwab To — I Saw a Dream, and Then

Javed Akhtar

1945– living

Geet

Somebody had a dream, and the dream rearranged the world. That is the whole situation of the song: one dream was seen, and after it, everything began to rhyme. Flowers bloom as far as the eyes reach, your fragrance moved into my breath, your voice went into the winds. The song is the inventory of a world that has been recoloured by a single dream.

Javed Akhtar wrote it for Yash Chopra's Silsila in 1981, and Kishore Kumar and Lata Mangeshkar sang it over the santoor and flute of Shiv-Hari. Four passages ahead. The last one carries the one shadow in the song, and the shadow is answered in the same passage.

01  — dekha ek khwab toh ye silsile hue

دیکھا ایک خواب تو یہ سلسلے ہوئے
دور تک نگاہوں میں ہیں گل کھلے ہوئے

देखा एक ख्वाब तो ये सिलसिले हुए
दूर तक निगाहों में हैं गुल खिले हुए

dekha ek khwab toh ye silsile hue
door tak nigaahon mein hain gul khile hue

I saw a dream, and then these chains of things began. As far as the eyes reach, flowers stand blooming.

The passage states the song's logic in two lines. The dream is the cause, and silsile, the chains of happenings, are the effect, and the effect is already everywhere: the flowers are not in the fields, they are in the eyes, nigaahon mein. The world has been moved indoors, into the organ that saw the dream.

سلسلہ silsila
a chain of linked things, one after another
نگاہ nigaah
the gaze
گل gul
a flower, a rose

02  — ye gila hai aap ki nigaahon se

یہ گلا ہے آپ کی نگاہوں سے
پھول بھی ہو درمیان تو فاصلے ہوئے

ये गिला है आपकी निगाहों से
फूल भी हो दरमियान तो फ़ासले हुए

ye gila hai aap ki nigaahon se
phool bhi ho darmiyaan toh faasle hue

This complaint is with your glance: even when a flower stands between us, distances happen.

The passage is the song's one grievance, and it is phrased with maximum politeness. Gila, the complaint, is made to the glance itself, not to the person. The image is exact and strange: a flower standing between two people, and the flower, which should bring them together, becomes the measure of the distance. The verse is the song's admission that the dream has not removed everything.

گلہ gila
a complaint, a reproach
درمیان darmiyaan
in between

03  — meri saanson mein basi khushbu teri

میری سانسوں میں بسی خوشبو تیری
یہ تیرے پیار کی ہے جادوگری
تیری آواز ہے ہواؤں میں
پیار کا رنگ ہے فضاؤں میں
دھڑکنوں میں تیرے گیت ہیں ملے ہوئے
کیا کہوں کہ شرم سے ہیں لب سِئے ہوئے

मेरी साँसों में बसी ख़ुशबू तेरी
ये तेरे प्यार की है जादूगरी
तेरी आवाज़ है हवाओं में
प्यार का रंग है फ़िज़ाओं में
धड़कनों में तेरे गीत हैं मिले हुए
क्या कहूँ कि शर्म से हैं लब सिले हुए

meri saanson mein basi khushbu teri
ye tere pyaar ki hai jaadugari
teri aawaaz hai hawaon mein
pyaar ka rang hai fizaaon mein
dhadkanon mein tere geet hain mile hue
kya kahoon ki sharm se hain lab siye hue

Your fragrance has settled in my breath. This is the magic of your love. Your voice is in the winds, the colour of love is in the air. Your songs are woven into my heartbeats. What can I say, that my lips are sewn shut with shyness.

The passage takes the inventory of the senses, and each sense is given one of her. Scent in the breath, voice in the wind, colour in the air, song in the heartbeat. The catalogue is built so that nothing of her is outside him. The last two lines are the passage's turn: what can I say, the lips are sewn. The one thing the beloved is not in the inventory is speech, and the passage ends on that silence, which is where all the senses lead.

جادوگری jaadugari
magic, sorcery
فضا fiza
the air, the atmosphere of a place
لب lab
the lips

04  — mera dil hai teri panaahon mein

میرا دل ہے تیری پناہوں میں
آ چھپا لوں تجھے میں باہوں میں
تیری تصویر ہے نگاہوں میں
دور تک روشنی ہے راہوں میں
کل اگر نہ روشنی کے قافلے ہوئے
پیار کے ہزار دیپ ہیں جلی ہوئے

मेरा दिल है तेरी पनाहों में
आ छुपा लूँ तुझे मैं बाहों में
तेरी तस्वीर है निगाहों में
दूर तक रौशनी है राहों में
कल अगर ना रौशनी के काफ़िले हुए
प्यार के हज़ार दीप हैं जले हुए

mera dil hai teri panaahon mein
aa chhupa loon tujhe main baahon mein
teri tasveer hai nigaahon mein
door tak roshni hai raahon mein
kal agar na roshni ke qaafile hue
pyaar ke hazaar deep hain jale hue

My heart is in your protection. Come, let me hide you in my arms. Your picture is in my eyes, and light runs down the roads as far as they go. And if tomorrow no caravans of light come, a thousand lamps of love are already burning.

The passage is the song's vow, and it is built from the beloved's absence in advance. Panaah, protection, is what the heart asks of her. The hiding in the arms is the one gesture of the whole song. Then the light, roshni, runs down the roads, and the passage imagines its own failure: kal agar na, if tomorrow the caravans do not come. The answer is the song's bravest line: a thousand lamps of love are already lit. The light was never going to arrive; it was burning all along. The dream of the first line has become a lamp.

پناہ panaah
shelter, refuge
قافلہ qaafila
a caravan
دیپ deep
a lamp

Reading it whole

The song is a love song with its back turned to the difficulty. It opens on the dream and stays there, cataloguing everything the dream has touched: the eyes, the scent, the voice, the colour of the air, the songs in the heartbeat. The phrase dekha ek khwab toh, I saw a dream and then, is the hinge the whole song swings on, and the song never swings back.

The only complaint in the song is the gentle one in the second passage: the complaint is with your glance, that even when a flower stands between us, there are distances. It is the song's one admission that the world it is describing has friction in it, and it is folded into the refrain the way everything else is, as one more thing the dream made beautiful.

The third passage is the full sensorium. Her scent lives in his breath. Her voice is in the winds, love's colour in the air, her songs woven into his heartbeat. The last two lines of the passage confess the only failure of speech: the lips are sewn shut with shyness. The inventory of the senses ends where the senses always end, at the word that will not come out.

The last passage is the song's answer to itself. His heart is in her protection, her picture in his eyes, the light of her reaching down the roads. And then the condition: if tomorrow no caravan of light comes, a thousand lamps of love are already burning. The lamps were never something to wait for. Shiv-Hari's arrangement and the film's autumn fields made the song the sound of the season, and it remains one of the most played duets of the Eighties.

Recordings

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Text and rights

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

The song is from the film Silsila (1981), music Shiv-Hari, lyrics Javed Akhtar. The refrain returns between passages in the recording more often than it is printed here.

Javed Akhtar is alive and the song is recent work. It is quoted here as the subject of Harf's own criticism: the translation, the reading of each passage 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.