او رنگریز O Rangrez — Oh Dyer of Colours

Oh dyer of colours, in the river of your colour I must drown, becoming only yours. Ah, I must not remain, becoming someone else. Not one breath is to be taken apart. Draw out the life of this body. Ah, I must not remain, becoming someone else.

The passage is the request's largest form, and the request is a drowning. Rang dariya, the river of colour, is the dyeing vat raised to the scale of a river, and the drowning is chosen, doobna hai bas. The condition is the passage's power: ek bhi saans alag nahin leni, not one breath apart, and the drawing out of the life, praan kheench lena, is the drowning's completion. The refrain's second half, dooja ban ke, becoming someone else, is the song's fear, and the fear is what the drowning prevents.

رنگریز rangrez

a dyer of cloth

پران praan

the life-breath

دوجا dooja

second, another, somebody else

Dye me in your own colour. Dye me in a slow slow colour. Dye me in an earthy earthy colour. Keep dyeing, keep dyeing, dye me.

The refrain is the request's pure form, and it is built from the two doubled adverbs. Dheeme dheeme, slow slow, is the speed of the dyeing, and saundhe saundhe, earthy earthy, is its scent: the dye is the earth's own colouring. The imperative's escalation, rang de, rang dena, rang dena, is the refrain's whole motion, the request repeated until it becomes the act, and the song's engine is this one sentence, said until the dyeing is done.

سوندھا saundhe

earthy; the smell of first rain on dry ground

You are the anklet-bells, and I am the foot, my love: do not sift me out. You are the peepal, and I am the shade, my love: that is why I am intoxicated. The dreams settled in my eyes keep waving yours, gleaming, spilling, spilling, light, light as a feather.

The passage is the body's surrender, and the surrender is made in pairs. The ghunghru and the foot, the peepal and the shade: each pair is the beloved and the lover, and the request in each pair is the same, chhaana na, do not sift me out. The last lines are the passage's music, the dreams that wave her colours, jhalake chhalake, gleaming and spilling, and the final adverb, par se halke halke, light as a feather, is the song's one glimpse of the weightlessness the dyeing will bring.

گھنگھرو ghunghroo

the small bells tied at a dancer's ankles

پیپل peepal

the peepal, a wide fig tree grown for its shade

مگن magan

absorbed, lost in something happily

چھلکنا chhalakna

to brim over, to spill

Come into the garland, let me thread you, let me wear you, my love. Come into my lips, let me speak you like a melody, let me repeat you, my love. My love, grind away my ache, dissolve into me, meet me, melt and meet me.

The passage is the request's final form, and it is the dissolving. The beloved is threaded into the mala and worn, spoken as a sar-gam and repeated, and the two verbs, pirro and rat loon, thread and repeat, are the love's two disciplines. The last lines are the passage's end, tees pees de, grind away the ache, and the fourfold dissolving, ghul ja, mil ja, pighal ke mil ja, dissolve, meet, melt and meet, is the dyeing's completion: the colour has entered, and the separate body is being given up.

مالا maala

a garland, a string of beads

پرونا pirona

to thread, to string one thing after another

رٹنا ratna

to repeat something over and over until it is by heart

ٹیس tees

a sharp ache that comes and goes