سائیں وے Saaiyaan Ve — Beloved, Oh

Javed Akhtar

1945– living

Geet

Somebody is telling somebody else how to survive, and the advice fits in one sentence. The traveller's job is to keep walking. The song wraps that sentence in every piece of folk wisdom it can find, the bird and the straw, the drop and the ocean, and sings it to a child.

Javed Akhtar wrote it for Ta Ra Rum Pum in 2007, Vishal and Shekhar composed it, and Vishal Dadlani sang it as the lullaby of a family in trouble. Three passages ahead, and they move from the knot that will not open to the advice that will not run out.

01 — ek banjaara ik taare par kab se gaave

ایک بنجارا اک تارے پر کب سے گاوے
جیون ہے اک ڈور ڈور الجھے ہی جاوے
آسانی سے گرہ کھلتی نہیں ہے
من وہ ہاڑلا ہے جو پھر بھی سلجھاوے
راہی کا تو کام ہے چلتا ہی جاوے
سائیں وے سائیں وے
سن سن سائیں وے

एक बंजारा इक तारे पर कब से गावे
जीवन है इक डोर डोर उलझे ही जावे
आसानी से गिरह खुलती नहीं है
मन वो हाड़िला है जो फिर भी सुलझावे
राही का तो काम है चलता ही जावे
साईयाँ वे साईयाँ वे
सुन सुन साईयाँ वे

ek banjaara ik taare par kab se gaave
jeevan hai ik dor dor uljhe hi jaave
aasaani se girah khulti nahin hai
mann vo haadila hai jo phir bhi suljhaave
raahi ka toh kaam hai chalta hi jaave
saiyaan ve saiyaan ve
sun sun saiyaan ve

A wanderer has been singing to a star since forever. Life is a thread that keeps tangling. The knot does not open easily. Blessed is that brave heart that unties it anyway. The traveller's job is to keep walking. Beloved, oh, beloved, oh. Listen, listen, beloved, oh.

The whole song is in the fifth line, and the four lines before it are the reasons. The thread, dor, tangling as it goes, is the exact portrait of a life. The knot that will not open, and the heart that is haadila, tough-boned, brave, and unties it anyway. Then the thesis, in the plainest words the language has: the traveller's job is to keep walking. The refrain's address, saiyaan ve, gives the lesson to somebody loved, which turns a philosophy into a lullaby.

بنجارا banjaara: a wanderer, a nomad
ڈور dor: a thread
گرہ girah: a knot
ہاڑلا haadila: tough-boned, brave-hearted

02 — tinka tinka chidiya laave

تنکا تنکا چڑیا لاوے
ایسے اپنا گھر وہ بناوے
ذرا ذرا تو بھی جوڑ کے اک کھیروندا بنا
بوند بوند ہے بنتا ساگر
دھاگا دھاگا بنتی چادر
دھیرے دھیرے یوں ہی تو بھی اپنا جیون سجا
سینچتا ہے یہاں جو بگیا کو
وہی پھول بھی پاوے
راہی کا تو کام ہے چلتا ہی جاوے

तिनका तिनका चिड़िया लावे
ऐसे अपना घर वो बनावे
ज़रा ज़रा तू भी जोड़ के इक खीरोंदा बना
बूँद बूँद है बनता सागर
धागा धागा बनती चादर
धीरे धीरे यूँ ही तू भी अपना जीवन सजा
सींचता है यहाँ जो बगिया को
वही फूल भी पावे
राही का तो काम है चलता ही जावे

tinka tinka chidiya laave
aise apna ghar vo banaave
zara zara tu bhi jod ke ik khironda bana
boond boond hai banata saagar
dhaaga dhaaga banati chadar
dhire dhire yun hi tu bhi apna jeevan saja
sihchata hai yahan jo bagiya ko
vahi phool bhi paave
raahi ka toh kaam hai chalta hi jaave

The bird brings straw by straw, and builds its home that way. So you too, bit by bit, build your little mound. Drop by drop the ocean is made. Thread by thread the sheet is woven. Slowly, slowly, you too should set your life in order. Whoever waters the garden here, gets the flowers. The traveller's job is to keep walking.

The folk wisdom of the song, and every image is an argument for smallness. The bird's nest, tinka tinka, the ocean from drops, the sheet from threads, and the child's own khironda, the little mound built bit by bit. The passage's quiet radicalism is in the garden line: the flowers go to whoever watered, sihchata hai wahi phool bhi paave. The song is telling the child that the universe pays the labourer, and the lesson ends on the refrain-line, the traveller's job.

تنکا tinka: a straw, a blade
کھیروندا khironda: a small heap, a little mound
ساگر saagar: the ocean
سینچنا sihchna: to water, to irrigate

03 — din hain parvat jaise bhaari

دن ہیں پربت جیسے بھاری
راتیں بوجھل بوجھل ساری
تو یہ سوچتا ہے راہ کیسے آسان ہو
ساری انجانی ہیں راہیں
جن میں ڈھونڈے تیری نگاہیں
کوئی ایسا پل آج یا کل مہربان ہو
گھومے کب سے ڈگر ڈگر
تو من کو یہ سمجھاوے
راہی کا تو کام ہے چلتا ہی جاوے

दिन हैं पर्वत जैसे भारी
रातें बोझल बोझल सारी
तू ये सोचता है राह कैसे आसान हो
सारी अंजानी हैं राहें
जिनमें ढूँढे तेरी निगाहें
कोई ऐसा पल आज या कल मेहरबान हो
घूमे कब से डगर डगर
तू मन को यह समझावे
राही का तो काम है चलता ही जावे

din hain parvat jaise bhaari
raatein bojhal bojhal saari
tu yeh sochta hai raah kaise aasaan ho
saari anjaani hain raahein
jinmein dhoonde teri nigahein
koi aisa pal aaj ya kal meherbaan ho
ghoome kab se dagar dagar
tu mann ko yeh samjhaave
raahi ka toh kaam hai chalta hi jaave

The days are heavy as mountains. The nights are all leaden. And you keep thinking about how the road could become easy. All the roads are unknown, and in them your eyes search. May some moment, today or tomorrow, be kind. Roaming from road to road since so long, convince your heart of this one thing: the traveller's job is to keep walking.

The honest passage, and the one that makes the song a lullaby rather than a lesson. It admits the weight, parvat jaise bhaari, days like mountains, nights bojhal, leaden. It does not promise an easy road. The most it offers is a single kind moment, koi aisa pal meherbaan ho, and the wish is phrased in the softest conditional, today or tomorrow. And the advice, tu mann ko yeh samjhaave, is directed at the heart itself: convince the heart, which knows the roads are unknown, to keep walking anyway.

پربت parvat: a mountain
بوجھل bojhal: leaden, heavy with weight
مہربان meherbaan: kind, gracious
ڈگر dagar: a path, a road

Reading it whole

The song is a lullaby built like a lesson, and the lesson is stated in the first passage and repeated until it is worn smooth. A wanderer, banjaara, has been singing to a star since forever. Life is a thread that keeps tangling, jeevan hai ik dor dor uljhe hi jaave. The knot does not open easily, and the heart that unties it anyway is the brave one, haadila. And then the sentence that the whole song is: raahi ka toh kaam hai chalta hi jaave. The traveller's job is to keep walking. The song is a father saying that sentence to his child, and the film gives it to a family that has lost everything it had.

The second passage is the folk wisdom, and it is the best part of the song. The bird brings straw by straw, tinka tinka, and builds its home that way. So you too, bit by bit, should build your little mound, khironda. Drop by drop the ocean is made. Thread by thread the sheet is woven. Slowly, slowly, you too should set your life in order. The passage's last line is the oldest bargain in the book: whoever waters this garden, bagiya, gets the flowers. The song is telling the child that effort is not wasted, and that the harvest is paid to whoever did the watering, no exceptions.

The third passage is the honest one, because it admits how heavy the days are. Days heavy as mountains. Nights all leaden. And you keep thinking about how the road could become easy. The passage does not promise the easy road. It promises the opposite: all the roads are unknown, saari anjaani hain raahein, and your eyes will search in them. The most it will grant is a single kind moment, koi aisa pal aaj ya kal meherbaan ho, today or tomorrow, one moment that is kind. And the passage's advice to the heart is the whole song in miniature: roaming from road to road, dagar dagar, convince your heart of this one thing, the traveller's job is to keep walking.

The refrain, saiyaan ve, is the word for the beloved and the lord, and in the film's context it is the family's address to the one who holds them, and to each other. The song closes where it opened, on the wanderer and the star, so the frame stays: this is a song being sung by somebody who has been walking a long time, to somebody who is about to start. Vishal Dadlani sang it, and the film gave it to its hardest scene, and it has stayed the song of the film ever since.

Recordings

Vishal Dadlani

From Ta Ra Rum Pum (2007), composed by Vishal-Shekhar.

Text and rights

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

From the 2007 film Ta Ra Rum Pum, composed by Vishal-Shekhar. The refrain returns between passages in the recording, more often than it is printed here.

Javed Akhtar is alive and writing, so this song is still in copyright. 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.