Harf
Script shown with the Urdu

ست رنگے رے Satrangi Re — Of Every Colour

Gulzar

1934– living

Geet

A woman is talking to someone who has just entered her life, and she has decided that this person is not one colour but all seven. Satrangi, seven-coloured, is the word she uses, and she uses it the way you use a name. Everything about him that she can name, his nearness, his absence, his silence, gets folded into that one word by the end of the song.

Gulzar wrote it for Dil Se in 1998, for the sequence in which Shah Rukh Khan's character begins to notice the woman who will never be his. Five passages ahead. Halfway through, the song quietly borrows a couplet from Ghalib about love being stronger than will, and the film's whole story is already sitting inside that couplet.

01  — tu hi tu, tu hi tu satrangi re

تو ہی تو، تو ہی تو سترنگی رے
تو ہی تو، تو ہی تو من رنگی رے
دل کا سایہ ہمسایہ
سترنگی رے، من رنگی رے
کوئی نور ہے تو، کیوں دور ہے تو
جب پاس ہے تو، احساس ہے تو
کوئی خواب ہے یا پرچھائی ہے
سترنگی رے، من رنگی رے

तू ही तू, तू ही तू सतरंगी रे
तू ही तू, तू ही तू मनरंगी रे
दिल का साया हमसाया
सतरंगी रे, मनरंगी रे
कोई नूर है तू, क्यों दूर है तू
जब पास है तू, एहसास है तू
कोई ख्वाब है या परछाई है
सतरंगी रे, मनरंगी रे

tu hi tu, tu hi tu satrangi re
tu hi tu, tu hi tu manrangi re
dil ka saaya hamsaaya
satrangi re, manrangi re
koi noor hai tu, kyun door hai tu
jab paas hai tu, ehsaas hai tu
koi khwab hai ya parchhaai hai
satrangi re, manrangi re

You, only you, you of every colour. You, only you, you who colour the mind. The heart's shadow, its neighbour. A radiance you are, so why are you so far? When you are near, you are the feeling itself. Are you a dream or a reflection? You of every colour, colourer of the mind.

Satrangi, seven-coloured, is the word for the rainbow and for the peacock, and the song doubles it immediately with manrangi, the one who dyes the mind. The two words rhyme and the pair does the song's whole work: he is all colour, and the colouring happens inside her. The questions that follow, why far, what are you, are asked the way you ask them of something you cannot hold.

ست رنگی satrangi
of seven colours
من رنگی manrangi
one who colours the mind
ہمسایہ hamsaaya
a neighbour; one who stands in your shade
نور noor
light, a radiance

02  — is baar bata manzoor, hawa thahregi kahan

اس بار بتا منظور، ہوا ٹھہرے گی کہاں
عشق پر زور نہیں
یہ وہ آتشِ غالب ہے
جو لگائے نہ لگے، اور بجھائے نہ بنے

इस बार बता मंज़ूर, हवा ठहरेगी कहाँ
इश्क़ पर ज़ोर नहीं
ये वो आतिश-ए-ग़ालिब है
जो लगाए ना लगे, और बुझाए ना बने

is baar bata manzoor, hawa thahregi kahan
ishq par zor nahin
ye voh aatish-e-ghalib hai
jo lagaaye na lage, aur bujhaaye na bane

This time tell me, my consenting one: where will the wind come to rest? Love cannot be compelled. This is that fire of Ghalib's that will not light when you try to light it and will not be put out when you try to put it out.

The song stops being a love song and becomes a quotation. The couplet is Ghalib's most famous statement about the will: love starts without your permission and refuses to end at your command. Aatish-e-Ghalib, the fire of Ghalib, is the poet's own phrase for his own flame, and Gulzar hands it whole to a film about a love that is over before it starts. The line about the wind asks where something as unownable as a wind will settle, and the answer is that it will not.

منظور manzoor
accepted, agreed to
آتش aatish
fire

03  — aankhon ne kuchh aise chhua

آنکھوں نے کچھ ایسے چھوا
ہلکا ہلکا انس ہوا
دل کو محسوس ہوا
تو ہی تو، تو ہی تو، جینے کی ساری خوشبو
تو ہی تو، تو ہی تو، آرزو آرزو

आँखों ने कुछ ऐसे छुआ
हल्का हल्का उन्स हुआ
दिल को महसूस हुआ
तू ही तू, तू ही तू, जीने की सारी ख़ुशबू
तू ही तू, तू ही तू, आरज़ू आरज़ू

aankhon ne kuchh aise chhua
halka halka uns hua
dil ko mahsus hua
tu hi tu, tu hi tu, jeene ki saari khushbu
tu hi tu, tu hi tu, aarzoo aarzoo

The eyes touched me in a certain way, and a light, light familiarity happened. The heart felt it. You, only you: the whole fragrance of living. You, only you: the longing, the longing.

Uns is the gentlest word the language has for the start of liking, a familiarity that has not yet become anything. The verse is careful to keep it light: halka halka, twice, like the touch. And then the refrain answers itself, tu hi tu, until the phrase becomes the song's breathing. The last line rhymes aarzoo with khushbu, and both are given to him.

انس uns
a quiet fondness, the kind that grows slowly
محسوس mahsoos
felt, sensed

04  — teri jism ki aanch ko chhute hi

تیری جسم کی آنچ کو چھوتے ہی
میرے سانس سلگنے لگتے ہیں
مجھے عشق دلاسے دیتا ہے
میرے درد بکھلنے لگتے ہیں

तेरी जिस्म की आँच को छूते ही
मेरे साँस सुलगने लगते हैं
मुझे इश्क़ दिलासे देता है
मेरे दर्द बिखलने लगते हैं

teri jism ki aanch ko chhute hi
mere saans sulagne lagte hain
mujhe ishq dilaase deta hai
mere dard bikhalne lagte hain

The moment the heat of your body touches me, my breath begins to smoulder. Love gives me comfort, and my pains begin to shed like tears.

The verse moves from the body to the chest in four lines. Aanch is the heat off a fire, and the touch of it is enough to make breathing itself smoulder. Then the reversal that makes the passage strange: the very love that is burning her is the one giving her dilaasa, comfort. The pains do not grow. They bikhalthin, they drop away one by one, the way tears do.

آنچ aanch
heat; the warmth coming off a flame
سلگنا sulagna
to smoulder
دلاسا dilaase
words of comfort

05  — chhooti hain mujhe sargoshi se

چھوتی ہیں مجھے سرگوشی سے
آنکھوں میں گھلی خاموشی سے
میں فرش پہ سجدے کرتا ہوں
کچھ ہوش میں کچھ بے ہوشی سے
دل کا سایہ ہمسایہ
سترنگی رے، من رنگی رے

छूती हैं मुझे सरगोशी से
आँखों में घुली ख़ामोशी से
मैं फ़र्श पे सजदे करता हूँ
कुछ होश में कुछ बेहोशी से
दिल का साया हमसाया
सतरंगी रे, मनरंगी रे

chhooti hain mujhe sargoshi se
aankhon mein ghuli khamoshi se
main farsh pe sajde karta hoon
kuchh hosh mein kuchh behoshi se
dil ka saaya hamsaaya
satrangi re, manrangi re

She touches me in whispers, with a silence dissolved in her eyes. And I prostrate myself on the floor, half in my senses, half out of them. The heart's shadow, its neighbour. You of every colour, colourer of the mind.

Sargoshi is a whisper, speech meant for one ear, and it is the only sound the beloved makes in this song. The answer to the whisper is sajda, the full prostration of prayer. The verse is careful about the state: not ecstatic, not unconscious, but kuchh hosh mein kuchh behoshi mein, halfway. It is the most honest description of being in love the song offers, and it is where the song ends, back at the seven-coloured name.

سرگوشی sargoshi
a whisper
سجدہ sajde
prostrations, the forehead put to the ground in prayer
بےہوشی behoshi
unconsciousness, being out of one's senses

Reading it whole

The song is a string of names for one person, and every name is a colour or a light. He is seven-coloured, mind-coloured, a companion shadow of the heart, a radiance, a feeling, a dream, a reflection. She never once says who he is to her. The naming is the whole argument: he is everything, and everything is said through colour because colour is the only vocabulary big enough.

The middle passage is the one the film turns on. Ishaq par zor nahin: love cannot be compelled. Gulzar sets the famous Ghalib couplet about love as a fire that cannot be lit and cannot be put out, and the woman who sings it is already inside its logic. She has not chosen any of this. The colour came on its own.

The second half of the song keeps returning to a single claim, tu hi tu: you, only you. The refrain was there at the start, but by the last passages it has taken over completely. The lover is not describing the beloved anymore. She is emptying herself out so that he can be everything. The song that began as flattery ends as something closer to prayer, with the closing verses talking about doing sajda, prostration, half-conscious.

The recording is Kavita Krishnamurthy and Sonu Nigam, and the film sequence lets the colour words do their work: the lover appears in a burst of festival colours before the story takes him away.

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 Dil Se (1998), music A. R. Rahman, lyrics Gulzar. The middle passage quotes a famous couplet by Mirza Ghalib, and it is sung here in the song's own phrasing.

Gulzar 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.