Tricia

Hey, this is for you! Rather, for the child in you..

Whenever we discuss our childhood, a nostalgia grips us.. Let someone ask us to speak about it, and we cannot stop speaking..

Below is one of the most famous Indian 'ghazal', a kind of oriental lyric, and usually passionate erotic poetry, written in recurring rhymes.. This one is about the innocent child we have in each of us, and the rains, and the childhood stories..

In India, we have three distinct seasons, monsoons being one of them. One of the most beautiful season, children enjoy it the most. You will find streams of water flowing alongside the roads, small children making paper boats and floating them in these streams.. Jumping in the puddles.. Splashing water on each other.. The heart in every child is alive.. The pure innocent souls absorb every bit of the heavenly pourings.. And these rains have been written about the most, in Indian poems, movies, articles, emotions, every where..

This song, trickles around the rains, but wraps you in its warm embrace of childhood love and affection, the fairy tales, the dunes, the memoirs that provide us the oasis in much needed times..

Link to the video of live performance: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bPQk2CMIKJE

I found this translation online, from the original URDU version.. Translation taken from http://albaal.blogspot.com/2007/02/my-little-paper-boat-woh-kagaz-ki.html

"Woh Kagaz ki Kashti - The little paper boat

Do take my gold, and my fame, if you must
You can have my youth if you so do will
But do give me back my childhood showers
My little paper boat, the fresh rain's thrill

Do take my gold, and my fame, if you must
You can have my youth if you so do will
But do give me back my childhood showers
My little paper boat, the fresh rain's thrill

My little paper boat, the fresh rain's thrill

She, who, lived here as old as the road
She, whom we children, called granny
She, who wrapped fairies in sweet songs
She, whose wrinkles of years so many
And who, try as much, could forget them
Her fresh long tales filling nights so tiny

My little paper boat, the fresh rain's thrill

To walk out in the scorching heat
To larks and those jays and chasing butterflies
We'd marry our dolls and fight over it
High in our swings jumping far from watchful eyes

And those little trinkets of copper and bark
Those deep scarlet marks of broken bangles and cries

My little paper boat, the fresh rain's thrill

To drag our feet over smooth high dunes
A castle here, a hillock there
Our innocence filling every picture and tune
Our life of toys and dreams
In a world of joy, relations none did prune

Wasn't it beautiful, that life of ours?"

(Thanks to Al-Baal Cafe)