Duwa - Multazim Par

The following is a beautiful Hamd/Duwa of Junaid Jamshed’s Multazim Par, which is based on one of Mufti Taqi Uthmani’s beautiful poems.



Ilahi Teri Chokhat Per Bhikari Ban Ker Aya Hoon
Sarapa Faqr Hoon, Ijz-O-Nadamat Saath Laya Hoon

Bhikari Woh Ke Jis Ke Paas Jholi Hai Na Payala Hai
Bhikari Woh Jisey Hiras-O-Hawas Ne Maar Daala Hai

Mata-E-Deen-O-Danish, Nafs Ke Hathon Se Lutwa Ker
Sakoon-E-Qalb Ki Daulat Hawas Ki Bhent Charha Ker

Lutta Ker Sari Poonji Ghaflat-O-Issyan Ki Daldal Mein
Sahara Lene Aya Hoon Tere Kaabay Ke Aanchal Mein

Gunahon Ki Lipatt Sey, Kaynat-E-Qalb Afsurda
Iraaday Muzmehehal, Himmat Shikasta Hoslay Murda

Kahan Se Laoon Takat Dil Ki Sachi Tarjumani Ki
Ke Kis Jhanjhal Mein Guzri Hein Ghariyan Zindagani Ki

Khulasa Ye Ke Bass Jull Bhun Ker Apni Roo-Sayahi Sey
Sarapa Faqr Ban Ker Apni Haalat Ki Tabahi Sey

Tere Darbar Mein Laya Hoon Apni Ab Zaboon-Haali
Teri Chokhat Ke Laeq Har Amal Se Hath Hein Khali

Ye Tera Ghar Hai Ye Tere Mehr Ka Darbar Hai Maula
Sarapa Noor Hai, Ik Mohbat-E-Anwaar Hai Maula

Teri Chokhat Ke Jo Adab Hein, Main Unn Se Khali Hoon
Nahi Jis Ko Saleeqa Manganey Ka, Woh Sawali Hoon

Subah Ghalt-E-Nadamat Dil Ki Na'kas Tarjumani Per
Khudaya Reham Meri Iss Zaban-E-Ijz-Zabani Per

Ye Ankhein Khushk Hein, Ya Rabb Inhein Rona Nahi Aata
Sulagtay Daagh Hein Dil Mein Jinhein Dhona Nahi Aata

Ilahi Teri Chokhat Per Bhikari Ban Ker Aya Hoon
Sarapa Faqr Hoon, Ijz-O-Nadamat Saath Laya Hoon

Translation:

O my Lord, I come to Your door as a beggar
In complete indigence, bringing only my humility and shame.
A beggar who has neither a joli nor a begging-bowl
A beggar slain by his desires and cravings.

Having squandered the treasure of Deen and intellectat the hands of the ego;
Having sacrificed contentment of heart at the altar of lust and pleasure
Losing my wealth in the quick-sand of heedlessness and sin
I have come to seek refuge under the covering of your Kaaba.
Through the stains of sin the heart’s world is suffering
Aspirations are weak, the will broken and hope is dead.

From whence should I find the strength to express the heart truly?
For in this snare have I passed every moment of my life
In short, having been burnt at the stake of my own ill-deeds
In abject poverty due to the evil of my state

To you have I brought my ill-stricken fate
Empty-handed of any deed befitting your House.
This House of yours, which is your court of Love and Grace O Lord
Tis wholly Light and the repository of all Lights O Lord

Being completely ignorant of the manners of your Doorstep
A beggar knowing not how to beg
My tongue fails to convey my heart’s feeling
O Lord, have mercy on this wordless speech!

These eyes are dry, O Lord, knowing not how to weep
Festering spots in the heart that can’t be cleansed out.
O my Lord I have come to your door as a beggar
wholly indigent, in abject humility and full of shame.