In anything that you do, I will be happy for you...

In anything that you do, I will be happy for you, so ecstatic for you
Whatever you are to be, I hope that you'll think of me within your
Sweetest daydreams ..
Whenever you decide to die, I hope you're fortified with all you want
In life ..
Whenever you have to change, don't let it make you run away from
All that I have to say
Because they'll love you today, when all they really wanna do is ruin
Everything..

I just can't sleep at nite
Knowing the wolves are out to get you
And all the hurt awaiting with life
I just can't walk away knowing...
The pain might leave you broken
If there's anything you might hate, don't make my mistakes,
Let it dissipate
All the things you'll go thru, I know that they'll punish me
More than they punish you
Anytime guilt is felt, don't touch thru no one else, they'll
Make you hurt yourself
Anything you might see looks that looks like it's defeating me,
Don't be afraid of these things
Because you're stronger than me, and all they really wanna do is ruin
Everything

I just can't sleep at nite
Knowing the wolves are out to get you
And all the hurt awaiting with life
I just can't walk away knowing...
The pain might leave you broken
Knowing...
The pain that left me broken

Because they'll love you today, when all they really wanna do is ruin
Everything

In anything that you do, I will be happy for you...
So ecstatic for you..

You were awesome !

I choose to live !!

Productiveness is your acceptance of morality, your recognition of the fact that you choose to live--that productive work is the process by which man's consciousness controls his existence, a constant process of acquiring knowledge and shaping matter to fit one's purpose, of translating an idea into physical form, of remaking the earth in the image of one's values
--that all work is creative work if done by a thinking mind, and no work is creative if done by a blank who repeats in uncritical stupor a routine he has learned from others
--that your work is yours to choose, and the choice is as wide as your mind, that nothing more is possible to you and nothing less is human
--that to cheat your way into a job bigger than your mind can handle is to become a fear-corroded ape on borrowed motions and borrowed time, and to settle down into a job that requires less than your mind's full capacity is to cut your motor and sentence yourself to another kind of motion: decay
--that your work is the process of achieving your values, and to lose your ambition for values is to lose your ambition to live
--that your body is a machine, but your mind is its driver, and you must drive as far as your mind will take you, with achievement as the goal of your road
--that the man who has no purpose is a machine that coasts downhill at the mercy of any boulder to crash in the first chance ditch, that the man who stifles his mind is a stalled machine slowly going to rust, that the man who lets a leader prescribe his course is a wreck being towed to the scrap heap, and the man who makes another man his goal is a hitchhiker no driver should ever pick up
--that your work is the purpose of your life, and you must speed past any killer who assumes the right to stop you, that any value you might find outside your work, any other loyalty or love, can be only travelers you choose to share your journey and must be travelers going on their own power in the same direction.

Listening My Valid Concerns !

I looked at myself in the cruel reflection of the mirror

That image had looked back at me

Like a hoax in the glass as it stood silent

And I, as witness to its revelation, froze

In my vision lay the product of many years

A reminder without reason or rhyme

As if the purpose would remain unknown

A puzzle unsolved by my eyes

Left to the leisure of a future generation

I am the counterpart of a generation extinct

The modern equivalent lost and scattered

And I can only listen to my valid concerns

In the busy intersection of Babylon

A Legend Called ' Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan '

In 1993, a winter performance at the Gateway Theater in Chicago displayed all the ingredients of a typical rock concert: an endless, almost hypnotizing beat; hundreds of mesmerized individuals slavishly clap to the beat while dozens more dance in the aisles. But unlike a U2 or Pearl Jam show, this was a concert with a higher purpose — rejoicing in the grace of Allah.

Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, a name which is neither well-known or well-pronounced by most Americans, is a pinnacle of success in southern Asia and many other parts of the world. Hailed by many as the Pavarotti of Pakistan, Khan is the world’s most celebrated qawwal. A qawwal is a specially-trained male vocalist who performs qawwali, a musical expression of devotional poetry practiced by the Sufis. The Sufis, an ancient mystical sect of Islam, achieve spiritual enlightenment through music, much like a Whirling Dervish achieves a higher state of consciousness through dancing.

In performing qawwali, the main vocalist sits with three other vocalists, two of which are playing harmonium pump organs. Behind them sit five other men: four who clap and sing as a chorus, and one who plays the tabla, the traditional drum of the Subcontinent. As the harmonium players begin to solo in the chosen key, the chorus and tabla player keep a steady beat. The qawwal and his other singers then sustain a passionate cry, calling the audience to order. Once the qawwal is ready, he begins the lyrics — often a praising of Muhammad or a tale of love.

Qawwali is performed in a simple verse-and-chorus format. The qawwal will continue each verse, trading off lines with the other singers. As each verse builds to a climax, they passionately return to the chorus, over and over again, for up to twenty minutes. Words are repeated until they lose meaning, leaving only the music and the spirit behind.
While traditional Qawwal is performed at Sufi shrines and weddings, Khan has brought the style to the West with wild abandon. Though other vocalists may have a stronger voice or greater range, it can be easily argued than Khan has the most passionate voice in the modern musical world.

To be in the presence of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan is a mystical experience in itself. A short, heavy man, Khan sits on the stage with his party, made up of his younger brother Farukh, his nephew Rahat and half a dozen cousins. Waiting for the right moment to sing, he stares intently at the floor. His eyes close as he slowly gestures his hand in front of him, as if to say “The song is about to begin. Please join me and listen.” As the spirit of the music grows, his excitement grows — ever so slightly. Khan, now swaying his large, majestic torso back and forth, winces while his left hand flails in front of him. The hypnotized audience rests on each syllable of his words. Adoring fans dance to the stage and throw handfuls of dollars over him — over forty times last Friday alone — and he does not even acknowledge him. The music is too important to be distracted by several hundred dollars showering from above.

It is no surprise that Khan decided to become a qawwal, for his family has performed traditional Sufi music for over twenty generations. As he explained to me through a translator, “My family has been raising qawwals for over 600 years. I have been trained with it since I was very young. My father, who was also a qawwal, actually would have wanted wanted me to become an engineer or a doctor. Instead, I chose to follow the tradition under the apprenticeship of my father and uncle.” By choosing to follow the Qawwal tradition, Khan commits himself to more than the music — he commits himself to Sufism itself. His fans praise him like a gift, calling him The Master. He is known throughout the world as Shahen-Shah, the Shining Star. To compare his stature to even the greatest performers in the West would still be an understatement. Yet, he remains a humble servant to God, never allowing his fame to defeat his purpose.

When I went backstage to interview him during the intermission, he was sitting in a chair, surrounded by fans as they knelt on the floor. Not knowing how to act or how to address him, I also knelt before him in awe, looking up at the great Shahen-Shah. Before he addressed me, I turned to one of my translators and asked, “What should I call him?” fearing that there must be a proper term in his native Urdu. A young moustached man smiled and says, “Mr. Khan will do. He is, alas, only a man like you or I.”

Suddenly relaxed by this poetic, if not rehearsed response, I introduced myself. Khan, with an overwhelming smile planted on his baby face, shook my hand vigorously and offered me tea. As we conversed through three tag-teaming translators, Khan listened intently to my every word. He tried his best to understand my English — having recently moved to America as Artist-In-Residence of the University of Washington, Khan used our meeting as a chance to analyze his language skills. While he patiently worked his way through every word, I noticed a small case of lazy eye. As we finished, I am once again offered tea and a small somosa. I had feared an uncomfortable conversation with a saint. I enjoyed a conversation with an old friend instead.

“I cannot allow the fame to go to my head,” explains Khan. “Many have said I have compromised my faith by coming to the West. But this is not so. To travel the world and open the hearts of those whose were previously closed is a joy worth the other sacrifices.”

To live the life of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan is by no means simple. In addition to his teaching duties at the University of Washington, Khan performs as often as possible. The Chicago concert, in fact, was literally a last minute affair, planned from start to finish in two weeks alone. The concerts themselves add to the toll; unlike most western concerts, qawwali performance continue until spiritual elevation is achieved. His recent appearance, which started around nine p.m., continued past one in the morning. “The touring is intense, but enlightening,” he admits. But the humble Khan refuses to complain: “Qawwal can never be seen as a chore.”

Though popular in Europe since the early seventies, Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan has only recently reached the ears of Americans. Much of this new-found success is due to his friendship with Peter Gabriel, who produced his last album, appropriately entitled Shahen-Shah, on Gabriel’s Real World label.

“I was first introduced to Peter Gabriel several years ago,” remembers Khan. “He had recently heard my voice and asked if we could meet. In 1987, he used my voice on his album Passion and the movie The Last Temptation of Christ in the scene where the Christ was raised unto the cross. Working with Peter is a great joy.”

Wrapped within a lifestyle of fanatical fans, never-ending tours and teaching the tradition, Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan lives in a spiritual fast lane, not that unlike an American rock sensation. But for Khan, this is the only way he would have ever wanted. The Sufi credo teaches an ascetic lifestyle, achieving Allah through music and experience. From this life a paradise is born.

“To be a qawwal is more than being a performer, more than being an artist,” he notes with a stern, but wise smile. “One must be willing to release one’s mind and soul from one’s body to achieve ecstasy through music. Qawwali is enlightenment itself.”

Enlightenment, indeed, for all who may listen.

Remembering Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan Sahab on his 63rd Birthday !!

( I am thankful to Andy Carvin for allowing me to post this article on my blog )

Why so tragic?

It is the fate of great achievements, born from a way of life that sets truth before security, to be gobbled up by you and excreted in the form of shit. For centuries great, brave, lonely men have been telling you what to do. Time and again you have corrupted, diminished and demolished their teachings; time and again you have been captivated by their weakest points, taken not the great truth, but some trifling error as your guiding principal. This, little man, is what you have done with World, with the doctrine of sovereign people, with socialism, with everything you touch. Why, you ask, do you do this?

I don't believe you really want an answer. When you hear the truth you'll cry bloody murder, or commit it. …

You had your choice between soaring to superhuman heights with Nietzsche and sinking into subhuman depths with Hitler. You shouted Heil! Heil! and chose the subhuman.
You had the choice between Lenin's truly democratic constitution and Stalin's dictatorship. You chose Stalin's dictatorship. You had your choice between Freud's elucidation of the sexual core of your psychic disorders and his theory of cultural adaptation. You dropped the theory of sexuality and chose his theory of cultural adaptation, which left you hanging in mid-air.
You had your choice between Jesus and his majestic simplicity and Paul with his celibacy for priests and life-long compulsory marriage for yourself. You chose the celibacy and compulsory marriage and forgot the simplicity of Jesus' mother, who bore her child for love and love alone. You had your choice between Marx's insight into the productivity of your living labor power, which alone creates the value of commodities and the idea of the state. You forgot the living energy of your labor and chose the idea of the state.
In the French Revolution, you had your choice between the cruel Robespierre and the great Danton. You chose cruelty and sent greatness and goodness to the guillotine.
In Germany you had your choice between Goring and Himmler on the one hand and Liebknecht, Landau, and Muhsam on the other. You made Himmler your police chief and murdered your great friends.
You had your choice between Julius Streicher and Walter Rathenau. You murdered Rathenau.
You had your choice between Lodge and Wilson. You murdered Wilson.
You had your choice between the cruel Inquisition and Galileo's truth. You tortured and humiliated the great Galileo, from whose inventions you are still benefiting, and now, in the twentieth century, you have brought the methods of the Inquisition to a new flowering. … Every one of your acts of smallness and meanness throws light on the boundless wretchedness of the human animal. 'Why so tragic?' you ask. 'Do you feel responsible for all evil?' With remarks like that you condemn yourself. If, little man among millions, you were to shoulder the barest fraction of your responsibility, the world would be a very different place. Your great friends wouldn't perish, struck down by your smallness.