avatarHarun Reşit Aydin

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-without-ever-meeting-9f380aa907ad"> <div> <div> <h2>Can our hearts connect without ever meeting?</h2> <div><h3>How nice the Turkish poet Nazım Hikmet once said in one of his poems:</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*EyqcpiwWqvBOxw4N)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><p id="09bb">Such tragic is the story I just told you.</p><p id="6455">Today, unfortunately, the graves in which these two great lovers lie are in Danabad, Pakistan, after India and Pakistan were separated..</p><p id="81d0">It was during evening hours that I found myself in a teahouse with exhaustion after visiting Harmandir Sahib under the red sun. Just as I was sipping my tea, uncle Abhinav, in his 70–80’s, told me about this story.</p><p id="6865">As he did not know English, his grandson Gaurav was translating. I had been lost in thought so much that I startled when Gaurav nudged me on my shoulder. He told me that his grandad was asking me if I was in love.</p><p id="394a">When I made a gesture saying yes, he told me that he saw a Mirza in me.</p><p id="4603">As he said Mirza, I was surprised. I did not know him, never heard of him. At that moment he started telling about this story. Before the wise man finished his words, he said,</p><p id="5ba3"><i>“Don’t be sad, son. There’s not an answer to Mirza’s love in this world. His love is so great. So great that only God can answer to it. And each and everyone of us will walk towards him one day”.</i></p><p id="12a3">Just as they were leaving, he pointed at the notebook in my hand and said,</p><p id="d567"><i>“Keep on writing till that day, son. Because when you’ve reached your love, there’ll come other Mirzas for sure. You teach them to love forever and to be patient till the union”.</i></p><figure id="5e33"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/0*w14ZcCSjir5TOfwi"><figcaption>Photo by <a href="https://unsplash.com/@honza_kahanek?utm_source=medium&amp;utm_medium=referral">Jan Kahánek</a> on <a href="https://unsplash.com?utm_source=medium&amp;utm_medium=referral">Unsplash</a></figcaption></figure><p id="798e">When the old man and his grandson left, I had already sat in there for 2 hours more without even realizing..</p><p id="0c2d">With every step I took, I learnt another lesson from this beautiful country and it’s people. I was not having enough with learning. I was learning as I travel and as I learn, I wanted to travel more on the lands of Mirza’s.</p><p id="6e08">Later, when I got back to my country, I was curious about this story and I researched it a lot. And I realized that the “Heer” song sung by Harshdeep Kaur in the movie “Jab Tak Hai Jaan” was referring to this great love with these lines:</p><p id="be71"><i>‘’Don’t call me Heer, o friends, I’ve become Sahibaan I hope he comes on a horse and take me away, I wish some Mirza comes for me and takes me away</i></p><p id="06bc"><i>I am like him, he is like me only.. He smiles like it’s morning, and if he closes eyes, it’s like cold dark..</i></p><p id="1bb2"><i>Walk with me (close to me) only, don’t keep any distance in between, mark a boundary, and keep the heart in between. I have to walk under your shade only..’’</i></p> <figure id="6d46"> <div> <div> <img class="ratio" src="http://placehold.it/16x9"> <iframe class="" src="https://cdn.embedly.com/widgets/media.html?src=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fembed%2FaNcxgxHcGYg%3Ffeature%3Doembed&amp;display_name=YouTube&amp;url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DaNcxgxHcGYg&amp;image=https%3A%2F%2Fi.ytimg.com%2Fvi%2FaNcxgxHcGYg%2Fhqdefault.jpg&amp;key=a19fcc184b9711e1b4764040d3dc5c07&amp;type=text%2Fhtml&amp;schema=youtube" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="480" width="854"> </div> </div> </figure></iframe></div></div></figure><p id="7566">While touring the

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countless beauties of Punjab, one more folk story was engraved in me. When I came to see the Golden Temple, which is visited even more than Taj Mahal, with the note papers in my pockets, I was a subject to another love story in the eyes of that wise man.</p><p id="59c3">If you ever come here to Punjab one day, do not just pass by these loves for which many songs have been written. For under every step you take, there are endearious roads paved by them.</p><p id="d3f5">Either Mirza or Sahiba is in one of those affectionate hearts whom you can see through when you look at their faces. Do not consider a smile to them too much. Greet them, talk to them, share your love.</p><p id="3123"><b><i>For here is the country of loves, here is humanity, here is India, for here is the land of Dreams.</i></b></p><p id="489a">Author: Harun Reşit Aydin</p><p id="32e6">Read also these stories from the Author:</p><div id="326f" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/story-21-days-of-separation-in-delhi-ee13205db819"> <div> <div> <h2>Story: 21 days of separation in Delhi</h2> <div><h3>While skimming through the night table, these words caught my eye:</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*uiqk9hR9s4oCQMTWSWXATA.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="f554" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/looking-through-a-childs-eyes-2a1addd7bfb9"> <div> <div> <h2>Looking through a child’s eyes..</h2> <div><h3>It was a June night when I departed from that beautiful, magical smell of Delhi. I had only my bag, some belongings of…</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*uKpi3eyG_i79xcC8QGtWGQ.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="4eb4" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/the-wonderful-generosity-of-a-beggar-2a9f3a274b12"> <div> <div> <h2>The wonderful generosity of a beggar</h2> <div><h3>Generally, when I’m out, no matter where I am, my heart can not stand people on the street. Especially when it comes to…</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*Ym-Slqwre8U0WCqTNJprtw.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="5421" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/am-i-more-valuable-than-a-black-man-b0ad89b81d5c"> <div> <div> <h2>Am I more valuable than a black man?</h2> <div><h3>We were all born in the same hospital.</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*pxygbZl5st5nI5g8)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="95a7" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/how-does-love-feel-at-40-000-feet-in-the-air-3df3e73e441"> <div> <div> <h2>How does love feel at 40,000 feet in the air?</h2> <div><h3>We humans have dreams, some of them are deep in our hearts and maybe have a meaning from our childhood or sometimes…</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*ai6JZZksCysF-ERi)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

Mirza, Sahiba and the wise old men..

Photo by Mohd Aram on Unsplash

Punjab is one of the most beautiful states in India. What place in India isn’t great already? There’s a life experience on every stone, love in every step. And one of these states is Punjab.

Punjab is a word that derives from Farsi. Panj means “five” and ab means “waters”. It signifies five river passing through the states. This name was given by the Turkic emperors around the vicinity during that period.

This place, where there were great sufferings between the Muslims and Hindus during the Independency period, has a unique place in Indian history. Especially the architectural masterpieces that were built by Sikh sect who lived there at that period are enchanting for every traveler.

It presents a dream-like atmosphere that is worth even coming from thousands of kilometers away only to see the Golden Temple.

But I want to tell you about one of the love stories which has a special place in this state’s history, Mirza and Sahiba, and this is a shortened version:

Once upon a time there lived a boy and a girl named Mirza and Sahiba. Though they studied in the same class, they were raised in different worlds. Sahiba was the daughter of one of the notable families of the region. Mirza, on the other hand, was the boy of a notable family of another region. Time passed, schools are finished and they both returned to the lands they lived. Years later Mirza went to see his relatives in the village where Sahiba lived and he saw her. Sahiba was so charming that the poets who saw her would write poems for her beauty. Mirza fell in love with Sahiba at first sight and so did Sahiba with Mirza, of course. They were loving each other madly.

picture source

But as the time passed, Sahiban’s family decided to marry their daughter with someone else. When Sahiba learnt about this, she sent Mirza a letter and told:

“You should come and embellish the wedding hennas of my hands.”

When Mirza’s sister read this letter, she tried to stop his brother who was gone mad. That day was her sister’s wedding day and she told his brother

“I want to see you beside me, brother. If you go, Sahiban’s brothers will kill you”.

But all those efforts were in vain. Mirza did not give a listen to her and set off on horseback. He arrived in the middle of the henna ceremony and was able to elope with Sahiba. When her brothers learned about this, they set off following them.

Mirza stopped by a tree to let them have a rest and then fell asleep after he leaned his head of Sahiba’s knees. Sahiban knew that Mirza was a magnificent archer and that he never misses his target. She was afraid that her beloved’s hands might be tainted with her brothers’ blood. Therefore, she broke his both hands while he was sleeping. She thought that if Mirza does not kill them, her brothers will soften and let them go back home.

But that did not happen.

Her brothers caught the defenseless Mirza and killed him right on the point. Mirza’s sword was tainted with blood but not with Sahiba’s brothers’ blood. It was tainted by his own severed head. When Sahiba saw that her love was killed by her own brothers, she could not stand it and killed herself with Mirza’s sword on the nail..

Such tragic is the story I just told you.

Today, unfortunately, the graves in which these two great lovers lie are in Danabad, Pakistan, after India and Pakistan were separated..

It was during evening hours that I found myself in a teahouse with exhaustion after visiting Harmandir Sahib under the red sun. Just as I was sipping my tea, uncle Abhinav, in his 70–80’s, told me about this story.

As he did not know English, his grandson Gaurav was translating. I had been lost in thought so much that I startled when Gaurav nudged me on my shoulder. He told me that his grandad was asking me if I was in love.

When I made a gesture saying yes, he told me that he saw a Mirza in me.

As he said Mirza, I was surprised. I did not know him, never heard of him. At that moment he started telling about this story. Before the wise man finished his words, he said,

“Don’t be sad, son. There’s not an answer to Mirza’s love in this world. His love is so great. So great that only God can answer to it. And each and everyone of us will walk towards him one day”.

Just as they were leaving, he pointed at the notebook in my hand and said,

“Keep on writing till that day, son. Because when you’ve reached your love, there’ll come other Mirzas for sure. You teach them to love forever and to be patient till the union”.

Photo by Jan Kahánek on Unsplash

When the old man and his grandson left, I had already sat in there for 2 hours more without even realizing..

With every step I took, I learnt another lesson from this beautiful country and it’s people. I was not having enough with learning. I was learning as I travel and as I learn, I wanted to travel more on the lands of Mirza’s.

Later, when I got back to my country, I was curious about this story and I researched it a lot. And I realized that the “Heer” song sung by Harshdeep Kaur in the movie “Jab Tak Hai Jaan” was referring to this great love with these lines:

‘’Don’t call me Heer, o friends, I’ve become Sahibaan I hope he comes on a horse and take me away, I wish some Mirza comes for me and takes me away

I am like him, he is like me only.. He smiles like it’s morning, and if he closes eyes, it’s like cold dark..

Walk with me (close to me) only, don’t keep any distance in between, mark a boundary, and keep the heart in between. I have to walk under your shade only..’’

While touring the countless beauties of Punjab, one more folk story was engraved in me. When I came to see the Golden Temple, which is visited even more than Taj Mahal, with the note papers in my pockets, I was a subject to another love story in the eyes of that wise man.

If you ever come here to Punjab one day, do not just pass by these loves for which many songs have been written. For under every step you take, there are endearious roads paved by them.

Either Mirza or Sahiba is in one of those affectionate hearts whom you can see through when you look at their faces. Do not consider a smile to them too much. Greet them, talk to them, share your love.

For here is the country of loves, here is humanity, here is India, for here is the land of Dreams.

Author: Harun Reşit Aydin

Read also these stories from the Author:

India
Storytelling
Travel
Indian
Love
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