The Unsung Poem: Subhanallah... [OS]

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Jul 7, 2013

The Unsung Poem: Subhanallah... [OS] (By Anushree) (Thanked: 55 times)

Author's Note: This One Shot is my surprise gift and dedication to the new admins of Jodhaa-Akbar forum at Myeduniya, Spoon and Sampoo(Sammy). I am damn sure that you both are gonna rock it! Now, coming to the title, as can be seen in my banner, I am in YJHD mode these days and this beautiful melody has taken over my mind these days. It resembles a beautiful tale and now, I present to you, "The Unsung Poem: Subhanallah..." Enjoy! 

Spoon and Sammy, keep going in the pace, you guys are Subhanallah!

P.S.: Do listen to this song while reading the final part of this OS to feel the magic. Click here to watch the video

Click here to watch the video

The Unsung Poem: Subhanallah...

Her gaze rested for a small moment upon the wedding album that had captured the oddness and the neutrality of the time but had not found any repartee with joyousness that was supposed to be found in any normal marriage.

A smile crept up at the crook of her lips as she stole a glance at her smiling husband, beside her, and then opened another album which was their third wedding anniversary bash. It had the real moments; the real beauty; the unsung poem.

"...and so we finish this conference, gentlemen, and head to our sole aim of reaching the third best position by the end of this year. The agenda is set and so we must be. Thank you."

Concluding the start-up conference with the motivating push, Khushi Raizada, the Managing Director of Beauty-The Reality aka BTR Designs, headed out of the conference hall with a team of fussing and smartly dressed men following her. They were carrying numerous files in their hands and following her lead.

The march past, with the discussion, halted abruptly as their leader's cell phone rang and she adjusted her full black framed glasses, then flipped open her phone.

"Yes, Mumma, how are you?"

She kept walking and gestured her team to get dismissed while she was in her private matters. Khushi stepped inside her warmly architecture done room and opened her laptop, still listening to her mother.

"Oh, ****!" she cursed under her breath, closing her eyes for a single moment. Then, breathing rapidly, she spoke, "Yeah Mumma, of course, I remember that today is our wedding anniversary. I mean, I am sure that..."

Her words trailed off as her mother, Snigdha Gupta, shooed off her lies in a calm and composed manner. The mother-daughter duo talked casually for a few more minutes and as Khushi's cell beeped again, indicating a meeting reminder, they hung over.

Placing the cell phone on her desk, Khushi sighed and, shaking her head, walked outside her cabin and thrust orders, "Guys, Valruchi Group meeting on the cards. What are the stats of the market?"

Her high and long ponytail swayed with her quick and professional movements. Her long hair was a crisp shade of dark brown and black with shine. As she instructed her staff, one could see her full and delicate lips hum up and down, rhythmically. Her eyes were pure hazel and in the shape of a doe. She was fitted into a dull gray and brown shirt and trousers with a Titan shining in her left wrist.

She was Khushi Raizada, the epitome of perfection.

"Where are you lost, Khushi?" he softly chided her and caressed her still amber hair while she kept staring at nowhere in particular, lost in the foolish days of her life.

His voice brought her back to the reality of her now meaningful life and she answered, with yet another question, "Do you remember, Arnav, that we used to forget our marriage anniversaries every year and then either Di used to call and remind you or Mumma used to do that with me? We were so callous of the misery that our beloveds might suffer with our ignorance!"

"Yeah, I know. It must have been so hard for our families to live with our strangeness. It was like, we never got married."

A smile tugged at the corner of both their lips, evaporating the frowns, as they relived those times, almost thirteen years back of their married life.

"I am so sorry, Arnav, it completely slipped off my mind. You know, I was so busy with all the pressure due to that Valruchi project I told you about that I did not get any time to check the personal calendar."

Khushi kept her explanation to the minimized form for she knew that neither did he remember and nor did he. They were on equal boats, for this matter.

He patted her back, and reassured, "It's completely okay yaar. Even I forgot about it. And anyways, we both know that marriage is our total agreement point. It is pure ****."

Arnav Singh Raizada and Khushi Raizada, once Gupta, had now officially been married for three years. He was a complete introvert with little words to be shared and spoken while she had not been like this. She had been a charmer and a lovely girl until things changed her. While his life was filled with the bitterness of his father's abandonment, her life was a story of different phases.

Born and brought up in the wealthy and renowned Gupta family, Khushi had learnt a lot from her role-model and her father, Anshuman Gupta. She had always been closer to him than to her mother for she spent her time with him, learning about business and skills. She had grown up to be exceptionally intelligent with a look to die for.

"Exactly; but Mumma and Di, like every year, have thrown a party for our anniversary," she informed, scrolling down the screen of her iPad.

Arnav never had that security of being with a loving father. His father had left them to fend for their own selves when he was barely nine and his sister fourteen. They had never faced financial crisis because of his maternal family's support. But a child, no matter however much vivid the conditions of life are, is sure to suffer from a broken family. And so he did. His faith over the institution of marriage was completely killed.

The other beautiful and successful weddings around him always made him realize that he was the burden of an unsuccessful relationship; that marriage in itself was a burden.

"Khushi..." he called out, all of a sudden, and she looked up from her gadget.

He continued, "I mailed you the snaps of the Manali trip. Check them out for yourself and then print the best choice out for Di and Aunty. They are getting harried over it."

She shook her head, defeated, and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Then, she opened the mails and shuffled through the pictures.

For Khushi, marriage had never held much opinion. She had lived a comfortable life with her darling parents and never passed much food of thought to the institution of marriage. And when her marriage had been fixed with a shrug from her side, to Reyaan Vaidya, she had not thought much of it. But it was just a passing phase. Her father's untimely and abrupt death had shaken her and their lives completely.

Crisis, downfall and dark realities of life hurled mercilessly at her as Reyaan's rejection of her on the day of their engagement, when her father's financial losses had been revealed.

He had said, shaking her by her shoulders, "What do you think of yourself, Khushi? Why would someone want to marry a girl with no fun and excitement in her? Why would someone want to marry a corpse like you and that too, with such a headache?"

She had stood there, with a distraught mother and murmuring relatives in the hall, and had not said anything for that day, her self-esteem had been hurt and hurt badly.

That had been the day when her neutrality towards marriage had tilted off. It had changed completely with two parallel tales being told; one of her own hurt and dejected self-esteem and the other, the loneliness and depravation of her mother. She was not so strong to bear such emotional attachment to somebody who would leave her one day, like her father. She could not bear to be in her mother's place, one day.

"Finalized?" he queried, typing hurriedly on his laptop as she kept looking at the snaps.

For the first time in years, her mind stopped pondering restlessly. It halted with the moment to gaze away pensively at the click.

Arnav's hand was on her ankle, pressing it slightly, and her eyes were closed in pain. But the picture was a perfect shot. She clearly remembered that her foot had stumbled while walking and he had lent her his hand very silently, like always, and had healed that sprain.

"Finalized, Khushi?" he repeated, yet again.

She looked back up at him and mumbled, "Yeah, I guess, this would be perfect."

As he saw the snap, his eyes narrowed. "But this is a careless click, Khushi. It was taken by Sahil and then Kruti bothered us for it for days. Don't you think that it should be something different like Di and Aunty like?"

"This is so natural," she absent-mindedly answered.

Arnav looked at her for a fleeting moment and smiled, casually shrugging off.

Arnav and Khushi's escape route from the pestering of their families had come in each other. When they had met for the first time, it had been nothing magical; no fatal attraction, no connectivity, no breezes; nothing but a silent acknowledgment of the other's views. And they had realized that if they could live with their own selves, their individuality, and then that meant marrying the other for both were compatible ideologically.

They had tied the knot exactly three years back.

But what could possibly recreate a dead marriage and two strong living beliefs?

"Do you remember that third wedding anniversary day, Khushi? It literally changed our life."

She smiled and caressed the rose that he had just given her. "It sure did."

"But a question has always bothered me, Arnav," she told him.

"And?" he prodded further.

Khushi snuggled closer to him and asked, "How is it possible that we never acknowledged the presence of each other in our lives seriously for three years?"

"We did acknowledge, Khushi, we did. You remember how you used to take advice from me on your official matters despite you being a very professional and private person. And it was always you who gave final approval to my works. We were compatible on a completely different level, Khushi. It was just our own headstrong ignorance that we never got over our fears and beliefs."

She nodded, understandingly.

Sahil and Kruti, the very much in love couple, entered the party venue with their arms entwined together and. They had known Arnav since five years and Khushi since three. But unlike others, today they were here to change the equation of their marriage; their ignored marriage.

Presenting Karan Singh Grover as Sahil Khurana

Presenting Surbhi Jyoti as Kruti Khurana

"Sahil!" Arnav exclaimed and hugged him and his wife, lightly. "I am glad that you are here before time. Kruti, do me a favor and pick Di from the airport and Aunty from her place. Will Ya?"

Kruti bowed down and answered, "Anything for the married man, today."

He rolled his eyes and Sahil thrust the car keys in her hand.

"So, dude," Sahil started, "what's up?"

The two friends caught up on the happenings.


Khushi closed her laptop and closed her eyes for a small minute, stifling a yawn. She was already fatigued and today was the party. She wished that she could avoid it.

Dragging her feet to the floor, she stood up and walked towards the washroom for getting ready.

After thirty minutes, she stood before the mirror and kept down her spectacles in the case. Her vision blurred, as in habit, and she placed a hesitant grip on the lens tube. It tumbled and her blurry vision did not help. But unexpectedly, a hand held the tube and a tender voice murmured, "Careful, Khushi."

She blinked and smiled, awkwardly. "My vision is unclear Na, that's why, it just... Thanks."

"You're welcome," he murmured and then took his clothes from the cupboard and walked off in the washroom.

Dressed in a pea**** blue, sparkling sari, with her hair held up in a tight bun, she looked ethereal outlining her eyes with kohl. She stared at her own reflection in the mirror and gazed at it strongly.

Her clumsiness, a few moments back, came back to her mind and she whispered, very tenderly, "I am imperfect; Reyaan was so right about it. Perhaps really no one would have found a good wife in the business woman within me, if not for Arnav..."

He had heard it. And his mind replayed the conversation he just had with Sahil.

Sahil had told him, "How can you not love a woman as strong as Khushi, Arnav? Do you know that your wife is self-pitying her own self? Her self-esteem has been badly hurt by Reyaan; can't you understand a thing as simple as this? She finds herself imperfect and incompatible and it is visible on her face, you idiot!"

"What rubbish," Arnav had countered, "she is an independent woman with her own mind, Sahil. She does not have time to dwell on such useless things."

And Sahil had sarcastically concluded, "Yeah right; as if, life is only about letting go."

He gulped and walked out of the washroom, dressed in a perfect three-piece suit.

"Khushi," he softly mumbled as she wiped her moist eyes and readjusted her kohl.

"Yes," she addressed.

Arnav walked up to her and the reflection was a complete picture; of him and her.

His cologne was in her proximity but both of them had spent three years together and now she was unaffected.

"May I?" he hesitantly asked her, pointing at her bun, and she gazed quizzically at his face.

"Sorry?" she asked, genuinely confused.

He shook his head, smilingly, and without making her understand anything further, took the hair-pin off her hair, letting them sway on her hips. Khushi looked ahead, bemused.

Without giving her time to understand anything, he smiled and walked out of the room, only glancing back to cauterize her gaze and mumble softly, "You are beautiful, Khushi. You are really captivating."

She blinked.

"That evening was magical," he remarked.

Khushi held his palm and kissed it, agreeing, "It undoubtedly was."

"Yeah Di, I saw that report-"

Arnav stopped mid-sentence and passionately looked up at Khushi, for the first time in years realizing how beautiful his wife was. She descended the stairs and the whole audience stared with gaping eyes.

The music that followed was their unsung poem.

'Ik din kabhi jo khud ko tarashe, meri nazar se tu zara, haye re...'

The couple's gaze met and the eternity fell apart...

With no heed to the world beside, he walked towards the staircase and extended his palm towards his wife, this time not for another formality, but because of his own urge to feel her presence and her. She accepted his hand, feeling full and sparkling.

Sahil and Kruti grinned and indicated the disc jockey to increase the volume and dim the lights.

'Aankhon se teri kya-kya chupa hai, tujhko dikhaun mai zara, haye re...'

The lights dimmed and he clutched her hand tightly, taking her towards nowhere in particular while she confidently walked, gazing at him.

Reaching the centre of the hall, he pulled her towards him and softly placed his hand on her waist. She, for the first time in years, acknowledged the sensation that completed her with his touch.

'Ik ankahi si dastaan, dastaan kehne lagega aaina; subhanallah, jo ho raha hai pehli dafa hai wallah, aisa hua. Subhanallah, jo ho raha hai, pehli dafa hai wallah, aisa hua...'

With the lyrics astonishingly being lipped by him, the two of them drowned into each other.

She clutched his shoulder and then took a walk around him as the tune hummed.

He looked back into her eyes and continued with the melody.

'Meri khamoshi se baatein chun lena, unki dori se taarifein bun lena. Haan, meri khamoshi se baatein chun lena, unki taarifein bun lena...'

Years of unsaid attachment melted with that one gaze as Khushi held his hand back and he twirled her around while she hummed the next line.

'Kal nahin thi jo aaj lagti hun, taarif meri hai khamakhaan; tohfa hai tera meri adaa...'

The line was the story of her heart and as she sang it, her eyes shone brightly with pride as her husband softly stroked her face for a split second.

He grasped her wrist and bent down on his knees, bowing before her, as she darted her gaze at the man singing for her.

'Ik din kabhi jo khud ko pukaare, meri zubaan se tu zara, haye re...'

Her heart, coated with the belief that emotional attachment and dependence on your life partner is not a lifetime joy for you never know when fate plays you, beat profusely.

Arnav, devoid of faith, had faith in her presence and togetherness as he poured out his thoughts of her perfection.

Bent still on his knees, he continued with the next line.

'Tujhme chupi si jo shayari hai, tujhko sunaun mai zara, haye re...'

He looked up at her and she fell down on her knees, holding his arm.

'Yeh do dilon ka vaasta, vaasta khul ke bataya jaaye na; subhanallah, jo ho raha hai pehli dafa hai wallah, aisa hua. Subhanallah, jo ho raha hai wallah pehli dafa hai wallah, aisa hua...'

The couple, brought together by the cruelty of their own abandonments and dejection yet separated by their perceptions of it, bloomed in that song as she buried her face in the crook of his neck and found back what she had lost; her belief over herself.

The destined fleeting of her single statement made him realize what three years failed to. He had understood her a lot in those three years as an individual but that dance and that sentence made him understand her as who she was hidden to be.

'Subhanallah, jo ho raha hai pehli dafa hai wallah, aisa hua. Subhanallah, jo ho raha hai pehli dafa hai wallah ahaan, aisa hua...'

With that last line, the melody came to its end, giving them a new beginning to start with. And with choked voice, he huskily whispered, "You are perfect, Khushi; you are Subhanallah..."

"If not for that evening and my sentence, perhaps we would have been still cocooned," Khushi murmured, holding his hand more firmly.

Arnav gazed at the picture of their dance that evening, thirteen years back, and concluded, "Destiny has its own ways, Khushi. Isn't it amusing that one small gesture can give two people a new life; that a song can become the story of two lives; that an unsaid acknowledgement can be done with an unsung poem?"

"It is..." she whispered and placed her head on his shoulder, gazing at the moon smiling at them.

A small gesture can change lives; a small sentence can mend broken hearts; a fleeting touch can be held onto forever. The story of their journey was an unsung poem that said it all.

Jul 8, 2013

The meaning and translation: Subhanallah (By Anushree) (Thanked: 16 times)

Thanks a lot everyone for the beautiful compliments that you had given. This One Shot is the closest OS to my heart because this song redefines an estranged feeling from deep within. I am in love with this song and so, I translate the lyrics of this song here so that those who dun understand Hindi can also relate to the ephemeral beauty of this theme.


"Ik din kabhi jo khud ko tarashe,

Meri nazar se tu zara, haye re...

Aankhon se teri kya-kya chupa hai,

Tujhko dikhaun mai zara, haye re...

Ik ankahi si dastaan, dastaan,

Kehne lagega aaina, subhanallah...

Jo ho raha hai, pehli dafa hai wallah, aisa hua...

Subhanallah, jo ho raha hai,

Pehli dafa hai wallah, aisa hua..."

"One day, if you look at yourself,

With my gaze, oh dear...

What all is hidden from your eyes,

I shall show you, oh dear...

An unsaid story, a never said tale,

Will be narrated by the mirror, excellency...

Whatever is happening, is for the first time, is happening...

Oh excellency, whatever is happening,

Is happening for the first time, is happening..."

"Meri khamoshi se baatein chun lena,

Unki dori se taarifein bun lena;

Meri khamoshi se baatein chun lena,

Unki dori se taarifein bun lena..."

"To find words in my silence,

To weave praises from those unsaid words..."

"Kal nahin thi jo, aaj lagti hun,

Taarif meri hai khamakhaan,

Tohfa hai tera meri adaa..."

"What I was not yesterday, I seem like that today,

My praise is a flattery and false,

My style is your present..."

"Ik din kabhi jo khud ko pukaare,

Meri zubaan se tu zara, haye re...

Tujhme chupi si jo shayari hai,

Tujhko sunaun mai zara, haye re...

Yeh do dilon ka waasta, waasta,

Khul ke bataya jaaye na, subhanallah...

Jo ho raha hai pehli dafa hai wallah, aisa hua...

Subhanallah, jo ho raha hai, pehli dafa hai wallah, aisa hua...

Subhanallah, jo ho raha hai, pehli dafa hai wallah, aisa hua... [3]"

"One day, if you call out yourself,

With my words, oh dear...

The poetry hidden somewhere within you,

I shall sing it to you, oh dear...

This cord between the two hearts,

Cannot be defined completely in words, oh excellency...

Oh excellency, whatever is happening,

Is happening for the first time, is happening...

Oh excellency, whatever is happening, 

Is happening for the first time, is happening... [3]"

It has been sung by Sreeram, the brilliant winner of Indian Idol, and the music is by the phenomenal Pritam da. I hope that this song occupies the same unbent place in your hearts too as it has in mine.

Thanks a lot!



Voting: (Total Votes: 51)

The song is beautiful
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