The only criterion for the relationship of prostitutes is rupees, they will not mind if you arrange a party with them day and night on the bill of rupees, this is their profession. They consider rupees and time to be the sexes of exchange. Even though they are "employees", they are free in the "dance and song" business. Go to the night, listen to the song, untie the knot, if there is no rupee left, let's get up. Apart from that, there is no third way for them. They are not convinced of "simple relations", and they need assembly relations.
With which eyes did the composers look,
"Mughniyya" asked the usual manners, if you look into the eyes, then
the tea is present, and if not, then the outward behavior is also absent,
listen to the song, give money. Salam wa Alaikum wa Alaikum Salam, Mabakhir
Shama Bislamat, and this goes up to the preparation of the speakers for a few
minutes of formal speeches. In the tabla beat, the singer circled the invisible
lyrics with her fingers.
Nayab's tender fingers had reached the sitar, he said a lot
in the tone of the sitar, none of us knew the language of the sitar, it was
only known that its inventor was Amir Khusro and the sound of the Baj in the
string was dull. is combined with Two thin strings to make the sound of the khraj,
the fourth string brings out the sound of the steel pancham, the brass rattle
string brings out the sound of a fifth of the septal, and both the chakras give
the sound of the kharaj and besides the baj, there are jars who give it its
function, slowly. Slowly, slowly, a fire was kindled in the heads, and
gradually the flame became a flame.
According to us, it was not the perfection of the strings of
the sitar, but the magic of those delicate fingers, which became a song in the
strings of Patil. Waterfall seeds.
Drops were falling on Nayab's forehead, Al-Hamdi said,
"It takes soul to create life in these strings, where the poet's mind thinks,
where the singer's fingers speak."
Nayab teased Dagh's ghazal, Hafiz stopped it, and Khawaja said
"Sing Iqbal". Rarity dug into a corner of the mind, put a bill on the
forehead, and spoke.
The talk of those who are infidels is endless
Beauty protects and youth sleeps
Qazi cut it there, this poem is not Iqbal's but Sagar
Nizami's.
Rarity thought about it some more, then apologized.
"Excuse me, I can't think of any poetry of Iqbal at the
moment."
"Yes, even so, people on your side steal from
Iqbal."
"No, I have memorized Punjabi songs too."
"Devotion or necessity," asked the judge sarcastically.
Yes, think about it."
Al-Hamdi turned the conversation and said.
"Mian need does not do anything, this is also needed,
Naidu is the abbreviation of rare, is a child, is now learning Pake Raag, these
are some ten-twelve ghazals and that too you have remembered such grace. She
sings them.
Stay for a while, Iqbal's words will also be memorized.
"Go to Farida, her voice is very popular."
But it does not belong to the managers, it belongs to the
ministers. She doesn't speak straight nowadays. Lovers have spoiled his habits.
Ismail said.
So she will not be in this event?" Qazi inquired.
"It should be, but because we can sit there, either
those whose pockets are full or those whose honor is dead can sit there,"
Khawaja said.
"But Khan has made a separate arrangement, a stick has
been put in the balcony above."
"Let's go, we will talk as the atmosphere will be,
where are such gatherings held before twelve o'clock at night?" These
kinds of events always start at midnight. The first half of the night is for
everyone's own business.
Mumtaz called. "Agha ji, where are you moving? Come on,
Aunt Wazir is sitting, she was asking you."
"Today there is a celebration in your neighborhood,
aren't you guys going?"
'' Yes! For this celebration, Shahnaz has sewn a new suit
for Salma, she has become burdened like the odes of taste.
And this is the special color of Mumtaz.
Wazir, Mumtaz Bawali's mother, is eight knots and a true
heroine, many stories are dreamed in every corner of her face, her eyes still
have the glow of the past, her voice is also husky, and her body is worn out. There
is, but there is a hint of color, and there is a richness in tone. The minister
asked Game to bring Haqqah, Haqqah came, and she sat down with the tea in her
mouth like a bank-chaudhary selling doll while sitting on a donkey.
"Agha Ji, tell me how is nature?"
"Thank God, how are you?"
"There is only God's favor, no sorrow for what has
passed, no grief for what is passing, no worry for what is about to pass, the
name of this movement is life."
"Mumtaz admires you a lot, and sometimes says that you have
preserved the memories of the past."
'' Yes! Only memories remain and now there is nothing left
but a sigh. You know the most memorable moments in life are the ones that have
been lived."
Abu Yusuf said, "This is Oscar Wilde's work."
Mumtaz picked up the conversation and said while pinching.
"Yes, Aunt Wazir was also Saira last June."
The same laughter. Hussain coincidentally Sabri also came,
Qazi was saying
"It is very difficult to understand Mumtaz."
Sabri said. Why is this also a mistake?
"It's not anxiety, it's anxiety."
"Who was he?"
Mumtaz laughed as usual and said
"Kaziji kahmzulf."
The minister said, Qazi! Women are not made to be
understood, they are made to love."
"Okay, but love is also a sexual emotion."
'' Yes! We and you all are the product of sexual desire.''
Mumtaz said again.
Khawaja said to the judge. '' brother! "It is not easy
to win from Mumtaz, it is a fruit of intelligence."
Mumtaz lit a cigarette and said to the minister,
"Aunty!" Want to ask some questions for your book?''
"For example?" inquired the minister
For example, (Mumtaz said with a wink) the experience of
youth?
The minister flinched as if he wasn't ready for it.
Mumtaz, as usual, pinched it again and said,
"Experience is the name of Jag Beti or Aap Beti ka."
Abu Yusuf said, "No, these are Oscar Wilde's
words." We make mistakes and call it experience.”
The minister said, "There is a reason why the world
does not benefit from each other's experiences, but every human being
experiences them."
"Well, man has always been in the passage of
experiments, but why do you call old women heroines?"
What is the source? You are writers, you know, but when
Randi gets old, they call her heroine.
"It may be Naik's Tanit," said Mumtaz.
"It may also be that the soldier who drank the water of
Ghat Ghat in the earlier age was given the rank of Naik in the latter age. The
same is the case with Rundi, when she can get rid of it, she is called Naika
when she is old," said Qazi.
"But the real word is not Naicha?" said Khawaja.
"Yes, no, Haqke is the singer of Naicha," said
Ismail in reply.
"Then it is Naicha (Mumtaz said interrupting the
conversation) Hakke also has a mouth and a Naika also calls that rundi who has
a mouth."
Everyone laughed out loud.
Minister said. "You call the old randy a title, there
is a bit of contempt in it, for example, today the incompetent is called
Khalifa, the ignorant is called Allama, the clumsy is called Ustadji, and the
gifted is called Shafaa-ul-Mulk."
"Have you ever thought about your past?"
"Yes, everyone must think about their past sometimes,
but it is futile to regret it, we learn the lessons of life when they have
become useless to us, it is useless to dwell on those lost days. There is no
difference between the past and the present, only the circumstances change, as
far as the causes and effects are concerned, they always remain the same with
an apparent difference. The question has not changed in the centuries-old man
that he has merged time, distance, and land. Its changes are of the body, not of
the soul, if there is any difference, it is only of 'make-up', life has either
become mechanized or the rest of the features of business profit and loss are
old."
These words of the minister affected us all, although his
words were not so clear, the meaning of his words was even more clear.
"Have you read anything?" Qazi asked.
"If you mean books by reading, understand that letters
are taken up, but countless people must have read them, hundreds of people! I
saw the age of my grandmother and mother, I saw the period of my mother's
youth, then I have reached here by telling a time myself, I have also seen my
daughter's cover, and the granddaughters are also filling the quartet in front
of my eyes as if reading a person from the fifth back. I have been, but excuse
me, a man's love is just a ray of sunshine.
"And the love of a woman?" Khawaja asked
"Woman's love, you may want to take a nap, but never
forget that a woman lives only on feelings, she loves only once in her life,
not many times if her love betrays her. "Then she doesn't love, she takes
revenge?"
"Anyone else?" inquired the judge.
The minister's face became red with someone's words. and
said in a resounding voice,
"Somebody! A protest against the fascism of any men?''
"Ajjaj or Vengeance,"
"Say something, but changing the words will not change
the reality."
If your opinion is accepted, this protest or revenge is a
cause of humiliation for the woman herself.
Interrupting the conversation, Imtiaz said, "It is not
a reason for defamation, it is painful. You are calling prostitution revenge or
protest. It is the wrath of God."
Mumtaz said, "Are you listening to the story of
Ram?" Send Salat on this tikka faihita.
“See, this is a degeneracy of words. You are the one who is
focusing on the degradation of women, where is the story of Ram and where is
Salat? And where is this meaning?'' Kazi said while turning the matter. And
Mumtaz spoke while giving a bite.
Now it was almost half of the night, the people who were sad
and had left, some Allaptos were passing by looking around. Some of the ropes
were looking for "Pana Hai", somewhere the horn was being blown in
four bars, and many were returning to their respective homes in drunken
debauchery.
0 Comments
Post a Comment