Translate

Monday, April 1, 2013

On Pain of Separation

Last night I watched a documentary about Russian soldiers who were missing in action during the Soviet-Afghan War in 1980s. Through hard works of some individuals, many of those MIA were returned home, but many more are scattered around the world; and some still remain, on their own accord, in Afghanistan.

The story of Aleksei Olenin touched my heart, I felt pain through and through, though I don't know him. Here he was, a Soviet youth, thrown into a war which he did not understand. No, I won't talk about his life in detail, just watch the documentary; it's all there.

What I got out of it is that we are an extension of our environment. Aleksei's speech has changed to such a degree that he now speaks Russian with a Tajik accent; or so it seems to me. I recognize my own speech pattern, my own diction and manner of talk in him. He never knew Tajik (or Dari as it is known in Afghanistan), but after almost a quarter of century he learned the language and customs of this foreign land. 

The other issue depicted in the documentary is the pain of separation. Intentional or not, the producers show how separation from one's home changes the person, how it affects one's character, world view, even religion. It is hard, this most painful of pains, on the person, on his being, this pain of separation. Take the child away from his mother, take a man away from his home, it is painful. I cried myself to sleep.

Then, I woke up, like a fool on such a beautiful day, just to learn of another sad news. Another story of separation, this one is closer to me. A friend and a friend, now friends no more. For many years I knew them both, they had been through much together, once went away but returned to each other. This morning I learned they decided to go separate ways for good. This pain reminded me of my favorite poet.

Rumi's whole life was based on separation. First his family was moved from Vakhsh (Tajikistan) to Balkh (Afghanistan). Then, as the Mongol hordes were encircling the eastern lands beyond Seihun, the family moved to Iran and thence to Turkey. Rumi's father settled in Konya where he opened a school, which would eventually lead to the establishment of Mavlavi Order. What we know today as the Persian Koran is the work of Rumi's life, Masnavii Ma'navi. Throughout the book of Masnavi, Rumi used so many stories to make the grand point, that of all the pains that we as humans feel none is worse than pain of separation. This is my understanding, and I have been reading Rumi for many years now.

Rumi poured all that pain into his works. One of the worst separation in his life was when he lost his friend, Shamsi Tabriz, which promted Rumi to write his Devoni Tabriz. Rumi found Shams later, just to loose him again, but this time for all eternity. He penned the following words when he was separated from Shams the second time:

Бишнав аз най чун ҳикоят мекунад, (Bishnav az nai choon hikoyat mekunad)
В-аз ҷудоиҳо шикоят мекунад. (V-az judoiho shikoyat mekunad)
К-аз найистон чун маро бубридаанд, (K-az nai-iston choon maro bubridaand)
Дар нафирам марду зан нолидаанд. (Dar nafiram mardu zan nolidaand)

These are the first four lines of the book of Masnavi; Rumi wrote first 18 lines himself, and the rest of the 6 volumes he dictated to his most devoted student, Husam Chelebi, but that's another story.

Masnavi's message is contained in those first eighteen lines. The quatrain above has been translated by so many people into English language, by experts and novices alike. My own understanding is such:

Hear the reed flute tell a story
A complain of separation
Of the time when it was cut from its "home"
Causing wailing of man and woman

This is a poor translation, but the idea is that even a reed flute cries when it is separated from its reed bed. Here listen to the nai, this instrument weeps when it is being played, reminding you of Rumi's introduction to Masnavi.

We are all fools, not only once but throughout the year, if we don't learn from our mistakes. I'll end this post with a story from Masnavi. It's called "Moses and the Shepard" and this translation comes from Andrew Harvey's Teachings of Rumi.

You don't have to be religious person to understand the message, I am not; it's about Pain of Separation....