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Double Sided Textured Armaan Stole Featuring Urdu Calligraphy of Poetry by Allama Iqbal. Available in 5 Colors!
Material: Double Sided, 100% Textured Polyester
Dimensions:
-Length: 79-80 Inches -Width: 19-20 Inches
Disclaimer:
-The actual product color may vary from the pictures due to lighting differences. While we aim for accuracy, variations may occur.
Each of us has our own desires. The first instance when it hits you is always the hardest - the longing to read every book in a library, acquire knowledge from lost civilizations, or simply find time for our loved ones.
Sometimes our desires begin to fade away within the course of time or they may stay as strong as they were but are never reached. And if you’re lucky, you’re able to fulfill them before they melt away.
Armaan is an ode to Mirza Ghalib and his poem conveys how our desires contribute to our existence as humans.
An Ode To Mirza Ghalib
ہزاروں خواہشیں ایسی کہ ہر خواہش پہ دم نکلے
بہت نکلے مرے ارمان لیکن پھر بھی کم نکلے
Thousands of desires, each one making me breathless…
My hopes have overflowed, yet they still feel less…
ڈرے کیوں میرا قاتل کیا رہے گا اس کی گردن پر
وہ خوں جو چشم تر سے عمر بھر یوں دم بدم نکلے
Why does my killer still roam free, unscathed?
The blood from my tearful eyes has flowed and still cascades…
نکلنا خلد سے آدم کا سنتے آئے ہیں لیکن
بہت بے آبرو ہو کر ترے کوچے سے ہم نکلے
Adam's departure from this world is a known fact…
But leaving your doorstep, I felt utterly attacked…
بھرم کھل جائے ظالم تیرے قامت کی درازی کا
اگر اس طرۂ پر پیچ و خم کا پیچ و خم نکلے
If only the oppressor's height and arrogance would crumble…
Perhaps then the curves and bends would cease to be a jumble…
مگر لکھوائے کوئی اس کو خط تو ہم سے لکھوائے
ہوئی صبح اور گھر سے کان پر رکھ کر قلم نکلے
But if someone wants to write a letter to my killer, they can ask me…
As the sun rises, I put pen to paper eagerly…
ہوئی اس دور میں منسوب مجھ سے بادہ آشامی
پھر آیا وہ زمانہ جو جہاں میں جام جم نکلے
In this era, my name is associated with drinking and excess…
But the past has returned, where the cup overflows with success…
ہوئی جن سے توقع خستگی کی داد پانے کی
وہ ہم سے بھی زیادہ خستۂ تیغ ستم نکلے
Those I looked to for comfort in my weariness…
Are even more tired, with swords of tyranny their only witness…
محبت میں نہیں ہے فرق جینے اور مرنے کا
اسی کو دیکھ کر جیتے ہیں جس کافر پہ دم نکلے
In love, there is no difference between life and death…
We are only victorious when the infidel takes their last breath…
کہاں مے خانہ کا دروازہ غالبؔ اور کہاں واعظ
پر اتنا جانتے ہیں کل وہ جاتا تھا کہ ہم نکلے
Where is the door to the tavern and where is the preacher?
But this much I know, yesterday he left before we could venture…
Great Products Need Great Care!
- Machine Washing Max. 30 C
- Do Not Bleach
-Ironing Max 110 C
- Dry Cleaning Perchloroethylene
- Do Not Tumble Dry
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Each of us has our own desires. The first instance when it hits you is always the hardest - the longing to read every book in a library, acquire knowledge from lost civilizations, or simply find time for our loved ones.
Sometimes our desires begin to fade away within the course of time or they may stay as strong as they were but are never reached. And if you’re lucky, you’re able to fulfill them before they melt away.
Armaan is an ode to Mirza Ghalib and his poem conveys how our desires contribute to our existence as humans.
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An Ode To Mirza Ghalib Thousands of desires, each one making me breathless… ڈرے کیوں میرا قاتل کیا رہے گا اس کی گردن پر Why does my killer still roam free, unscathed? نکلنا خلد سے آدم کا سنتے آئے ہیں لیکن Adam's departure from this world is a known fact… بھرم کھل جائے ظالم تیرے قامت کی درازی کا If only the oppressor's height and arrogance would crumble… مگر لکھوائے کوئی اس کو خط تو ہم سے لکھوائے But if someone wants to write a letter to my killer, they can ask me… ہوئی اس دور میں منسوب مجھ سے بادہ آشامی In this era, my name is associated with drinking and excess… ہوئی جن سے توقع خستگی کی داد پانے کی Those I looked to for comfort in my weariness… محبت میں نہیں ہے فرق جینے اور مرنے کا In love, there is no difference between life and death… کہاں مے خانہ کا دروازہ غالبؔ اور کہاں واعظ Where is the door to the tavern and where is the preacher? |
