Pakcik Reminisces ( Pt 31 ) – In Sentimental Mood

It was past midnight and I was alone in the house; ‘For once – deserted’ as I wrote on 01-06-13.  On the TV  screen standing hardly two meters away was an Arabic musical programme, and held in one hand was a book, one of Adibah Amin’s. I do not think I was truly concentrating on the book nor the TV programme. Out of a sudden I was startled out of my reverie when a very familiar voice was singing an old favourite. It was the unmistakable Arabic song by none other than the late singer, Farid el Athras ( 1915 – 1974 ).  

“ Ya zahratan fi khayali; raaituha fi fua’di, ( “Oh flower in my imagination that I guarded with my heart and soul”
 The opening line was being repeated several times.

Instantly those lines flew me way back to the days of the early 1950’s when I was struggling with my Arabic, the anticipated passport to my future – the aborted dream of further studies in Egypt. I reckon those days were the beginning of an age when I think most young people go through; I call it the age of romanticism, when one begins to dream and fantasise. The lyrics of some Arabic songs and the like of P Ramlee’s Merak Kayangan and Indonesian keroncong, Bengawan Solo, helped to open the door into my fantasy world. 

In black-and white film Farid el Athras, looking very smart, was singing for a young couple swaying on the dance floor to the rhythm of tango, smooth and graceful. My eyes hardly blinked staring at the screen.

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Farid el-Atrash   Oh Flower in My Imagination Oh flower in my imagination that I guarded with my heart and soul The nights damaged her And their hands caused her to wilt And their eyes bothered her And thus died the magic of her eyelids (meaning her petals perhaps?)

She was my passion, I've lost everything
So I've removed the love from my heart and soul
I've given my chords and my melodies to the ages
I sang to heal my wounds
I am a bird in the hills of art singing for the birds, for the flowers, and for the branches

فريد الأطرش - يا زهرة في خيالي
يا زهرة في خيالي رعيتها في فؤادي
جنت عليها الليالي وأذبلتها الأيادي
و شاغلتها العيون فمات سحر الجفون
يا غرامي كل شيء ضاع منى فنزعت الحب من قلبي و روحي
و وهبت العمر أوتاري و لحني و تغنيت فداويت جروحي
أنا طير في ربى الفن يغنى للطيور للزهور للغصون

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Past fleeting scenes came through my mind’s eye with clarity; but they were no more than just scenes of happy moments. It ended with a strange tinge of regret that it all had to have an end.

C’est la vie.

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