Folk Tales of Pakistan: Mirza-Sahiban

Posted on October 26, 2010
Filed Under >Mast Qalandar, Culture & Heritage, Poetry
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Mast Qalandar

In an earlier post on Sohni Mahiwal I had said folklore was a mixture of beliefs, facts and fiction and that it was always a poet who immortalized a love story. But, it is also true that a poet chose to sing a particular story, and not the other, because of its inherent beauty, drama and poignancy. Mirza-Sahiban is one such poignant story of blind love.

The story came down to us through a 17th century Punjabi poet, Piloo (Peeloo), in oral or ballad form. Since then, many poets and writers have written the story. But, because of its unique rustic style, brevity and boldness, Piloo’s version of the story became popular, and is widely sung and celebrated in rural Punjab even today.

The story has also been translated into Urdu, both in poetry and prose, and a short version in English is included in a book ‘The Legends of the Punjab’ written, in 1884, by one Captain R. C. Temple.

The story has also been translated into Urdu, both in poetry and prose, and a short version in English is included in a book ‘The Legends of the Punjab’ written, in 1884, by one Captain R. C. Temple.

The Education Department of Punjab, Lahore, published Mirza-Sahiban in Urdu in 1951, interestingly, with the title: Mirza Sahiban (for adults)!

Since most of the ATP readers, I assume, are adults, I have no qualms in relating the story to them, as I know it.

The dates are controversial, but the events of the story are generally believed to have taken place around the time of the Mughal king Akbar. And the geographical area where all this happened was located somewhere between the rivers Ravi and Chenab.

In a village called Khewa, near present day Jhang, a woman named Nooran gave birth to a boy. Nooran died when the child was still in infancy. Therefore, the boy was wet-nursed by another woman who had a suckling daughter. Thus, according to the traditions of the time, the boy and the girl became siblings. The boy grew up to become the chief of his village and also of the Sayyal tribe, which inhabited the area. He came to be known as Khewa Khan. His “sister” grew up to become Fateh Bibi and was married to a man named Wanjal (or Banjal), of the Kharral tribe, who lived in village Danababad, which, today, is in Tehsil Jarranwala, district Faisalabad.

The towns, Khewa and Danabad, were short of a day’s ride apart on horseback.

Mirza, the hero of our story, was born to Fateh Bibi and Wanjal while Sahiban, the heroine, was the daughter of Khewa Khan. As already explained, since Fateh Bibi and Khew Khan were suckled by the same woman, Mirza and Sahiban ended up being “cousins” according to the prevailing traditions.

Mirza must have been 8 or 9 when his parents decided to send him to Khewa to live with his “maternal uncle”, Khewa Khan. It was not unusual those days for parents to send their children to live with their mother’s or father’s relatives for education or for other reasons.

Khewa Khan enrolled both Mirza and Sahiban at the local mosque, the usual place for basic education those days. A student would start off with alphabet, or patti as it was called, and then graduate to reading the Quran, chapter by chapter, and then to other subjects, if any, depending on the interest of the student and his/her parents. The imam of the mosque, commonly called maulvi or qazi, would be the sole teacher.

Like most teachers of his time, the maulvi who taught Mirza and Sahiban was a stickler for pedagogical rules, and his golden rule was: Spare the rod and spoil the child. As a tool of punishment, he used what in Punjabi is called a chimmak. It is a long, thin, green twig or branch of a tree, shorn of the leaves or any thorns. When struck on any part of the body it sends a flaming sensation through the body — and the soul, too, I guess.

Years passed, and both Mirza and Sahiban advanced into adolescence and to adulthood. They discovered that they liked to be in each other’s company. Actually, Mirza and Sahiban had fallen head over heals in love with each other — a love that was honest, blind and reckless. Often in the “class”, they would be more absorbed into each other than to paying attention to the maulvi. The maulvi had to resort to the use of chimmak to get their attention.

According to the story, Sahiban, once, when struck by the maulvi for not memorizing her lesson correctly, addresses him thus:

Na maar qazi chimkaaN, na day tatti nooN taa
Parrhna sada reh gaya lay aaye ishq likha

O qazi, don’t beat me with the stick; don’t burn me. I am already burning [with love]. Books are of no use to us, for love is now writ in our destiny.

Sahiban had grown into a beautiful young woman. Piloo, the poet, describes her beauty with the usual poetic exaggeration. He says, when Sahiban went shopping, the grocer would be so distracted by her beauty that he would place wrong weights in the weighing scale (tarakri), and that instead of oil she wanted he would pour honey for her. At another place the poet says, when Sahiban walked past the fields the farmers would stop plowing and would stand transfixed by her beauty.

Mirza also grew into a strapping, handsome young man. He had shoulder length hair, was a good horseman, was known for his physical courage, and was a deadly shot with his bow and arrow. His marksmanship was legendary.

Mirza and Sahiban’s love affair soon became the talk of the town. When Sahiban’s father heard of it, he was mad. He would have none of it, and soon packed Mirza off to his home in Danabad. Also, a suitable young man, named Tahir Khan, from the same tribe, was found to marry Sahiban, and a date was set for the wedding.

Sahiban, when she came to know of her imminent marriage, sent an emissary to Mirza asking him to come and get her before she was bundled off to a new home.

Mirza couldn’t and wouldn’t let this happen. He announced his decision to go to Khewa and get Sahiban. His parents and sister tried to dissuade him saying that the Sayyal women could not be trusted, and that he was taking a big risk going to Khewa. His father’s words of advice and warning are quite revealing of the values of the time, some of which persist even today. He says: “To hell with these women. Their brains are in their heels. They fall in love laughing and, later, tell their story to everyone crying.” Strange as it may sound, the father goes on to say: “One should not step inside the house of a woman with whom he is in love.” However, when the father realized that Mirza would not be dissuaded, he relented, saying: “I see you are determined to go. Now, go, but don’t come back without Sahiban. It’s a question of our honor. Bring her with you!”

Mirza readies his horse, collects his bow and quiver and sets off to Khewa on the day Sahiban’s wedding is to take place. He reaches Khewa when the wedding party (barat) has just arrived and is being feasted. Sahiban, decked in her bridal dress, her hands and feet died with henna, is tucked away in a room somewhere upstairs.

Mirza, knowing the layout of the house from the years he had spent in it, quietly slips inside and asks a woman confidante to alert Sahiban of his arrival. He, then, climbs up to her room, brings her down, helps her into the saddle on his horse and, with Sahiban clinging to him, gallops away into the night.

It takes a while for Khewa Khan’s household to find out what has happened. Sahiban’s brother, Shamair, accompanied by his other brothers, the bridegroom and others set off on their horses after the runaway couple.

Confident that he had gained sufficient distance and that it would not be easy for his pursuers to catch up with him, Mirza wants to stop and rest for a while. He was too tired.

Sahiban warns him that her brothers might catch up with them and urges him not to stop. But Mirza boastfully tells her that, first, they won’t be able to catch up with them and even if they did it would take only one arrow to take care of Shamair, and one more to get rid of her betrothed. And that he had sufficient arrows to take care of the whole bunch of the Sayyals. Confident but tired, he lies down under a clump of trees — and dozes off while Sahiban keeps watch.

In the quiet of wilderness, Sahiban is assailed with doubts. What if they catch up and kill Mirza? What if Mirza, quick and accurate marksman that he was, kills his brothers? Like a typical Eastern sister, her love seem to be divided between her lover and her brothers. She doesn’t want either of them to be killed. Somehow, she believes, or hopes, that this whole thing could end without bloodshed. So, she quietly takes Mirza’s quiver and hangs it on a branch, out of his reach.

Soon, there is the drumming sound of hoofs, and in no time the pursuers appear on the scene. Sahiban shakes Mirza out of sleep. Mirza wakes up with a start and instinctively reaches for his quiver but doesn’t find it there. In that split second, an arrow from Shamair’s bow pierces Mirza’s throat and he falls to the ground. Another arrow pierces his chest. With two arrows stuck in his body, Mirza looks accusingly into the eyes of Sahiban and utters those memorable words, somewhat reminiscent of Shakespeare’s “Et tu, Brute?”:

“Bura kitoyee Sahiban, mera turkish tangiya jand!”

[Sahiban, you did a terrible thing by hanging the quiver away from my reach!]

Sobbing and shaking, Sahiban throws herself over Mirza’s body to cover him from any further hits. A shower of arrows rains on Sahiban. Her body twitches and then lies still, and Miraz and Sahiban enter the world of lore and literature.

In Punjabi literature today, just as Ranjha is identified with his flute and Sohni with her un-fired water pitcher (kacha gharra), Mirza has become a metaphor of courage and marksmanship. This is evident in one of Munir Niazi’s poignant poems when, engulfed in a pall of gloom, the poet invokes Ranjha and Mirza in the following lines:

Jattan karo kujh dosto, toRo maut da jaal
Pharr murli O Ranjhiya, kadh koi teekhi taan
Maar koi teer O mirziya, khich kay wal asmaan

Do something, friends, lift this pall of despair
O Ranjha, take out your flute and play an enchanting tune
O Mirza, shoot an arrow at the sky to pierce this web of gloom

Note: The story is based mostly on Piloo’s ballad of Mirza-Sahiban, as discussed by Professor Hamidullah Hashmi in his book.

50 Comments on “Folk Tales of Pakistan: Mirza-Sahiban”

  1. ahsan says:
    April 9th, 2007 11:15 am

    Excellent! The beauty of Sahiban is so poignantly described that I wish MQ could give us her vital measurements!!

  2. April 9th, 2007 12:43 pm

    MQ: Thank you for bringing this story to us.

    I had not thought much about this story for a long time. Somehow I always knew Mirza-Sahiban but never understood the deeper meaning in the story – the significance of one’s loyalty torn between people loved and cared about. Maybe I find the love story more interesting now that I am married and profoundly in love.

  3. April 9th, 2007 12:47 pm

    Forgot to add: Any idea what is the significance of Sahiban holding the bow and the arrow in the photograph you attached?

  4. Roshan says:
    April 9th, 2007 1:59 pm

    Wonderful narration MQ jee.
    It just reminded me the stanza from Abrar’s famous song Bilo de ghar…
    ‘Kutie Maray Faqeer Di
    Jeri Choun Choun Nit Karay
    Hatti Saray Qaraar Di
    Jithay Deeva Raat Balay
    Ho Panch Sat Marn Gawaandna
    Tay Rendian Nun Taap Chadhay
    Sonjian Ho Jan Gallian
    Tay Wich Mirza Yaar Phiray’

  5. chiefsahib says:
    April 9th, 2007 2:03 pm

    Thanks for the great story!
    A shame more isn’t being done to preserve and document these folk tales and ballads

  6. Farrukh says:
    April 9th, 2007 2:13 pm

    I wonder what the sisters at Jamia Hafsa would think of Sahiban? One set takes up the danda, another tries to avoid violence? On face value, the danda worked but the non-violence did not. On the other hand, we are still singing praises of Sahiban.

  7. MQ says:
    April 9th, 2007 2:18 pm

    Among the many people who have composed the story of Mirza Sahiban in Punjabi verse, one by Saeen Maula Shah Qadri describes Sahiban’s figure in some graphic detail. I would recommend you read it. It comes with translation in Urdu.

    Bilal Zuberi,
    The picture was picked up by Adil from somewhere. It seems the painter, in his own mind, is trying to combine Mirza’s famed “arrowmanshipâ€

  8. April 9th, 2007 2:23 pm

    On the picture with Sahiban and the bow and arrow, as MQ says it is difficult to read teh artists mind. The symbolism of the bow and arrow is, of course, central to the story… for Mirza’s prowess and for Sahiban putting it far away from Mirza in those critical moments.

    When I picked the pictures, I was thinking (maybe mistakenly) of parts in the story – much earlier on – when Mirza would instruct Sahiban in archery when he was living in the same household.

  9. Jabir Khan says:
    April 9th, 2007 2:36 pm

    Good post, raises many interesting questions that will be fun to discuss.

    -MQ, as you have been to USA, what is their take on cousin marriage? Be honnest.

    -Was there co-education in those days? Are you sure? And Maulvi allowed it? You are giving lots of credit here.

    -Don’t you feel the young couple took a wrong advantage of the situation? Thus leading to co-ed ban later on?

    -Psychologists say ‘love’ does not last more than 3 years. Flats out like shaken cola. Do you agree?

    -Was Sahibaan brainwashed by feminsist of her age? Poor soul, couldn’t make right decisions! She should have completed her education first.

  10. blue and grey says:
    April 9th, 2007 3:39 pm

    A beautiful story, told beautifully! Thanks.

    This reminds of a drama series, by ptv in the 1990s. Each time they would take one of the famous folk tales and screen it.

  11. tina says:
    April 9th, 2007 5:24 pm

    Jabir, marriage between biological first cousins is disallowed in the States, like marriage between brother and sister. However you will notice in the story that the lovers are not biological cousins.

    Arranged marriage between first cousins in places like Pakistan is looked down upon by Westerners as being the cause of many inherited medical problems. If you reply please understand that I will not be getting into any discussion about it, pro or con.

    I don’t know enough about Punjabi educational arrangements in the 17th century to answer your other questions, but I imagine that in a small town with limited options all students may well have shared a room. If they are all children, why not?

    Also the author of the story has to have some way of getting the hero and heroine together.

    Psychologists are not talking about love but infatuation. Infatuation lasts such a short time. Love is different. My grandfather after 65 years of marriage to my grandmother said that on the day he met her she was the most beautiful girl in the room and she still was in his eyes. Recently in our locale we had a couple celebrate 80 years of marriage, both are in their 90s and still “in love”.

    So the comment of Mirza’s father, that one should avoid being in love to protect oneself is very sad in my opinion. Unfortunately many still do this, don’t they?

  12. Jabir Khan says:
    April 9th, 2007 5:56 pm

    tina you are right about the difference between infatuation and love. But the problem is, the present day consumer driven, cheap media bombarded societies and the resulting junk generations are unfortunate enough to distinguish between true love and infatuation.

    A couple of my friends took the path of love marriage. Their marriages are shattered now, nearly all of them. The one or two that survived are nothing short of a nightmare. I think the prices of houses in their neighborhood must have fallen drastically because of their four seasons bickering and fighting’s. My conclusion is, true love manifests from a higher moral standing and sacrificial instincts. Present day lot is nothing less than moths, hopping between nectar laden flowers.

    I am glad to hear about the successful marriage between your grandparents, good luck to them. I am curious to know their take on present day situation.

    And as far as educational arrangements in 1700 Punjab are concerned, we shall give credit to the ‘openness’ of the maulvi. Though they were children but they were interested more in each other than paying attention to the education.

    As a side note, do you know the literacy rate of sub-continent was around 80% before the English abolished the whole system and replaced it with their own? After more than 150 years we have not been able recover from that disaster.

  13. tina says:
    April 9th, 2007 6:24 pm

    Jabir, my grandparents had a love marriage. But many years ago I think young people going into marriage had a better idea of what it entailed. They raised seven children on small means which I think today’s generation would not be willing to do.

    I realize this is an almost taboo subject, but frankly many arranged marriages to do not work out either even though the couple may stay together out of some different pressures. I know middle aged people who aren’t speaking to each other and living on different floors of their house. But hey it’s not a divorce, so……

    Allow me to illustrate, my grandmother on the other side was widowed young so she married my grandfather’s brother as does happen. So who I grew up calling grandfather was really my great-uncle. Anyway she raised thirteen children in total but the marriage was very miserable from the beginning–in fact her marriage to the first brother was not better also. So here we have everybody doing their duty and following the customs but nobody happy.

    If you can find love, then love is the best. I am sorry that some immature young people give love marriages a bad name.

    Also a comment on the cousin marriage—in the States in rural areas cousin marriage happened until recently, and was banned not long ago for the reason stated above. Like I said, I know the people who support cousin marriage dispute the medical science behind this decision, which I am not qualified to argue one way or the other, I am just putting the information out there.

    I find it very interesting that the author of the poem created a link of “cousinship” (is that a word) in which the lovers were not actually related. Was it to create the tribal conflict or what I don’t know…..perhaps if they were “real” cousins there would not have been barriers to their marriage.

  14. Zia says:
    April 9th, 2007 9:02 pm

    Very nice!. I have always loved our folk stories. Heer Ranjha, Sohni Mahinwal, Mirza Sahibaan along with Laila Majnoon, Shirin Farhad and Azra Wamiq…all of these had so much about life which you do not understand till you grow up and experience.
    As for Mirza Sahiban, there was a song by an Indian singer Gurdaas Maan I found it on youtube.Thought I should put the link here

  15. tina says:
    April 9th, 2007 9:22 pm

    Zia, I also saw an old black and white film version of this story on PTV some years ago. I don’t remember the title or who was acting in it. Does anybody else know?

  16. Ahmed2 says:
    April 9th, 2007 11:08 pm

    MQ in his inimitable way has once again brought two ill-starred lovers buried in the dust of centuries to vivid life. The path of true love never does run smooth, and as someone has rightly said, men die but sorrow never dies. Instead it becomes the stuff of legend and folklore and romance.
    Reading this I was strongly reminded of the story’s similarity with the story of Sir Walter Scott’s Lochinvar:

    “So daring in love and so dauntless in war
    Have you ever heard of gallant like young Lochinvar”…

    “She looked down to blush and she looked up to sigh
    With a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye”.

    Lochinvar’s story had a happy ending and the lovers escaped (to live happily ever after?); our story ends in tragedy. ‘Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought’. Perhaps the sub-continetal climate lends itself to dirges.

    Be it as it may, it certainly has given full rein to the imagination.

  17. MQ says:
    April 9th, 2007 11:38 pm

    Thanks for putting the Youtube link. The song nicely captures the spirit of the story, particularly the “et tu Brute” line:
    Marda hoya Mirza bol piya
    Sahiban te maRi keeti nee

  18. jk says:
    April 10th, 2007 12:02 am

    Thank you for this wonderful article :D

  19. Harris says:
    April 10th, 2007 12:17 am

    If Mirza lived in present times he would have brought at least four friends with him to take Sahiban. He would have taken her straight to a maulvi to get a backdated nikkah-nama using the four friends as witnesses. He would have then sent a message to Sahiban’s family with a copy of the nikkah-nama and a short note stating ” Shamir, oye kuch te khayal ker be-murada, apni behn nu bewa karna ei be-sharma”

    But then it wouldn’t have become a folklore :-)

  20. shayer says:
    April 10th, 2007 2:46 am

    hmm… what a tragedy.very well written story. managed to evoke my sympathies. and as predicted the lovers sarifice their lives at the end with a twist in the ‘tale’ that is sahiba hiding the bow and arrow. if you take it out, the story is very ordinary.

  21. Samdani says:
    April 10th, 2007 2:58 am

    Very powerful story. Unfortauntely a tragedy like all these tales of love. Is there any that actually ends in ‘and they lived hapily ever after’?

    Maybe thsi is why ‘Mashriq ka zameer udaas hai.’ All our stories are tragedies and we expect all our realities to also be tragedies.

  22. Harris says:
    April 10th, 2007 3:29 am


    The tragic end makes these folklores so special and popular. Who wants to read the stories of happy marriage with in-laws trouble and four crying babies?

  23. Imran says:
    April 10th, 2007 3:43 am

    Tina, this is a clip from a old film called Mirza Jat is it u have seen

  24. Bhindigosht says:
    April 10th, 2007 10:00 am

    >>>>>If Mirza lived in present times he would have brought at least four friends with him to take Sahiban. He would have taken her straight to a maulvi to get a backdated nikkah-nama using the four friends as witnesses. He would have then sent a message to Sahiban’s family with a copy of the nikkah-nama and a short note stating â€

  25. tina says:
    April 10th, 2007 12:23 pm

    This is true about the tragic love stories, but the Hyderabadi love story of Quli Qutb and Bhagmati has a happy ending, they married and raised kids and founded a dynasty–not too bad. I like that story very much, and its all true.

    The Walt Disney or Hollywood happy ending to love stories is something new in the culture, which had its start in Victorian times. A little before that Romeo and Juliet was more what you would find in Western world, unless it was a comedy. In a comedy the lovers could get married in the end.

    It’s said that there are love stories which affirm the continuation of life and these end with a wedding (presumably followed by those four babies). Then there are love stories which affirm the inevitability of death and loss and these end with the funeral of the lovers. Both serve a purpose.

    That the Hollywood culture can only focus in a simple way on one kind of outcome ignoring the other is probably not healthy. But then Americans, sorry to say so, are famous for ignoring death and pretending that loss doesn’t profoundly affect people. However if all the Pakistani love stories end in tragedy that is also probably not very desirable. What does that tell us about Pakistan today in that case?

    Now I have a lot of thinking to do…who knew love stories could be so complicated.

  26. shayer says:
    April 10th, 2007 7:47 pm

    Tragic love stories are usually far more popular than those with happy endings. I think this has something to do with human nature that we care more about things that we’ve lost.

  27. Cyrus says:
    April 11th, 2007 11:13 pm

    Thanks MQ, for reminding us how much we have to treasure in our heritage. This is especially true in these dark times that we are passing through.
    Keep these posts coming. Hopefully you will reveal yourself to us one day.

  28. MQ says:
    April 12th, 2007 7:36 am

    “I wonder what the sisters at Jamia Hafsa would think of Sahiban? “

    I think it won’t be a bad idea to introduce Pakistani folklore in their syllabus. If nothing else, it might bring a smile to their otherwise grim faces.

    Jabir Khan
    “Good post; raises many interesting questions that will be fun to discuss.â€

  29. Ahmed2 says:
    April 12th, 2007 9:18 am

    Thanks MQ for the encomium. What I appreciate even more than your stories are your wry comments.

    “Gya waqt tanha tha mein anjuman mein
    Chaman mein meray raazdaan aur bhi hain”.(Iqbal)

  30. May 23rd, 2007 8:37 am

    good luk

  31. Danish Zuberi says:
    July 21st, 2007 7:23 am

    Jabir Khan
    Mousque was the only place to start basic education for children. To this date boys and girls in small mosques are taught quran as they sit in separate rows facing each other. The tender innocent age is far from thinking about any thing related to intimacy. However, a crush for a girl siting in front is not unusual. Friendships develop and if future holds good, it might be a plus point for future suitors. “Remeber we went to same maddressah and you used to gigle when I would get thrashed for bad arabic pronounciation.”
    Dear remember there is a difference between religon and culture.
    For the stanza from Abrar’s song ‘BILLO’ I am searching for actual Punjabi version for months. In this particular stanza she offers a goat sacrfice on a shrine while praying fro the death of her “sur da saeen” (gaurdian, father, husband, elder brother etc), the death of matriarchs of family and fever for the rest of aunts, the death of beggar’s dog that barks and alerts people of strangers, the burning down of the village shop where lamp stays lit to identify the passerby, the carnage be be done so that the streets of village become desserted and my luv Mirza walks up to me without any restraint.
    Love in Punjab is some thing you have never winessed any where.
    Both Heer and Sohni were married women that were having extra marital afairs with their former paramours. Read the text of legend and salute the poets and the characters he granted soical acceptance more than two hundred years ago.

  32. Justin says:
    September 23rd, 2007 7:57 am

    Mast Qalandra !! Jeenda Rahoo.

  33. September 25th, 2007 12:12 pm

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  34. October 24th, 2007 7:20 pm

    History Of Qawwal Niaz
    Niazi Brothers (Abdullah Manzoor Niazi Qawal & Makhmoor Ahmed Niazi Qawwal) belongs to a family of Delhi Gharana. Mr. Abdullah Manzoor Niazi was born at Karachi on 1960. The father of Niazi Brothers Mr. Haji Manzoor Ahmed Khan Niazi was born in Delhi, India in 1922. He is a renowned Qawal of Indo-Pak. The Grand-Father of him was Haji Mir Qutub bukhsh famous as Tan Ras Khan Sahib Rehmatullah, who was the teacher of the last Mughal Emperor Bahadur Shah Zafar. He was awarded the title of Tan Ras and Nawab Atamad ul Mulk by the said Emperor, which is indicated by history. He was also legal advisor to the emperor.
    Hazrat Amir Khusroo Rehmatullah who was the founder of Qawali and other arts, and also who had arranged a group of 12 children which was proved by history as Qawal Bachay. The leader of this Qawal Bachay was Mian Samat Nizami Rehmatullah and he was special student of Hazrat Amir Khusroo and he was the Grand-Father of Mian Tan Ras Khan Sahib Rehmatullah from him the Gharana of Singer started, which is reputed

  35. December 10th, 2007 7:11 pm

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  36. December 10th, 2007 7:16 pm

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  37. Mirzah says:
    January 31st, 2008 6:14 pm

    Sabh Allah ki marzi hai

    May 15th, 2008 7:12 am


  39. Owais Mughal says:
    February 10th, 2009 12:53 pm

    Text of this post is updated by the author today.

  40. Suresh Goyal says:
    June 1st, 2009 1:57 am

    Mirza is very Love Story, i very fan this story. ye bhut achi story hai, is story se related songs bhi sunta hun, Me 8th Classes se is story ke bare me suna tha or aab me BCA Final kar raha hun aab tak sunta aa raha hun, Mere life ka fest Song Hai Mirza

  41. ASAD says:
    October 27th, 2010 12:56 am

    Beautifully narrated.

  42. Umar Tosheeb says:
    October 27th, 2010 1:11 am

    Thanks for writing about this; greatly appreciated.

  43. Humaira says:
    October 27th, 2010 10:51 am

    Very nice writeup. I wonder what would happen if they lived in today’s ‘modern’ Pakistan?

  44. Me Never Ever says:
    October 27th, 2010 11:00 am

    nicely done readers might like this video also

  45. iphone says:
    October 27th, 2010 7:36 pm

    for free iphone apps gmes

  46. Them Bones says:
    October 27th, 2010 9:06 pm

    How can it be called Folk tales of pakistan when Pakistan did not exist in that time?

  47. Watan Aziz says:
    October 27th, 2010 11:01 pm

    How can it be called Folk tales of pakistan when Pakistan did not exist in that time?

    The same way Taj Mahal is in **India**, when it did not exist at that time.

    The same way, Mecca is in “Saudi Arabia” when it did not exit at that time.

    The Stonehenge is in UK when it did not exist at that time.

    Pocahontas story is an American (as in USA) story when it did not exist at that time.

    And Pakistan inherits the might and great Indus Valley Civilization! The very basis of our very own Sufi traditions.

    The people of the soil lay claim under the name of their charter!

    And Pakistani stories are great stories. And if you ever watch “Heer Ranja” with the one and only Firdous, you will surrender all other claims. For only those who lay claim to ownership, can put the best foot forward. (And as I have said here, here and here, Ijaz had a silly smile in the movie to prove he hot a jackpot!)

  48. MQ says:
    October 28th, 2010 11:42 am

    Reading this post after three and a half years, it reminded me of the “good old days” of ATP. It’s amazing how in this digital age, a mere 3 years seem so distant and so golden.

    Another thing that struck me was the quality of comments by readers of yore. They usually brought more information, more interest and more value to a post. We don’t see those commenters any more — or that often. Or, is it that “the good old days” always look more golden than they actually were?

  49. Z says:
    October 30th, 2010 7:34 am

    From my early age I like Mirza Sahibaan more than Heer Ranjha and it is so close to what we see every day in around us.
    It is hard to imagine what goes in Mirza’s mind..
    “Bura kitoyee Sahiban, mera turkish tangiya jand!”

    Beautiful and realistic.

  50. Gifts Pakistan says:
    November 2nd, 2010 8:49 am

    O Jee Ki Yaad Kar Ditta Tusi. I really like all those famous tales of Indo-Pak. Like Sonhi Mahiwal, Heer Ranjgha and this one Mirza Sahiban.

    Thanks for this great post.

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