Chandigarh, August 30: A rich tapestry of Kashmiri music, few songs linger on the lips of generations like Roum Gayem, sung in the immortal voices of Raj Begum and Naseem Akhtar. It is more than a melody; it is a lament of love, a mirror to fragile human emotions, and a reflection of Kashmiri poetic tradition where every word carries the weight of longing and loss.
A Broken Mirror, a Futile Vase
The song opens with the haunting lines:
“Rum gayem sheeshass, begour govaa baane meoun” — My mirror has broken, and my vase has become futile.
Here, the imagery is stark. The mirror, a symbol of selfhood and clarity, lies shattered, while the vase — once capable of holding beauty and love — is now useless. It is a metaphor for the lover’s broken inner world, where both identity and capacity for love have collapsed. Kashmiri poetry often turns to household objects — mirrors, vases, lamps — to convey the fragility of the heart. In these few words, an entire world of ruin is laid bare.
Threading through the song is a repeated cry:
“Sakiyan, yeyith rata janan muon” — O companion, why didn’t you choose my beloved properly?
Unlike a simple romantic refrain, this line carries complaint, almost accusation. It questions destiny, or the confidant who stood between the lover and beloved. The night here is not only a time of secret meetings, but also the hour of reckoning — when the heart demands answers for love gone astray.
At one point the poet confesses:
“Zev kaleyam” — My tongue has now dissolved.
This is not silence born of peace but of intensity. The tongue melts because the heart is burning; words can no longer hold the magnitude of feeling. It is a surrender of language itself to love’s overpowering force. In Kashmiri poetics, the inability to speak often signals the highest pitch of emotion — when language collapses under the weight of passion.
Another verse speaks of hidden burdens:
“Aaminee khaasen, thaevoemas mas barieth” — With secret intentions, you placed a heavy spell upon me.
Love here is not gentle but a force that binds, weighs, and intoxicates. The beloved becomes both magician and tyrant, leaving the lover powerless yet willingly enslaved. This duality — of pain and intoxication — is at the heart of Kashmiri romantic verse.
The song reaches one of its most tender moments in the line:
“Chaesmanan manz kusii wanies afsaane meoun” — In your eyes, I discovered the stories of my own heart.
It is a recognition that the beloved is not merely another person, but a mirror to the self. Eyes become books where entire sagas lie hidden — a favorite metaphor in Kashmiri and Persian love poetry alike.
What makes Roum Gayem endure is its universal theme: the fragility of love. Love can shatter like glass, become futile like a broken vase, dissolve words on the tongue, and still leave behind stories glowing in the beloved’s eyes.
Sung by Raj Begum and Naseem Akhtar, two voices that defined Kashmir’s golden era of music, the song is not only a personal lament but also a cultural memory. It reminds listeners of a Kashmir where poetry was sung into the airwaves of Radio Kashmir, carrying the ache of love into homes across valleys and mountains.
Decades later, Roum Gayem continues to echo because it touches the core of human experience — the vulnerability of the heart. Its metaphors are simple yet devastating: a mirror, a vase, a tongue, a pair of eyes. Through them, an entire philosophy of love and loss is expressed.
In the end, it is not just a Kashmiri love song, but a testimony: that the human heart, no matter how often broken, continues to sing.
