When a Love Song Becomes a Prayer: The Mystical Depths of " માળે મને લઈ જા "
Penned by Prem Dave, with music by Smmit Jay, and brought to life through the voices of Yashita Sharma, Ashish Kulkarni, and Kirtidan Gadhvi, this semi-classical composition draws from Raga Bihag, with delicate touches of Yaman and Bhairav woven throughout. What emerges is not merely a melody, but a mystical treatise on love, loss, and the dissolution of self.
જગથી દૂર ને ક્યાંક,
મનને મળે જ્યાં હાશ,
એવા માળે મને લઈ જા.
"Somewhere far from the world,
Where the heart finds solace,
Take me to such a dwelling."
These opening lines speak to something deeper than physical escape. The dwelling the lyricist seeks isn't a place one can find on a map; it's that inner sanctuary where the noise of the world falls away and the soul can finally rest. It's the mystic's longing for what Sufis call fana, the annihilation of ego, the return to that primordial home beyond material existence.
These lines capture the paradox of love as spiritual emptiness and illusion. The beloved becomes like a mirage; simultaneously the only reality that matters and an unreachable illusion, like the thirsty deer chasing water that doesn't exist. The lover's identity itself becomes conditional, dependent, empty without the other. This mirrors the teaching that the separate self is itself a mirage.
This is the crisis of love. The "I" that seemed solid dissolves in absence, revealing that selfhood was always contingent, always borrowed. The beloved as 'mirage' points to the concept of 'shunyata'; even what we most desperately grasp is empty of inherent existence. Yet we chase it, knowing and not-knowing simultaneously. 'Memories' are all that remain, but memories of what? Of union before separation, of wholeness before fragmentation. This echoes the the soul remembering its divine origin. The 'companionship' sought isn't temporal but eternal, the mystical reunion that was always already the case, hidden beneath the veil of forgetting.
વાત છુપીછે જે આજે કહી દઉં,
વાત છુપીછે જે આજે કહી દઉં;
મન નહીં માને, આ મનને મનાવું,
I feel, this isn't just a love song, it's a mystical treatise on the annihilation and reconstruction of self through devotion. The beloved becomes indistinguishable from God, truth, home, and identity itself. The journey "to that dwelling far from the world" is the perennial journey inward, beyond ego, beyond separation, to that place where lover and Beloved merge and all questions dissolve into silence.
What strikes me most is that the song is set in four movements:
એવા માળે મને લઈ જા
Take me to such a dwelling. The prayer continues. The longing remains. And perhaps that's exactly as it should be.
These opening lines speak to something deeper than physical escape. The dwelling the lyricist seeks isn't a place one can find on a map; it's that inner sanctuary where the noise of the world falls away and the soul can finally rest. It's the mystic's longing for what Sufis call fana, the annihilation of ego, the return to that primordial home beyond material existence.
હું ના રહી હું, જ્યારે નથી તું,
એક એક પળ તું, કે મૃગજળ તું
યાદો રહી છે હવે, બસ તું ને તારો, સાથ મળે મને જ્યાં
એક એક પળ તું, કે મૃગજળ તું
યાદો રહી છે હવે, બસ તું ને તારો, સાથ મળે મને જ્યાં
એવા માળે મને લઈ જા.
"I am not myself when you're not here,
Each moment feels—are you real or a mirage?
Now only the memories of you remain
"I am not myself when you're not here,
Each moment feels—are you real or a mirage?
Now only the memories of you remain
Where I may find your companionship
Take me to such a dwelling"
These lines capture the paradox of love as spiritual emptiness and illusion. The beloved becomes like a mirage; simultaneously the only reality that matters and an unreachable illusion, like the thirsty deer chasing water that doesn't exist. The lover's identity itself becomes conditional, dependent, empty without the other. This mirrors the teaching that the separate self is itself a mirage.
This is the crisis of love. The "I" that seemed solid dissolves in absence, revealing that selfhood was always contingent, always borrowed. The beloved as 'mirage' points to the concept of 'shunyata'; even what we most desperately grasp is empty of inherent existence. Yet we chase it, knowing and not-knowing simultaneously. 'Memories' are all that remain, but memories of what? Of union before separation, of wholeness before fragmentation. This echoes the the soul remembering its divine origin. The 'companionship' sought isn't temporal but eternal, the mystical reunion that was always already the case, hidden beneath the veil of forgetting.
વાત છુપીછે જે આજે કહી દઉં,
વાત છુપીછે જે આજે કહી દઉં;
મન નહીં માને, આ મનને મનાવું,
મનને મનાવી ને મારું જીવન તું.
તારી બનીને હું પ્રીત કરું છું,
તારી બનીને હું પ્રીત કરું છું,
તારો થઈને પગલાં ભરું છું.
આવીને કહી દે એક જગા જ્યાં,
આવીને કહી દે એક જગા જ્યાં,
તુજ મળે બસ યાર —
એવા માળે મને લઈ જા,
એવા માળે મને લઈ જા.
Let me speak the hidden thing today
The mind won't accept—I must convince this mind
Having convinced my mind, you are my life,
Having become yours, I love you,
Having become yours, I take steps forward
Come and tell me
A place where, I meet only you, beloved,
એવા માળે મને લઈ જા,
એવા માળે મને લઈ જા.
Let me speak the hidden thing today
The mind won't accept—I must convince this mind
Having convinced my mind, you are my life,
Having become yours, I love you,
Having become yours, I take steps forward
Come and tell me
A place where, I meet only you, beloved,
Take me to such a dwelling
The "hidden thing" is the unspeakable truth of complete surrender; what mystics call the divine madness of love. The internal conflict between rational mind and the heart's knowing represents the eternal human struggle between ego-protection and vulnerability. The seeker must "convince the mind" to accept what logic cannot; that losing oneself is the only way to find oneself.
The hidden thing is the secret that cannot be told but must be lived. The mind-heart dialectic represents the battle between intellect and divine love-madness. The three-fold progression in the paragraph traces the alchemical transformation of the self. This is the the concept of divine unity, where subject and object collapse. The steps aren't geographical but spiritual stations on the path of self-dissolution.
"એક જગા" (one place) is the the cosmic center where all dualities dissolve. "meeting only you" is the sacred solitude where nothing exists except the Beloved. The repetition of "માળે મને લઈ જા." becomes increasingly urgent, revealing the the soul can no longer bear the weight of separation.
"આથમતો , પોઢંતો સૂરજ હું,
મારી સવાર સવાર છે ક્યાં?
છે ભયંકર ભયંકર ભૂખ દરિયાની,
સાંજ પડી ને, મારે જવું ક્યાં?"
"I am a sun setting reclining ,
The "hidden thing" is the unspeakable truth of complete surrender; what mystics call the divine madness of love. The internal conflict between rational mind and the heart's knowing represents the eternal human struggle between ego-protection and vulnerability. The seeker must "convince the mind" to accept what logic cannot; that losing oneself is the only way to find oneself.
The hidden thing is the secret that cannot be told but must be lived. The mind-heart dialectic represents the battle between intellect and divine love-madness. The three-fold progression in the paragraph traces the alchemical transformation of the self. This is the the concept of divine unity, where subject and object collapse. The steps aren't geographical but spiritual stations on the path of self-dissolution.
"એક જગા" (one place) is the the cosmic center where all dualities dissolve. "meeting only you" is the sacred solitude where nothing exists except the Beloved. The repetition of "માળે મને લઈ જા." becomes increasingly urgent, revealing the the soul can no longer bear the weight of separation.
"આથમતો , પોઢંતો સૂરજ હું,
મારી સવાર સવાર છે ક્યાં?
છે ભયંકર ભયંકર ભૂખ દરિયાની,
સાંજ પડી ને, મારે જવું ક્યાં?"
"I am a sun setting reclining ,
Where is my dawn?"
"It is...it is terrible, terrible,
The ocean's hunger as evening falls,
Where must I go...."
"આથમતો" (sinking/setting) and "પોઢંતો" (reclining/lying down) create a double image of surrender. The sun doesn't just set—it reclines, it yields, it dissolves into the horizon with an almost erotic exhaustion. "સૂરજ હું" (I am the sun) is the soul's tragic irony: I am the source of light, yet I cannot illuminate myself. The sun gives dawn to the world but has no dawn of its own. This is the helper who cannot be helped, the healer who cannot heal themselves, the lover who pours out light but receives none back. This represents the spiritual seeker who practices but experiences no awakening. The artist who creates but finds no meaning. The lover who gives but receives no recognition.
The repetition "સવાર સવાર છે ક્યાં?" (where is my dawn, my dawn?) reveals the doubling of absence not just missing once, but missing from the missing itself. The dawn doesn't exist even in possibility. This is the metaphysics of eternal deferral; hope postponed until hope itself becomes meaningless. "મારી સવાર" (my dawn) is possessive—not a dawn but my dawn, the one meant specifically for me. Its absence suggests cosmic injustice: everyone else experiences morning, but I am uniquely excluded from the universe's basic rhythm of renewal.
"It is...it is terrible, terrible,
The ocean's hunger as evening falls,
Where must I go...."
"આથમતો" (sinking/setting) and "પોઢંતો" (reclining/lying down) create a double image of surrender. The sun doesn't just set—it reclines, it yields, it dissolves into the horizon with an almost erotic exhaustion. "સૂરજ હું" (I am the sun) is the soul's tragic irony: I am the source of light, yet I cannot illuminate myself. The sun gives dawn to the world but has no dawn of its own. This is the helper who cannot be helped, the healer who cannot heal themselves, the lover who pours out light but receives none back. This represents the spiritual seeker who practices but experiences no awakening. The artist who creates but finds no meaning. The lover who gives but receives no recognition.
The repetition "સવાર સવાર છે ક્યાં?" (where is my dawn, my dawn?) reveals the doubling of absence not just missing once, but missing from the missing itself. The dawn doesn't exist even in possibility. This is the metaphysics of eternal deferral; hope postponed until hope itself becomes meaningless. "મારી સવાર" (my dawn) is possessive—not a dawn but my dawn, the one meant specifically for me. Its absence suggests cosmic injustice: everyone else experiences morning, but I am uniquely excluded from the universe's basic rhythm of renewal.
~~~
I feel, this isn't just a love song, it's a mystical treatise on the annihilation and reconstruction of self through devotion. The beloved becomes indistinguishable from God, truth, home, and identity itself. The journey "to that dwelling far from the world" is the perennial journey inward, beyond ego, beyond separation, to that place where lover and Beloved merge and all questions dissolve into silence.
What strikes me most is that the song is set in four movements:
- The Longing - Recognition of separation from the Source
- The Crisis - Dissolution of ego-identity in absence of the Beloved
- The Surrender - Willing self-annihilation through love
- The Abyss - Confrontation with the void
એવા માળે મને લઈ જા
Take me to such a dwelling. The prayer continues. The longing remains. And perhaps that's exactly as it should be.
The song can be heard on YouTube from the below link-
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