The seashore whispered a cue to the author about the full meaning of the phrase ‘nadi naav sanjog’, which is a metaphor for life’s chance encounters and their transient nature.
I live on Madh Island in Mumbai and I go for binge walks to Madh beach each morning and evening. Those strolls by the shoreline have an enchantment of their own. The expansive sea vista invokes a profound sense of awe. Whether it’s the susurration of soft waves or the tumultuous crash of fierce ones, the melody of the sea waves does strange things to the mind, transporting it to an ethereal state. It is almost a discarnate experience. These moments don’t happen all the time, but they do steal upon you when they do. They can’t be forced or even cajoled.
The other day, when unnoticeably I segued into one of those moments, a long-forgotten phrase from 70 years ago suddenly popped up in my head. I used to hear this phrase in conversations among elders way back in the 1950s when I was around seven years old.
In those days, our home was in Govind Nagar, a neighborhood in Kanpur, India. It was a vibrant community of 10,000 to 15,000 refugees from various parts of West Punjab, post-India’s partition. Although they all spoke Punjabi, their accents varied depending on their places of origin—Multan, Jhang, Peshawar, Rawalpindi, Lahore, etc. Yet their spoken words remained mutually intelligible because all were essentially Punjabi. United under the umbrella of Punjabi culture, the unique tapestry of that place was to be seen to be believed.
When elders encountered someone unknown on the streets, their curiosity gravitated toward the individual’s roots—city, neighborhood, street. “Tussi pichhon kithe de vo? (back there, which place are you from?)” unfailingly marked the beginning of their conversations. This initial inquiry resulted in forging bonds through shared connections, mutual acquaintances, and family ties. A random piece of their conversation could be: “You from School Mohalla, Mandi Bahauddin? Oh, it is a small world. My cousin’s daughter-in-law is from there. Her father was a building contractor there.”
Excited to have met each other, they just went on and on sharing tales from their past, fostering cheerful bonhomie. Their discussions painted a nostalgic picture of life ‘back there,’ portraying it as superior and happier compared to their present reality. Whether this sentiment was merely a make-believe or held some truth remains a mystery to me.
As they bid goodbye, they would wistfully use a phrase that sounded vaguely like “nadi naam mele” to my young ears. Of course, I didn’t know what it meant but I got the hang of this phrase from the way they spoke it. Its essence was that theirs was a serendipitous encounter and if lucky they would surely meet again.
So, this was the phrase that revisited me like an old friend after seven decades at Madh beach. Of course, “nadi naam mele” is an inexact rendering of the original phrase which I did not gather fully as a child but somehow knew its meaning intuitively. I was now curious to know the true form of the phrase and what precisely it meant. I decided to look up the phrase on the internet when I got home, which is what I did.
Every breath testifies to life’s unpredictable nature, urging us to treasure fleeting moments, embrace uncertainty, and find meaning amidst it all. Impermanence lends a preciousness to each experience, making every moment worth cherishing and every connection worth nurturing.
My initial search for “nadi naam mele” yielded no results. Then I strained my head, delving deep into the hidden recesses of my mind, trying to figure out the full rendition of the phrase uttered by elders. And lo and behold, I got it! I remembered that the phrase as heard by me was “nadi naam sanjogi mele.”
This led me to search “nadi naam sanjogi mele.” And wow, I got the result I was looking for! However, I discovered that the expression is not “nadi naam sanjogi mele” but “nadi naav sanjogi mele.”
“Nadi naav sanjogi mele” is the opening line of a Sikh devotional song, a version of the well-known spiritual saying “nadi naav sanjog.” The beauty is that I have known the meaning of the saying “nadi naav sanjog” since my teenage years, but I had no idea that the elusive phrase was the same as this one.
The saying “nadi naav sanjog” literally means river-boat happenstance. It is all about chance meetings during a boat journey on a river. Passengers engage in conversations, exchange views, and form friendships, only to part ways upon reaching their respective shores.
“Nadi naav sanjog” is a powerful metaphor for life’s chance encounters and their transient nature. The people we cross paths with in life, be they friends, relatives, neighbors, or colleagues, are all the result of fortuitous connections, woven into the fabric of our life journey. “Nadi naav sanjog” mirrors beautifully the truth about life as we experience it.
We navigate a world where uncertainty reigns, where life’s moments are fleeting and unpredictable. Our experiences are a delicate interplay of circumstances that we sometimes seem to control, and many times simply witness.
In the grand scheme of things, our time here is remarkably brief. We carve our paths, make connections, and build legacies, yet these are all subject to the whims of fate and the passage of time. It’s this very uncertainty that infuses life with vibrancy, urgency, and beauty.
Every breath testifies to life’s unpredictable nature, urging us to treasure fleeting moments, embrace uncertainty, and find meaning amidst it all. Impermanence lends a preciousness to each experience, making every moment worth cherishing and every connection worth nurturing.
Across ages, various spiritual gurus have expounded on life’s ephemeral nature, likening it to riverboat encounters—short-lived meetings dictated by chance!
Photos courtesy Pexels-Pixabay and Adrian McDonald
2 comments
Beautifully written and explained . Anyone can generalise with this amazing phrase . When I go back to my childhood and think I come to know that I never knew what I was going to be , who were going to be my friends , teachers , life partner , kids , what job I was going to get and which country or city I was going to settle . It’s all “ Nadi Naav Sanjog “and then how frequently everything would change representing the transitory nature of all .
I read this article to my 88 year old father, a retired Govt. servant. He completely identifies himself with the matter stated in the article so lyrically. His family shifted from Lahore to Delhi in 1947. He lost contacts with his street friends and school mates in Lahore and cultivated new friendships in Kingsway Camp, Delhi, thus exemplifying the ‘nadi naav sanjog’ adage.