Edited by author 04-24-2008 10:40 PM
It's such a shock to realize that this gracious artist, teacher and friend is no longer in the body. I will always (I hope) remember her warmth and enthusiasm as she lived among us, 75 foreign Sufis, for a week in India -- joining the classes and dance circle, and imparting her mastery and love of music to us.

Many of us have circulated email eulogies for this beloved one. I would ask that these messages also be posted on this board if the authors are willing. As I already have Yaqin's permission, I will go ahead and post what he wrote so well to the next message.

FROM YAQIN SANDLEBEN

Dear Friends,

This is sad news indeed. My heart is full of emotion, sadness and
beauty mixed together, as I believe Shanti's heart was. I am
heartbroken. She was my friend, my music teacher.

I first met her at a house concert at La Sagrita in New Delhi. I was
mesmerized by her art, her deep feeling, and her beautiful voice.
After a few years, she shared some of her deep feelings of life with me.

She allowed me to be present when she took Bayat with Shabda, the late
afternoon Indian sun angling across the Dargah of Inayat Khan- the
sound of birds mingling with the sounds of children of the basti in
the background.

  She gently corrected me when I made a cultural gaff, or sang a note
wrong. She showed me her wit, her sharp insights into life and into
others.

She trusted me when I took her into the wilderness of New Mexico, so
different from her home in Delhi! She wanted to leave the first
night, but agreed to stay at least that first night. Each day was a
challenge, but she stayed, even after finding the foot long lizard in
her small bedroom. She opened up so beautifully to our sufi family on
that visit, and also to my own family, my daughters and my wife.

One evening, she looked up at the night sky in that remote place, and
she was like a child in wonder at the millions of stars overhead.
That same innocent wonder appeared again as we watched sunset over the
Grand Canyon, and as she first bit into chocolate cake.

She invited me to sing with her during her concert in Prescott, and
who could refuse that? We sang back and forth, a musical
conversation; I, a child, she, the kind and wise teacher.

I offer all these memories in gratitude for the time and life we
shared together, all too brief, yet a priceless gift, nevertheless.

When Shanti was at the Southwest Sufi Community, she wanted to offer a
gift to her new-found sufi brothers and sisters. She rather prided
herself on English translations of Urdu, so she stayed up late at
night, with the single bulb burning in her room, silence all around,
and translated some verses of Mirza Ghalib, the Urdu Poetry Master of
late 19th century Delhi. I pass this gift along

with Love,

Yaqin

EXISTENCE

There's a whirlpool in each wave-
crocodiles with jaws open in each;
let us see the changes to the drop
by the time it turns into a pearl.

CALLING OUT

It takes a lifetime for a sigh to communicate,
and who lives long enough to caress the length
of the Beloved's Locks?
Who can say how long the Beloved's hair is?

PAIN

It's only a heart, not a stone or a brick-
Why should it not overflow with pain?
I will weep a thousand times-
Why should anyone trouble me about it?

When the Brilliant Beautiful One,
like the dazzling Sun at mid-day,
is Himself the One who sheds light,
Why should He hide His face behind a veil?

Not a Mosque, or a Temple,
Not a Shrine, nor a Holy Place
It's the roadside I sit by-
Why would anyone drive me away?

Even without the broken-hearted Ghalib,
The work of the world, does it stop?
Why weep in torrents?
Why lament on and on?

ANNIHILATION

The drop finds its bliss
     being annihilated in the Ocean,
pain becomes a cure
    when it overflows its boundaries.

Edited by author 04-25-2008 12:49 AM

Shanti at Hazrat Inayat Khan's Dargah - photo by Khadija (?)FEB 2007

I feel so much love for Shanti-ji, was so deeply touched by her, this is such a great loss to us all, and the loss of all I had hoped to share with her in the future, and for the treasure of her music. With my prayers for her and her family and for all who feel this sorrow.
Love,
Basira

Beloved Shantiji, Deeneshji, Banu, Shabda, and all other family members and friends,
        Thank you for our precious time together. thank you for being so vulnerable with me and sharing the truth of the pain in your heart. thank you for trusting me enough for sharing your tears at all hours when they felt endless.
     Thank you for sharing your home and family, thank you for asking me to be a big sister to your sweet son Banu and whatch over him, you must have known when you tried to give me your beautiful jewelry as you said only a mother would, saying it will soon mean nothing. I could not except the jewels trying to encourage you to where them at your next concert at the Dharga.
    You were so special in the way you told things, telling me amazing old stories of Deva Dassis, incredible woman artists, musicians and dancers, given to the Hindu Temples to serve God, we both reveled in awe at such devotion. The first time you brought me to the Dharga and we layed our heads together, alone steeped in the scent of roses, on Hazrat Inayat Khan's resting place, we went into deep silence.
      Thank you for braiding my hair with a chulita in the car on the way to Jaipoor, enjoying wonderful convertions interspersed with singing along to Raga. Walking around holding me close and protecing me as you put it, from the men's stares, I was mostly oblivious too, enjoying the closeness and the smells of Rajastan. you said you did the same to your beautiful Tanu. Riding elephants together, you and Deenshji looked like a king and queen, a Raj and his Maharani in the sunset at Ajmir Mehal, even though you were scared on the ride.
   Thank you for taking kava kava extract with m, a relaxing root tincture and gigling about the silver shopping you'd done in the morning for your lovely sister, showing me the beautiful piece you had recieved, we both marveled, i loved seeing you like that, relaxed, enjoying and laughing.
     Thank you for encouraging me with music and sending me to so many amazing and long concerts.Thank you for letting me absorb and sit in your classes at the Kendra. thank you for helping me to stay there and assuring me that i would be ok there, and enjoy the other students which i did. thank you for believing in me as a musician.
    Thank you for being passionate about beauty and sharing with me so many parts about being a beautiful woman in this world.
     I'm so glad you got to hear Banu and I sing together in your music room, as we sang harmonies to the Deva Dassi Dervish! I will do my best by him, he is so precious you did a wonderful job being his mother. Shabda made a beautiful site about you and he asked me to pass it along to him. I did. you were so loving in your vulnerbility, I will forever cheerish that.
Your beauty stunned me, you said it was mutual, but i hold your reverence and didication to music very close to my heart. Tonight a small group of us sang,.... Isk Allah ma bud Leila.....for you spontaneously, and i sang allop Allah with you, then burst into tears the way i did when i wrote your song in India.
    I will sing your song the rest of my life, and share it with others as the message is your gift to us all.
       Salt Water Mournings

      God loves your tears
      Golden honey pearls
      Bathing our magnifecense
      In salty tender waters
                  - for beloved Shantaji, from Ashana and God
      When women burn
      From zeal of frenzied passion,
      Even great Brahma
      Fears to bar the way.
                   -Bharthihari poems
I will always treasure the emmense deepening you gifted me
Thank you beloved Shabdabai as she would say, for encouraging me to walk the sufi path, with my heart wide open, and life as my Guru,
you are the light for us both in troubled, rich, and beautiful times. Blessings on your way through, may your soul find Shanti, peace, love and rest in radiance. love forever, Ashana

POSTED FOR NESHAMAH JAMI:


Dear family,

oh how sad to hear! Somehow I was able to pick her up at the
airport, and had the great pleasure of her holding her teaching
retreat at my home.... one only expected to have time with her again
and again in this lifetime.... tears are flowing..... what pain must
have caused this....

O dear Shanti, we miss you!

We were so taken by your sweetness...

your complete devotion to your art....

holding us all with each note,

... and even the spaces in-between

sang and rang with anticipation!

of the joy! to come! with the next sounding!


O Dear Shanti!

How grateful to have known you,

that you came and shared your Heart with us....


Our Hearts are now singing to you!

Singing in the inner Realms --

Lighting up the Way of your journey....

.... as far as we can see......


Ya Salaam! O Beauty One,

until we meet again.....

with all love,
neshamah jami

Edited by author 05-03-2008 03:31 PM
POSTED FOR MICHAEL GEST: AN HOUR OF REMEMBRANCE FOR SHANTI, MAY 4TH 5-6 PM PST

   (SUGGESTED MUSIC: go to http://hos.com and stream (very inexpensive) program # 558 -- a very nice setting of Allegri's 'Miserere' with choral and renaissance cornetto elaborations. Or look for the CD 'Sacred Treasures II'.)

Dear ones, Please join us for a few moments of thinking about Shanti and her spirit continuing its path. There are many things that she had hopes for. One was that her song could bring american people to tears. That she could sing and they would understand the pain of life. The other was that she was a big fan of Ghalib, even a devotee. Would you join us, she and Galib and I and others drinking a glass of very special fine wine together; sharing misery, sadness, and joy and Ghalib.

When I am dead, I conjure you, remember how I died.
Remember how my corpse lay all unshrouded in your lane.

I was not one of those whose death made no stir in the world,
Remember bow the pious wept and the brhamins amd lament.

Ask how the men of feeling mourned in harmonious song,
Remember how the men of culture wrote in there elegies.

Ask any man the sum of my loyalties to you.
Remember all the cruelties you practised on me.
Say what my soul saw, seeing in your intoxicated eyes,
Remember what passed in my head, seeing your coiling tress.
----
My friend, what have your heaven and hell to give?
I have within me, the joy of my imaginings, the would that scars my heart.

---
My life has passed, more bitter than destruction,
Come bring me now a death more sweet than life.
___________Ghalib

To my friend and collaborator Shanti Sharma
Sakijan, henna hands and feet,
Heaven sent joy in my sister’s street.
Poetry, and music and spiritual rap,
A friend in need, of a spiritual map.

More wine Ms Sakijan,
more humma than henna.
Is it heartsong of friends, our song of the tenor.
Or classical raga singing even better.

She never stopped singing even till she died.
And next to her ashes does my heart still lie.
--Michael

Every day, at early dawn, that sultan
And the secret of the one who has
The consent of God, sit together there.
I say. “greetings to both of you.”

Heart is settled at his temple
Expecting that sultan to scatter gold and gifts.

Soul has drunk form the cup of wine and has passed out
Until judgment day. Heart has been putting or share
On the table of our body, time by time, and saying,

“The hand of Loves’s Jesus offers happiness
To Every dead one and health
 to every sick one from that share.

With that share, the garden
Of drinks will have leaves
And become green and adorned.
The harp, wich is bent over, will gain melodies.”

Body is dancing with ten-ten beats.
Soul has already gone to the land of Abscence;
Is ruined and is falling to the ground.

Dungeons became heaven form the sound
Of loves reed flute. The judge of reason
Became drunk at the bench of judgement.
---Rumi

_
O cupbearer who offers wine,
Come give wine.
 Our cup is empty.
 Fill it with that love’s wine.

O perfect beauty, O friend of complete
Greatness and favor, my body
Is the cup to me.
Your love is the wine.

There is no lover who could see your face
For one moment and not suffer from
Your troubles, be melted down.

Oh full moon, even death is beautiful,
When I am with you, but you don’t kill,
To reach you is to be saved from trouble.

When your love sings praises, it seems that
Pigeons and doves repeat it’s words,
And coo in my heart

You kindly offered me that beautiful wine
So that my heart became purifed and shone.
--Rumi

Quatrain from Persian

I married a princess from tamal
And built her a house over here.
Only janisme knows our secret,
Only she cans see my tear.
  anonymous

After Hearing the News

The Moon has risen and now begins to wane
The pool of my tears reflect its light.
Slowly disappearing, leaving only the burning sun
Quickly taking my heart, my fun.

Laxsmi beauty and intelligence mind,
Innocent curiosity of what we’ll find.
Budding flower, song bird of sound
Muse, my soul sister, in you I found.

Lover of leaving, we will pay your price,
Courage in dying, fear in life.
Elegance in all but not in the end,
You leave a torn heart which will never mend.

We had fun, we had meaning, we had a life of pleasure.
Didn’t you agree a future without measure?
Was life so perfect it couldn’t get better,
Or what was it that caused you to see it so bitter?

You were my moon, in you I saw myself beautiful,
With your light I saw you so elegant.
Now in my heart life’s ideal I am losing.
This picture of us I’m no longer choosing.

In giving yourself to music,
You became so much more,
Thank you for letting us love you.
You became even more.

Thank you for opening your worlds to me,
A new world, a new India did I see.
And Sarasvati on lotus, there you did sit.
Learning my world and how we could fit.

So I guess you are in heaven, or maybe hell is the word.
My mind, and my heart without fear looks toward,
The time when we are twins souls of one mind
And one heart.
The time my burning stops, and the memory doesn’t hurt.

But not to much, I don’t want to forget you.
Such short time of knowing, such an important time of my life.

I don’t want us to end, but how can we grow?
I’ll hold you forever, your love I will know.
---
Peace Poem we wrote in honor of the Tibetan struggle and the DLama. This was performed in Urdu and English in Seattle
Peace is too important to be left to politicians and generals,,
Peace is to dear to seek in the bazaar
The caravanserai of life promises,teases peace in many forms
Only at my lovers breast is peace everlasting.
 
No king, or nation or woman can bring peace.
No God or jinn bears its gift.
No name of country or city of hope,only the Lhasha in my heart, is the garden of peace.
 
Sitting in my garden, gratitude is my Tibet, my Jerusalem. Only sitting in my garden is my everlasting peace
ZINDAGI KA KARVANKARTA HAI AMAN KE VAADE PAR MUKARTA HAI,
DARASL MAASHUQ KE AAGOSH ME HAI AMAN KI AMAANAT,
AUR KAHAN MILTA HAI?
MERE MAASHUQ KI HAR DHADKAN MEIN USKE GESU KI KHUSHBOO MEIN BASTA HAI AMAN.
GULISTANE LHASA,FAZA-E-JERUSALEM KO USKI MERI QURBATON NE MAHFOOZ RAKHA. .
USKI SAANSON KI HARARAT, BELAUS MUHABBAT LAMHA-E-VISAL NE IN GHAYAL SHAHRON KO SHIFA DI.WOH SHAHR JO LAHULUHAN HAIN MUDDATON SE,
BILAKH RAHE HAIN ZULM KE GHERE ME ,
SIRF HUM AASHIQON KE SEENON ME MAHFOOZ HAIN.
BAGHBAN HAIN HUM IS FIRDAUS KE ,IN ROOH KI VADIYON KE.
MUSAHIBON AUR HUQUMATON KO NA BANAO IS KE MUHAFIZ, AMAN HAI VOH AMAANAT TERI AUR MERI MUSTAQBIL KI,
KARTI HAI QAYANAT TUJH SE MUJHSE GUZARISH,AAP BANO ISKE MUHAFIZ,AAP BANO ISKE MUHAFIZ.

Edited by author 05-23-2008 10:48 AM
THIS IS THE POEM RECITED AT THE FAIRFAX MEMORIAL FOR SHANTI,
 HOSTED BY PIR SHABDA

LIGHT A CANDLE, DRINK SOME WINE

They came and drank the wine
"Wine" they said, but it was only snifing empty casks.
With Rose Attar, we will spread your ashes.

Sakijan, your music still plays on,
Galib gathers as we sing your song.

Hands and feet of henna stain,
Heart of pain, Khayal the aim,
Leave us now, you have work to do,
The full moon empties, the night brings the dew.

No note is perfect by itself,
All beauty comes for "not my self."

Sing of Saki, the Poets Gazal,
Bird of Simurtagh,
Your secrets, we shall never tell.

Go for now, go not with haste,
our hearts want one more,
Sweet, sweet taste.
Of the magic, drink more wine,
Never to see you one more time.

Shanti sings, "I'm going soon,
light a candle and drink some wine.
For the taper slowly disappears, the goblet never emptys

Shivabai, your shakti sigh,
Shantibai the world does cry,
Shivabai,your shakti sigh,
Shantibai, the world does cry.
submitted by Michael Gest

Shanti was a victim of the time and society she lived in. Her merit as an artist was unfortunately not recognized by several people close to her. On the other hand her failure to conform to what society lay down as the norm for a woman was thrown on her face. She was a deeply unhappy woman. Yet a woman who was aware of by the dazzling beauty of the world created by the almighty. Heartfelt prayers for her soul - that she may be go on in her journey without the impediments she faced in her life time - is all that we, who are alive, have to give her now.

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