ఉపాయం - 383 A thoughtful message to share on seeing with purpose: How Bollywood songs celebrate the language of Naina and Drishti!
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ఉపాయం - 383

“Sarvendriyanam nayanam pradhanam” is a Sanskrit phrase meaning “Of all the sense organs, the eye is the most important”. In Indian music, poetry, and philosophy, the eyes are not just organs of sight—they are mirrors of the soul. They reveal what the tongue hesitates to say and capture what the heart dares only to feel. Across languages and generations, composers, poets, and filmmakers have turned to the eyes to express emotions that live between words: love, longing, faith, curiosity, and surrender. From the earliest days of cinema, the motif of the eyes has danced its way through Indian song. Whether whispered as ankhen, naina, akhiyan, or described in classical Sanskrit as netra, drishti, lochanam, or nayanam, the idea remains the same—the eyes are both language and listener. They speak, they silence, they see, and they reveal. Take, for instance, the gentle mischief of “Aankhon Ki Gustakhiyan” (Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam), where love is born in the quiet rebellion of a glance. Or the haunting tenderness of “Jeevan Se Bhari Teri Aankhen” (Safar), where eyes overflow with the weight of unspoken stories. In “Ye Kaali Kaali Aankhen” (Baazigar), the gaze turns playful, dangerous, magnetic—love as temptation. In the spiritual surrender of “Jab Se Tere Naina” (Saawariya), the eyes become almost divine, transforming sight into devotion. And in the melodic beauty of “Surili Akhiyon Wale” (Veer), the eyes are music themselves—harmonizing emotion, grace, and connection beyond words. And the timeless melody of “Aankhon hi Aankhon Mein” (CID, 1956), where a stolen glance speaks volumes, and the unspoken tension between hearts becomes its own language. Each of these songs, in its own way, understands that drishti is more than vision—it is perception. In Sanskrit thought, drishti is linked not only to seeing but to knowing. To have samyak drishti—correct perception or right view/vision—is to see truth without distortion, to look beyond appearances toward essence. That is why Indian lyricism treats the eyes not merely as symbols of beauty but as pathways to awareness, faith, and self-realization—reminding us that Drishti eva saadhanam—vision itself is the means. This poetic thread stretches across centuries of Indian expression. Ancient poets like Kalidasa likened eyes to lotus petals—delicate yet radiant, reflecting both purity and desire. The Bhakti saints sang of the divine gaze that dissolves illusion and awakens grace. And modern poets like Gulzar and Javed Akhtar, knowingly or not, continue that lineage: when Gulzar writes “Do Naina Aur Ek Kahani” (Masoom, 1983) or Akhtar imagines “Ankhon Mein Teri Ajab Si Adaa Hai” (Om Shanti Om), they echo the same spiritual rhythm that began in Sanskrit verse but still flows effortlessly through Mumbai’s soundstages. In Indian imagination, the eyes are both portals and prayers. They bridge the human and the divine, the seen and the unseen. They can wound with indifference or heal with compassion. They can invite love or offer forgiveness. Perhaps this is why every generation finds its own ‘naina’ song—because in a culture where expression is sacred, the eyes remain the most honest storytellers. For Indian American youth growing up between worlds, the idea of vision (drishti) carries renewed meaning. In a digital age where images move faster than insight, to see with awareness becomes an act of leadership. True leadership begins not with how far you can see, but how deeply you can perceive—yourself, your community, and your purpose. The Indian idea of samyak drishti calls on young leaders to cultivate clarity without arrogance, compassion without weakness, and confidence without blindness. Your drishti—your way of seeing—can shape how you lead, innovate, and connect. When guided by empathy and a sense of belonging, vision transforms from ambition into service (seva). In a multicultural world, you are not just bridges between East and West; you are interpreter of both. Let your nayanam reflect curiosity instead of fear, collaboration instead of competition. Let your vision include those who remain unseen. Because when Indian American youth lead with clarity of drishti—not just with intellect or skill—they awaken a timeless truth: to see clearly is to live wisely, and to live wisely is to lead meaningfully. In the end, culture reminds you that our eyes are not only to look outward, but inward; for what you see with love becomes sacred, and what you see with awareness becomes wisdom. To see with naina is to feel, to see with drishti is to understand—and to see with both is to lead with heart, vision, and grace, illuminating not just a path forward, but a way of being that blends insight with empathy and tradition with purpose!

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