CAPITULO V. GENERALIDADES DEL PROCEDIMIENTO AMISTOSO
C. Aplicación del MPC
3. Transacciones comparables no controladas
kahte ho nah de;Nge ham dil agar pa;Raa paayaa dil kahaa;N kih gum kiije ham ne mudda((aa paayaa
1) you say, 'we won't give back the heart if we find it lying somewhere' 2a) where is the heart, that it would be lost? We found out [your] object 2b) where is the heart, that it would be lost? We attained/'found' [our] object
Notes:
mudda((aa : 'Desire, wish; suit; meaning, object, view; scope, tenor, drift; -- object of search'. (Platts p.1015)
kiije is an archaic form of the passive; GRAMMAR.
Nazm:
That is, your expression is saying: if we find your heart lying somewhere, then we won't give it back. Here, there's no heart at all that we might lose and that you might find lying somewhere. But from this attachment/intimacy we understood that the heart is in your custody alone. (4)
Bekhud Dihlavi:
Indeed, hearing this, I've understood your meaning: that is, you yourself have stolen my heart. (12)
Bekhud Mohani:
Indeed, when you said that, I found the reward I had asked for: that you too pay attention to me, and value my heart. (7)
FWP:
SETS == DIALOGUE; KAHAN; OPPOSITES LOSING/FINDING {4,6}
Ghalib originally composed one ghazal of five verses, and another of eleven verses (Raza p. 222), from which he selected the seven verses (Hamid p. 3) that he combined into a new ghazal and included in his published divan.
More on this topic: S. R. Faruqi's choices.
The two Bekhuds explicate (2a) and (2b) respectively. The Urdu is carefully ambiguous, and Ghalib surely intended both. For another such play on paanaa , see {153,6}.
dil kahaa;N kih gum kiije is a wonderful question. 'Where is the heart, that we could lose it?' is the obvious meaning, but it also contains 'Where is the heart?'-- which of course is just what you'd say if you did lose your heart. Or you might say, 'Where is the heart?' and be eagerly looking for it,
specifically because you wanted to lose it [kih gum kiije].
There's also the strong rhetorical-question possibility-- as if I had a heart!
How the hell would I have a heart?! It's almost insulting, as well as absurd, to think that a passionate lover might still retain a heart!
And then of course by so utterly not having a heart that you can't even lose it, you claim to have found or attained your goal.
For another ambiguous use of mudda((aa paayaa , see {4,15x}.
{4,2}
((ishq se :tabii((at ne ziist kaa mazaa paayaa dard kii davaa paa))ii dard-e be-davaa paayaa
1) through passion, the temperament found the relish of life 2) it found a cure for pain, it found a pain without cure
Notes:
Nazm:
That is, for me life was a single pain: passion became its cure, and it itself is an incurable pain. (4)
Bekhud Dihlavi:
The style of expression [in the second line]-- upon whom, except for Mirza Sahib, has such extreme excellence been bestowed? (13)
Josh:
As if the pain without cure made our passionless life enjoyable, and this very pain without cure proved to be a cure for that former pain. (52)
FWP:
SETS == REPETITION; TRANSLATABLES
A lovely achievement, wry and amused and relishing its game of paradox.
Although Nazm (followed by other commentators who echo his approach) unhesitatingly assumes that the verse is first-personal, there's nothing in the grammar to make it so.
It's also a lovely verse for mushairah performance-- the first line sets up a cheerful, optimistic assertion: passion provides the 'pleasure' or 'relish' of life. Then after a suitably suspenseful delay (under mushairah performance conditions), the second line starts out by supporting the affirmative first line:
passion is, or brings, a cure for (other, ordinary kinds of) pain. Only at the last possible minute do we get the final, balancing assertion: passion itself is, or brings, a pain without cure-- and the 'punch'-word, be-davaa , is withheld until the last possible moment.
The i.zaafat in the second line is optional, but I can't manage to persuade myself that if we remove it the resulting meaning ('it found a cure for pain, it found that the pain was without cure') is a real addition to the verse.
The second line is also so full of non-connectors that I've always used it to encourage students who are learning the script. In fact I put it on my famous Urdu tshirts. For a parallel to the second line see {4,5}.
Also, note that this verse constitutes a second, supererogatory opening-verse for the ghazal. As a rule, this kind of display is just a flourish of virtuosity on the part of the poet. In this case, Ghalib grafted the opening-verse of one ghazal onto the first half (including the opening-verse) of another ghazal, to make the version he chose to publish in his divan.
Note for meter fans: The spelling of mazah as mazaa is to accommodate the rhyme. Such changes are permissible liberties that occur occasionally when it's convenient for the poet. In this ghazal, the same liberty, with the same word, is taken again in {4,7}.
{4,3}*
dost-daar-e dushman hai i((timaad-e dil ma((luum aah be-a;sar dekhii naalah naa-rasaa paayaa
1) it's an ally/friend of the enemy-- the trustworthiness of the heart is 'known'!
2) I saw sighing [to be] ineffective, I found lamentation vain
Notes:
Nazm:
That is, in a sigh there's no effect, in a lament there's no access [rasaa))ii].
There's no trusting the heart, for it's a friend of the enemy. (4)
Bekhud Dihlavi:
Here 'enemy' means the beloved.... [In the second line] he's given a fine proof [;subuut] of the enmity of the heart. (13)
Bekhud Mohani:
That is, it [=the heart] itself doesn't wish for the beloved to be restless, or the Rival to writhe. The enemy's friend is an enemy too. (8)
FWP:
FRIEND/ENEMY verses: {4,3}; {42,4}; {43,7}; {53,4}; {53,10}; {64,4};
{97,6}; {120,2}; {126,8}; {139,3}; {148,4}; {195,1}; {201,3}
SOUND EFFECTS: {26,7}
dostdaar-e dushman is such a great phrase to say, combining alliteration (those heavy repetitions of daal, echoed in i((timaad-e dil ) with wordplay ('friend' and 'enemy'). And naalah naa-rasaa paayaa with all those long aa sounds, surely suggests a sigh, the aah .
This colloquial use of ma((luum as a vigorous negative exclamatory marker is very common; see the grammar page for more examples.
The second line purports to give a 'proof' for the claim in the first line about the untrustworthiness of the heart. Yet if considered carefully, this evidence only proves the coldheartedness or inaccessibility of the beloved, not the unfaithfulness of the lover's own heart.
As so often in the ghazal, the lover would rather castigate himself, even to an implausible degree, than say anything reproachful about the beloved. If his
sighs and laments receive no response, the fault is surely not the beloved's, but that of his own traitorous heart, which treacherously takes the beloved enemy's side and refuses to be (sufficiently? effectively?) importunate.
Or: as Nishtha Singh rightly points out (Feb. 2005), the heart could be that of the beloved, and the 'enemy' the Rival or Other. On this reading, the lover is complaining that the beloved doesn't heed his sighs and laments, because she's already inwardly prejudiced in favor of another-- and of course lesser-- lover.
{4,4}*
saadagii-o-purkaarii be-;xvudii-o-hushyaarii
;husn ko ta;Gaaful me;N jur))at-aazmaa paayaa
1a) simplicity and cleverness, self-transcendance and awareness-- [all present at once!]
1b) [her] simplicity and cleverness, [her] self-transcendance and awareness!
1c) [my] simplicity and [her] cleverness, [my] self-transcendance and [her]
awareness!
1d) [her] simplicity and [my] cleverness, [her] self-transcendance and [my]
awareness!
1e) [her] simplicity and cleverness, [my] self-transcendance and awareness!
1f) 'simplicity'-- and cleverness! 'self-transcendance'-- and awareness!
2) I found beauty, in negligence/heedlessness, [to be] courage-testing
Notes:
Nazm:
That is, the beautiful ones' ignoring the lover, and showing ignorance of his situation, is only in order to see the lover's heart and to test his courage. In reality, it's cleverness and awareness, and outwardly it's simplicity and ignorance.
Bekhud Dihlavi:
The meaning is that in order to see the lover's heart, the beloved feigns simplicity; and in reality this simplicity is special cleverness and even trickery. The placing of the words is beyond praise. (13)
Bekhud Mohani:
The negligence of the beautiful ones is in order to see the lovers' hearts. That is, they want to test whether the lovers consider them naive and simple, and gather their courage for insolence. When it's thus, then how is it simplicity?
It's awareness! (8)
FWP:
SETS == A,B; GENERATORS
TESTING verses == {4,4}; {4,9x}; {4,16x}; {25,4}
The commentators seem not to notice the amazingly complex interpretive possibilities for the first line. By giving us four abstract qualities, devoid of verbs, connected as simply as possible (A and B, C and D), Ghalib invites-- and by his indecideability also compels-- a multitude of readings. For after all, the 'and' can be a sign of genuine linking (A and B have common qualities); or of opposition and contrast (A-- and on the other hand, B); or of some kind of surprise or paradox (A-- and B!). Since none of the four qualities are specifically assigned to either the beloved or the lover, the possible mathematical permutations become remarkable.
I've spelled some of them out above in my readings of the first line. (There could no doubt be more as well.) This open-ended multivalence makes the verse one of the most conspicuous 'meaning-generators' in the whole divan.
Is her show of 'negligence' just a clever tactical maneuver? Or does her beauty and 'negligence' itself test my courage, so that I have to be capable and alert to endure it? And aren't those particular four words excellently selected and placed to generate multivalent, and ambivalent, meanings?
For other examples of such versatile construction, see {71,3} and {97,10}.
For an instance in which beloveds are saadah purkaar , see {108,8}.
{4,5}*
;Gunchah phir lagaa khilne aaj ham ne apnaa dil
;xuu;N kiyaa hu))aa dekhaa gum kiyaa hu))aa paayaa 1) the bud again/then began to bloom, today our heart we 2) saw [having been] turned to blood, found [having been] lost
Notes:
Nazm:
A lover without a heart expresses the suspicion about the bud, that this is my heart which had been lost for a long time. (4)
Bekhud Dihlavi:
The meaning is, our heart has turned to blood and dripped out on the ground by way of our eyes. It had gone, and nowhere around was there any trace of it. Today we saw that very heart, and found it again. That is, this rosebud, which in the spring season has bloomed a second time, is our heart itself, which in winter had turned to blood. For the heart the simile of 'bud' is often used. (13)
Bekhud Mohani:
1) Today my heart is turning into blood; from this I know that spring has come.
2) A lover without a heart sees a bud and expresses his suspicion: This is my heart, that had been lost for a long time.
3) Because of the coming of the spring season, my tumult of madness became fresh.
4) God knows what happened to the heart in some springtime, that when that season comes its wounds become fresh. And when the glance falls on the bud, it freshens the memory of the turned-to-blood and vanished heart.
5) Spring came and my heart turned to blood and began to be as if lost. (8)
Arshi:
Compare to {164,2}. (160)
FWP:
SETS == GENERATORS; OPPOSITES; PARALLELISM LOSING/FINDING {4,6}
The second line here strongly evokes the second line of {4,2}-- dard kii davaa paa))ii dard-e be-davaa paayaa -- and will be echoed in turn in the second line of {4,6}-- ham ne baar-haa ;Dhuu;N;Dhaa tum ne baar-haa paayaa . In all three cases the line is split at the midpoint (which in this meter involves a quasi-caesura) and parallel phrases are placed on each side, involving repetition, sound echoes, and the use of an arresting and
paradoxical-seeming statement. If anything, this one is the pick of the lot, because each half of the line is also paradoxical in itself. If a heart has already turned into blood and thus melted away, how can you 'see' it in this state? And gum kiyaa hu))aa paayaa works just as neatly in Urdu as 'I found it lost' does in English. For another study in lost/found subtleties, compare {153,6}.
This verse is unusual in that the various relationships that are usually negotiated between the first line and the second are here negotiated between the first half of the first line, and the second half of the first line combined with one or both of the two halves of the second line. Bekhud Mohani does an excellent job of suggesting some of the wide variety of ways in which those relationships can be arranged. (In fact, Bekhud Mohani does such a lovely, imaginative, and revelatory job that I want to salute him for it, and to thank him for opening my eyes to many of these rich possibilities.)
For example, does 'the bud again/then began to bloom' refer to my heart's being turned to blood, or to the spring season? Is the losing of the heart the same as its being turned to blood, or are these two different situations? Is there a cause and effect relationship of any kind here between the bud blooming and the fate of the heart? If there is, which is the cause and which the effect? This verse is an inherently unresolvable one, with so many possibilities generated that no definitive interpretation is possible. I'm going to call such verses 'generators' of meanings.
The convenient little adverb phir can readily be used to mean either 'again' or 'then', which makes it an excellent tool for meaning-creation. For example, it is used with both possibilities in: {6,6}; {14,2}; {20,6}; {35,1}; {35,2};
{97,3}; {99,8}.
{4,6}
;haal-e dil nahii;N ma((luum lekin is qadar ya((nii ham ne baar-haa ;Dhuu;N;Dhaa tum ne baar-haa paayaa 1) the state of the heart is not known-- except to this extent, that is, 2) many times we sought it, many times you found it
Notes:
Nazm:
The theme of searching for and finding the heart. (4)
Bekhud Dihlavi:
He says, we aren't informed and aware about the truth of the heart's
condition-- when it went, and how it went. That is, passion is a matter of loss of control, such that one doesn't even know when it originates and how it originates. (13-14)
Josh:
There doesn't seem to be any special necessity for the word ya((nii . (53)
FWP:
SETS == REPETITION; TRANSLATABLES
LOSING/FINDING verses: {4,1}; {4,5}; {4,6}; {4,16x}; {12,7x}; {153,6}
The commentators find this verse clear, and indeed it is. It can even be called a classic verse of the 'unattainably simple' kind.
But it has its own sort of subtlety too. The second line is partly natural (one could well look many times for something lost) and partly impossible-- how could the beloved keep finding the same heart over and over? Was it constantly rejected and given back to the lover, each time running off once more to be found again by the beloved? Was it a different heart each time-- is it 'the heart' in the abstract sense, not just the lover's heart? Or have lover and beloved enacted their predestined relationship-- or at least their first encounter, at which the heart transaction presumably took place-- countless times?
For other studies in seeking and finding, compare {4,16x} and {153,6}.
{4,7}
shor-e pand-e naa.si;h ne za;xm par namak chhi;Rkaa aap se ko))ii puuchhe tum ne kyaa mazaa paayaa
1a) the outcry/uproar of the counsel of the Advisor sprinkled salt on the wound
1b) the bitter/sharp/brackish counsel of the Advisor sprinkled salt on the wound
2a) let someone ask him, What relish did you find [in tormenting me]?
2b) let someone ask him, What relish did you find [while I found so much]?
Notes:
shor : 'Cry, noise, outcry, exclamation, din, clamour, uproar, tumult, disturbance'; as an adjective, 'disturbed, mad; salt, brackish; very bitter;
unlucky'. (Platts p.736)
aap is a polite form for 'you' (literally, the 'self'), which here is used out of courtesy to mean 'him'; and tum is of course the familiar form of 'you'.
mazah is here spelled mazaa to fit into the rhyme.
Nazm:
aap refers to the Advisor, and gives an air of respect; and the purpose is reproach. And relish and bitterness are among the qualities suitable to salt.
(4)
Bekhud Dihlavi:
He says, the Advisor's inappropriate advice sprinkled salt on the wound, the pleasure of which the heart alone is receiving. Let someone ask him-- that is, Hazrat the Advisor-- what pleasure he received. (14)
Bekhud Mohani:
In the second line first he says [the polite] aap, then [the familiar] tum. The word aap is not only for ostentation; rather, its point is perhaps that he considers the Advisor worthy of respect, so that he considers it disrespectful for him himself to ask, so he says to others, you ask. Or else he fears that his heart is sore and that at the time of asking he might not be able to maintain respect before the Advisor, and the matter might escalate for no reason. (9)
FWP:
Faruqi says, 'The verse can also be read with the invented compound shor-pand , meaning sharp, pungent, alkaline advice. This is in fact a better reading, because it becomes more versatile' (July 2000). I've suggested this excellent possibility as (1b). It also provides a direct source for the salt that is sprinkled on the wound, since the advice itself is 'salty' (see the definition above).
The question asked of the Advisor is usually read as expressing scarcely veiled resentment (2a). But consider {17,7}, in which the lover's wounds revel in salt. So perhaps the question is a solicitous one (2b): your salt/advice-sprinkling was great for me, but could you find any relish in it?
('Was it good for you too?')
{4,8x}*
hai kahaa;N tamannaa kaa duusraa qadam yaa rab ham ne dasht-e imkaa;N ko ek naqsh-e paa paayaa 1) where is the second step of longing, oh Lord?
2) we found the desert of possibility [to be] one footprint
Notes:
imkaa;N : 'Possibility, practicability; power; contingent existence (in contrast to vujuub or necessary existence)'. (Platts p.82)
Gyan Chand:
This verse causes me to remember the dwarf [vaaman] avatar from Hindu mythology. In order to embarrass some king, he [=Vishnu] came in the guise of a Brahmin, and asked him for three paces' worth of land on which to build a hut. The king agreed. In one footstep, the dwarf encompassed the whole world; in the second, the underworld [paataal]. No space at all was left for the third footstep.
Ghalib says, how can the breadth of our longing be described! The whole world, and all its possibilities, are only one footprint. Where has our longing even placed a second footstep? Where is there even scope for it? (67)
Naim:
The world is commonly referred to as the 'world of possibilities,' ((aalam-e imkaa;N . The poet has used dasht in the place of ((aalam ('world, universe,' or 'state, condition'), which conveys the poet's subjective atititude towards this world, which is vast and yet barren and unattractive for him.
The craving within the human heart is boundless; it is always reaching out for newer horizons. In face of it this world of myriad charms and endless possibilities seems only lacklustre, a wilderness, and its vastness only the extent of one footstep. The poet's passion demands vaster regions.
The world is only one footprint, i.e., it indicates only that someone has been here. But that person's journey didn't end here, he has gone forward leaving his footprint behind, only one print. The world is considered to have been
The world is only one footprint, i.e., it indicates only that someone has been here. But that person's journey didn't end here, he has gone forward leaving his footprint behind, only one print. The world is considered to have been