Verse 3xafter 1821aa;Nnah puuchh


G3

1
apart from [possession of] a heart, signs/traces of pain in/on the sleeping-hearted ones-- don't ask!
2
{offer / having offered} a mirror-- the 'down [on the cheek] and beauty-spot' of expression-- don't ask!

'Sign, mark, footstep, trace, track, clue; search, inquiry'.
'Sleeping, asleep; put to sleep'.
t:t>> : 'A line, a streak, or stripe, a mark; lineament; —writing, character, handwriting, chirography; a letter, epistle; —down on the face, incipient beard, &c.; beard; moustaches'.
'A black mole on the face (regarded as ornamental); a spot, patch (natural); an artificial spot (made of , &c., for ornament, or to ward off the effects of the malignant eye)'.
'Declaration, assertion, affirmation; explanation, exposition, description, relation, disclosure, unfolding, circumstantial indication or evidence; perspicuity, clearness'.

References
Arshi, Imtiyaz Ali Ghazal# 129
Raza, Kalidas Gupta 224-25
Asi, Abdul Bari 204-206
Gyan Chand 316-318
Hamid Ali Khan Open Image

For background see S. R. Faruqi's choices . For more on Ghalib's unpublished verses, see the discussion in 4,8x . On the downy cheek and the beauty spot, see 85,3 . Gyan Chand takes the 'sleeping-hearted' [] to be the classic 'people of the world' (as in 5,6 ), those who have 'stony' and 'dead' hearts and are forever debarred from the lover's great twin pursuits of passion and poetry. But those 'sleeping' hearts might be capable of waking up. The analogy would be to the concept of having a (miserable) 'sleeping fortune' [] as opposed to an (excellent) 'awakened' one []. It's quite possible for one's 'sleeping' fortune to awaken (though perhaps not the lover's, as we see in 84,1 ). So those 'sleeping-hearted' ones might simply be too drowsy to look into the mirror, and thus they can't really appreciate the wonders of passion and poetry. Perhaps the very act of showing them the mirror is meant to begin the process of awakening them? But then, the listener is enjoined to hold up before the 'sleeping-hearted' ones a mirror, through which they would presumably see their own faces. In the ghazal world the 'down on the cheek' (or, with excellent wordplay, the 'writing') and the 'beauty-spot' are invariably those of the beloved. So are the 'sleeping-hearted' ones not ready as yet for the dazzling vision of the beloved? For a thought along these lines about the sequential interconnection of pain, passion, and poetry, see for example 214,12 . Or might the 'sleeping-hearted' ones even be the beautiful beloveds themselves, whom the lover would desperately seek to awaken into sympathy or compassion? The verse would then be almost a sneer against the negligence and indifference of the beloveds. You can show them a mirror, but that's about it. (They probably won't even bother to thank you for holding the mirror.) Along these lines consider the sarcastic-feeling 91,2 . But this verse is also one of those intriguing ones in which Ghalib disrupts his own metaphor. Almost all the way through the second line, we are led to take seriously the 'looking in the mirror' idea: the addressee is to provide a mirror, and the 'down on the cheek' and the 'beauty-spot' (which form a stylized alliterative pair in Urdu, ) are just what we expect the sleeping-hearted ones to see-- or not to see-- on their own faces; either way the imagery can work very well with the first line (since we know they won't see any traces of pain). Then suddenly, at the last possible moment (and remember the delay in access imposed by mushairah performance style)-- that bursts into the verse, disrupts the metaphor, and shifts the whole complex of imagery to the domain of poetry. Before that sudden irruption, nothing in the verse gave us any hint at all of what was coming. Now we have to reframe and reimagine the verse entirely, and on the shortest possible notice. To be ambushed like that-- it's vexing, but also thrilling. The sleeping-hearted ones' reaction to the mirror-- would it be fancy poetic language instead of signs/traces? Would it be no poetic language at all? Would it be such fancy poetic language that it would be beyond words ('I can't describe it, don't even ask!'). As so often, Ghalib has left us to decide for ourselves. graphics/mirror.jpg