The 'good/bad' wordplay makes for a fine, paradoxical-sounding second line that forces us to think about it for a moment or two before figuring out how to put it together with the first. This verse is a particularly effective example of what might be called a genuine Ghalibian poetic notion-- namely, that it's shaming to take from others, to be indebted to them, and that this humiliating state is to be avoided as much as possible. (For more on this idea, see 9,1 .) Thus if the speaker didn't get well, he consoles himself by reflecting that at least his pain did not become indebted, , to medicine: it was not obliged to beg and plead, to bow and scrape, to give humble thanks for gracious favors. AN ANECDOTE: In his youth, the famous Delhi Sufi pir Shaikh Nizam ud-Din Auliya (1244-1325) was a disciple of Shaikh Farid Ganj-i Shakkar of Pakpattan. He lived in Baba Farid's very humble establishment, which was run by the disciples themselves. Once while boiling a wild vegetable ('delah') that had been gathered from the jungle, he realized that there was no salt. He went to a grocer in the neighborhood and bought some salt on credit. When the dish was served, Shaikh Farid reached out to taste it, but then said, 'My hand has become heavier.... Perhaps there is something doubtful in it.' When he learned about the salt, he said, 'The darvesh prefer to die of starvation rather than incur any debt for the satisfaction of their desires. Debt and Resignation are poles apart and cannot subsist together.' Then he sent the dish away. [Source: Khaliq Ahmad Nizami, The Life and Times of Shaikh Nizam-u'd-din Auliya (Delhi: Idarah-i Adabyat-i Delli, 1991), p. 44.] graphics/goodbad.jpg