Verse 41833aardekh kar


G3

1
she comes to slay me, but from the ebullition of envy/jealousy
2
I die-- having seen the sword in her hand

'Boiling, ebullition; effervescence; heat, excitement, passion, emotion; lust; fervour, ardour, zeal'.
'A sword'.

References
Arshi, Imtiyaz Ali Ghazal# 63
Raza, Kalidas Gupta 380
Hamid Ali Khan Open Image

One of the pleasures of working with commentaries is that they contain unexpected little gems, tucked away with seeming arbitrariness in the discussion of particular verses. Nazm's account of how one should learn to write ghazal verses is one such gem. He points out that the second line, with its technical constraints (which also provide inspiration and guidance) is to be composed first; and for practice one can cleverly make use of the second lines in other people's divan s. He emphasizes the centrality of connection and the need to learn how to add a line , which are both strongly grounded technical notions in the traditional poetics of the ghazal. If the lover dies of envy/jealousy on seeing the sword in the beloved's hand, that implies that he considers it in some sense a rival. Nazm and Josh consider this excessive degree of jealousy to be morbid, implausible, and unsatisfactory. Bekhud Mohani responds that when passion reaches its extreme point in some temperaments, even such limit cases become appropriate, and help to reveal the nature of the feeling involved. After all, the lover-- who is mad, in any case-- is also jealous of the spring breeze, the mirror, and all kinds of other unrivalrous entities. In the first verse, 60,1 , he's apparently even jealous of his own power of vision. It's hard to get much stranger and more 'abnormal' than that, yet Nazm has no difficulties with it. So these objections too seem to be only sporadic and subjective. For more on the complexities of , see 53,4 . The weakness of this verse is that there's not much going on in it beyond the literal meaning. It's one of Ghalib's rare verses that can be paraphrased in prose with very little loss. Nazm is right that there isn't much connection in it, or much wordplay, or much multivalence, or much of anything. It's the kind of routine verse of which there are thousands in the whole corpus of classical ghazal, but not many at all in the divan . graphics/talvar.jpg 'A Mughal sword (tulwar) with enamelled hilt and chape. Lucknow, India, late 18th century, the blade Iran, probably 17th century. The curved watered-steel single-edged blade with motto and maker's name inlaid in gold nasta'lia within cusped cartouches, the silver-gilt hilt with hand guard terminating in a dragon's head and disc pommel, decorated with champlevé translucent and opaque enamels in blue, green, yellow, orange and purple, with various birds amidst foliage, with original tassel, now separated, the original wooden scabbard covered in blue velvet, the chape decorated en suite with the hilt, slight loss of gold inlay on blade, also of enamel to the hilt and chape, velvet worn in places. 36in. (91.5cm.) long in scabbard.'