S. R. Faruqi:

In the fourth verse [of those selected for SSA], the story is concluded. That is, that scene is described for the sake of which the story was told, and which the previous three [selected] verses were preparing. But the outcome of the story is, in a number of respects, unexpected. The enjoyable thing is that at the outcome we don't feel astonishment, but we certainly do feel that the things in this final scene are of no common order, and that although they are unexpected they are more or less inevitable.

The first point is, who is the 'forgetful/negligent one' who took away the heart? If this is the beloved, then why did her call her a 'forgetful/negligent one'? Perhaps because until now she had forgotten the heart, but when its condition became wretched then she came and took it away, but then caused it to become entirely forgotten. Or perhaps by ham se faraamosh-kaar is meant 'a forgetful/negligent one like us'-- that is, the speaker himself paid no attention to his heart, and now has already lost it from his memory.

The second point is, where did that person take the heart, and why did that person take it? Did that person take it and throw it away somewhere, or bury it, or imprison it? If it's the beloved who has taken the heart, then possibly she might have taken it in order to bury it. If it's the neighbors who have taken it, then possibly they took it with the excuse of curing it, and then have caused it to be forgotten.

If it's the speaker himself who has taken it, then perhaps having grown fed up with its daily pain and sorrow he's flung it into some prison or desert and then returned-- that is, he's committed a kind of spiritual suicide. In every case, the 'mood' of a mysterious, melancholy helplessness, laboriousness, and [in English] a 'tragic end', remains established. And the greatest melancholy is that people have forgotten the heart, to such an extent that not even a single drop of blood remains as a memento of it.

The theme of the carrying away of the heart, Zafar Iqbal too has versified with a strange mysteriousness:

u;Thaa ke le hii ga))e din kii raushnii me;N use
mujhe yih vahm jo sach puuchhi))e to raat se thaa

[she/they took it up and carried it off in the light of day
I have had this anxiety/illusion, to tell you the truth, since last night]

This whole verse-set of Mir's is a good example of 'convoluted simplicity' [pechiidah saadagii].... In imitation of Mir, later poets too have used the image of the painful boil/blister, but the intensity of shaam-o-sa;har kaa pakkaa pho;Raa [from {64,7}] has perhaps not been achieved by anyone.

In any case, this verse of Jur'at's is notable:

((ishq ke .sadme se ab tuu bhii rukaa jaataa hai aah
ek pho;Raa hai kaleje par kih ba;Rhtaa jaa))e hai

[from the shock of passion now even/also you halt, sigh
there's a single boil/blister on the liver that keeps on enlarging]

This verse also pleased the young Ghalib; he has used the image [in an unpublished verse] in his own style [G{422x,3}]:

na;zr-e mizhah kar dil-o-jigar ko
chiire hii se jaa))e;Nge yih pho;Re

[give an offering of eyelashes to the heart and liver
they will be burst open and go, these boils/blisters]

For ripening boils/blisters, see Ibn-e Insha's verse in {1091,3}.

FWP:

SETS == GESTURES; GROTESQUERIE; SUBJECT?
MOTIFS
NAMES
TERMS == MOOD; VERSE-SET

This verse is the sixth and final one from a verse-set that consists of six verses, from {64,6} through {64,11}. The ones not selected for SSA appear on the ghazal index page, {64}.

This verse too is a specialized 'verse-set' verse, since without the larger context we would have no indication what the thing was that was taken away. And as SRF points out, the unusual figure of the 'forgetful/negligent one' is at the heart of the verse. Who is this forgetter, and why did this person so utterly take away the heart, and what (if anything) did this person then do with it? The act remains an uninterpretable 'gesture'.

SRF emphasizes the narrativity and sequentialness of the whole verse-set. As verse-sets go, this one is indeed unusually coherent. There's a sequence from {64,6} (in which a time is recalled when the heart was in better condition) to {64,7} (which simply evokes the heart's bad condition). The two omitted verses, {64,8} and {64,9}, both also simply offer more description of this bad condition. Then {64,10} emphasizes the perversity of the heart, and imagines it as perverse enough to flow away in the form of bloody tears, and {64,11} describes the absence of even a single drop of blood by which it could be remembered.

The strong test for narrativity, which asks whether a re-ordering of the verses would be noticeable and/or damaging, is (more or less) met only at the beginning and end of the verse-set; in the middle, verses {64,7} through {64,9} could be re-ordered with no effect at all on the 'narrative'. This isn't a flaw, however; it's just the usual nature of a verse-set-- which is to be loose and flexible, defined more by a common theme and/or grammatical structure than by a real 'story-telling' progression. For even in this present case, the narrative can only be that the heart used to be in better shape, then it came to be in worse shape, then it was entirely removed and forgotten.

This progression doesn't particularly stand out from the general assumptions of the whole ghazal world. The only verse-set I can think of that has a kind of real (and even then, chiefly didactic) narrativity is Ghalib's famous one that begins with

G{169,6}.