S. R. Faruqi:

Apparently there's nothing in the verse, but if we pay attention to the word faiṣal , then a whole world of meaning comes into view. It's an abundantly meaningful word, and for the present these meanings will be useful to us: (1) cutting; (2) a cutter; (3) a distinction between truth and falsehood ([from the dictionary] shams ul-luġhāt ); (4) to separate, to divide (Platts); (5) (with honā ) to be traversed, to be complete/full ([from the dictionary] nūr ul-luġhāt ).

The word dam is also interesting; in the meaning of 'the blade of a sword', it forms a zila with maqtal . Also among its meanings are 'breath', 'moment', 'blow' (thus 'air'). Taking advantage of the latter meaning, Dard has well said,

ṭhahr jā ṭuk bāt kī bāt ai ṣabā
koʾī dam meñ ham bhī hote haiñ havā

[just pause for a word or two, oh breeze
in a few moments/breaths, even/also we are wind/vanished]

To call the age or the world a maqtal is a superb theme, because everything in any case comes to an end. And its rareness is in the fact that all decisions, all divisions, all accounts, are over in the space of a breath. In the first line the addressee too is superb, because in it there's an air of talking to oneself, and also of two people in conversation.

In dahr bhī there's a touch of sarcasm. For example, we say āp bhī ʿajab ādmī haiñ ; here bhī is is for forceful speech; it doesn't mean that some other person is a strange man and the addressee too is a strange man.

It's also interesting that by saying jo hai he has referred to both people and affairs, and declared that upon both will be faiṣal .

Now let's consider some additional points. Note that ko can be a time indicator-- that is, it expresses an interval. For example, we say maiñ chand din ko vahāñ gayā thā or vuh ek rāt ko yahāñ ṭhahrā thā . And one meaning of faiṣal is 'ruler'. Thus one more meaning of the second line is that whoever is here becomes a ruler only for a brief interval, then his time is over. That is, the age is a killing-ground for rulers-- today they came, tomorrow they went.

He's composed a fine verse-- apparently it's an extremely commonplace idea, but if one thinks, then there are meanings upon meanings.

FWP:

SETS == BHI
MOTIFS
NAMES
TERMS == MEANING; PEN-NAME

In this ghazal, Mir has chosen to include his pen-name in the opening-verse, and to omit it from the final verse. This is uncommon, but not terribly rare; it seems to have no special meaning.

In the first line, the juxtaposition of t̤urfah and maqtal works brilliantly. The former is the kind of expression used for a wonder, a rarity, something to be gazed at in delight and astonishment; it contains no overtones of fear or horror (see the definition above). And then to apply it-- and no other adjective whatsoever-- to a 'killing-ground' is jarring. It calls into question the tone of the second line-- we of course expect it to be melancholy, but perhaps it's just part of the fascinating strangeness, something to contemplate and marvel at?

Note for grammar fans: SRF has here emphasized the special, colloquial, exclamatory use of bhī ; for more on this, see my Urdu script and grammar notes, section 19,4. For other such examples, see {601,8} and especially {611,1}. He's also pointed out that ko can be a time expression, appearing in places where we'd expect ke liye . Along those same lines, here koʾī dam is an idiomatic expression ('a few breaths/moments'), which is why the koʾī is not in the oblique.