1542_-5

{1542,5}

registāñ meñ jā ke raheñ yā sangistāñ meñ ham jogī
rāt huʾī jis jāgah ham ko ham ne vahīñ bisrām kiyā

1) whether we would go and remain in a desert/'sand-place', or are a yogi/ascetic in a wilderness/'stone-place' 2) in whatever place night came to us, right there we rested

Notes:

jāgah = jagah

bisrām : 'Rest, repose, quiet, ease, cessation from labour or fatigue'. (Platts p.155)

*Platts Dictionary Online*

S. R. Faruqi:

The affinity of 'desert' and 'stony-wilderness' with 'yogi', and of 'yogi' with bisrām , is very fine. In the imagining of this verse is a loftiness that erases geographical and historical distances. 'Sand-place' gestures toward the sands of Najd, and 'stone-place' gestures toward the Himalaya mountains. In the sands was Majnun, and in the Himalaya mountains live the Hindustani faqirs and world-renouncing yogis. In this way past and present, geography and history, have come together. If 'night' is taken as a metaphor for the end of the journey of life, then bisrām is a metaphor for the sleep of death. That is, wherever we died, there we were buried; we didn't give a thought to any shroud and such. It's a fine verse.

Another aspect of this theme, Qa'im Chandpuri has versified. But between his two lines the connection is a bit lacking. Although the second line is indeed very proper:

dil pā ke us kī zulf meñ ārām rah gayā
darvesh jis jagah kī huʾī shām rah gayā

[the heart, having found repose among her curls, remained
wherever evening came upon the darvesh, in that place he remained]

[See also {1853x,3}.]

FWP:

SETS
MOTIFS == RELIGIONS
NAMES
TERMS == AFFINITY

It truly is a wonderful verse. It's the kind you don't even have to say much about, it just settles with great dignity and calm into your mind. Especially the second line.

And of course in the light of of that second line, the first line becomes far more striking. The only alternatives-- and apparently an exhaustive or at least fully representative set-- are a 'sand-place' and a 'stone-place'. No other possible resting-places seem to come to mind at all. While registāñ is a common word for a desert, sangistāñ is unusual, so that it calls attention both to itself and to its kinship with registāñ . Sand and stone-- one kind of desolateness or another-- and a wandering randomly between them. These possibilities apparently sum up the ascetic's choices in both life and death.

Moreover, bisrām is a conspicuously Hindi-side word, coming from the Sanskrit vishrām . It thus adds force to the Hindu term jogī ; the speaker's choices are thus not just religiously neutral but even pointedly non-Islamic.