1626_03

S. R. Faruqi:

For a theme similar to this, see:

{1624,3}.

An absolutely new aspect can be seen in the following verse from the second divan [{1040,7}]:

thīñ pesh az āshnāʾī kyā āshnā nigāheñ
ab āshnā huʾe par āñkh āshnā nahīñ hai

[before familiarity, what familiar glances there were!
now that she has become familiar, her eyes are not familiar]

Closer to the present verse is the theme he has versified like this in the third divan [{955,5}]:

ṣuḥbat hai yih vaisī hī ai jān kī āsāʾish
sāth ān ke sonā bhī phir muñh ko chhupānā bhī

[is 'companionship' of this kind, oh comfort of life,
to come and even sleep with someone, then also to hide one's face?]

In {955,5} he's devised a strange kind of ambiguity. There's complaint, there's also very enjoyable conversation. And because he hasn't made clear why the beloved, despite sleeping with him, hides her face from him-- and because he's avoided making clear the kind of treatment to which ṣuḥbat hai yih vaisī hii alludes-- an interesting tension has been created in the verse.

But in the present verse, the image is so naked and erotic that it's in a different class entirely. In other places too, Mir has made the beloved's nakedness his subject. For example, in the second divan [{1031,6}]:

vuh sīm-tan ho nangā to lut̤f-e tan par us ke
so jī gaʾe the ṣadqe ik jān-o-māl kyā hai

[if that silver-bodied one would be naked, then for the pleasure of her body
the inner-self would be sacrificed-- what is mere life and wealth?!]

Also in the second divan [{868,1}]:

mar mar gaʾe naz̤ar kar us ke barahnah tan meñ
kapṛe utāre un ne sar kheñche ham kafan meñ

[we died, in looking at her naked body
she removed her clothing; we drew our head into the shroud]

But here the beloved's nakedness and bed-sharing have combined and created an extremely emotional narrativity. On the beloved's nakedness, Atish too has composed superb verses:

lagī hai āg jo kambal kabhī uṛhāyā hai
tirī barahnah sī garmī do-shālah kyā kartā

[a fire has started, whenever you've covered yourself with a blanket
your naked-ish heat-- how would a double-shawl equal it!]

tā saḥar maiñ ne shab-e vaṣl use ʿuryāñ rakkhā
āsmāñ ko bhī nah jis mah ne badan dikhlāyā

[until dawn, in the night of union, I kept her naked--
that moon who had never shown her body even to the sky]

Atish's well-guided pupil Sayyid Muhammad Khan 'Rind' too has taken up almost exactly the theme of the second verse:

ʿuryāñ use dekhā kiyā maiñ shām se tā ṣubḥ
dekhā nahīñ gardūñ ne bhī jis kā badan ab tak

[I constantly saw her naked, from evening to dawn
whose body, until now, not even the celestial-sphere had seen]

But Mir's verse has grounds for superiority over all three of these verses. The first point is that in Atish's first verse the image is not clear and almost falls victim to [the fault of having] 'a meaning private to the poet' [al-maʿnī fī bāt̤in al-shāʿir]. In his second verse and in Rind's verse there's no respect for the beloved; rather, a kind of coercion toward her can be seen. The claim of ghazal custom is that either respect should be shown for the beloved, or a game should be played with her. To use coercion toward her or to show contempt for her is not the style of the ghazal.

In Mir's verse, the image in the first line is maximally erotic and clear; and because it's founded on two parts ( gale lag soʾe and nange ho kar ), it has acquired unlimited strength. He has made the second line, too, similarly strong, because in it he has described an absolutely new kind of shame. But although it's new, it's founded on the observation of everyday life.

Up until my childhood, in Muslim homes the practice was that if a woman's parents, or some venerable elder, would be present, then she didn't appear before her husband. For example, if a woman would be sitting at home talking with her parents, and her husband would come in, then she would rise and go to some other room, or move away in some other direction. For a woman to talk with her husband in the presence of parents or venerable elders was considered contrary to proper behavior. I

If we look at it against this background, then Mir's verse comes before us as illustrative of a whole culture; and the pleasure is that he also has not fled from the naked mention of passion and desire. In the theme there's such uncommon judiciousness, and truthfulness of perspective, and innovativeness of style-- except for Mir, who was capable of this? A final point is that between the first line and the second line is a relationship of cause and effect [ʿillat-o-maʿlūl]. That is, her not meeting unveiled and acting ashamed in the day, is due to the games played at night.

{1626,3}

Notes:

S. R. Faruqi:

FWP: