S. R. Faruqi:

Apparently there's nothing special in the verse; rather, if we're in a hurry then we'll judge it to be a verse of a rank even below the middling, and will move on. But if we reflect, then its layers/depths open out. A person is called bīmār-e girāñ who has a long, chronic illness, or an illness that would take a long time to be cured. This phrase appears in no dictionary except Steingass's. [A discussion of similar phrases in other dictionaries, with varying definitions.] In any case, there would be no harm in putting it into a dictionary with the 'warrant' of Mir's usage.

Then, nā-tavānī is believed to be related to a loss of weight. That is, the 'weak' person will also be light in weight. In this regard, for the 'light' heart to be 'heavy' is very fine.

Janab Abd ul-Rahman has informed me that in the chirāġh-e hidāyat the meaning of girāñ būdan bīmār is given as an intensity of sickness in which there would be fear of the sick person's death. As a tribute to Abd ul-Rahman's research, I looked at the chirāġh-e hidāyat and confirmed his words. One new thing that I learned from it was that Khan-e Arzu used as a 'warrant' this [Persian] verse by Nusrat (Siyalkoti):

'It's difficult for the Moth to remain alive till dawn,
Stay awake, oh candle-- our sick one is gravely ill.'

Since Nusrat Siyalkoti was a contemporary of Khan-e Arzu, it's possible that Mir too might have known him. But there's very little doubt that Mir would have taken this idiom only/emphatically from chirāġh-e hidāyat , because Nusrat's whole sentence bīmār-e mā girāñ ast is present in Mir's verse as bīmār mirā girāñ bahut hai . [Further discussions of the unfortunate absence of this idiom from dictionaries.]

Now let's consider the whole verse. That is, (1) the heart belongs to someone else, and the speaker is its nurse or physician. Theusual practice is that nurses or doctors call the sick people who are in their care, 'our' sick ones. (2) The heart is definitely the speaker's, but the speaker is establishing his heart as something separate from his own existence. There's also the common saying, falāñ shaḳhṣ dil ke hāthoñ majbūr ho gayā , or the saying dil par kisī kā qābū nahīñ , and so on.

Such metaphors contain a special image of the arrangement of the universe: that a person is not only alone in the world, but rather that his heart itself-- the organ that, because it is the target of sensations, emotions, and wishes, is what truly makes a person human-- has an existence apart from him, to such an extent that the heart could be sick and the body healthy, as is apparently the case in this verse.

If girāñ is taken in its normal meaning ('heavy', thus 'difficult, hard to endure'), then the enjoyable meaning is created that although the heart is weak, to endure its weakness (or its sickness) is, for me (=for the speaker, in whose side that sick one is seated), or for my side (=body), or for a nurse, is proving to be a very heavy burden. In this sense there's also the implication that the body, or the owner of the body, has now become irritated/vexed by the heart's weakness and sickness, and probably longs for some way to find release from the heart.

It should also be kept in mind that he has not said tirā bīmār , which was the expected thing. Rather, he's said mirā bīmār , which is an unexpected thing-- so that the speaker of the verse is talking to himself. And mirā bīmār means 'the sick one whom I'm taking care of'. But it's also possible that the beloved herself might be the speaker. Now the meaning emerges that the beloved, having seen the weakness of the heart in the lover's side, mischievously or sympathetically says, 'My sick one (that is, the one who is sick because of me, or the sick one of whom I am the master) is gravely ill (that is, it will be difficult for the sick one to recover)'.

If bahut hai is taken to mean 'is enough, is plenty', or 'is a windfall' (for example, we say do chār din bhī sāth rah leñ to bahut hai ), then an entirely fresh meaning emerges. That is, in the first line he has said that if the heart is in the side/body, then this itself is enough/plenty, no matter if it's weak. Then in the second line he has said that his sick one is in any case has to die. So it's enough/plenty that his illness would be grave-- that it, it would take a long time to be cured. So that the sick one would remain alive until then. With regard to these meanings, the prose order of the verse will be: dil ( agar ) pahlū meñ hai ( to ) nā-tavāñ ( hī ) bahut hai - merā bīmār ( agar ) girāñ ( bhī ) hai ( to bhī ) bahut ( hai ) .

FWP:

SETS
MOTIFS
NAMES
TERMS == METER

Here's an example of a 'short meter' [chhoṭī baḥr] very cleverly used. Here is a little verse of eleven words-- and even then, with four of them constrained by the needs of the refrain-- in which the very brevity and simplicity of the language are made to open up a wide range of poetic possibilities.

The excellent versatility of girāñ is particularly notable, even apart from the special idiomatic 'gravely ill' usage discussed by SRF. For girāñ is positioned in the key place-- in the rhyme-word slot, at the last possible moment before the verse ends with the final refrain. (The nā-tavāñ , which is similarly placed in the first line, is not nearly as conspicuous or emphatic-feeling.) The meanings of girāñ include 'important, momentous' (the lover often prizes his heart more than his life), 'grievous, burdensome' (taking care of such a weak invalid is of course demanding), and 'precious, valuable' (the lover knows his cherished heart to be the one truly valuable thing he owns).

SRF has pointed to the contrast between the physical lightness of a 'weak' person, who is assumed to have lost weight, and the 'heavy' quality of the heart (in the literal meaning of girāñ ). The contrast can be extended further: the 'weak' and 'sick' heart is not a useless invalid as one might expect, but is 'important', it is 'precious, valuable'. What is the relationship of this importance and value to the fact that the sick heart is (still?) located in the speaker's 'side'? Might the heart otherwise run off to the beloved, or might it die? Or is its being in the speaker's side connected with its sickness-- might it be happy and thriving if it could reach the beloved?

And then there are the idiomatic possibilities of bahut hai that SRF has discussed, which are shown in (1b) and (2b). It's really an embarrassment of riches, isn't it?

Note for translation fans: Any sensible translator would normally prefer to use 'breast' or 'chest' for pahlū , because the literal 'side' in English extends too readily into metaphorical territory (a 'side' in an argument, etc.); and especially because in English the heart is not in one's 'side' but in one's chest or breast or body. Intriguingly, however, pahlū does basically the same thing in Urdu-- it readily extends out to mean 'facet' or 'aspect', as well as 'utility, profit, advantage' and various kinds of skulduggery (see the definition above). I wanted to keep this breadth of range-- partly because of my policy of ruthlessly twisting English to bring us as close as possible to the Urdu, and partly because one could thus generate a new reading of the first line (as I have shown above). That is, the speaker's poor weak heart is quite unable to maneuver to his advantage. And here's a whole new possible pahlū of this tiny little verse.