Ghazal 230, Verse 11

Nazm:

That is, you have the Lord [;xudaa teraa hai]. And the idiom is only ;xudaa hai . (261)

== Nazm page 261

Bekhud Dihlavi:

He says, 'Oh Ghalib, why are you dismayed at people's inattentiveness? If in the world you have no supporter or helper, then so be it; after all, there's the Lord.' (317)

Bekhud Mohani:

While reading this verse, a picture of someone despairing and oppressed and rejected by his friends and ensnared in calamity begins to pass before the eyes-- someone to whom the angel of hope is giving comfort. (485-86)

FWP:

SETS
INDEPENDENCE: {9,1}
SCRIPT EFFECTS: {33,7}

This verse certainly has the impeccably pious and humble meaning that the commentators unite in giving it. But in the same simple, non-flashy phrases there's also a wonderful and very Ghalibian 'mischievousness' that invites the reader to go in another direction entirely.

For just look at the structure of the verse. The problem posed is that 'creation' [;xalq] is heedless or estranged. What the speaker really wanted was some kind of affiliation with his fellow creatures in the world. Plainly, he didn't get it. The first half of the second line makes that failure clear: 'you have no one'. A person in that dire situation will surely settle for almost any kind of consolation prize.

And sure enough, that's exactly what's on offer: 'if you have no one, then there's the Lord'. The desperate recipient of this offer would surely do well to accept it-- but he might roll his eyes, and sigh, and realize inwardly that it's a poor substitute for what he really wants. (Like the plot of a sitcom-- the heroine wants desperately to go out with someone exciting, but only her reliable old boring pal is available.) What a put-down for the Lord! He's to be chosen because he's available, because he's better than nothing. He's a gift horse, a freebie, a ;Ganiimat . The Creator becomes a last-ditch consolation prize, reluctantly accepted in lieu of his own creatures.

Moreover, is the Lord even available at all, is he truly attentive? Or is the lonely, solitary speaker just whistling in the dark? This verse always reminds me of Kent's words in 'King Lear' (Act II, Scene 2), 'Nothing almost sees miracles / But misery'. In Kent's words too is a bleakly elegant ambiguity: does 'almost' modify the subject ('almost nothing'), or does it modify the verb ('almost sees')? And since (almost) only 'Misery' can really (almost) see miracles, how much can we trust such an unreliable, desperate reporter?

Here's an example from Mir, of a similar degree of mischievousness [{905,11}]:

u;Thte ho miir dair se to ka((be chal raho
ma;Gmuum kaahe ko ho tumhaare ;xudaa nahii;N

[if you get up from the temple, Mir, then go and stay in the Ka'bah
why are you sorrowful? --you don't have a Lord?!]