Ghazal 420x, Verse 7

{420x,7}*

toṛ baiṭhe jab kih ham jām-o-sabū phir ham ko kyā
āsmāñ se bādah-e gulfām gar barsā kare

1) since we have resolutely smashed up the cup and flagon-- then, what is it to us
2) if from the sky, rose-colored wine would always rain down?!

Notes:

jab kih : 'At the time when, when; while; since (temp. & caus.)'. (Platts p.375)

Asi:

A person who smashes up the cup and flagon, and leaves off wine-drinking-- what happiness can he have, that wine is raining down from the sky? If wine rains down from the sky, then let it rain! For him, it is all useless and trifling.

== Asi, p. 295

Zamin:

It was a promising verse, but the construction go barsā kare has created an unpleasing weakness [Zamin's text has go barsā kare].... In ham ko kyā too there is a discord/disharmony that could have been removed by saying kyā hameñ . But it should be remembered that these ghazals are from the absolute beginning of his practice.

== Zamin, p. 425

Gyan Chand:

When we smashed the cup and flagon-- that is, when we threw away the power of striving for luxury/enjoyment-- then even if a rain of wine would begin, what's the benefit to us?

== Gyan Chand, p. 433

FWP:

SETS == GESTURES
SKY {15,7}
WINE: {49,1}

For more on Ghalib's unpublished verses, see the discussion in {4,8x}. See also the overview index.

Here for once is an utterly simple verse; its subtlety lies entirely in its tone. The toṛ baiṭhe conveys resolve and determination, but gives not a hint of the speaker's motivation. Is the speaker in despair at his own foolish rashness (since he has now lost the chance to receive any future benefits)? Is he bidding a bitter farewell to the world (since he has renounced its 'benefits')? Is he celebrating his first steps along the Sufi path (since he no longer cares what happens in the world)? Is he expressing his own world-weariness (escaping from all those drinking parties and other tedious social obligations)? Is he dying, and calmly, even humorously, taking leave of life? His smashing of the cup and flagon remains an unexplained gesture; as so often, we're left to decide for ourselves what it might mean.

Note for grammar fans: In the second line, barsā kare is an example of what I call the 'always construction'; on this see {215,1}.

Note for translation fans: In the first line, the compound verb toṛ baiṭhe has a colloquial effect that's hard to convey in English. Something like 'broke abruptly, violently, with determined stubbornness'. The best thing I could think of was 'resolutely smashed up'; though it's far from ideal.


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