aa))oge hosh me;N to ;Tuk ik sudh bhii liijiyo
ab to nashe me;N jaate ho za;xmii kiye hu))e

1) when you (will) come to your senses, then just take even/also one bit of care/thought/notice
2) now you go around in intoxication, [in a state of] having made [me, us, them] wounded



sudh : 'Thought; memory, remembrance; attention, notice; care, regard; intelligence'. (Platts p.646)

S. R. Faruqi:

It's a common theme that the beloved has wounded the lover and then turned aside and moved on, and from then on paid no attention to him. To see the heights and depths of this theme, consider these verses by Naziri and by Arzu Lakhnavi. Naziri [in Persian]:

'Don't be heedless of my condition, for I am mortally wounded--
May it not be that someone else would find your prey in the dust and seize it!'

Arzu Lakhnavi:

jaate kahaa;N hai;N aap na:zar dil se mo;R kar
ta.sviir niklii pa;Rtii hai aa))iinah to;R kar

[where do you go, having turned aside your gaze from the heart?
the picture necessarily goes away, having broken the mirror]

In Naziri's verse there is, along with a slight trickiness, the dignity of woundedness. In Arzu's verse, the style of calling out to the beloved is not free of vulgarity and lowness. Although his second line is 'dramatic', he presents a metaphor suitable neither for the wound in the heart, nor for the beloved's departure.

In Mir's present verse, as usual, on the surface there's a bit of 'pathos', but in reality the tone is one of jesting and of raillery at the beloved. Then, there's Mir's usual ambiguity as well, as to whether in the first line sudh bhii liijiyo applies to the speaker/lover himself, or he is giving advice to the beloved: 'Miyan, when your intoxication ebbs and you come to your senses, pay attention to what state you're in and what you've gone and done'.

Then, aa))oge means aa))o , but by using the future form he has also created the implication that for the beloved to come to her senses is not only difficult, but an affair of the distant future. For example, the line could also have been like this: aa))o jo hosh me;N to ;Tuk ik sudh bhii liijiyo . It's clear that in this example the coming to her senses is more or less immediate, while in the real line that's not the case. The wordplay between aa))oge and jaate ho is also superb.

In the second line as well, two meanings are possible. The first is that right now you are intoxicated; you have wounded me and are going. The second meaning is that the beloved had previously wounded him; then she drank wine, and when she became very intoxicated, she left her prey there, wounded, and moved on. As if intoxication prevents her from thinking even of herself, not to speak of the wounded lover. Thus the wounded speaker/lover says, 'Now you are intoxicated; later on, pay heed to me'.

Now, here, one further meaning emerges-- that if you were in your senses, then you would have finished me off before you went. Sayyid Muhammad Khan Rind:

saa;Ns dekhii tan-e bismil me;N jo aate jaate
aur charkaa diyaa .saiyaad ne jaate jaate

[she saw that the breath, in the wounded body, comes and goes
the Hunter gave another slash, while going]

But because of the rush of intoxication you have left me alive (half-alive) and are going. When you come to your senses, then come back and finish the half-done task and cut my throat. According to this interpretation, the meaning of ;Tuk ik sudh bhii liijiyo is to see whether I have died or not, and if there's still life in me then to finish me off. In the light of this meaning, the apparent touch of 'pathos' (or rather, a touch of self-pity) is removed. Indeed, the wit/jestingness too vanishes, but a new meaning comes into our hands. And it's clear that all the meanings are present at the same time, and there's no need to give any of them primacy over any other.

In the light of the above interpretation, the nature of the theme changes a bit. and the theme of the ardor for being slain comes to the forefront in a new style, as it does in this [Persian] verse by Hasan Beg Rafi:

'Until Doomsday, the heart of this slain one will find no rest,
For it wanted another wound, and the murderer went away.'

Qasim Qumi too has versified [in Persian] in this 'ground' a slightly new aspect of the same theme:

'I have no fear of being killed; what I am afraid of is this:
That I would still be breathing, and the murderer would go away.'

The theme of killing/wounding in a state of intoxication, Mir has well versified in the third divan [{1064,7}]:

kahne lagaa kih shab ko mere ta))ii;N nashah thaa
mastaanah miir ko mai;N kyaa jaan kar ke maaraa

[she began to say, 'Last night I was intoxicated,
in intoxication, what did I know, when I killed Mir?']

Here too, in the speaker's tone there's wit and-- if the speaker is the lover himself-- a darvesh-like carelessness. As if for him to die is not important, what is important is the beloved's thoughtlessness and her intoxicated style.



One additional possibility is that the intoxicated beloved might have carelessly left all kinds of people wounded, not just the speaker/lover. In fact the speaker might not himself be among the wounded ones; he might be some companion of the beloved's who is simply admonishing or rebuking her on general humanitarian grounds, since properly behaved hunters always take pains to finish off their wounded, suffering prey.

Alternatively, the first line might be recommending some other kind of behavior. Perhaps the beloved is being urged-- when her intoxication abates and she comes to her senses-- to 'take care' of the wounded ones by reviving their spirits, to pay them some compensatory attention rather than leaving them writhing in misery.

But of course, intoxicated people often don't recall very well (or at all) things that happened while they were intoxicated. So it's all too possible that by the time the beloved comes to her senses, she might have entirely forgotten not only her wounded prey, but also the injunction to 'take care' of them.