mai;N bhii ma((;zuur-e junuu;N huu;N asad
ay ;xaanah-;xaraab
peshvaa lene mujhe ghar se bayaabaa;N niklaa
1) even/also I am excused by/for madness, Asad,
oh you house-{wrecked/wrecker}
2a) in order to receive/escort me from my house, the desert emerged
2b) in order to receive/escort me, the desert emerged from its house
;xaanah-;xaraab : 'Ruined, destroyed; base, abject; --a vain, empty fellow, a good-for-nothing fellow, a vagabond, a wretch'. (Platts p.486)
peshvaa lenaa : 'To meet and receive (a friend or visitor)'. (Platts p.300)
SETS == MIDPOINTS
DESERT: {3,1}
HOME: {14,9}
MADNESS: {14,3}
Raza p. 224. S. R. Faruqi's choices. This verse is from a different, complete, unpublished ham-:tar;h ghazal from the same year, and is included for comparison. In that ghazal, this was the eighth and last verse.
Right in the middle of the second line we see that innocent-looking little postpositional phrase ghar se , perfectly positioned between two clauses, into either of which it would easily fit.
If we read it with the first clause, as in (2a), then the desert comes right up to the door of my house to meet me, and to escort me into its domain, into madness and wilderness-wandering. And if we read it with the second clause, as in (2b), then the desert actually emerges from its own dwelling-place and surges forward to greet and welcome me, bringing the desert (of madness) right up to my very doorstep.
In either case, the desert seems to be paying me special honor. In courtly politics, such peshvaa lenaa is a carefully calibrated mark of rank and ceremony (how many steps toward the visitor will protocol require the welcomer to advance?). Indeed, the lack of this formal honor once caused Ghalib himself, as Azad reports, to turn down a job interview at Delhi College.
Why would the desert honor me so particularly? Am I, in my extraordinary madness, an especially valuable acquisition? Am I so crazed that I might not even make it to the desert without an escort? Is is simply my destiny, as the first line suggests? Even my being ma((;zuur-e junuu;N can have two readings: either I am 'excused by madness' for anything I may do (since my madness is so extreme that the desert specially pays tribute to it); or else I am 'excused for madness' and can't be reproached with choosing it (since I'm a kind of helpless, formal captive of the desert).
And then, the fact that I address myself as ;xaanah-;xaraab is a beautiful touch as well. A ;xaanah-;xaraab is either wretched in a helpless, miserable way (his house has been wrecked), or else he is actively a wretch, a 'vain, empty fellow', a 'vagabond' (he's a kind of worthless 'house-wrecker' and destroyer of family fortunes). For another example of the versatility of ;xaanah-;xaraab , see {28,2}.
Needless to say, these 'house-wrecked' or 'house-wrecker' possibilities both work most enjoyably with the two houses in the second line: my house, and the desert's own house. In all this, who is the wrecker, and who is the wrecked? Whose house is destined to suffer the most from Asad's absence, or from his presence?
Gyan Chand:
Oh wretched Asad! I'm compelled to remain ensnared in madness. Because the desert itself came to take me from my home, and escorted me. That is, I don't go into the desert through my own desire or intention. Some Unseen [;Gaibii] voice calls me and takes me along. (72)