jaa;N kyuu;N nikalne lagtii hai tan
se dam-e samaa((
gar vuh .sadaa samaa))ii hai chang-o-rabaab me;N
1) why does life begin to leave the body at the moment/breath
of hearing
2) if that voice is contained in the lute and rebeck?
rebeck: (From French rebec, rabec, Old French rebebe, rubebe,
ribibe; Arabic rabab). 'A medieval stringed instrument, having three strings
and played with a bow; an early form of the fiddle'. --Shorter Oxford English
Dictionary, vol. II, pp. 1758, 1828)
[The poet and Sufi Khvajah Mir Dard]
was well skilled in music. Well-known and accomplished singers used to sing
their compositions before him, to receive his correction. A raag
is a thing full of emotional effect. The Greek philosophers and the ancient
learned men have determined it to be a branch of mathematics. It opens the
heart and exalts the spirit. For this reason, some circles among the practitioners
of Sufism have treated it as a form of worship. Thus on the second and the
twenty-fourth of every month it was customary for the well-known masters of
music, [the caste of musicians called] Doms, singers, accomplished persons,
and people of taste to gather together and sing mystical pieces. These dates
were the death anniversaries of certain of his elders. Muharram is the month
of grief; thus on the second [day], instead of songs, there was elegy-recitation.
== Azad, p. 178
==Pritchett and Faruqi, pp. 175-76
He expresses surprise, that if that voice is life-giving, then why does it have this effect? (87)
He says, when listening to songs, why does the life begin to emerge from the body-- that is, why does this state begin to prevail, that causes one to writhe? If that voice-- that is the voice of the True Beloved-- is contained in the lute and rebeck, then why does this not have the effect of life-bestowingness? (152)
He will have previously established from the lips of the Preacher himself that whatever is found in every substance is entirely due to the active power of the Lord. After this, he asks, when such is the case, then why, while listening to music, does the life leave the body? (198)
Like the previous verse, this one too, as Nazm notes, poses a rhetorical question. In both cases the question is a broad one with a mystical or cosmic scope. And in both cases the question is delicately balanced between an interrogation of God's treatment of humans, and an uncertainty about human responsiveness to God's presence and commands.
As Azad's account of Mir Dard make clear, Sufis have sometimes had a favorable attitude toward samaa((, or listening to music-- though very often they have been opposed to it. Controversies have been vehement, and in some circles the issue remains contentious today. Some Sufi orders disapprove on principle of all religious uses of music, while others make a (carefully controlled) place for it in their practice. Mir Dard, as both a poet and a Sufi, is a particularly interesting case; for discussion of these controversies and his somewhat ambivalently expressed attitude toward music, see Annemarie Schimmel's Pain and Grace (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1976), especially pp. 53-57. Ghalib and his original audience would have been well aware that the mystical use of music, as an approach to the Divine, was a theological hot potato. Whatever else Ghalib is doing in this verse, he's also throwing a hot potato into a hornets' nest.
Thus it's not surprising that the verse can be understood in ways that might well suit the predilections of different listeners. If you're opposed to the use of music for mystical experience, you can say, 'Good question! As this question shows, music is just another intoxicant like wine, and its power can knock you out or leave you swooning just as wine can. Like wine, music can wreck you; it can destroy your proper self-control and piety. So it's clear that 'that [divine] voice' is not present in the lute and rebeck.'
And if you believe that music is a legitimate part of mystical experience, you can say, 'Why, that's an easy question to answer! Music transports you outside your petty this-worldly self, it renders you 'self-less' [be-;xvud] in the way that great mystics have always desired. Listening to music, you reach a higher state that is a close cousin to mystical oblivion [fanaa]. This 'self-lessness' is the human response to the divine Presence. So the very fact that listening to music can transport you outside yourself is clear proof that 'that [divine] voice' is present in the lute and rebeck.'
Needless to say, it's impossible to tell from this verse what Ghalib himself thought about the mystical use of music. All we can say is that he presents music as a powerful force that can sweep the listener away.
Nazm:
Here too [as in {98,2}], the interrogative form is only to alert the listener; the poet does not want an answer. The meaning is, reflect that when the voice of that immanent Authority is raised, then the lives of the music-listeners begin to be obliterated. That is, before His presence, everyone's existence is trivial. And He is the drawer-out of everyone, and everyone is drawn out. And He is the destination, and everyone is destined for Him. He has presented this theme in this way: that if it's true that His voice is contained in the lute and the rebeck, then why, when we listen to them, does our life leave us? In short, the listener should be alerted. (101)