Ghazal 152, Verse 6

{152,6}

mai;N naa-muraad dil kii tasallii ko kyaa karuu;N
maanaa kih terii ru;x se nigah kaamyaab hai

1a) what would I do for the comfort of the disappointed heart?
1b) what would I, disappointed, do for the comfort of the heart?

2) granted/assuming that the vision/sight is successful with [reaching] your face

Notes:

Nazm:

ko is not to mark an object, but rather for a meaning of this kind: that would plan would I adopt for the comfort of the disappointed heart-- without pressing you to its bosom, there is no comfort for it. Although it's true that the eye has obtained comfort through seeing; but the heart has not. (164)

== Nazm page 164

Bekhud Dihlavi:

He says, how would I comfort my disappointed heart? I've granted/assumed that only the eye will receive comfort from seeing you. But the heart will have comfort only when there will be physical union with you as well. (219)

Bekhud Mohani:

In this verse is a picture of that restlessness, and that crowd of longings, that always appear upon seeing the beloved. He has given a reflection of it in one other place also: {125,8}. (294)

FWP:

SETS == MIDPOINTS

Bekhud Mohani chooses an excellent verse for comparison: in it a contrast is drawn between the satisfied mind and the unsatisfied eyes. In the present verse, things are a little better, and the eyes are satisfied although the heart is not. At, so the commentators generally assume.

But the convenient ambiguities of maanaa remain. Consider {151,9}, in which maanaa appears in exactly the same position, and offers us two possibilities: one of hypothetical 'assuming' (which is clearly undertaken only for the purposes of argument and is not extended to the real world); and the other of genuine 'granting' (which is used for things conceded to be true about the real world). The commentators assume the latter sense: they take it for granted (so to speak) that the eyes will, or do, in fact have the 'success' of seeing the beloved.

But the former sense is also possible: on this reading, the poor lover is counting his chickens before they're hatched. His eyes haven't yet even succeeded in seeing their fill of the beloved, and he's already worried about his heart's feeling envious and disappointed when they do! He tosses in that little concession in the second line so offhandedly,so dismissively, that perhaps his listener won't even notice it. The lover, in the ghazal world, is always trying to make the best of an intolerable situation, but he rarely has much to work with. To be naa-muraad is, after all, his normal state.