Ghazal 239x, Verse 3

{239x,3}*

lage gar sang sar par yaar ke dast-e nigaarii;N se
bajaa-e za;xm gul bar goshah-e dastaar ho paidaa

1) if a stone would strike the head, from the adorned/hennaed hand of the beloved/friend
2) instead of a wound, a rose on the border of the turban-sash would be created

Notes:

nigaarii;N : 'Embellished, adorned, beautified; — beautiful, lovely; — A beloved object'. (Platts p.1150)

 

dastaar : 'A sash or fine muslin cloth wrapped round a turban'. (Platts p.516)

 

goshah : 'Angle; corner; nook, closet; cell; — retirement; privacy; seclusion; — side; end; quarter'. (Platts p.925)

 

paidaa : 'Born, created, generated, produced; invented, discovered, manifested, manifest, exhibited; procured, acquired, earned, gained'. (Platts p.298)

Asi:

If from the adorned hand of the beloved/friend a stone would strike the head, then instead of a wound a flower would begin to grow atop the turban-sash. That is, from being struck with a stone a wound ought to be created, but the effect of her adorned hand would be that that wound would show itself in the form of a flower.

== Asi, p. 89

Zamin:

Since the hand of the stone-thrower is hennaed, whatever wound would come from that hand will be rose-colored. nigaar is a name for those flowers and sprigs that would be made with henna.

== Zamin, p. 114

Gyan Chand:

dast-e nigaarii;N = a hand full of decorations; one on which henna would be applied.... To put a flower at the edge of the turban-sash is a sign of pride and ornamentation. If from the beloved's colorful hand a stone would strike my head, then there will be no wound. Rather, in the turban a flower will appear-- that is, there will be great prestige, great adornment.

== Gyan Chand, p. 166

FWP:

SETS

For more on Ghalib's unpublished verses, see the discussion in {4,8x}.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

On stone-throwing, see {35,10}. On henna, see {18,4}.

This seemingly straightforward verse makes an enjoyably ambiguous use of the most fundamental ghazal imagery. Is the 'rose' in fact really a wound, but one so welcome that it is borne rakishly and with pride? Or is the apparent 'rose' a spot on the turban-sash reddened by a mixture of blood and henna? Or has the alchemy of passion actually transmuted a wound into a rose? (And if so, in reality, or in the lover's mad imagination?) As so often, we're left to decide for ourselves.