Ghazal 360x, Verse 6

Zamin:

That is, for a longing for solace/satisfaction and a taste/relish for restlessness not to exist-- that itself is 'one pain and a hundred medicines', etc.

== Zamin, p. 408

Gyan Chand:

Nowadays our situation is that we have neither any pain, nor any restlessness, nor a need for anyone's consolation. If there would be one smallish pain, then a hundred medicines are present. If we lift up one hand, then we can make a hundred prayers that will probably be accepted. Even in such a state there is a kind of disaffection/moodiness [be-kaifii].

== Gyan Chand, pp. 407-408

FWP:

SETS == LIST; PARALLELISM

For more on Ghalib's unpublished verses, see the discussion in {4,8x}.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

Either or both of the phrases in the second line sound as if they could be proverbial sayings of some kind, but I haven't been able to track them down, despite the help of the Urdulist. If any such proverb(s) existed, the pleasure of the verse would obviously be enhanced. But {361x,1} and {361x,7} use the same basic 'one X and a hundred Y' structure, so probably Ghalib was just experimenting or playing around. (Even more undecidable is the 'hundreds of thousands of X, one Y' structure of {97,10}; for other 'list' examples, see {4,4}.)

In the first line the speaker apparently claims (though actually there's no verb in the line) that he neither desires peace nor seeks agitation. This (Sufistic?) detachment might seem to make his life easy. Gyan Chand feels that it does-- that his indifference means that for every minor ill he has a hundred medicines, and every time he lifts his hand to pray, a hundred prayers will be granted. This is a perfectly satisfactory reading.

But Gyan Chand also recognizes in such a state 'a kind of disaffection'. And Zamin goes a step further: he takes the situation in the first line as itself constituting the 'one pain' in the second line. This too yields an elegant reading. After all, if there's still 'one pain' despite the presence of 'a hundred medicines', perhaps none of those medicines actually work, or perhaps the speaker is too indifferent and detached to try them.

The 'hand' was used in prayer, and also in giving a blessing-- or perhaps even a curse (see the definition above). Thus it's impossible to pin down whether the speaker might with his one (?) hand be making a hundred prayers to God (for what? with what prospects of success?), or offering a hundred blessings (perhaps as he prepares to leave the world?), or even invoking a hundred curses (perhaps on his futile, uninspiring life?).

The parallelism of structure is notable in both lines, but in the second it attains a particularly high degree-- culminating in the excellent written and aural similarity of davaa and du((aa . As usual with parallelism, we're obliged to ask ourselves whether the parallel alternatives are being likened to each other, or contrasted with each other. Really, the second line remains cryptic and ultimately un-pin-downable-- not only in relation to the first line, but also in terms of the mutual relationship of its own parallel halves.

Compare {215,1}, which similarly sets up an undecidable relationship between a 'son of Mary' and a 'cure' for the speaker's sorrow.

Note for grammar and meter fans: The ne ... ne in the first line is really just nah ... nah , the 'neither-nor' construction. The special spelling enables them to be long syllables, as the meter requires.