One last Graduation Day

As a kid in standard One, I was just back from school and searching for my Dad to confirm certain urgent matters, ‘Papa, Papa, have I failed in six subjects?’ I had asked showing him my report card.

It is always safe to get such things verified by your father than getting beaten by your mother.
My father had observed my report card seriously and was thinking something when I had spoken again, ‘Maine aaj apne rickshe ke bachhon ko bahut maara, wo kehte the ki I have failed in six subjects because there are six red lines in my report card. Papa dekho, I have failed in only one subject because double zero to keval ek hi hai. Aur papa dekho I have got hundred out of hundred in Arithmetic’.

My dad had found my hundred marks in Arithmetic to be a good enough reason to overlook every thing else. Gleefully I had signed the report card on my own, where the parents are supposed to sign. Unluckily, the teacher could recognize my beautiful hand writing and my mother had been informed. As usual, mothers are very traditional, so the treatment met by me was also quite conventional.

Anyway to move the story ahead, my parents wanted one of their kids to become a Doctor. As my father wanted my brother to join IIT and my sister was getting one certificate after another in fine arts, I appeared to be parents’ only hope of having a doctor at home. A hope that belied all hopes, for my intellectual capabilities seemed too insufficient if not non existent to sustain 5-8 years of rigorous medical education.

In his humble attempts to help me clear the examinations, my brother would make last minute efforts. But the session would soon come to questions like,
‘Answer de, kya bada hota hai- das ki ek bata das?’ (Which is bigger? 10 or 1/10)
‘Ek bata das(1/10)’, I would reply, ‘It also has a ‘bata das with ek’’, I would argue.
‘Answer kar, Akal badi hoti hai ki bhains?’ my dear brother had once asked. (Which is bigger? Brain or a buffalo)
‘Bhains’, I had replied. ‘Khate peete ghar ki 400 kg ki bhains hi to badi hogi’, I had argued and that had complicated the matters.

But still my parents believed that I had brains, and my mother had hard facts to prove that. She still proudly narrates the story to everyone, of how she discovered that-
‘After having failed to teach him ABCD in months, I had locked him in store one day. He told the complete ABCD from inside the store to come out of it. He had learnt ABCD but was not telling ki maa aur kuchh padhayegi’

After long years of continued debate if I would clear competitive exams or not and get a job or not, one thing was certain- ‘I would not become a doctor’.
But ambitious parents don’t give up hope. All these years my parents kept planning that if none of their kid could become a doctor, they could still marry one of them to a doctor and have a doctor in the family.
But some dreams always remain dream; my brother got married to his IPS batch mate. My parents married my sister to an IAS officer and back their hopes of getting a doctor in family rested upon me. Luckily, let alone finding a suitable doctor, our family soon discovered that it was difficult to find any girl to marry me.

But no regrets, working in a generalist service and handling health matters closely, I was myself gradually becoming an expert in health matters. The block visits and inspections of ‘locked’ health sub centres; diarrheal outbreaks and absent PHC doctors taught me a lot about the condition of health services in our villages. I learnt the difference between idealistic visions in contrast to implementable programs in health care. And then it was the Pulse polio drives and no looking back thereafter.
Looking forward, possibility of working on an alternate and functioning health care system looks possible if some things fall in place. I had to meet some experts on health care in last one week. I had to travel a lot amidst the regular academics, but things still look bright for the future.

And as a philosophy, I believe one should dream big; there might be a few failures but the success is bound to occur. I will give one last example here,
It was Class third and my mother, a professor in university, had accompanied me to my school to collect my report card. The class teacher was scolding my mother before handing over my report card ‘you never come to school for teacher parents meeting, your son doesn’t study, he is always talking and fighting in the class’. Then she had asked me, ‘what is your roll number?’ to locate the report card
‘Roll No 40, teacher. Puneet Yadav, last name in the class’, I had replied trembling.
‘To class mein last hi hoga naa’, she had shouted on my mother while searching for the report card. Once she had found the report class she had discovered that I was first in the class.
My mom was almost in tears by then. She used to send us to school after preparing breakfast and tiffin for the 'interval', used to prepare lunch for everyone and then leave for her college to take 5-6 hours of classes. Almost everyone in our colony used to complain about me. But that day, obviously, my mother was very proud of me and had boasted ‘Mera beta sabse seedha hai, I don’t get time to teach him due to my college, fir bhi ye first aata hai’. But that was not all correct for my academic performance was as evenly distributed as spots on the back of a Dalmatian.

So there are reasons why people make certain choices. I couldn’t become a doctor but may be one day I would get hospitals constructed.

And for once, I am not afraid to invite my parents to attend the Graduation Day at ISB (they didn’t come at IIT or IAS academy), for I haven’t beaten anyone/ fought with anyone in the last one year, so there should be no complaints I hope.

Ghalib ka hai andaaz-e-bayaan aur (7)

So getting back to the last of the posts on Ghalib ghazals on this blog, here I am confused which one to write about. There are so many of the master pieces but today it will be one which helps us know Ghalib as much as possible in one post. To begin with about the other ones which I could write here, at least some of their couplets: First, Ghalib on human beings,

‘Bas ki dushwar hai har kaam ka aasaan honaa,
Aadmi ko bhi mayassar nahin insaan honaa’.
“It is complicated even for the simplest things to simplify,
It is not in the fate of the mankind to become human being”

And his belief / attempt in goodness and being good,
‘Na suno, gar bura kahe koi,
Na kaho, gar bura kare koi.
Rok lo, gar galat chale koi,
Baksh do, gar khata kare koi’
Didn't Gandhi said the same so many years later?

Ghalib doesn’t try to hide the pains in his life; it is another thing that his search for the healer seems to eternal, like an unquenched thirst.
‘Ibn-e-mariam hua kare koi,
Mere dukh ki dawaa kare koi’
‘Let today there be the Son of Mariam (Christ)
One who would heal my sorrows (as Christ healed people by his touch)

His quest for God is as eternal as is his search for a soul mate. While I’m not sure if he got one, his poetry- though- gets its soul in the form of his words. Be it

‘Aah ko chahiye ek umr asar hone tak’, or
‘Dil-e-Nadan tujhe hua kya hai’, or
‘Dil hi to hai naa sang-o-khisht’, or
‘Dard minnat kash-e-davaa naa hua’ or
‘Ye na thi hamari kismet ki visaal-e-yaar hota’,
Ghalib’s longing for beloved, who is as beautiful as is faithless and elusive, continues.

But the separation is equally painful for both the persons. That is what is reflected in the words,
‘Wo firaaq aur wo visaal kahaan?
Wo shab-o-roz-o-maah-o-saal kahaan?
Thi wo ek shakhs ke tasawur se,
Ab wo ranai-e-khayaal kahaan?’
‘ (Now) where is that separation and where’s that union?
Where are those nights, days, months and years?
She had been in love and devotion of someone,
Where could be that excitement in (her) thoughts now?’

It is wonderful to see how Ghalib tries to communicate to his beloved through his poetry and tries to tell of the fleeting nature of beauty in contrast of an everlasting love.

‘Sab kahaan, kuchh lala-o-gul mein numayaan ho gayin,
Khaak mein kya sooratein hogi, ki pinhaa ho gayin’

'Only a few beautiful faces have been embodied in the form of the colourful flowers. Many more beautiful faces mush have disappeared/ laid hidden in the dust (from where the flowers have emerged and where every beautiful thing will end up being)'

Ghalib’s poetry moves around the narrow lanes of love, betrayal and dejection to the lofty mountains of highest order philosophy. A great and representative couplet is:

‘Na tha kuchh, to Khuda tha; kuchh na hota, to Khuda hota;
Duboya mujhko hone ne, na hota main to kya hota?

(When there was nothing, God was there; when there would be nothing, God would be there; I have been ruined by my existence, had I not existed- what would have happened)

Obviously nothing, but being nothing would mean that Ghalib would have been one with God.

In simple words, being Ghalib has ruined him; otherwise, people wouldn’t have been so critical, would have been more accepting and may be he would have been more approachable.

And the genius called Ghalib can be met in the following ghazal, one I would discuss here.

Hai bas ki, har yak unke ishare mein nishaan aur,
Karte hain muhabbat, to gujarta hai gumaan aur.

Yaa rab, na wo samjhe hain naa samjenge meri baat,
De aur dil unko, jo na de mujhko jubaan aur.

Tum shahar mein ho, to humen kya gam, jab uthenge
Le aayenge bazaar se, jaa kar, dilo-jaan aur.

Marta hoon is awaaz pe, harchand sar ud jaaye,
Jallad ko, lekin, wo kahe jaayen ki- haan, aur.

Logon ko hai khursheede-jahan-taab ka dhoka,
Har roz dikhata hoon mein yak daage- nihaan aur.

Paate nahin jab raah, to chadh jaate hain naale,
Rukti hai meri tabh, to hoti hai ravaan aur.

Hain aur bhi duniya mein sukhanwar bahut achche,
Kehte hain, ki ghalib ka hai andaaze- bayaan aur.

(The beloved communicates confusing messages through every action,
Even if the beloved loves me, the impression I get is otherwise
(When I look into your eyes, I see you staring in the sky as if I did not exist there,
When I turn my back, I hear your voice drawing my attention- What do I understand?)

Oh God! The beloved has never understood me nor will understand what I say,
To solve the problem, give a bigger heart to the beloved if you don’t give me more words

O my loved one when you belong to a city (are modern/ faithless??), why should I worry,
I will also go to the market there and purchase some heart and love from your place
(The sarcasm is subtle and poetically beautiful. The poet says, O my beloved if in your city- heart and souls are sold (and hence you neglect my golden heart)- I am so lucky to have you as my friend, I will also go to your town and buy some heart (however faithless) for myself)

I long to listen those words, even if it costs my head to be removed from my shoulders,
But the beloved should continue applauding my assassin, so I could hear those words atleast

Through my ghazals the gathering is beguiled to see the brightness of the sun,
While actually I show the burning wounds of my heart, my ghazals, glowing bright.

When my emotions don’t get soothing air, the pitch of my songs become higher,
When my feelings are low/ I'm dejected, my creativity is even more passionate

Though there are many great poets in this world,
It is said, Ghalib has no parallel when it comes to reciting/ presenting them.

Nothing more true than this, the rhythm and the rhyme which can be captured in Ghalib’s words can not be put to words in any other language- by anyone.

ग़ालिब का है अंदाजे- बयान और (७)

है बस की, हर यक उनके इशारे में निशाँ और,
करते हैं मुहब्बत, तो गुजरता है गुमाँ और.

या रब, न वो समझे हैं ना समझेंगे मेरी बात,
दे और दिल उनको, जो न दे मुझको जुबाँ और.

तुम शहर में हो, तो हमें क्या गम, जब उठेंगे
ले आयेंगे बाज़ार से, जा कर, दिलो-जान और.

मरता हूँ इस आवाज़ पे, हरचंद सर उड़ जाए,
जल्लाद को, लेकिन, वो कहे जाएं की- हाँ, और.

लोगों को है खुर्शीदे-जहाँ-ताब का धोका,
हर रोज़ दिखता हूँ मैं यक दागे- निहां और.

पाते नहीं जब राह, तो चढ़ जाते हैं नाले,
रूकती है मेरी तबः, तो होती है रवां और.

हैं और भी दुनिया में सुखनवर बहुत अच्छे,
कहते हैं, की ग़ालिब का है अंदाजे- बयान और.

Ghalib (6)- Dil-e-nadan

This is the second last of my posts on Ghalib’s poetry on this blog. This ghazal has been incorporated in a number of movies and serials. It has also been sung by a number of artists, but one sung by Somesh Kumar was unforgettable. This is also one of the simplest of Ghalib’s ghazals and might not need a detailed explanation and hence a new attempt- as follows:-

Dil-e-nadan tujhe hua kya hai ,
Aakhir is dard ki davaa kya hai?

Hum hain mushtaq aur woh bezaar
Ya ilaahi ye mazraa kya hai?

Jab ki tujh bin nahin koi mauzood
Fir ye hungaama e khuda kya hai?

Humko unse wafa ki hai ummeed,
Jo nahin jante wafa kya hai

Jaan tum par nisaar karta hoon,
Main nahin jaanta dua kya hai

Maine maana ki kuchh nahin ‘Ghalib’
Muft haath aaye to buraa kya hai?

What causes wretchedness, of my heart so pure*?
O, this mighty misery! Does it have no cure?

My feverish anxiety, and your coldness untold
O God, the mystery! but could someone unfold?

There is none except you- in this ephemeral world (#)
Then why is this ruckus? And what for is this word?

Why do I seek commitment? my faith does endure,
From who knows not its meaning, even I’m so sure

My life is for taking, take it if you wish to take,
That’s what I offer; false prayers I do not make.

I agree if you’d say, for you ‘Ghalib’ is ‘nothing’,
It does no harm to get him? He who costs ‘nothing’!

* Innocent
# Could be addressed to God or beloved

ग़ालिब (६)- दिल-ऐ-नादाँ

दिल-ऐ-नादाँ तुझे हुआ क्या है ,
आखिर इस दर्द की दवा क्या है

हम हैं मुश्ताक और वो बेज़ार
या इलाही ये माज़रा क्या है

जब की तुझ बिन नहीं कोई मौजूद
फ़िर ये हंगामा ऐ खुदा क्या है

हमको उनसे वफ़ा की है उम्मीद,
जो नहीं जानते वफ़ा क्या है

जान तुम पर निसार करता हूँ,
मैं नहीं जानता दुआ क्या है

मैंने माना की कुछ नहीं ‘ग़ालिब’
मुफ्त हाथ आये तो बुरा क्या है

ग़ालिब (५)- आह को चाहिये

आह को चाहिये एक उम्र असर होने तक,
कौन जीता है तेरी जुल्फ के सर होने तक.

आशिकी सब्र तलब और तमन्ना बेताब,
दिल का क्या रंग करूं, खून-ऐ-जिगर होने तक.

हमने माना की तगाफुल न करोगे लेकिन,
ख़ाक हो जायेंगे हम तुमको ख़बर होने तक.

परतवे-खुर से है शबनम को, फना की तालीम,
मैं भी हूँ, एक इनायत की नज़र होने तक.

गम-ऐ-हस्ती का असद किससे हो जुज्मर्ग इलाज,
शमा हर रंग में जलती है, सहर होने तक.

Ghalib (5)- Aah ko chahiye

The following couplets are amongst the most famous of Ghalib, probably due to the simplicity of the words used. However, I always find them quite complicated to interpret. An attempt is made below:

Aah ko chahiye ek umr asar hone tak,
Kaun jeeta hai teri julf ke sar hone tak.

A simple but complicated couplet: sighs (of a passionate heart) take a life time to be effective/ fulfilled. But who will live so long that the locks and curls in your hair get unlocked.

The beloved’s tresses represent such complexities that take time to get resolved- by that time the poet says he will be dead, not withstanding his sighs and desire to meet the beloved)

Aashiqui sabr talab aur tamanna betaab,
Dil ka kya rang karoon, khoon-e-jigar hone tak.

Romance asks for patience (for the beloved to mellow down) while the desires are restless and impatient (want to meet the beloved at the earliest?),
What colour do I paint my heart, by the time it is all blood
i.e. it is only a matter of time till my heart will take this pain of anticipation/ patience, then it will probably rupture with emotions and be all red with blood,
Isn't Ghalib preaching? ‘Don’t test my patience- how so ever much the patience should the ‘love’ expect- it has touched the limits of tolerance. More delay on your part and you lose me’

Hamne maana ki tagaful na karoge lekin,
Khaak ho jaayenge hum tumko khabar hone tak.

I accept that you will not be careless and will do no delay (on hearing my condition), but by the time the message of my condition reaches you I would be dust (dead and buried)

Contrast this with “Vaada kiya tha fir bhi naa aaye mazaar pe,
Humne to jaan di thi, isi aitbaar pe)

Is the beloved in Ghalib’s case less 'merciless'?
Who knows, but for sure the allegation of the master poet is more subtle. Obviously the plight of the poet is known to the beloved, but Ghalib rubs on the carelessness of the beloved by praising the feigned ignorance)

Partave-khur se hai shabnam ko, fanaa ki taalim,
Main bhi hoon, ek inaayat ki nazar hone tak.

The morning dew has the instructions (taalim- education) to disappear when the first rays of sunlight appear.
Similarly Ghalib’s existence lasts in anticipation of beloved’s one sight of benevolence (and then he departs/ dies)

Gam-e-hasti ka Asad kis-se ho jujmarg ilaaz,
Shamaa har rang mein jalti hai, sahar hone tak.

Asad- (Ghalib’s name) what can cure the pains of ‘the existence’ (i.e. only death can- when there will be no existence)
The candle burns at night will flames of all colours till the morning arrives.

Ghalib compares the pains of life with the burning of the candle during the night. Wouldn’t every moment of being in flames be very painful? The pain ends when the morning comes and the flame is put to rest i.e. it dies. So also, death lays to rest all pains of human existence.

Memoirs..

(continued from last post)

Amit looked around; there were mounds of dust and coal everywhere. People were sitting and standing over them, not able to realize what was happening. If Ramesh Pal could have communicated to them, they might have descended.

At that moment nothing came to Amit’s mind except two similar instances in the past where after having solved the problem he had been scolded by senior officers- ‘Why the hell do you rush to every place ahead of the police force?’ they had said. But in last two instances, the mob assembly had build up after local incidents alone while here they were being incited by a hostile person.

Amit realized that during the union negotiations, the other parties had refused to sit in discussion along with Pal’s group. While Pal's group had refused to sit in discussion with Amit on the pretext that ‘the administration represented the interests of the management’. This lack of discussion might have offended Pal and he was personally hostile to Amit.

Amit’s security guard was getting restless. As a natural reaction to the situation his hand was reaching towards the arms repeatedly, only to be stopped by Amit every time. Thankfully, experts at LBSNAA discussed cases where they had organized ‘Kumbh’ and handled more than a million crowd in a day. Don’t provoke the mob, was the substance.

Amit thought again, ‘Good Luck, Ramesh Pal does not have a mike; he is not able to communicate beyond a distance. So they were actually 2 to 20, those 20 who had come with Pal. Using the gun would mean making it 2 to 1000’.

But those 20 people were aggressive- so every time some one tried to come forward, Amit pushed him back ‘slightly’ as if they were friends discussing some urgent matter and he did not want to be disturbed.

The act of provocation and ‘self defense’ had continued for some time. The small group surrounding them was confused what to do. They were not seeing the reason as to why to attack one harmless SDO except their leader provoking them for an event they had only heard of.

Then there was a loud uproar. The excitement now was for the two huge cranes which had reached the spot slowly after ‘successful’ administrative negotiations with the unions; thereby permitting their entry. The crowd moved towards the cranes, to see them from close and in moments there was Ramesh Pal left standing with his few followers and Amit with his security.

Soon the followers of the union leader found it better to leave the place as the police personnel were also arriving gradually.

The operations had started; Ramesh Pal had left the area, but the problem didn’t end that soon. A message was received through some police resources that some people had been sent with bombs - as in colliery area dynamite was easily available- to target them. The senior police official present had decided to leave the place and asked Amit that he should also leave, which Amit had to decline. Again, instances of desertion remain tagged to officers’ name for their entire career.

Now that the police was there, surely Pal wouldn’t come close but he may use someone else to create a nuisance, thought Amit. So Amit decided to call the local elected representative and requested him to come to the spot, as it was his area and his presence could be helpful. This was very unconventional way of handling a law and order situation.

While Government officials are easy targets, Amit thought, a wise ‘political leader’ would not touch his senior politician. So Amit decided to take help of this political person and his assumption proved correct.

For next six hours, the rescue operation had continued. 4 mutilated bodies were recovered close to mid night. The local political person had remained present for all that time. He was not only glad that the problem was solved but was also thankful that the SDO had allowed him to stay there all that time.

On his way back, Amit had dropped the truck carrying the bodies in the local PS. Next day he had taken salute in all the 4 Republic day ceremonies in Kalipur.

In a couple of months after that Amit had been transferred from Kalipur, to complete the ‘rural’ lag of his sub-divisional posting.

And today there was this news about Ramesh Pal’s murder. May be Pal should have sat for discussion with the SDO that day. He might have become very weak politically in his area since the administration could do operations against his will in his den. This is where some lower rung leader would have seen the opportunity to move higher, same way as Pal was aspiring through the colliery incident.

ग़ालिब (४)- दर्द मिन्नत

दर्द मिन्नत-कशे-दवा ना हुआ,
मैं ना अच्छा हुआ, बुरा ना हुआ

जमा करते हो क्यों रकीबों को?
यक तमाशा हुआ, गिला ना हुआ

हम कहाँ किस्मत आजमाने जाएं,
तू ही खंजर आजमा ना हुआ?

कितने शीरीं हैं तेरे लब, की रकीब-
गालियाँ खा के भी बेमज़ा ना हुआ

क्या वह नमरूद की खुदाई थी,
बंदगी में मेरा भला ना हुआ

जान दी, दी हुई उसी की थी,
हक तो यह है, की हक अदा ना हुआ

कुछ तो पढिये, की लोग कहते हैं,
आज ग़ालिब, ग़ज़लसरा ना हुआ

Ghalib- Dard Minnat

o Dard Minnat-kashe-davaa naa hua,
Main naa achchaa hua, bura naa hua.

o Jamaa karte ho kyon rakeebon ko?
Yak tamasha hua, gila naa hua.

o Hum kahaan kismat aajmaane jaayen,
Tu hi khanjar aazmaa na hua?

o Kitne shirin hain tere lab, ki rakeeb-
Gaaliyaan kha ke bhi bemazaa naa hua.

o Kya wah Namruud ki khudai thi,
Bandgi mein mera bhalaa naa hua?

o Jaan di, di hui usi ki thi,
Haq to yeh hai, ki haq ada na hua.

o Kuchh to padhiye, ki log kehte hain,
Aaj Ghalib, gazalsara na hua?

 (My pain did not pray for the medicine (i.e. beloved’s love),
That I did not get cured, is not bad under these circumstances
Thanks God that I did not get cured of the sorrow (of separation); since (from the beloved) I did not ask for the medicine i.e. beloved’s love- at least my pride is intact

 (Why do you gather your other lovers? Even if there is a complaint (against me), why do you make it a public display i.e. when you could speak about it to me alone)

 Where (and how) should I test my luck?
When you are not interested to hold the knife
(Ghalib offers to be tested by sacrificing his life- even if the beloved desires to take his life; but which is not happening)

 (So sweet are your lips that even after hearing all the insults from you- your other lover is not at all disheartened i.e. his passion for you doesn’t decline)

 (Did I pray a false God- Namruud,
Despite all my prayers, no good happened to me)

 (I gave my life (for beloved / to God), but the life was given by God (or beloved owned it),
So the truth is that I have still not paid back my debts despite my dying in love)

 (Read something (Ghalib) for the people are complaining of not having heard Ghalib’s Ghazal this day)

Ghalib (3)- Ye na thi hamari kismat

Ye na thi hamari kismet ki visaal-e-yaar hota,
Agar aur jeete rahte, yahi intzaar hotaa.

Tere wade par jiye hum, to ye jaan jhooth jaana,
Ki khushi se mar naa jaate, agar aitbaar hota

Koi mere dil se pooche, tere teer-e neemkash ko,
Ye khalish kahan se hoti, jo zigar ke paar hota.

Ye kahan ki dosti hai ki bane hain dost naaseh,
Koi chara saaz hota, koi gam- gusaar hota

Kahoon kis-se main ki kya hai, shab-e-gham buri bala hai,
Mujhe kya bura tha marna, agar ek baar hota.

Hue mar ke hum jo ruswa, hue kyon na gark-e-dariya,
Na kabhi janajaa uthta, na kahin mazaar hota.

Yeh masayile tasawwuf, yeh tera bayaan Ghalib,
Tujhe hum wali samajhte, jo na badakhwar hota

(Meeting the beloved, half drawn arrow, pain/ inflammation, an evening of sorrow, possessed by the river, drunkard)

o Ghalib says- Meeting the beloved was not his destiny; had he lived longer, the yearning would have continued.

o He continues- "But don’t you believe that I lived trusting your promise (that we will meet). I would have died of happiness if I’d believed your promises".

o But then why does Ghalib live for? He says, “Ask my heart, the impact of your arrow from a bow with a slack string ; why would this pain be if the arrow had pierced through the heart (had the string not been slack). Which means, now the arrow could not pierce through the heart and so he still lives on with an arrow struck in his heart that causes this pain”

o "Even Ghalib’s friends are betraying him, instead of sharing his pains and finding the ways out, they are preaching before him".

o "He is wordless to explain how sad is a night of sorrow (of separation); had death come once, he would have preferred it to ‘dying again and again’ (which is happening now) ".

o "Ghalib laments the slander after his death (obviously here his failed love), wishes he had drowned in a river. There would have been no funeral procession for him, no grave either; where the people are reminded of him and where they slander again".

o "These words of wisdom, the words of Ghalib- he would be counted amidst pious/ wise men, had he not been a drunkard".

Once again a varied interpretation of the last couplet from the explicit one could change the interpretation of the ghazal. If Ghalib were a Sufi poet (which is still opinionated), in this ghazal he could be talking about his quest to reach the God despite his human passions that were maligned by his rivals.

ग़ालिब (३) - ये ना थी हमारी किस्मत

ये न थी हमारी किस्मत की विसाल-ऐ-यार होता

अगर और जीते रहते, यही इंतज़ार होता.

तेरे वादे पर जीये हम, तो ये जान झूठ जाना,
की खुशी से मर ना जाते, अगर ऐतबार होता

कोई मेरे दिल से पूछे, तेरे तीर-ऐ- नीमकश को,
ये खलिश कहाँ से होती, जो जिगर के पार होता.

ये कहाँ की दोस्ती है की बने हैं दोस्त नासेह,
कोई चारा-साज़ होता, कोई गमगुसार होता

कहूं किस-से मैं की क्या है, शब-ऐ-ग़म बुरी बला है,
मुझे क्या बुरा था मरना, अगर एक बार होता.

हुए मर के हम जो रुसवा, हुए क्यों न गर्क-ऐ-दरिया,
न कभी जनाजा उठता, न कहीं मजार होता.

यह मसायिले तसव्वुफ़, यह तेरा बयान ग़ालिब,
तुझे हम वली समझते, जो न बादाख्वार होता