Parthasarthy's Ghalib

Is this the worst translation of Ghalib in the English language?

What flows in the guts? Diarrhea. If blood is flowing in your guts you are in even worse trouble. Under such such circumstances, the pleasures of the world may well appear less compelling and the grave might seem a blessed release. Clearly, 'Twilight in Delhi' had to do with 'Delhi-Belly'. Ghalib, in Parthasarthy's translation, is explaining why Delhi's 'mihr-e-nimroz'- Noontide blaze of Glory and Enlightenment- so soon turned to twilight with everybody scuttling about on their haunches squirting shit all over the place.

Huma- the bird of Fortune, the touch of whose shadow confers Empery- had once hovered over Delhi. But, because of endemic diarrhoea, those days were long gone. Parthasarthys and other such Credentialized cretins now ruled the roost in Delhi. Thus, even so sinewy and tightly knit an oeuvre as Ghalib's Urdu ghazals  would be homogenized and squirted out as oxymoronic shite.

The fact is, wings which have turned to dust aren't wings. They no longer exist. If they had been turned to stone, they might be a spent force for the purpose of flight. But if they have turned to dust they can't be blown away because they are indistinguishable from other dust upon which everybody is copiously shitting.

The next couplet conveys little info save the poet likes a handsome guy coming towards him. But, as the following couplet shows, a woman has been 'unkind' to himself. Thus the fellow ruefully concludes he should have 'been kind to himself' by having a wank, probably in public while watching the handsome dude.

Walls and doors- no matter how much wine or vomit have been spattered on them- can't make anyone drunk. Maybe the thought of Spring can cause a momentary exaltation but the walls and doors, even of a distillery, have no such virtue. Thus the poet, even if he wanks while watching the handsome dude coming towards him, will get little joy if he starts licking the doors and walls of the Tavern rather than buying himself a pint like a normal bloke.

Parthasarthy thinks Ghalib was a cretin who couldn't write poetry- probably because he kept wanking in the twilight all over Delhi- thus causing many of its buildings to fall into ruin. This was sad for Ghalib coz he wanted to be a builder and was disappointed to find that his constant jizzing over his environs had a deleterious effect on masonry

Still, the guy kept up this idle pastime of his while 'flaunting his talents' at handsome dudes coming his way.

Parthasarthy, as a fellow Tambram, was- as I am- perfectly justified in writing in the most cretinous manner possible, because only thus will we gain not just Educationally Backward but Mentally Fucking Retarded status and thus reap the benefits of affirmative action. However, Parthasarthy was wrong to dump on Ghalib. As a Hindu, he was only obliged to shit on devout Hindus. Ghalib was not a Hindu. He was a sincere Muslim who wrote some very moving religious poetry. Also, he was smart. For all I know, Parthasarthy may have started off smart. But he studied a shite subject at University and so his brains turned to shit. Still, thanks to the globalised market for crap Credentials, at least the fellow made some money out of whatever 'flowed through his guts'.