The card-player of imagination disrupts assemblies; we are merely like the turning of pages in the wondrous illusions of an idol-temple.
Ghalib paints life as a fleeting game of cards played by imagination itself. Our minds keep assembling and scattering the gatherings of life, while we exist merely like illustrated pages or playing cards being continuously shuffled inside a hall of illusions. It is a poignant reminder that human bonds and worldly scenes are transient phantoms, dealt and reshuffled in an instant.
Interpretation note: meanings and explanations may be AI-assisted and should not replace a primary text or scholarly edition. See the editorial policy.
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