The dust from the beloved's path is the source of pride (and salt) for the heart's wound; otherwise, the world could never produce enough salt for it.

In this witty and profound verse, Ghalib plays upon the familiar idea of sprinkling salt on open wounds, turning agony into a badge of honor. He suggests that the dust rising from the beloved's path acts as the very salt his wounded heart cherishes and wears with pride. For him, the entire world could never manufacture enough salt to feed his immense capacity for love and grief—it is only the beloved's footsteps that make such exquisite suffering possible.