In this house of mourning, no one should laugh except the lightning, even if the entire field turns into a bed of saffron.

Ghalib imagines this world as a grand house of mourning where genuine laughter feels utterly out of place. Classical folklore held that a field of saffron naturally induced uncontrollable laughter, yet the poet declares that even if the entire world turned into such a joyful field, no one ought to smile. In this sorrowful existence, the only fitting 'laughter' is the terrifying flash of lightning—a brief, mocking grin that arrives not to delight, but to destroy.