May the evil eye stay away, they roam around so much with rivals; they are still unaware of love's sense of honor and pride.

Here, the poet observes the beloved strolling openly with rivals, masking wounded jealousy behind the ironic, half-mocking blessing of 'chashm-e-bad-door' (may no evil eye touch you!). The beloved wanders freely, utterly naive to the fierce dignity, pride, and burning possessiveness inherent in true devotion. It captures that bittersweet moment when love's quiet self-respect is pushed to its limits by sheer carelessness.