Kar saaf dilaN deya khabaaN nooN
Gal aise ghar wich phookdi aye
Gal ik nuqte vich mukdi hai!
The other day talking to a friend, I realized that I have this on my MP4... and today morning I paid attention while listening to the whole qawali. It’s mesmerizing. But the above lines stuck to me.
I didn’t know that this was an omen. It was a tough day, one of those miserable ones where everything around you crumbles down to nothing. Your belief system is shaken, your habits are questioned, your friends and your acquaintances become aliens. Your windows of escape shut down, no one seems happy and nothing makes sense. On days like these you can lose your sanity. Today is one of those days for me… but all day these three lines kept chanting in my head…
One of my very close friends is leaving for Islamabad today, he is getting married, and heaven only knows how he has agreed to it. The last time I met him, he said to me
“My soul is burdened M, my heart is broken, I am suffering... how can I pretend to be what I am not. How can I pretend to live when I died a long time back…”
I was speechless at his pain. All I could give him were a few lousy words and some worthless tears. Why was he so sad? Why did he love that much that it broke him? What is the justification of a life so unhappy? No matter how much he laughs, no matter how much he gives, no matter how much he accepts… His dreams will always be broken…
I wish him all the best…
Another friend, sounded so hurt and miserable… I couldn’t say anything to help. All what he said made sense.
A friend of mine had to leave her baby back home because she had to come here and work and the “rules” here are so “strict” (incoherent to be precise) that she cannot bring her few months old child here...
All the politics at workplace also seems to get to my nerves. The people you have worked with for so long, people you have helped, people you have lunched with every day… conspiring, gossiping, giving attitude?? Just for some hard earned recognition and perks that you receive? I am sick of tolerating meanness. Then again, it’s a mean world…
On top of all this my country is in a mess, my city is burning. One of my friends from up north lost 7 colleagues in a terrorist attack at their office. I spoke to him and the hollow of his voice drenched me of my last drop of positivity.
Today there is no room for positivity, my insides are like molten lava, the destruction is vehement and everything is melting down to a mush, everything that I am, each and everything that I believed in! Is it all really a farce? Where was I living before? Where are all my days gone? Who have I become? Was I lying to myself? What about my dreams?
Kar saaf dilaN deya khabaaN nooN
Gal aise ghar wich phookdi aye
Gal ik nuqte vich mukdi hai!
These words will haunt me, till I succumb to them… A life without dreams is better than a life with all dreams shattered. I believed for a very long time that it was supposed to be the other way around….
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