Kisi ke saath to kisi se bichhad ke jee raha hoon,
Barish mein baith aankh ka paani pee raha hoon.
Ab kaun kambakht odhe is ishq ki chaadar ko,
Muddaton se phati thi ye, bas usi ko see raha hoon.
I sometimes feel that life is a strange place. You sit beside people, laugh with them, talk to them every day, and yet somewhere deep inside you continue losing someone else. Perhaps that is why I wrote, "Kisi ke saath to kisi se bichhad ke jee raha hoon." Because life never really gives us the luxury of grieving completely. It simply asks us to move ahead while carrying the weight of what we lost...
People often ask whether I have moved on. I honestly do not know how to answer that question anymore. How do you explain that a person can leave and still stay? That memories can become more alive than people themselves? That sometimes you continue speaking to someone who no longer exists in your life, but still exists inside your heart... 🙂
There are evenings when it rains outside and I deliberately sit near the window. The world becomes quieter. The roads become empty. The sky itself begins to cry, and suddenly your own tears no longer feel embarrassing. Perhaps that is why I wrote, "Barish mein baithe aankhon ka paani pee raha hoon." Because sometimes we do not cry loudly. We simply swallow our pain and pretend that the rain was responsible for the wet eyes...
Love, for me, always felt like a chaadar. It gives warmth. It protects you from loneliness. It becomes your safest place. But every relationship develops small tears—misunderstandings, silences, unmet expectations, distance, ego, circumstances. Some people notice those tears and sit together to repair them. Some quietly walk away. And some foolish people like me continue stitching the same torn cloth for years, hoping it will become new again... 🪡
"Ab kaun kambakht odhe is ishq ki chaadar ko..." Perhaps the most painful thing about love is not that it ends. The painful part is realizing that it had started tearing long before you accepted it. You continue apologizing, adjusting, waiting, understanding, sacrificing, convincing yourself that one more conversation will fix everything. Meanwhile the other person may have already stopped trying...
And then one day you realize that you are the only person holding the needle.
I think many of us are not living inside relationships anymore. We are living inside repairs. Repairing memories, repairing trust, repairing old promises, repairing people who have already left. We become so busy saving love that we forget to save ourselves...
Sometimes I ask myself whether I was trying to save the relationship or whether I was simply afraid of losing it. Because losing someone hurts, but accepting that your love alone was not enough hurts even more. You begin questioning your worth, your efforts, your sacrifices, and even your ability to love...
The strange thing is that the torn chaadar still remains. We do not throw it away because it once kept us warm. We fold it carefully, keep it somewhere deep inside ourselves, and visit it on rainy nights. Not because we want the person back, but because we miss the version of ourselves that existed when that chaadar was still whole...
Even today, the rain falls. The memories return. The silence grows louder. And somewhere inside me, there is still a man sitting alone with a needle in his hand, trying to stitch together something that perhaps was never meant to last...
Maybe that is what love teaches us. Not how to hold someone forever, but how to live with the threads they leave behind... 🙂
— Kabir