Jinhe kabhi pyaar nahi mila, wo mard kaise hote honge?
Akele mein rote honge?
Kabhi chain se sote honge?
Karvat badalte waqt haath kahan rakhte honge?
Kya baatein batate honge?
Ya sach ko chhupate honge?
Khwab to dekhte honge,
Hai na?
Aankhen udaas hoti hongi?
Karte honge kisi anjaane ka intezaar,
Kisi se to karte honge bepanaah pyaar.
Thode chup rehte honge,
Kisi ki bhi baatein sunte honge.
Bahut pyaar hoga na unke dil ke andar?
Ya hoga bilkul khaali-pan?
Khud se baatein karte honge?
Apni duniya mein rehte honge?
Hanste honge?
Ya shayad nahi.
Hansi kahan aati hogi unhe.
Kavitayein likhte honge,
Adhoori adhoori.
Jab koi milta nahi hoga kuch bhi batane ko,
Andar ke zakhmon ko chhupane ko.
Dikhawa to wo bhi karte honge na?
Kisi par to marte honge na?
Koi tasveer hogi unke khwabon mein?
Ya bas shunyapan hoga?
Jinhe kabhi pyaar nahi mila,
Wo mard kaise hote honge?
Hindi Version:
जिन्हें कभी प्यार नहीं मिला, वो मर्द कैसे होते होंगे ?
अकेले में रोते होंगे ?
कभी चैन से सोते होंगे ?
करवट बदलते वक़्त हाँथ कहाँ रखते होंगे ?
क्या बातें बताते होंगे ?
या सच्च को छुपाते होंगे ?
ख्वाब तो देखते होंगे
है न ?
आँखें उदास होती होंगी ?
करते होंगे किसी अनजाने का इंतज़ार
किसी से तो करते होंगे बेपनाह प्यार
थोड़े चुप रहते होंगे
किसी की भी बातें सुनते होंगे
बहुत प्यार होगा न उनके दिल के अंदर
या होगा बिलकुल खालीपन
खुद से बातें करते होंगे ?
अपनी दुनिया में रहते होंगे ?
हंसते होंगे ?
या शायद नहीं
हँसी कहाँ आती होगी उन्हें
कविताएं लिखते होंगे
अधूरी अधूरी
जब कोई मिलता नहीं होगा कुछ भी बताने को
अंदर के जख्मों को छुपाने को
दिखावा तो वो भी करते होंगे न ?
किसी पर तो मरते होंगे न ?
कोई तस्वीर होगी उनके ख्वाबों में ?
या बस शुनापन होगा ?
जिन्हें कभी प्यार नहीं मिला, वो मर्द कैसे होते होंगे ?
There is a kind of loneliness that remains invisible.
Not the loneliness of being physically alone, but the loneliness of never being chosen, never being understood, and never truly feeling loved. The poem “Jinhe kabhi pyaar nahi mila, wo mard kaise hote honge?” tries to look into the hearts of such men — the men who exist quietly around us, carrying entire oceans within them.
The poem begins with a simple yet heartbreaking question:
“Those who never received love, what kind of men do they become?”
Society often teaches men to become providers, protectors, and problem solvers. They are expected to remain strong, to suppress their emotions, and to continue moving forward regardless of what they feel inside. But very rarely do we ask them a different question:
Who listens to them? Who comforts them? Who loves them without conditions?
The poem wonders whether these men cry in solitude. Do they lose sleep at night? When they turn from one side to another in bed, who do they reach for? The questions may appear simple, but they reveal an emotional emptiness that many people carry silently.
One of the most powerful ideas in the poem is that even those who have never been loved still continue to love. They wait for someone they have never met. They imagine faces they have never seen. They carry affection that has nowhere to go.
The poem says:
“Kisi se to karte honge bepanaah pyaar.”
They must love someone deeply, even if that person exists only in dreams.
These men often become listeners. They remain quiet while everyone else speaks. They understand pain because they have lived with it for years. Their silence is not emptiness; it is a room filled with unspoken stories.
The poem also asks whether their hearts are full of love or completely empty. The answer may be both. Sometimes the people who receive the least affection carry the greatest amount of it inside them. They have saved it for years, waiting for someone who may never arrive.
Another beautiful image in the poem is that of unfinished poetry. Men who cannot speak often write. Men who cannot cry often create. The incomplete poems symbolize incomplete conversations, incomplete relationships, and incomplete versions of themselves.
The line:
“Kavitayein likhte honge, adhoori adhoori.”
suggests that their words remain unfinished because the person they wanted to speak to never appeared.
The poem does not portray these men as weak. Instead, it presents them as ordinary human beings who also desire affection, understanding, and emotional safety. They laugh in public, work every day, help others, and pretend everything is fine. Yet somewhere within them exists a quiet hope that one day someone will ask them how they truly are.
In the end, the poem returns to the same question:
“Jinhe kabhi pyaar nahi mila, wo mard kaise hote honge?”
Perhaps they are the men sitting silently in crowded rooms. Perhaps they are the men who always help others but never ask for help themselves. Perhaps they are the men who write poems at midnight, waiting for someone to understand them.
Or perhaps they are simply people who still believe in love, even after spending their entire lives without receiving it.
And maybe that is the saddest and most beautiful thing about them: despite everything, they continue to love.