Tag Archives: sadness

Same same but different



A grand dark cloud gathered all around her.

She wouldn’t be lying if she admitted that she knew it was lurking around, ready to swallow her whole. Standing at the edge, knowing how close it was, how easy it was for her to take a step and fall into that bottomless pit, made her clinch her gut. In that instant she could not breath, fearful at the prospect of falling in again.

But everyday acts needed to be performed, and this resulted in bland meals cooked without soul, paint brushes waiting to be stroked, that bright new dress still hanging in the closet, that pen lying in wait, no words, no new thoughts, just a grayness all around.

If Buddha were to hear her tale, he might simply ask her to live in the moment.

In the moment……

If this moment now is what defines me, then what of the moments that have made me, Me. Right at this moment am I not a culmination of moments past? Made of memories, hurt, pain, victory, satisfaction. If the past defines me, why am I not allowed to escape to the future? Just worry a little, stress out about things I cant control, create negative scenarios where all is lost?

And so she relinquishes control, falling slowing, each part of her body going numb slowly.

In the midst of the grayness, her happy past brings even darker fears; what if the future does not hold the same fervor? As time passes will she be able to fight hurt and failure with the same gusto she did in the past? May be her strength is failing her, may be she never was strong, may be they were right……

huge.96.480867She lives inside the worm hole for a day, the day turns into a week. She can hear them call her, telling her how beautiful, how special she is. She makes mental notes on everything right in her life, everything that she has, trying hard to be grateful.

It’s a bend in the road they say, not the end….come back to us, for we are ever waiting.


Deep darkness sometimes surrounds many of us. Depression, Negativity, Fear, Phobias, call it by any name, is a reality. Prevalent and spreading like wild fire, it is sometimes compared to a silent and slow drug.  Making me wonder how many of those happy faces around me are hiding within them this darkness, never being able to confess.

The fear of being ridiculed, being labeled weak, a vacuum of good listeners, neither friends who can be cathartic or an ego to big to admit, leads to the dark hole growing bigger.

My wish then is not that you never to be in that place, because the truth is we all do visit it. But I wish that it doesn’t last too long, that you kick the hell out of it and not linger there too long.

And I pray that you have around you, those who are patient, who believe when you don’t, who wait for you to emerge and smile that knowing smile.

The words of Kaifi Azmi in this poem talks about the lover, which sometimes can be the beloved or could it also be our darkness in whose arms we sometimes lie.


Uljhe uljhe jazbaat na pooch
Sehmi sehmi inayat na pooch
baar baar uska karam farmana
chupke chupke sare-baali aana
jaane kya kya woh mujhe samjhana
aur aap hi sharmajana
mukhtasar kitni thi woh raat na pooch

Aah mamnune-asar ho ki na ho
dekhiye raat basar ho ki na ho
abr ujdhe hue mandhlaye hue
taur sehme hoye ghabraye hue
ashk rukhsaar pe kuch aaye huye
aur kuch palko mein tharraye huye
aur khuda jaane seher ho ki na ho.


I did not find any prominent renditions of this poem or translations. Hence this is my humble attempt at translating his words.

Don’t ask about those knotted emotions
Don’t ask about those fearful blessings
Again and again you shower your grace
Quietly lie next to my pillow
Explaining to me all kinds of things
and feeling shy at the end of it
Don’t ask how minuscule that night felt.

Even if my sighs may or may not be that impressive
Even if the night may or may not exist
The clouds all uprooted and confused
The demeanor fearful and frightened
Those tears that lie on the cheeks
And some that lie captured in those eyelashes
Only the lord knows if the morning will ever arrive.




Hurt and pain are constant companions of love and attachment. We connect and share our lives, open up with our feelings, our past, sometimes our deepest secrets with those we love. Do we at that moment not realise that we are setting ourselves up for deceit, hurt and pain?

We are surrounded by bad news, stories of betrayal, of tragic ends to perfectly happy relationships. We wonder then how did she believe him, and how could he rob her of her life at such a young age. Did he not see her youth, the same face he had once held in his hands lovingly?

In the face of such hurt, we cling on to hope, to the faint light that allows us to trust, we tell ourselves not to be cynical and believe in the anamoly that maybe you.

But can anyone of us claim to not have hurt the people who have loved us unconditionally, with all their heart? If we have the capacity to love and be loved, our we also not within this vicious cycle of hurting and getting hurt. Can relationships be without expectations and thus without hurt? And can we protect ourselves from getting hurt?

I have to admit that lately I have been the one to hurt, perhaps with intent or perhaps not, but hurt I did. When in middle of remorse, thoughts seem to be clouded as this poem would like to call, in khaak: ashes and dust.


Whether it is because of my shortcomings of procrastination, anxiety, weakness and pride, a thick cloud of remorse seems to be lurking around. 

Would just an apology put a balm on deep hurts, or a confession that within each of us lies the capacity to love and hurt. That inside powerful relationships lies the threat of pain being transferred like a cold fog that comes in when least expected. 

Bashir Badr’s Poem

Zakhm yun muskura kar khilte hain,
jaise woh dil ko chhoo kar gujre hain.

Hurt smiles as it blossoms
Like they have brushed against the heart.

Dard ka chaand aansuon ke taare,
dil ke aangan mein aaj utre hain.

The moon of pain, stars full of tears
In the courtyard of my heart have fallen.
Raakh ke dher jaise sard makaan,
chaand un badliyon mein rehte hain.

Mounds of embers like frigid homes
Hidden Within the clouds stays the moon.

Aaino ka koi qasoor nahin,
un mein apne hi photo hote hain.

It is not the fault of the mirror
We find the picture of ourselves in it.

Gaur se dekh khaak tanha nahin,
saath phoolon ke rang udte hain.

Look closely the ashes are not empty
With it fly the colour of flowers.