What's more disgusting than people openly patronizing dowry?

People who craftily reinforce it, expect it disguised as gifts, excuse it as a security deposit for women, and practice it in spite of being "educated, independent, modern." They are the true torchbearers of this social malpractice.

And then there are the ones who complain, cry, and crib to justify this practice, anticipating an alimony they probably never will have to give.

Now, this is why women are scared of marriage more than ever. For they are expected to pay the price of marriage, most likely are expected to earn and support their families too, understand and prioritize their husband's straits over their own, do unpaid domestic labor after a full-time, equally challenging, mediocre job, not receive kindness and thankfulness—let alone respect and appreciation—and still live in the fear of being done away with, tired of, and forsaken if they are not obedient, meek, or tolerant.

So a woman can either be foolish and hitched or free and alone.

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Death, how are you so formidable?
How do you manage to conduct your relentless business, eliminating all your adversaries?
The love of family, the tenderness of friends, the primal instinct of self-preservation, the triumphs of science, humanity's unwavering faith in God—how do you vanquish all these forces?
What incantation of enchantment do you whisper in the ears of those who consciously choose you over a blessed existence?

How do you seduce them from light into darkness, from companionship to desolation, from the love of all to the presence of none, from life's symphony to deafening silence, from living to dying?

How exactly do you cradle them?
With visions of peace, with assurances of eternal rest, with promises of cessation, or with the illusion of a more beautiful life beyond this realm?

With all that you have claimed and all that you remain capable of seizing, you have indeed ensured our surrender to your sovereignty.
We concede, we bow in reverence.
Know that you have prevailed—this time.

Spare our people!
If not for eternity, then at least until they have lived fulfilled lifetimes.

-

Maturity is realizing that you may have a
hundred people you can call friends,
but they do not last forever;
and the few who manage to stay
still won't be present when you need them most—
not because they aren't good friends or don't care,
but because life has entangled and imprisoned everyone
in their own web of challenges and responsibilities.

So maturity truly lies in understanding
that you'll have people only when you can celebrate
your survival through it all,
not when you're struggling to stay alive.
People gather for your victories, not your battles.

For life is but a lonely journey with company around—
teaching us that the only companion who
never leaves is the one we become.

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I know I cross the threshold of acceptable overthinking,
I know I feel much more than the word "touchy" can justify,
I know I'm emotional to the extent of embarrassment,
I know that I'm challenging beyond any adventurous sport,
I know I most involuntarily drag peaceful people into chaos
that is created in my mind;

But I can state this under oath:
that it is not something I choose to do
or can control otherwise.
It is just me seeking answers to the questions I am too scared to ask,
praying for courage to face the fear inside me,
searching for meaning in life itself—
desperately trying to make sense of a world
that feels too vast, too complex, too overwhelming
for a heart that feels everything so deeply.

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Give grief some space and time to grow, age, and die,
Because it is too large an event to ignore.
It demands to be felt, lived, honored,
and borne to the extent where it leaves
you, because you could offer no more of yourself to it.

Grief insists on being worshipped, until
one transforms into either a learned and
sane devotee, or an insane ecstatic.

-

living a life that is but a savage ordeal;
a saga of unending suffering,
a tiresome walk of shame,
a bound slave to fear,
an unchecked tragedy,
a routine disappointment,
an unacknowledged defeat,
an incalculable loss,
a strict installment of hurt and pain,
a ticking bomb of uncertainty,
an inevitable failure,
a detrimental contract-
with no exit clause whatsoever.

-

The Weight of Existence

Present but not belonging,
Surrounded but alone,
Part of a conversation but deadly quiet,
Hearing every word but listening to none,
Seeing everything but too blind to notice,
Quiet on the surface but screaming in mind,
Smiling, sure, but the heart's sobbing,
Can't explain but dying to be understood,
All calm outside but fighting a storm within,
Feeling indescribable pain but too scared to sigh or complain.

Reason?
Nothing but everything;
People, places, time, age, experiences—the damn life, perhaps.

Moving towards a predicament where escape,
melancholy, isolation, destruction, and death seem fascinating.

Trauma?
Perhaps this is what living has become synonymous with.
Eroding day by day, torn one shred at a time, rotting a little every day,
till nothing is left but extinction.
And then to be sung about for living a glorious life—
a life which was never even asked for,
a life which began terrifically, only to end terribly.

Yet here I stand, still breathing,
still searching for meaning in the meaningless,
still hoping that tomorrow's dawn might carry
something other than the weight of today's shadows.

-

बिछड़ने का दर्द कम करवाएं,
फासलों में दिल को कम सताएं,
तन्हाइयों में कुछ कम याद आएं,
इंतज़ार में थोड़ा सब्र मिलाएं,
उम्मीद रखने वाले को कम आज़माएं;
दूरियों से कहो दूर रहना और मुश्किल ना बनाएं।

-

In the darkness of my mind,
the despair of my heart,
the abyss of my thoughts,
the sea-bed of my emotions,
and the dungeon of my dreams,
I have been looking for a speck of light in the form of love,
a saving hand in the form of care,
and a promising partner;
someone I can call my own,
a friend, family, colleague, lover.
But I can barely find hope, let alone love,
How can someone seek appreciation from a world that hardly accepts?

I'm searching for a part of me that's lost,
a part which can find joy in living,
reason in building bonds,
and can look at the brighter side of the world,
which currently appears like a dark, all-consuming black hole
of pain, disappointment, desolation, and decay;
one which now feels like a routine march towards death.
Yet in this very searching, perhaps there lies a truth-
that the lost part of me still yearns to be found,
that somewhere within this darkness burns an ember
refusing to be extinguished.

-

और इस दिल ने फिर से एक बार प्यार करने की ज़ुर्रत की है,
ये जानते हुऐ की अंजाम-ए-इश्क़ में वफ़ा नहीं इंकार मिलती है,
की सिर्फ मोहब्बत करना काफ़ी नहीं होता,
की ख़ूबसूरती और अक़्ल के बीच मुक़ाबले की गुंजाइश भी नहीं,
की आपके ऐब का रुतबा आपकी ख़ूबी से बड़ा है,
की आपकी हर नामंज़ूरी को गुस्ताख़ी ही माना जाता है,
की दूर जाने के बहाने साथ रहने की वजहों से ज़्यादा अहमियत रखते हैं,
की गलतियों का हर्जाना किसी भी सही के हिसाब से ज़्यादा सख़्त होता है,
की शिद्दत से पहले सहूलियतों का इम्तेहान होता है,
की सब कुछ देकर भी कोई कमी तो रह ही जाती है,
की एक दिन रिवाजों के सामने रिश्ता कमज़ोर पड़ जाएगा,
की चुनाव हमेशा समझौता या नज़रअंदाज़ करने के बीच ही करना पड़ेगा,
की बाद हर कोशिश के भी प्यार हार ही जाएगा।
आख़िर आजतक किस तलाश करने वाले को ख़ुदा,
और किस इश्क़ करने वाले को यार मिला है?

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