مانا دل ڈرا ڈرا ہے ،ٹوٹا یہ زرا زرا ہے دل کے اس بونڈر کو ،ٹھہر جانے دو

مانا دل ڈرا ڈرا ہے ،ٹوٹا یہ زرا زرا ہے 

دل کے اس بونڈر کو ،ٹھہر جانے دو

 

How many broken hearts breathe in the air made of bricks, suffer from unanswered endings, unapologized abuse, broken homes, familial responsibilities and still try to make it work day in and day out. This everyday heroism leaves me speechless. To get fear from pain is natural response out of that, to question every night on pillow about your uselessness is a norm, but it has always been like this from strongest of hearts to strongest of brains. All broke down in worst ways possible. So just breathe it in and let the sounds siphon in surroundings for awhile. Hold it in and stay right there

ہونٹ یہ زرا سلے ہیں ، خاموشی کے سلسلے ہیں 

رات تھوڑی گہری ہے، سحر آنے دو

How many of us highlight the lines in novels that depict our desires, repeat the lyrics that speak about us, ingrain the tatoos that impersonate our aura. All in hopes of expression which lips are sealed to do out of utter shame. 

Or may be out of sadness and vulnerability which we are shameful to have. Sadness just doesn't affects one mentally it peirces heart and tears it down till your pericardium until chest wall just tries to kick that heart out of rib cage, it comes in waves oscillating with shrewd cruelty of anxiousness and gloom as if it's stuck in your thorat like a foreign body, making relays between inhalation and exhalation longer and difficult. The night with crying wolves, impenetrable skies offer you a hand to accentuate the death of emotions, so what should we do, offer it a hand? Wait for the dusky skies? Maybe yes.

تو کیا ہو جو ٹوٹا آج سپنا یہ تیرا 

تو کیا ہوا جو آج کوئی اپنا نا ملآ

کبھی تو پورا ہو گا یہ چاہتوں کا گھر

کبھی تو مل ہی جائے گا تجھ کو ہمسفر

So what if the ship of longing desires failed to float

So what if it took all of you under storms of chaos

So what if you try to gather your peices all night

So what if you sew it again to decorate your interior

So what if it happens again

So what, it happens, people are not meant to be caged, happiness is an illusion contentment is the goal. One day those with pure hearts will find a warm home, where they can cook in sulkier ways, can sing back to themselves, can buy crayons to make a favourite duck room for themselves, will find their favourite job, will share idiosyncrasies with their favourite person

So what if a rough patch just dissolved it out from you, so what, it is not going to be rough all life long, it is going to be better

تجھ میں نا کمی کوئی ہے بس تیرا یہ دن برا ہے

وقت کی یہ باتیں ہیں اس گزر جانے دو ۔