Some Stays, Some Goes – A Reflection on What Could Have Been

Celebration has always been your thing. You’ve always wanted to make every moment special, but I never understood it the way you did. As I grew older, I could comprehend your joy in celebrating, yet I still resisted it. I held you back from celebrating things I deemed unimportant, unable to see the meaning they held for you.

You loved birthdays, events, and New Year’s, simply because they gave you a chance to create memories. But I was different. I lived in the harsh reality of this life, a life that often felt too sad to celebrate. I knew what happened when you did something special for someone—it created expectations, attachments, and a longing that I didn’t want to feed. So, I stopped you. I kept telling you those celebrations weren’t necessary.

The irony? I had no problem doing things for others, making them feel special. But when it came to you—or even myself—I couldn’t. I never liked celebrating. I never gifted you the things you truly wanted. I controlled how much of me you could have, while I took control of everything in your life.

And now, I regret it.

What if we had celebrated? What if we had made those memories? Would it have made our separation even harder? Maybe then, we wouldn’t be here—me drowning in regret, and you, moving forward without looking back. No, not you. Me. I am the one who is struggling, the one who never made you feel special.

I was once the person you always wanted. Now, you are the one I can only look toward from a distance. I led you into habits, choices, and moments that suited me, and now, here I am, trying to undo my own mistakes—for the world, for myself.

You are happy now. I can feel it. And maybe that’s the hardest part. Because when someone is in pain over losing something, it simply means the other has found something better.

And that’s life. Some stay, some go.

My Worst Dream

When it comes to dreams, I always wanted her to be happy. I wanted her to have everything she desired and do everything she ever wished for. I’m not a bad guy, but I know I’ve painted myself as one. She believes I’ve done things to break her, that I’ve always spoken harshly to her—and yes, I did those things intentionally.

The reason behind my actions was simple: I wanted her to see that I wasn’t the right guy for her. I wanted her to walk away, to find happiness elsewhere. But despite my efforts, I couldn’t always stop myself from doing what I truly wanted for her. She stayed, waiting for me to become the man who would understand her. I always understood her, every feeling she had, but I chose not to show it. I wanted her to leave me so she could find real happiness.

I know she never truly enjoyed the time we spent together. She hated me, yet she loved me at the same time. Maybe she never realized it, but I was good at making myself seem worse than I was.

Yes, it’s true—I wanted her to buy a car for herself, and I wanted to buy my dream bike for her. No matter how terrible I seemed, that was always the truth. I loved her, but I also hurt her—every moment, every day, every year.

A Rainy day and a ride

A Rainy Ride to Remember

I always had a way of making her feel better, no matter the situation. That day was no different—it was our first trip together to my favorite destination. We left early in the morning, running only on a cup of tea. Well, I did—she was a coffee person and wouldn’t even look at tea.

The journey was about 80 km one way. It was a rainy day, and we had our raincoats and jackets, hoping to keep ourselves from catching a cold. She sat behind me on the bike, exactly the way she always wanted. As she wrapped her arms around me and leaned on my back, I could feel every heartbeat of hers whispering, "Thank you, this is all I wanted."

After about an hour and a half, we stopped for breakfast. A quick bite later, we were back on the road, heading straight into the kind of weather she had always dreamed of experiencing with me—cool breeze, drizzling rain, and breathtaking scenery. I had a helmet, but I couldn’t afford another one for her. She was getting soaked in the downpour, and I asked if we should stop for a while. But she was something else—she didn’t want to pause the journey even for a second.

We reached one of my favorite spots when a sudden gust of wind hit us. She held onto me tightly, a mix of fear and excitement in her grip. She was living the moment, feeling every bit of it, just like I was. And in that moment, something happened—we didn’t know it yet, but we had already fallen in love, again. It was different this time. She leaned in, kissed me, and whispered, "I love you." I stood there, speechless, unable to respond. All I could see was her in that green hoodie, her ponytail swaying in the wind—I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

I know some moments are too beautiful to be relived with someone else. And so, I kept it simple: "This was our place, where we felt each other, held each other, kissed, and fell in love again."

Journeys don’t always end with distance; sometimes, they end with the moments you lived in. I can’t write a book about us, but I can write this blog. I don’t want to repeat this journey with anyone else—but if you must, you can hate me for it. I’ve always been a part of people’s stories, sometimes as love, sometimes as a memory, and sometimes… as someone they chose to hate.

Confession

A Love and Fate – My Story

Wine has a perfect color—if it spills on clothes, it never truly comes out. She was like that wine. Deep, intense, and unforgettable. She was going through a lot, unaware of the people around her. And yet, she gave me the chance to be her friend.

We kept our friendship a secret. I was afraid of what my friends would think if they knew how close we were. I didn’t want to be judged, and in doing so, I let her suffer. I said things I shouldn’t have, pretended to be someone I wasn’t, and made it seem like she didn’t deserve me. I knew it was wrong—I knew it could hurt her reputation—but I still did it. I wanted to be the smart one, and I made her feel dumb.

She never held back her feelings. Slowly, she realized what I was doing, and that’s when she started complaining. That’s when we started fighting. She knew I had a crush on another girl, and I didn’t hide it. Instead, I made it clear to everyone what we were—or rather, what we weren’t.

Time passed, and she continued to care for me. I kept hurting her, intentionally or unintentionally. She cried for me, and I let her. I was stupid—I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I did it anyway. For what? I still don’t know.

Every day, she brought lunch for me to the office. No one knew who my dabbewali was. I cared too much about my reputation, and in doing so, I kept breaking her. I always knew she loved me, and I knew I could never love her back. And yet, I let her suffer. I used her kindness, her patience, her love. I was cruel—cruel in a way that no one but she and I would ever understand.

She helped me through my breakup, helped me make sense of things when I was lost. I remember telling her, "I know you love me, but I just can't love you back. And that's the worst thing I'll ever do." She watched me cry over someone else. She watched me beg for someone who didn’t care about me. And yet, she stayed. She took care of me, held me together when I was falling apart.

She had an unbreakable spirit. She gave her all to make sure I survived. The way she loved—it wasn’t something just anyone could do.

And now, if she’s not with me, I know she must be happy. Because the truth is, I never made her feel special, appreciated, or beautiful. I treated her as I pleased, like a ruler controlling his kingdom. I forced her to do what I wanted. Only a cruel person could do that.

I wish I could apologize for every single moment she suffered because of me. And yet, the most heartbreaking part? She would still forgive me.

Confession

The Love I Took for Granted

There was a time when I would recite my poetry, and she would listen as if she wanted to become a part of it. Yet, she never truly understood that each verse was about her. I had written them with a quiet fear—that one day, she might leave me.

Most of my poetry is in Hindi and Urdu, languages she wasn’t entirely fluent in. Still, I would explain the meanings of those intricate words, watching her smile, sometimes amused, sometimes lost in thought. She often wondered why I wrote, wishing I would write something just for her, not realizing that every piece already belonged to her. She never understood what inspired my words, nor the depth of emotions behind them.

She made countless sacrifices for me, always making me feel special. And maybe, that’s why I took her for granted. She would work tirelessly until 2 or 3 in the morning, only to wake up at 5 or 6—just for me. Meanwhile, I despised waking up early even when she desperately needed rest. It affected her health, and I knew it, yet I did little to change things.

No matter how much I give, I can never repay what she has done for me. I ignored her feelings, her expectations, and her silent wishes, while she fulfilled every single one of mine.

This is who I am. This is my regret. This is my deepest sorrow. And if I had to, I would die and be reborn just to love her better—to be with her again, this time cherishing her the way she deserved.

"तेरी यादें, मेरा सवाल"

वैसे अब वो बीमारी का इलाज कर लिया तुमने?

अरे मेरी छोड़ो, वो brown साड़ी खरीदली तुमने?

और इस बार कौनसा झुमका पसंद आया?

अरे ये coffee? क्या चाय पीने की आदत बदलदी तुमने?

और कितना बदल चुकी बताना जरा

क्या मेरी याद आती हैं जताना जरा,

वो मेरी bike की आवाज सुनकर दौड़कर दरवाजा खोलना, और फिर हंसते हुए मेरे गले से लिपटना,

याद आता हैं तुम्हे?

या वो जब नींद से उठकर मेरे चाय बनाना याद आता हैं?

ऐसा अब भी करती हो किसी और के लिए?

या अब छोड़ चुकी हो सब कुछ मुझे भूलने के लिए?

मुझे तो अब भी वो घर याद हैं,

जहां तू और मैं साथ हैं,

तेरा वो फेंके हुए towell से गुस्सा होना,

और फिर तुझे प्यार से मनाना,

सब हैं याद की भूल न पाऊंगा,

तेरा ही तो था अब कहा जाऊंगा,

रिश्ता तो अब कोई रहा नहीं तेरे पास रहने का,

तुझे भी बहाना नहीं हैं मुझे याद करने का,

वो बारिश के मौसम मैं कही घूमने जाना,

मेरा तेरे हर बात को मना करते जाना,

शायद यही वजह मुझे सताएगी,

कैसे ठीक करु अगर मुझको तुझे हैं पाना।

Confession

I Was the Reason Our Love Ended

I was the one who led our relationship to its end. She never wanted to leave me, but I left her with no choice.

She was married. So was I—just not to each other. My love for her was pure; I wanted nothing but her. We had known each other for six or seven years, shared everything, and for over two years, we were practically living together. We cooked, ate, and spent every moment we could side by side. I watched her do everything she could for me, putting her heart and soul into our relationship. And yes, I loved her, but I stopped myself from saying it out loud.

She wanted me to be someone she could trust completely, a person with whom she could be herself without hesitation. But I was cruel. I treated her as if she belonged to me, making all the decisions without thinking about her happiness. I didn’t support her the way she needed, and in the end, I failed to make her happy.

She was beautiful, warm, and always there for me—mentally, emotionally, even financially. I admired her independence, but deep down, she longed for someone who would allow her to lean on them. And I wasn’t that person.

Now, she’s married, and all I can do is interfere in her life when I shouldn’t. I asked her to block me everywhere so she could move on and find happiness with the person she chose. She was a girl with thousands of memories shared with me, but she’s no longer mine.

I wish her a life filled with love and grace.

इश्क़ आरजू और मोहब्बत

मेरे आंखों की आरजू से तुझे इश्क था,

फिर मुझे तेरी आंखों ने रोक दिया,

कहा क्या था कभी दूर नहीं जाऊंगी?

मुझे तेरी यादों ने रोक दिया।

सवाल इतने हैं कि जवाब न मिले,

चुप हु इस कसर के तेरी उम्मीद ने मुझे रोक दिया।

पलकों पर सजा रखता था ना मैं तुझे,

देख मेरी नजरों ने तुझे पास आने से रोक दिया।

बड़ा गुरूर था तुझे तेरे आजादी पर,

मुझे तो तुझे कैद से निकलने के लिए रोक दिया।

यही तो कहती थी, कभी दूर न जाऊंगी,

मुझे हसी हैं, तेरे इरादों ने तुझे रोक दिया।

मेरा तो गुनाह था तेरे साथ चलने का,

बड़े बेवफाई की बातों ने मुझे रोक दिया।

अब तो पसंद भी नहीं तुझे शकल मेरी,

मुझे तेरे इश्क में जलने ने रोक दिया।

अब तो रोक दे तेरे सितम मुझपर रोक लगाने के,

खुदपर रोक लगाने ने मुझे रोक दिया।

"तासीर"

Playful Hate

A story about sacrifice and dignity will always force me to make flexible choices. It demands regret and action for the decisions I've made.

At the start of my life, I made cruel mistakes, just like everyone else. And then I spending my entire life trying to fix them—only to make new mistakes in the process.

No one, including me, wants to accept the truth. No one wants to repay the wounds they’ve caused. I make simple choices to be happy, avoiding the reality of what I’ve turned someone into—a monster I now hate, though once, I loved them.

"One who never gave up"

Truth may never lie

---

They say that eyes will show what's true,
But words can twist a different view.
A simple quote, a fleeting lie,
Spun by the one who stands nearby.

Is ghosting just the way we cope,
Or proof we’ve lost the thread of hope?
We claim to know, yet drift apart,
Does that not weigh upon the heart?

A dream once bright, a shining star,
Now fades, yet here we truly are.

We mourn the times we spoke so true,
Yet lies can heal where truth won’t do.

दीद

आसमान का एक टूटा तारा हु मैं,

उसे लगता हैं आवारा हु मैं,

मेरी शक्ल को तो बर्बाद तूने कर दिया,

कहती हैं बर्दाश्त करती हु, बता कैसा इल्ज़ाम हु मैं।

तेरे ही तो अक्स हैं, तुझे ही तो सिखाया था,

इश्क को मोहब्बत में तब्दील कर दिया,

सोचता हु कितना बर्बाद हु मैं।

उसे न फिक्र मेरे जंजीर की,

कैसा शख्स हैं, उसी का गुलाम हु मैं।

उसकी नाराजी मुझसे बढ़ गई,

रकीब सच्चा हैं और कैसा गुनाहगार हु मैं।