“Don’t be sad”

          Alhamdulillah I have been trying to put this to words and I hope it does its job the way I have wanted it to. I have observed the way people get suddenly personal and bashing away with fury when somebody tries to console them or counsel them in sadness.
“What do you know about my pain”
“Don’t write me paragraphs”
“Don’t talk to me about harmony or love that’s left, I’ve seen none”
SubhanAllah I can write more and I know because I have been this way before. I have been isolating myself, I have been hardly making way for myself through the chaotic bloodshed of sanity and I have been nursing my disparaging thoughts about people who fixed the world. As much as I have tried to fix myself, I have wanted to convey them to all those suffering around me. It is a misconception that bad people suffer the most or if you are sad you must be sinful. This looks like a superstition from an uneducated land far away yet is the first thought that comes to our minds when we get sad.
            We start thinking about all the bad things we’ve done. We start blaming ourselves for all the pain that’s caused to us. We start cursing ourselves, the world, the ones who caused the pains and even the ones who fixed. It is a state and when you’re overthinking at that hour -after 12AM, you undeniably feel the weakest. You want somebody to come to you and talk about the realities of the world, the other side of love. How love is not the fantasy you always thought it was. How love causes you more trouble than it soothes. You want to talk about painful things, heartbreaks, broken dreams, harshness, bloodshed, mess and aches. And guess what, you are not to blame.
              I have been one of those who fixed. And truthfully, it aches more to be the one who fixed than to be the one who is to be fixed. When I have asked people to “not be sad” I have not meant to get away with the pain that was there in their hearts, however they may. I have always thought it’s totally, without a doubt, okay to be sad. Yes, that might sound crazy but it’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to feel this way. It’s okay to well up a little bit. It’s okay to make the pain sit on the other side of the table and talk to it after 12 AM. It might give you discomfort and it might be the most difficult thing you have to do. But it’s okay to learn to live with your pain. It’s okay to take a day or two off from your daily routine. It’s okay to figure yourself out first. It’s okay to feel human. Allah created you with the tendency to feel it. You do not have to feel that if you’re sad you must have been sinful. If Allah wanted to see you without pain, He would have created robots. Prophets had to suffer the most, they also cried, they also felt the pain, they also became sad. When people console you giving the example of how they got back up after every fall, you silently accept you will never be like them because they were the chosen people and you’re not. Adding another item to the list you’re gonna cry about at night, you choose isolation. Maybe, I and all the “fixers” are wrong in choosing our words.
           When I said “don’t be sad”, I have meant to say don’t let the pain take you over. “Takeovers” are the most hostile forms of mergers, I’ve studied in Business Studies. If it was a merger, God bless but takeovers were not nice things. It was never a friendly takeover. If a business was taking over another business, it was ruining it. Destroying it completely, to its roots, to the profitable future the owners had dreamed of, to the very core of all the possible ways the owner would come back from the trauma. The owner would fake a smile and tell the stakeholders it was a ‘friendly takeover’ but it was never one. It feels awful when somebody else tries to tell you they’re the boss. And when you’re sad, pain tells you that like a thousand times a day. That’s why it feels so hard to get out of it. Sitting at a table with your mind and the pain being both the bosses, the way it happens in mergers, is what I have always wanted to tell people. Accept it, but rule with it. Don’t deny your power that would always be there just like the sun is always there in day even if clouds hide it. It is not a takeover of the clouds, but a merger. And you would know, the clouds might seem invincible but they would go away and the sun would shine one day. That, my folks, is the work of nature. Just like yourself.
              So when Islam tells you to ‘not be sad’, it means Allah SWT does not want to see you weaker than He created you. He does not want you to lay down your weapons. He does not want you to accept your defeat and go to the traumatic state. Allah wants you to talk to your pain and tell Allah what it says. Tell Allah all. He knows you, man. He knows every bit of why you’re feeling this way. He wants you to tell it to Him. Only He can understand you. That’s one of the ways you get to trust Him. Allah created you with the power to control your mind, the power to voice your demands to the pain, the power to sit on the chair with it and discuss the new mission statement and the power to declare it a joint venture only, if not suited with the terms. (Joint venture is a temporary business merger, you come back to being your own business after some time). So before you deny what you need, you need to know what exactly is it that you need. Before you shoo away the one who has plenty of kind words to write in a paragraph; you need to know how hard it is to cause the pain, the way they caused you, but very hard to fix it. That one annoying person isn’t trying to push the pain away from you, just making you realize you’re powerful enough to combat it yourself and you cannot deny it. Kindness is rare and the world needs more healers. Don’t shush the healers.


Maybe the first person to ever use this word was a hurt complicated contradiction who had little idea of belief. Maybe this word originated among the throes of negativity, ruthlessness and distress. Because nothing positive can ever come out of it. Because we can never not say “Don’t expect anything from anybody” and despite all the wars that this world has faced, all the heartbreaks that have shaped people into what they are, all the religious, cultural, regional differences; the whole human race agrees on one thing: Never expect that people would give you anything. And the irony awaits; it still expects.

We expect loyalty from people who don’t know what loyalty is. We expect love from people who don’t know the meaning of it. We expect a positive change from people who have never cared for what pleases others. We expect trust, friendship, help from all those people who we have never seen giving all these things to anybody. But somewhere inside us, there is a bizarre wish that we can be unique. An unheard-before voice inside us utters, ‘Believe in miracles’ and then fades away. Where does this voice go afterwards? I have seen people flatter themselves by swaying past the eyes liquefied with loyalty. I have seen people smashing the shining glass windows of love. I have seen people deliberately trying to break the cemented walls of trust. Does everybody lie in the start?

I sometimes think how do people believe each other? How does the customer believe in the salesperson’s words? How does the judge believe in the lawyer’s claims? How does the lover believe in his love? How does the patient believe in a doctor’s prescriptions? How does a person believe himself when he’s about to die? How does the mother believe in her son’s actions? How do the bride and the groom believe in each other’s feelings? All of this happens because someone somewhere is expecting something from someone. The customer expects quality from the salesperson. The judge expects truth from the lawyer. The lover expects trust from his love. The patient expects treatment and cure from the doctor’s prescriptions. The person expects denial from himself. The mother expects return from her son. The bride and the groom; oh well they just have to be together because their parents would kill them if they aren’t. But in the end, this expectation thing goes all wrong.

‘Expectation from them has failed you, Miss Mehma Kunwar’ another unheard-before voice appears.

There is this voice, ah. So that is how it ends. All of it being the game of voices inside our heads; no matter how many times you’re fed up and you no longer want to play, you always tap on the ‘Play again’ button.


‘Oh’, she said, ‘Nothing races faster than my heart when they come around’. The bus she was in dinned and said, ‘You bet’. Suddenly the wind slapped her, almost ruining the new hijab style, and claimed, ‘Oh really?’

She had not even overcome the perplexity that the light in her eyes kissed the sunlight to make sense of her own presence.

‘All of you leave me dumfounded’, accepted she, ‘but you rove temporary physicality’. ‘My heart?’, she smirked, ‘My heart travels to their mind’.y


How I wonder nobody would care if I die two minutes later, except for Allah. Nobody would, because it’s not them dying. It’s me. If I’m about to die, who would I call upon? My Creator. Why do people forget Him? Why do people forget me? Why do people forget themselves?

People forget Him because they think the day of judgement is so far. They think.

People forget me because well, to them I’m no longer lovable perhaps or super annoying or a list of all the bad adjectives.

People forget themselves because Allah made them.

In the very end, those who are not sincere to Allah can never be sincere to you because they’re not even sincere to themselves. It takes time to know what you’re worth. It takes a lot of time. Meanwhile, I want to run to some aboriginal jungle and never come back. Where, let knowing-who-I-am or what-am-I-doing aside, they are not able to listen to my voice.

Official rejection of the love of dunya, yes it is. I’m worth much more and I don’t even care if nobody notices if I died or not.