Today, I watched a movie called "Haq". But the screen faded into the background as the word itself got stuck in my throat. I had to pause the film because my own life was playing a much more painful script and I felt like scribbling a poem out of it.
The tears came silently—the way they always do. Not a loud cry for help, but a quiet leak from a foundation that has held too much for too long.
हक जताना पड़ता है? पर किसके आगे?
जब कोई अपना, जाने से पहले एक बार बोले न...
जब कोई अपना, बोझ की तरह किसी और को दे दे,
जब कोई अपना, 'चीट' करने से पहले एक पल सोचे न...
तो कैसा हक? जिसे हमें ज़ाहिर करना पड़े।
पर जो प्यार दिया हमने, क्या उसका कोई हक नहीं?
क्या जो सम्मान दिया हमने, उसका कोई मान नहीं?
क्या जब हम पीछे खड़े थे ढाल बनकर, उसका कोई वजूद नहीं?
फिर किसी को क्यों नहीं दिखा हमारा हक?
क्यों ज़ाहिर करनी पड़ेगी अब हमें अपनी इबादत?
वाह रे किस्मत, वाह क्या खेल खेला है तूने—
हक मारकर पूछता है: "क्यों नहीं जताया तुमने?"
कम से कम ये पैंतरे समझा तो देता...
मेरा हक छीनने से पहले।
Translation:
They say one must claim their right... but before whom?
When our own "person" leaves without a single word,
When they hand us over like a burden to someone else,
When they don't pause for a second before they betray...
What kind of "right" is that, which needs to be explained?
Was there no right in the love I gave so freely?
Was there no honor in the respect I offered blindly?
When I stood behind them, a silent pillar, was that existence invisible?
Then why did no one see my right back then?
Why must I prove my worth to the world now?
Bravo, Destiny! What a cruel game you play—
You crush my rights, and then ask: "Why didn't you speak?"
You could have at least explained these tactics... before you stole what was mine.
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