by Javaid Ahmad Lone
An emotional reflection on drug addiction, exploring loneliness, broken relationships, emotional neglect, and societal transformation through Sajad Inqilabi’s deeply moving poetic verses
Drug addiction does not begin with a syringe hidden beneath sleeves, nor with smoke disappearing into dark corners. It begins much earlier, in silence, in emotional suffocation, in the slow breaking of the human spirit. It begins when a child repeatedly feels unheard, when pain remains unspoken for years, when loneliness settles inside the chest like an invisible wound. When society teaches people how to survive materially but forgets to teach them how to survive emotionally. Addiction is therefore not merely a chemical dependence; it is often the visible expression of invisible suffering.
Today, countless young people walk through crowded streets carrying unbearable emotional weight within them. Some smile publicly while collapsing privately. Some sit among friends yet feel deeply disconnected. Others return home physically present but emotionally absent. The tragedy of modern society is that people have learned how to hide pain exceptionally well. Tears no longer fall openly; they dry silently behind tired eyes. Society has become faster, louder, and technologically advanced, yet human beings are becoming emotionally weaker and increasingly isolated from one another.
Asi hyot proen mashrawun, Asi pyow sui petrawun
Asi hyot noew wartawun, Asi pyow sui petrawun
(We began forgetting the old ways, and we suffered for it.
We blindly embraced the new, and we suffered for it.)
These verses establish the deepest pain of contemporary society: in the race toward modern lifestyles, something profoundly human was left behind. Society embraced new forms of living but gradually abandoned emotional intimacy, collective responsibility, and meaningful human connection. The tragedy is not that society changed; the tragedy is that human beings changed emotionally without realising what was being lost in the process.
There was once a time when life was economically difficult but emotionally rich. People did not possess luxury, yet they possessed each other. Homes were small, but hearts carried enormous space for love, patience, and togetherness. Families sat together for long conversations. Children grew up hearing stories, advice, affection, and moral guidance directly from elders. Neighbours entered homes without formalities. Shared meals carried emotional warmth. Grief was collective. Happiness belonged to everyone. Human beings survived hardship because they never carried pain alone.
Today, however, many homes have become emotionally silent. Family members sit together while remaining psychologically distant from one another. Mobile phones glow brighter than human conversations. People know more about strangers online than about the emotional suffering inside their own homes. Relationships are increasingly becoming functional rather than heartfelt. Human beings are slowly turning into emotional robots, performing responsibilities mechanically while internally exhausted. Society appears connected from the outside, but internally it is suffering from dangerous emotional fragmentation.
The hyper-real world created through social media has intensified this crisis. Young people continuously compare their lives with edited realities displayed on screens. They are made to feel inadequate if they are not wealthy enough, attractive enough, successful enough, or admired enough. Every day, they consume endless images of perfection while silently hating their own imperfect realities. This constant comparison creates deep emotional dissatisfaction. A generation raised under permanent comparison slowly loses inner peace.
Baetch aes yekjaah rozan, Akh oes bey sund bozan
Bachi hyot kunzon traawun, Asi pyow sui petrawun
(Families once lived together, listening to one another’s pain and sorrow.
Now we have left each other emotionally alone, and we suffered for it.)
These lines painfully capture the collapse of emotional intimacy within families and the loneliness hidden inside modern homes. Earlier, people listened to one another’s pain before it became unbearable. Today, many individuals suffer silently even while surrounded by family members. Emotional presence is disappearing, and loneliness is quietly becoming one of the greatest tragedies of modern life.
Drug addiction begins growing silently inside this emotional emptiness. It rarely starts from enjoyment alone. More often, it begins from escape. Escape from anxiety. Escape from hopelessness. Escape from emotional pressure. Escape from humiliation. Escape from the unbearable feeling of not being enough. Many young people today are carrying emotional burdens they cannot explain even to themselves. Some suffer under unemployment and uncertainty. Some experience family conflict every day. Some feel emotionally abandoned despite being surrounded by people. Some struggle with identity, expectations, rejection, or failure. When emotional pain continues without healing, destructive coping mechanisms begin appearing.
The terrifying reality is that addiction initially behaves like comfort. For a brief moment, substances silence emotional noise. They create temporary numbness. They allow wounded minds to escape reality for a few hours. But slowly, what appeared to be relief becomes imprisonment. The same substance that once promised escape begins destroying the body, relationships, dignity, and soul. Addiction slowly consumes not only health but also trust, hope, and identity.
And yet society often reacts only after visible destruction begins. When the young person starts deteriorating physically, then suddenly everyone notices. People criticize, insult, shame, and isolate the addict. But very few ask the most important question: what pain existed before addiction entered this life? What emotional wounds remained untreated? What loneliness remained unheard? What suffering silently pushed this person toward self-destruction?
Rishtas kya oes mechhar, lolas kholqas zechhar
Asi hyot rewaaj haawun, Asi pyow sui petrawun
(Relationships once carried joy, and love possessed true depth and sincerity.
Then we turned emotions into mere social display, and we suffered for it.)
These verses reflect a society increasingly focused on outward appearance, social display, status, and performance, while genuine emotional sincerity continues disappearing. Relationships today are often maintained socially but not deeply felt emotionally. Human beings are learning how to appear connected while internally remaining distant from one another. The poet painfully reminds us that when relationships lose emotional depth, human beings slowly lose emotional stability as well.
Perhaps the deepest pain of addiction is visible inside the eyes of mothers. There are mothers who no longer sleep peacefully. Mothers whose hearts tremble every time the door opens at night. Mothers who quietly observe changing behaviour, trembling hands, red eyes, emotional aggression, and disappearing innocence. Some mothers secretly cry after everyone sleeps because they do not know how to save the child they once carried in their arms with prayers and dreams. Their tears become silent companions. Their smiles become forced. Their hearts remain suspended between hope and fear every single day.
Fathers suffer differently. Society teaches men to remain strong, so many fathers bury their pain beneath silence. But internally, they collapse too. They blame themselves. They wonder where they failed. They work during the day while carrying emotional storms inside their chests. Siblings suffer humiliation, fear, emotional insecurity, and social stigma. Slowly, the entire household begins revolving around anxiety, suspicion, helplessness, and emotional exhaustion.
Addiction, therefore, does not destroy one individual alone. It emotionally injures entire families.
Aangnan maa aes dewaar, Akh oes bey sund gamkhwar
Asi trow loal baegrawun, Asi pyow sui petrawun
(Courtyards once had no walls, and people carried each other’s pain with compassion.
When we stopped sharing love and care, we suffered for it.)
These verses reflect the disappearance of collective care, emotional sharing, and social protection that once prevented individuals from collapsing alone. Earlier, communities functioned as emotional support systems. Pain was shared collectively. Today, emotional isolation has become normalized, and people increasingly suffer in silence.
Another painful transformation within society is the weakening of collective responsibility. Earlier, communities functioned as emotional support systems. Elders corrected children with affection. Neighbours paid attention to one another’s well-being. Young people grew under collective guidance and accountability. Today, however, excessive individualism has made people emotionally detached. Society increasingly normalizes indifference. People witness suffering yet continue walking silently. Human beings are becoming spectators to one another’s destruction.
This emotional numbness is dangerous.
When society stops listening to pain, pain begins searching for dangerous exits.
Asi kaer sharma maaj-i-mael, Aes gaey baalig yech kael
Bachnii phone hyot haawun, Asi pyow sui petrawun
(Our parents protected their innocence, and maturity came slowly with wisdom.
But when we placed screens before children too early, we suffered for it.)
These lines express the painful reality of changing childhoods. Earlier, children gradually entered the complexities of the world with emotional guidance and maturity. Today, many children are exposed to overwhelming digital realities before developing emotional resilience. Technology itself is not the enemy, but emotional neglect within technological environments creates dangerous vulnerability.
Children today are exposed to screens before they are emotionally prepared for the world those screens reveal. Endless content enters developing minds without guidance or emotional filtration. Children learn comparison before contentment, appearance before character, and performance before emotional maturity. Many parents themselves remain emotionally exhausted due to economic stress and changing lifestyles, resulting in weakened communication between generations.
A child who cannot speak emotionally at home eventually searches elsewhere for comfort, validation, or escape.
In this hyperreal age, many individuals no longer know how to genuinely connect with others. Conversations have become shallow. Sympathy has become performative. Human beings are increasingly valued for productivity rather than humanity. Society consumes emotional energy continuously yet rarely provides healing spaces in return.
People are slowly forgetting how to sit beside another human being and simply listen.
Hamsaai bachi sund bozun, Zew seit dilaaas sozun
Asi ma togg raechraawun, Asi pyow sui petrawun
(People once listened to the children of neighbours and comforted them with kindness.
When we stopped fulfilling that human responsibility, we suffered for it.)
These verses beautifully express the disappearance of collective emotional care and society’s responsibility toward younger generations. Earlier, emotional guidance extended beyond individual households. Today, excessive social distance has weakened the culture of shared care and collective emotional responsibility.
Despite all this darkness, the answer to addiction cannot emerge through hatred, humiliation, or rejection. No human being heals through shame alone. Addicts do not merely need treatment for substances; they need restoration of dignity, emotional support, guidance, patience, and belonging. Families must become emotionally available again. Society must rebuild compassion. Schools, communities, intellectuals, religious institutions, and social organizations all have a role in creating emotionally healthier environments for young people.
Most importantly, society must stop reducing human beings to achievements, appearances, and material success. Human beings are emotional creatures before they are economic or social performers. A society that neglects emotional well-being eventually produces silent suffering on a massive scale.
Dosto hyotui zenun, Bangluk zameen menyun
Sui gham shurnii traawun, Asi pyow sui petrawun
(People became consumed by wealth, property, and worldly status.
When children inherited these unhealthy obsessions, we suffered for it.)
These verses reflect the painful transformation of our society from emotional living toward material obsession. Earlier, success was measured through character, relationships, honesty, dignity, and collective respect. People valued simplicity, emotional warmth, and peaceful living more than outward status. Today, however, our society increasingly measures human worth through wealth, property, luxury, appearance, and social position. Conversations that once revolved around relationships, morality, and community have gradually shifted toward money, careers, land, expensive lifestyles, and public image.
Children silently observe these realities while growing up. They learn not only through advice but through the behaviour they witness daily. When children repeatedly see adults competing materially, comparing lifestyles, and attaching dignity only to financial success, they begin internalizing the belief that human value depends solely upon achievement and status. Emotional intelligence, patience, compassion, and inner peace slowly lose importance before material ambition.
This creates dangerous psychological pressure within younger generations. Many young people begin feeling inadequate if they cannot achieve unrealistic standards of success quickly. Social comparison intensifies frustration, anxiety, and emotional exhaustion. Some start believing they are failures simply because they cannot match the lifestyles constantly displayed around them. In such emotional conditions, feelings of inferiority, hopelessness, and silent suffering deepen. The poet painfully suggests that when society itself teaches children to prioritize status over humanity and competition over emotional well-being, the consequences eventually return collectively in the form of emotional emptiness, broken relationships, and social suffering.
Sajad soan banni traamas, hemtha yeli aasi aaamas
Bachi ma togg hechnaawun, Asi pyow sui petrawun
(Sajad, even copper can turn into gold if society gathers courage and wisdom.
But whatever we taught our children, we eventually suffered the consequences of it.)
These concluding verses shift the discussion from despair toward collective courage and responsibility. The poet reminds us that transformation remains possible if people collectively choose compassion, guidance, emotional care, and wisdom over indifference and emotional abandonment.
The greatest tragedy today is not only the spread of drugs. The greatest tragedy is that many people are suffering while surrounded by emotionally absent worlds. Countless tears remain hidden because society has normalized silent pain. Mothers continue praying quietly. Fathers continue worrying silently. Young people continue smiling artificially while breaking internally. Homes continue functioning while emotional collapse deepens underneath.
If we truly wish to protect our younger generation, then we must rebuild what has been silently disappearing for years: emotional closeness, meaningful conversations, compassion, collective responsibility, patience, and genuine human connection. Because addiction is not defeated only by removing substances from hands. It is defeated when hopelessness is removed from hearts.
And perhaps the most painful truth is this: many people today are not dying because they lack food, wealth, or technology.
They are dying slowly because they no longer feel emotionally seen, emotionally heard, or emotionally held by the world around them.
(This poem was passionately presented by Sajad Inqilabi during the Nasha Mukt Bharat Abhiyaan Programme organized by Aash Foundation Herman, where the audience was deeply moved by the poet’s painful reflection on drug addiction, emotional suffering, and the silent collapse of human relationships in modern society.)
(The author is a PhD Scholar, Department of Social Work. Ideas are personal.)
