صبح ہوئی، شام ہوئی، زندگی تمام ہوئی
Subah hui, shaam hui, zindagi tamaam hui

The first time I heard this, it was from Akhtar Chacha. He said it casually, almost as if it was just another line in a conversation. But it stuck with me. Morning comes, evening falls, and life moves forward. That’s all there is to it.

One day, you’re young, full of ideas, thinking you have time. The next, you wake up and realize you don’t. Life isn’t made of grand moments; it’s a slow, relentless process of days turning into nights, unnoticed until it’s too late.

People chase after things—success, recognition, the perfect life they imagined for themselves. But the clock doesn’t care. It just keeps moving, turning the next morning into another evening. You were supposed to start something today, but you’ll probably leave it for tomorrow. And then, one day, there won’t be a tomorrow left to push it into.

بازىچۂ اطفال ہے دنيا مرے آگے
Baazeecha-e-atfaal hai duniya mere aage

ہوتا ہے شب و روز تماشا مرے آگے
Hota hai shab o roz tamasha mere aage

Ghalib was onto something. The world is nothing but a game, a stage play, a performance that repeats itself endlessly. The names change, the faces change, but the stories remain the same.

One empire falls, another rises. One man’s tragedy is another man’s opportunity. And here we are, sitting in the audience, watching it all unfold, pretending as if this time it’s different, as if this time it matters. But does it?

Aftab Chacha told me something in the end that my Dada, Ibrahim Halai, used to say:

“جو کال کرو وہ آج، جو آج کرو وہ ابھی، وقت گزرتا جاتا ہے، پھر کرے گا کبھی؟”
Jo kaal karo woh aaj, jo aaj karo woh abhi, waqt guzarta jata hai… phir kare ga kabhi?

What you plan to do tomorrow, do it today. What you plan to do today, do it now. Time moves forward, and it doesn’t wait. So when exactly will you get around to it?

It’s a good question.

The days pass, the nights come, and life goes on. One morning, one evening, one missed opportunity at a time. Until eventually, the final evening arrives.

And then what?

Below a picture taken when I was 3 years old holding the picture, and now I am holding a memory of me holding a picture.