💔🩹Pain - Does it break you or make you a believer?

There I was, lying on the couch on yet another lazy Sunday, listening to a song on repeat. Same track, over and over. The kind of thing that would make neighbors wonder if my Spotify had crashed or I had joined a cult.

My mother, with her classic Indian mom radar for "my child is spoiling his brain," stormed in and said,
“Can you stop listening to this crappy English song? Such songs are the reason you feel anxious these days.”

Now, if you’ve grown up in an Indian household, you know this drill:

• Your mom hears any English music = sudden diagnosis of depression.
• Your dad hears it = "Oh, Western influence ruined this generation."

But this time, I didn’t argue. I just looked at her and replied,
“You have no idea what it does to me. It’s not just a song to me.”

And of course, she gave me that mom eyebrow raise, the one that silently screams, “Oh, really? Then what is it? Another sad love story you’re hiding from me?”

Well, she wasn’t completely wrong.

Although, not entirely wrong, she mis-read the situation. I was not anxious, but just in pain. First things first, let me tell you all the words that are shouting through my head. I was broken from inside, and I was tired of the way things have been going and it was affecting me. 

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When Pain Becomes a Teacher

See, I wasn’t anxious. I was just… in pain. Not the "stubbed-my-toe-on-furniture" pain. The deep, life-cracking kind. The kind that shifts you from being a “happy-go-lucky chai-biscuit philosopher” into someone staring at the ceiling at 2 AM questioning everything.

I used to believe everything happened for a reason. But life had tested that theory so hard, even my optimism asked for a vacation.  I was broken from a very young age. My childhood was not as normal as it looked to my friends. Not complaining though, I had a fair share of joy and happiness. I learnt it from a very young age that alcohol changed people. Even the once which were funny could do and say things that could break you from inside. Pain, when it came from people you cared the most, that's when it hurts you the most. I realized very quickly that you could deal it in two ways. Take the sulking to the masses and cry. Two, turn to writing and write the fuck out of your pain.

Clearly, you know which one I picked. Because here I am again, writing — not letting pain dictate me but using it as wind in my sails. Captain of my story. Master of my sea.

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Five Years Ago: Marriage, or Why Honeymoons Should Come With Lifejackets

Five years ago, I got married and for sure it was not an easy sailing. Freshly married. My boat (yes, metaphorical boat) had barely left the shore when a wave hit me straight in the face. My wife and I — two faces of the same coin, except she liked drama and I craved peace.

 One night, on our honeymoon abroad, she left me a note. Not sweet, not flirty. Nope. It was more of, 'It's not working. I had huge expectations from this like any other girl.' (She is a girl and so, I can assure you she wrote whatever she could fit in two sides of the note. She probably didn't want to waste a lot of papers so must have stuck to one note. I have compressed it to what she meant.) and she left without saying a word. I was holding the note in my hand and stood there not knowing what to do next. I tried calling my in-laws and no answer from them. Fluttered and tensed, I rushed out in search for her. It was late at night, and we were abroad. I was worried that if she knew the places well enough to know her way back if she goes too far.

Now imagine me, stranded in a foreign country, holding a note, running through possibilities at lightning speed:

• Call her in-laws? They didn’t answer.
• Call the police? But what would I say? “Excuse me, officer. My wife left me a handwritten breakup letter in the middle of our honeymoon. Is this… a crime? Or just my bad karma?”
• Or just wait for her to comeback

I was angry, scared, hurt — basically, the entire Bollywood hero emotional spectrum in five minutes. I really had never been in such a situation before. I don't exactly remember what I was feeling. Anger, scared, pain, hurt, worry for her, might be all of them together. And there came a moment when it all disappeared, and I started to sing from the heartache, through the pain. Taking the message from my veins. By now you must have realized what I was singing. 

She did show up after an hour or two and said, "I thought you will be worried. You didn't even check on me. That tells me how much you care about me."

I replied, "You left a note and left. Did you even care about me? What for? For a small fight we had."

"I was angry, so I just left and ate in a good restaurant. I was anyways not going for real."

It felt like an emotional torture and the worst part is she didn't even realize what she had put me through. Why is it all about her expectations from marriage? Didn't I have any expectations?

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Back to Mom

Snapping out of memory lane, my mom was still looking at me.
“Beta, these songs are messing with your head. Singing about pain, veins, inner flames… Of course you’re always brooding.”

I smiled.
“Ma, you don’t understand. It’s life for me. Every line is stitched with a memory of what I’ve lived through. Music didn’t trigger my pain, it taught me to live with it.”

She rolled her eyes, but I meant it.

You must be saying it's just one incident. If my ex-wife could do that in her honeymoon, believe me what followed is a tsunami. Right now,

Yes — my wife and I are now in a legal battle. Yes — I could lose half of everything I built by myself. Yes — life hit me with storms that would sink a weaker boat.

But here’s what pain taught me:
Pain can break you down.
Pain can build you up.
Pain chooses whether you sink or rise.

And me? I chose to rise. To believe again.

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Pain: My Unexpected Life Guru

If you’ve ever been truly hurt, you’ll get it. Pain isn’t some villain lurking in the corner. It’s the tough-love teacher nobody asked for. My love, my drive, my second chances — they all sprouted from pain.

My marriage turned into a chess game where love was sacrificed, but I refuse to let bitterness be my final checkmate. Instead, I pray she finds happiness — while I find mine.

Because pain, oddly enough, freed me. It drowned old illusions and washed up new determination. And somewhere along the way, it gave me faith. Not in people. Not in perfect marriages. Not even in happy endings.

But in myself.

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So, Ma, Here’s the Answer

When you ask me why I’m replaying this song until every wall of the house memorizes it — Here’s why:

Because it isn’t just a song.
It’s me.
It’s my story of breaking, rebuilding, and believing.
And every time the chorus hits, I’m reminded:
Pain didn’t destroy me.
Pain made me a believer.

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✍️ Note to Reader
If you’re reading this, maybe you’ve had your boat rocked, too. Maybe your waves looked different than mine. But here’s my little piece of advice: Don’t let pain just break you down. Let it rebuild you. Make it your fuel. Because yes, pain hurts like hell. But it also whispers the most powerful truth — you can survive this.