Life is the name of the hope that lives within us. When you believe everything is over, that is when a new light begins to rise.
By Abdullah Usman Morai | Sweden
Every few days, tragic news emerges from Sindh: a young man or woman has taken their own life. Each story is brief, often reduced to a headline, a few lines about another silent departure. But behind those lines lies an ocean of unspoken pain, confusion, and despair. It is a crisis that demands not only our concern but our collective conscience.
The greatest epidemic of our age is not visible; it wears no wounds, no fevers, and no scars. It is a silent sadness that invisible weight pressing on countless minds and hearts. It hides behind laughter, in the brief pauses between conversations, in the sleepless nights when the mind becomes its own prison. Someone smiles while breaking inside; another withdraws into silence, carrying a storm no one else can hear. Some keep themselves busy to escape the emptiness that shadows them.
When this silent sadness is ignored or left untreated, it deepens, slowly transforming into depression, a quiet monster that steals the color from life. And at times, the burden grows so heavy that a person begins to think of the unimaginable of ending the pain by ending the self.
A Question Without an Easy Answer
How does someone who laughed, dreamed, and lived among us yesterday wish to die today?
The answer is painful yet simple: it lies in our social ignorance and indifference.
We acknowledge the flu but dismiss despair. We treat physical illness with medicine, but call mental illness weakness. If someone burns with fever, we rush to help; but if someone burns from within, we tell them, “Pray more, everything will be fine.”
Indeed, prayer is healing for the soul. Yet when the brain’s delicate chemistry falls out of balance, it requires more care, it requires understanding, therapy, medicine, and conversation. Silence and stigma cannot heal what science and compassion must treat together.
Depression, The Hidden Battle
Depression spares no one. It sees no class, no gender, no age. It can dwell in the mansion of the wealthy and the hut of the poor. It can hide behind makeup, degrees, and success.
Its signs are often subtle:
Loss of appetite, sleepless nights, disinterest in things once loved, or the haunting belief that life has lost all meaning.
But the most dangerous moment arrives when a person starts to think, “My existence no longer matters.”
That is the edge, the point where suicide begins to whisper.
We must understand: suicide is not cowardice. It is not a moral failure. It is the tragic consequence of unbearable pain, a cry for help that went unanswered for too long.
It is, in truth, an SOS from a suffering soul:
“Hear me. Understand me. Talk to me.”
The Search for Hope
Even in the darkest hour, there is a faint glimmer of light, sometimes so small that the eye must learn to see it again. Hope does not mean that everything will become perfect; it means that one still believes in the possibility of dawn.
Hope whispers, “I am not defeated yet.”
Two simple acts can change everything:
Speaking and Listening.
When a person finds the courage to speak about their pain, they have already begun healing. And when someone truly listens, not to reply, but to understand, they become a bridge between despair and life.
Sometimes, all it takes is a gentle sentence:
“I am here with you.”
Such words can save a life.
Sindhi culture, at its core, is built on empathy, togetherness, and love.
Our heritage teaches us: “Live for others before losing yourself.”
If we can keep that tradition alive, perhaps many among our youth will find their way back from the brink of hopelessness.
Spiritual Hope, The Journey Within
Sufi philosophy tells us,
“To despair is to separate oneself from God.”
The verses of Shah Abdul Latif Bhittai, the wisdom of Sachal Sarmast, and the message of Sindhi Sufism remind us that every sorrow is sent with meaning. Sometimes the Divine places us in darkness, not as punishment, but as preparation to awaken our sight toward light.
For centuries, music, prayer, and nature have been quiet healers of the human spirit.
The soft rhythm of Shah’s Raag, the echo of a qawwali in the night, or the silence beside the Indus River, all of these connect us back to ourselves. They remind us that pain, too, can be sacred; that even grief can become a prayer.
Our Collective Responsibility
As a society, we must become a place of love and refuge for those fighting invisible wars within.
Talking about suicide should not be taboo, sinful, or shameful. It should be recognized as an act of compassion and moral duty to save lives before they fade away.
Schools, colleges, and media must normalize mental health awareness.
Alongside doctors, teachers, parents, and friends must learn how to listen because sometimes listening is more powerful than any medicine.
We must remember that kindness costs nothing, but silence can cost a life.
The Meaning of Life
Despite all its pain, uncertainty, and imperfection, life remains beautiful.
A single night of darkness cannot erase the light of an entire morning.
There are always new beginnings, often hidden behind what seems like the end.
Life is the name of the hope that lives within us. When you believe everything is over, that is when a new light begins to rise.
Read: Unlock Your Real Inner Potential
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Abdullah Soomro, penname Abdullah Usman Morai, hailing from Moro town of Sindh, province of Pakistan, is based in Stockholm Sweden. Currently he is working as Groundwater Engineer in Stockholm Sweden. He did BE (Agriculture) from Sindh Agriculture University Tando Jam and MSc water systems technology from KTH Stockholm Sweden as well as MSc Management from Stockholm University. Beside this he also did masters in journalism and economics from Shah Abdul Latif University Khairpur Mirs, Sindh. He is author of a travelogue book named ‘Musafatoon’. His second book is in process. He writes articles from time to time. A frequent traveler, he also does podcast on YouTube with channel name: VASJE Podcast.
