Behind the apparent simplicity, Firaq Gorakhpuri’s below-mentioned couplet resonates with a deeper philosophical meaning:
“Muddatein guzreen teri yaad bhi aayi na hamein,
Aur hum bhool gaye hon tujhe aisa bhi nahin.”
(Ages have passed, and I did not even think of you,
Yet it’s not as though I have forgotten you.)
Or:
(Ages passed without your memory visiting me,
Yet it is not that I have forgotten you.)
It captures that delicate emotional state in which someone isn’t constantly remembered, yet is still quietly present in the heart — not forgotten, just silently residing in memory. This couplet reflects a subtle philosophical tension between memory, time, and being.
Ordinarily, we think in binaries: either we remember someone, or we forget them. But this couplet lives in between. It suggests that remembrance is not always an active mental event. One can go long stretches without consciously recalling someone, and yet that person remains embedded in one’s being.
Philosophical Interpretation
Philosophically, this challenges the idea that presence requires awareness. Something can be absent from thought yet not absent from the self. “Muddatein guzreen” (ages passed) introduces time. Time usually implies fading, erosion, and decay of attachment. But here, time fails to perform its expected function.
This echoes a deeper metaphysical idea: what becomes part of our existential structure does not disappear with time. It may sink beneath consciousness, but it does not dissolve. Time governs events, not essence.
The lines suggest that memory is not only what we actively recall. Much of what shapes us operates silently. The beloved is no longer a recurring thought but has become an integral part of the speaker’s inner architecture. It is a scar you stop noticing. It is like a river that carved the valley long ago — one no longer sees the process, but its effects remain.
At a deeper level, this is not merely about remembering a person; it is about transformation. If someone changes you fundamentally, you no longer “remember” him; you are partly him. Thus, forgetting becomes impossible, not because you think of him often, but because he helped shape who you are. In this sense, the couplet conveys an existential truth: the deepest attachments do not persist as thoughts; they endure as structures of the self.
There is also a stoic dimension here. The speaker is not burning with longing, not haunted daily, and yet there is no denial of feeling. It reflects mature emotion, not obsession, not indifference, but sedimented presence. It is love that has passed from passion into ontology. The couplet suggests that true connection transcends conscious memory; it becomes part of one’s being, where time may silence recall but cannot erase the imprint.
Based on a work at http:\\autarmota.blogspot.com\.

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