Be Qarari Si Lyrics – Ali Zafar | Roshni [EP]

The Big Picture

The song title Be Qarari Si. It translates to something like “a certain restlessness,” or “a kind of unease.” But that “si”… that’s what gets me. It’s not just screaming, full-blown chaos. It’s that quieter, more persistent thing. That background hum of disquiet you can’t switch off. And that’s the whole song, you know? It frames this entire experience not as a dramatic explosion of pain, but as a living, breathing state of in-between. It’s the soundtrack to existing in a contradiction, where you have everything and nothing at the same time.

Most Impactful Lines

For me, the lines that just… stop me cold are in that first verse: Jo guzaari na jaa saki hum se / Hum ne woh zindagi guzaari hai. “The life that could not be lived by us / We have lived that very life.” That’s the gut punch. It’s this profound, heartbreaking acceptance. It’s not about wishing for a different past; it’s the raw admission that you somehow survived the unsurvivable, you carried the weight of an impossible existence, and that itself is your story. And then later, the frantic repetition of “Aap mein kaise aaun main tujh bin”—”How can I come into myself without you?” That’s not just missing someone. That’s your entire identity crisis wrapped up in one breathless, repeated question. It hits because it’s so primal, so lost.

Decoding The Chorus

We all sing the chorus, but let’s sit with what it’s actually saying. Be qaraari si be qaraari hai sets the scene, right? It names the disease. This is that “certain restlessness.” Then the hammer drops: Wasl hai aur firaaq taari hai. “There is union, and separation is fresh/piercing.” This is the core paradox. It’s not that they’re gone and you’re sad. It’s that they are right here, in union (wasl), maybe in memory, in spirit, in a connection that can’t be broken… and yet the feeling of separation (firaaq) is sharp, current, and bleeding. The chorus isn’t a release, it’s a tightening of the knot. Each repetition isn’t for fun, it’s because you’re trying to convince yourself this is your reality now, this impossible state of having and losing simultaneously.

Most Relatable Part

Honestly, the part that feels the most human, the most brutally real, is that tiny, almost throwaway couplet: Bin tumhaare kabhi nahi aayi / Kya meri neend bhi tumhaari hai. “Without you, sleep never came / Is my sleep also yours?” That’s it. That’s the relatability. It’s not some grand poetic metaphor. It’s the simple, physical symptom of longing. You can’t even perform a basic human function because your mind, your body, is possessed. And that questioning—”is my sleep also yours?”—it’s a surrender. You’re auditing your own biology, wondering what parts of you still belong to you anymore. That’s a feeling anyone who’s ever loved deeply, or lost, recognizes in their bones. It’s the 3 AM truth.

Conclusion & Overall Message

So what’s the song leaving you with? It’s not a resolution. It doesn’t end with peace. It fades out on that same phrase, be qaraari hai, the restlessness just echoing. The message, I think, is the acknowledgment that some states of being have no cure. Some loves, some connections, split you into a permanent duality. You carry the union and the separation like twin hearts, and the beat they create is this uneasy, restless rhythm. The takeaway is the beauty and the pain of that admission. It’s about finding a kind of dignity in bearing that impossible weight, in living that “life that could not be lived.” It leaves you with the quiet understanding that to feel this deeply is to be forever, beautifully, unsettled.