Yesterday, I watched the 2018 movie Laila Majnu, and it was a nostalgic experience. I’ve been a long-time fan of the iconic song “O’Meri Laila,” which has become a staple in my mornings—I often start my day vibing to its rhythm. Recently, I came across a reel on Instagram where a group of girls was running from café to café, searching for the actor who portrayed Qais Bhatt/Majnu in the film. The excitement surrounding the movie’s re-release feels like the culmination of the love and admiration that countless fans, including myself, have held for this film since its original release. It’s as if the collective yearning for this timeless love story has brought it back into the spotlight.

A few days ago, my best friend warned me she’d disown me if I watched Laila Majnu. After seeing it, I can’t blame her—it’s definitely a gut-wrenching experience. The film is emotionally intense, and every scene has you hoping that Laila and Qais will finally find peace in each other’s arms. But the movie’s second half completely broke me, especially when Qais’s character transitions into Majnu. I couldn’t stop the tears streaming down my face as I watched the heartbreaking transformation unfold.

In the scene where Majnu runs to the mountains, stumbling and bruising himself along the way, you can’t help but desperately wish for the agony to end. There’s a part of you that clings to the hope of seeing the charming Qais Bhatt again—the cool, flirtatious lover who once brought so much joy to Laila. But instead, what we witness is Majnu, utterly consumed by his longing, retreating into the mountains, far from the world. He dreams of a life with his Laila, and in a way, he does live that dream—but to everyone else, he’s become a madman, lost in his own world, completely detached from reality. It’s a haunting portrayal of love’s descent into obsession, where the line between romance and madness blurs beyond recognition.

Once in a lifetime, we experience a love so profound that it’s often labeled the purest form of love—a love that’s selfless and transcendent. But if I’m honest, I don’t think I could ever love like Qais Bhatt, to the point of becoming a Majnu, willing to forsake the entire world. The truth is, we care too much about what the world thinks.

“Jaa ab nahi aata, ab tu hi dhoondh mujhe”… these lines where Qais manifests his love story stayed with Laila till her deathbed. In another world where Qais-Laila lived happily ever after… end note of the movie.

When I returned home, I couldn’t shake a lingering thought: We might love with all our hearts, but how often do we truly surrender ourselves to that love? More often than not, we settle for the comfort of knowing that we exist under the same sky, separated by miles but united by memories. We find solace in the small victories—the strength to lift our chins and smile, even as we walk through the predictable patterns of our daily routines. It’s as if we’ve made peace with the distance, with the unspoken understanding that, despite everything, life goes on, and we find our own ways to endure.

I will carry into my old age the memory of meeting Qais Bhatt, and I’m grateful he dared to become ‘Majnu.’ He chose not to live as a coward. Those who have never confessed their love—they are the true cowards.