Sahir Ludhianvi: The Cynic Who Still Believed

Sahir’s words cut through pretence like quiet thunder.
He distrusted illusions — of love, fame, or faith — yet longed for all three.
His poetry bled truth, but never lost its rhythm.
He made cinema lyrical and literature accessible.
Behind his bitterness lived a man still hoping to be proven wrong.
He questioned God, society, and himself — in the same breath.
Sahir’s genius was his balance: too honest to lie, too humane to hurt.
He didn’t write to please; he wrote to purge.
Every line of his feels like a confession whispered late at night.
He remains poetry’s most sincere sceptic — and its reluctant believer.