Song Recommendation - Kaif Kya

Some songs are just heard.
ome songs are felt.

This series is about songs I personally like.
But it’s not just about recommending them.
It’s about decoding them.
Trying to see the beauty behind them.
Understanding what they make us feel, instead of just listening to the rhythm.

Song: Kaif Kya
Artist: Buland Himalay
Lyrics: Jatin Sharma and Rohit Sharma
Released: 15 Nov 2024
Listen: https://youtu.be/12S_Jg5PFiY

The Story

The song follows a boy caught between two worlds.

On one side, there are expectations. His family already knows what he should do. They want him to continue the work that’s been passed down.

On the other side, his heart is somewhere else
writing, singing, expressing himself.

And these two two don’t go together.

In the video, you can see this clearly. His father doesn’t support his passion. For him, it’s simple — follow the path that’s already there.

But for the boy, it’s not that simple. He feels stuck.

The whole song is about this conflict. Between what he’s expected to be, and what he actually wants to become.

Song Decode

What is my joy? What am I afraid of?

Kaif — as shown at the start of the video, it is the feeling of being in pure happiness. In bliss.

And aren’t we all looking for it? Our own kaif. The thing that makes us feel fully alive.

The boy asks: What is my kaif?
But the real question the writer asks is: What is your fear?

Two questions. One answer hidden inside the other.

There’s a line in a book Who Moved My Cheese which I read that hits the same nerve: “What would you do if you weren’t afraid?”

We limit ourselves so quietly.
Not by force,
but by fear
fear of what people will think,
what we might lose,
what we might become.

And that fear sits right between us and our kaif. Overcome it, and that’s where your happiness lives.

In a single line, the writer quietly solved the mystery.

---

These lines take you back to before the conflict, before the weight.
This is who he was full of life, full of dreams, completely himself.

“Sath behti thi nadi” — like a time when things felt natural, in sync. Life moving with him, not against him.

“Bundo mein uski meri jaan” — finding meaning in the smallest things. Like even a drop carries something personal, something alive.

“Hath lakiren bhi thi kam” — even fate feels limited. Like what’s written for him isn’t enough for what he wants to become.

“Aankhon mere kayi aasman” — even now, his eyes still hold endless skies. His dreams are still alive, even if his reality feels limited.

That’s the contrast.

Outside, things may feel small. But inside, there’s still something bigger waiting.

“Khaab samandar badhna chahun” — he doesn’t just want to dream, he wants those dreams to grow without limits.

“Sarhadon ke nishaan ko mitakar” — not just crossing boundaries, but wanting to erase them completely. All those invisible lines — expectations, fear, limits.

“Yunhi main udna chahun” — in the end, it’s simple. To fly. To grow. Freely.

---

This is where the song turns dark. The first half showed who he was. These lines show what happened to him.

“Aankhon ko meri tumne nikaala” — they took his eyes. His vision. The way he saw the world, the skies he carried were gone. And then put him back on the ground. Walk straight. Stay here.

“Andar ke tifl ko jala diya” — they burned the child inside him. The part that was free, curious, alive. Grown up now means that part has to die.

“Mom ka boot mujhe bana diya” — shaped him like wax. Soft enough to mold into whatever was needed. Not a person anymore. A role. A robot.

“Aawaj ko sinne mein dabaa diya” — he buried his own voice, inside his chest. The singing, the writing, the expression. Everything vanished.

The damage here isn’t from a stranger. It’s from the people closest to him. That’s what makes it heavy.

---

This is the heaviest part of the song. Everything that was done to him in the last section — he has now done to himself.

“Sukh gayi hai ab aankhein meri” — his eyes have dried up. No more tears. No more skies. Just empty.

“Khoon mein mere ab zehar hai” — poison in his blood now. What was once a river flowing freely has turned toxic inside him.

“Duniya meri ab mar gayi, chamakta dekho ye shehar hai” — his world is dead. But look at the city, it’s still shining, still moving. Everyone else is fine. Only he is gone.

“Rok liya khud ko maine, shikayatein nahi karunga” — and here’s the most painful line. He stopped himself. Not them. Him. No complaints. I will not speak.

“Has kar sahe jakhm maine” — he smiled through the wounds. Kept it inside. Looked fine on the outside.

“Apne hi haathon mar gaya hun main” — and killed himself. With his own hands.

“Khwahishon ko yun dabaaun” — keep burying the desires. Keep watching them. Keep pressing them down.

This is what happens when fear wins completely. Not a dramatic ending, just a slow, quiet disappearance. Smiling the whole way.

---

And it comes back to the same question.

“Ye mera khauf tha” — in the end, it was always fear. Not the world, not people — just his own fear.

From the beginning, he was searching for his kaif — what makes him feel alive.

He had dreams, he saw endless skies, he wanted to grow, to fly, to become something more.

But slowly, those dreams were shaped, controlled, silenced. Not all at once, but little by little.

Until one day, he stopped questioning.

And that’s what this line reveals.

“Ye mera khauf tha” — not just fear of others, but fear that settled inside him, quietly deciding everything for him.

So much that he couldn’t even ask himself anymore
what do I actually want?
what makes me happy?

And maybe that’s the most painful part.

Not the fear itself,

but how quietly it takes control.

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This is just how I saw the song.

It might be different from yours,
and you might not even agree with it.

But I’d love to know
what did you feel while listening to this song?