Relationships

A relationship is the most delicate trust of a human being. It is not made on paper, it is made in the heart. It is not only the name of blood, name, home, family, or living together. A relationship becomes a relationship when there is trust in it, care in it, respect in it, loyalty in it, and when one human being sees the other human being not as a thing of benefit, but as a human being. Where these things end, the relationship remains only in name; from inside it becomes a transaction.

A transaction happens in the market. There, a thing is looked at, a price is set, benefit is seen, loss is seen, then it is decided whether to take it or leave it. In the market this way is right, because things are sold there. But when the same way enters the home, family, love, parents, children, brother, sister, husband and wife, and friendship, then the relationship begins to die. Then a human being no longer remains a human being; he becomes a thing to be used.

The transaction of a relationship begins when a person asks every connection: What will I get? If they are parents, what will they give? If he is a brother, what use will he be? If she is a sister, what benefit is there from her? If he is a friend, where can he be used? If she is a wife, how much service will she do? If he is a husband, how much will he earn and bring? If they are children, what will they give in old age? When every relationship is thought about in the language of benefit, then love slowly ends.

In a relationship that has become a transaction, a person does not see the pain of the one in front of him; he sees only his own need. It makes no difference to him whether the other is tired, sick, worried, breaking, or has become silent inside. He only has to see whether my work is being done through him or not. If the work is being done, the relationship is good. If the work is not done, the relationship is a burden. This thinking is an enemy of humanity.

Some people use others in the name of love. They say: You are our own, you have to do it. You are a brother, how can you refuse? You are a daughter, you should sacrifice. You are a daughter-in-law, it is your duty. You are a son, responsibility is on you. You are a friend, you have to stand with me. These sentences sound like relationship sentences, but very often only self-interest is hidden inside them. If a relationship asks for sacrifice only from one side and takes only benefit from the other side, then it does not remain a relationship; it becomes a burden.

A true relationship gives support to a human being, it does not squeeze him. A true relationship gives respect to a human being, it does not use him. In a true relationship, if there is a need, it is discussed; pressure is not put. Help is asked for, a right is not claimed. There is thanks, not demand. And the biggest thing is that in a true relationship, a person also has the right to refuse. Where there is no place for refusal, there is no love; there is possession.

The transaction of relationships is not only through money. Sometimes it is a transaction of time, sometimes of respect, sometimes of silence, sometimes of the body, sometimes of emotions, sometimes of age. One human being takes years of service from another, but does not give him respect. A person works day and night for the home, but no one sees his tiredness. A woman lives for everyone, but when she says two words for herself, she is called selfish. A son or daughter takes care of the home, but the rest call it duty and make their hard work zero. All this is a transaction.

The sign of a transaction is that the account is always kept from one side. The one who takes keeps account of his right, not of the sacrifice of the one who gives. He remembers what he did not get, but he does not remember what all he did get. He asks others: What have you done for me? But he does not ask himself: With whom have I done justice? In such relationships, thanks dies and complaint stays alive.

In homes, relationships often become bad because people do not see one another as human beings; they see one another as roles. The role of the mother, the role of the father, the role of the son, the role of the daughter, the role of the daughter-in-law, the role of the husband, the role of the wife. Behind the role, the human being disappears. It is expected from every person that he should keep working in his place, even if he breaks inside. The mother should always give, the father should always earn, the son should always carry responsibility, the daughter-in-law should always serve, the daughter should always compromise. No one asks whether there is also a human being inside all of them or not.

When a relationship becomes a transaction, the language also changes. Demand comes in place of love. Command comes in place of care. Taunt comes in place of respect. Blame comes in place of need. In place of “Can you help me?” comes “You have to do it.” In place of “Are you tired?” comes “What is there to be tired about in this?” In place of “Thank you” comes “This was your duty.” These are the very sentences that eat relationships from inside.

A bad relationship does not always break with noise. Sometimes it dies silently. People live together, talk, eat food, smile in front of guests, but in the heart there remains no warmth for one another. Because one has used the other too much, and the other has become empty inside. Then the relationship remains only a name. People are present in the house, but the connection is absent.

In a relationship that has become a transaction, trust suffers the most damage. When a person feels that I am not remembered with love, I am remembered at the time of need, then his heart begins to pull back. Even if he helps, he does not do it from the heart. Even if he speaks, he speaks carefully. Even if he stays close, he remains far inside. Because he has come to know that here his self is not seen; his wealth is seen.

Some people use a relationship so much that in the end the person who gives in that relationship also becomes hard. Then people say: He has changed. He is not like before. He has started answering back. He has become distant. But no one sees who made him distant. Who took his feelings lightly every time. Who made his softness a weakness every time. Who considered his help their own right every time. A human being does not become hard suddenly; he is used again and again, then he becomes hard to save himself.

A relationship does not mean that a human being loses his limit. Love does not mean that someone always keeps giving and the other always keeps taking. Sacrifice does not mean that one person burns his life so that other people keep sitting comfortably. In a relationship, a limit is necessary. If there is no limit, then love also changes into exploitation. The person who breaks the other person’s limit all the time is not loving; he is taking possession.

In relationships, the most dangerous people are those who hide use in the language of love. They say: We are our own. But being one’s own does not mean placing a hand on the other person’s neck. Being one’s own means understanding his pain. Being one’s own does not mean taking work whenever one wants, taunting whenever one wants, silencing whenever one wants. Being one’s own means that a person considers the other person’s respect as his own respect.

If a person is remembered only when there is a need, then this is less a relationship and more an arrangement. If someone is called only for money, work, recommendation, service, convenience, or benefit, then one day he stops answering from the heart. A relationship becomes tired from continuous use. Just as cloth becomes weak from being rubbed again and again, in the same way a connection becomes weak from repeated self-interest.

The real beauty of a relationship is that a person is remembered not only at the time of work, but also at the time when there is no work. His well-being is asked about when there is no need. He is spoken to when there is no purpose. One sits with him when there is no benefit. He is given respect when he cannot give anything. This is a relationship. Everything else is give and take.

In some homes, elders receive respect only as long as they have property, pension, house, land, or the power to make decisions. As soon as this power ends, their voice is also ended. In some relationships, a woman has value only as long as she is working, tolerating, serving. As soon as she expresses her pain, she is made into the problem. In some places, a brother has value only as long as he sends money. As soon as he stops, his love becomes doubtful. All these are not relationships; they are transactions.

In a relationship that has become a transaction, a person is never satisfied. He always wants more. More service, more money, more time, more obedience, more sacrifice. What he gets, he considers normal; what he does not get, he turns into a crime. The stomach of such a person is not filled by relationships, because he eats relationships; he does not maintain them.

To maintain a relationship, justice is needed. The tiredness of every human being should be seen. The limit of every human being should be accepted. Every help should be understood not as a right, but as a favour. Every sacrifice should be understood not as normal, but as something valuable. Every silent person should be understood not as weak, but perhaps as tired. Every giver should also be asked: What is left with you for yourself?

To save a relationship from becoming a transaction, the language has to be changed. In place of “You have to do it,” “Can you do it?” should come. In place of “This is your duty,” “You have done a lot” should come. In place of “You have changed,” “Maybe we have tired you out” should come. In place of “We are our own,” “We have to care for one another” should come. Words are small, but the breath of relationships runs through them.

In a society where relationships become transactions, human beings become lonely very quickly. From outside, families look big; from inside, every person is busy with accounts. Who will give what, who will take what, what can be taken out of whom, who can be controlled in what way. In such a place, love does not grow. There, fear, doubt, greed, tiredness, and silent hatred are born.

The real relationship is where the value of a human being is not set by his benefit. Where the father remains father, even if he has nothing to give. The mother remains mother, even if she becomes weak. The sister remains sister, even if her share has to be given. The brother remains brother, even if no work can be taken from him. The wife remains a human being, not only a servant. The husband remains a human being, not only a money-earning machine. Children remain human beings, not only support for old age. A friend remains a friend, not only a number for need.

For a relationship to remain a relationship, this thing must stay alive in the heart: a human being is not a thing to be used. He has respect, a limit, tiredness, his own life, his own pain. The person who does not understand this turns every connection into a market. And when the home becomes a market, then voices remain, but the fragrance of love ends.

The real point is this: relationships are not for benefit, they are for humanity. If benefit comes, then gratitude; if it does not come, the relationship should not end. The day a person begins to measure a relationship only by his own purpose, on that same day he has turned his heart into a shop. Things are kept in a shop, not human beings. And in a heart where accounts sit in the place of human beings, love does not remain; only give and take remains.

Shahid Shakil

2026-07-07