In Islam, relationships hold deep spiritual value. The Prophet Muhammad (Peace Be Upon Him) emphasised the importance of Silat-ur-Rahm (maintaining ties of kinship) and warned against breaking them. He taught that true belief is reflected not just in worship, but in how we treat one another.
By Ibtisam Gani
It hurts to see what’s happening to relationships today. The love that once felt effortless now feels conditional, the friendships that once brought peace now feel like competition, and even family ties are strained by ego and greed. People have become too busy proving themselves, too cautious to care deeply, and too afraid to be genuine. We’ve started measuring love in benefits and kindness in returns. Somewhere between self-love and selfishness, we lost the warmth that made human connections sacred.
We live in a time where appearances matter more than emotions. Social media has taught us to showcase love instead of feeling it, to collect moments for the world instead of living them for ourselves. We compare our lives with others, forgetting that real relationships aren’t about perfection; they’re about presence. People no longer have the patience to understand, the time to listen, or the sincerity to stay. Everyone is chasing something: validation, success, or control, and in that chase, we’ve left behind the very thing that once made us human: empathy.
Even our blood relationships, which once were the safest space, have started to lose their essence. The warmth that once existed among siblings, cousins, and close relatives has faded. Today, people from the same family speak against each other, twist words, and create stories just to satisfy their pride or jealousy. Relatives who should be your support system often become the very ones who criticise you the moment you turn your back. It’s painful when love becomes competition even within a family, when trust gets replaced by suspicion, and when affection turns into formality. What once was a bond by blood now feels like a relationship by obligation.
And what about the husband-wife relationship? Even the sacred bond of Nikkah is being weighed down by materialism. Instead of nurturing love, understanding, and companionship, many couples focus on possessions, status, and extravagant celebrations. The beauty of simplicity in marriage is lost in the glare of gold, gifts, and social expectations. Dowries, lavish weddings, and displays of wealth have taken centre stage, while the essence of emotional support, spiritual connection, and mutual respect fades into the background. Marriage, which should be a sanctuary of trust and care, is often stressed by comparisons, pride, and society’s unrealistic standards.
Yet, faith reminds us of something higher. In Islam, relationships hold deep spiritual value. The Prophet Muhammad (Peace Be Upon Him) emphasised the importance of Silat-ur-Rahm (maintaining ties of kinship) and warned against breaking them. He taught that true belief is reflected not just in worship, but in how we treat one another. A smile is charity, forgiveness is strength, and kindness to relatives is a path to divine mercy. Islam calls us to rise above ego, to speak well of others even when they don’t of us, and to keep the bond of family alive no matter how testing it becomes. If we truly followed these teachings, half of today’s bitterness would melt away.
I see it in daily moments …a mother too occupied with her phone to notice her child’s tears, a friend who offers sympathy but only if it reflects well on them, a partner keeping score of “who did what last” rather than sharing the simple joys. Conversations are often interrupted, love letters replaced by emoji hearts, deep trust traded for cautious distance. Even promises are weighed in the ledger of “how much did I give vs. how much did I receive?”
Yet despite all this, there remains a pulse of something real. I believe there is hope, because I see kindness in small acts: someone remembering your birthday; someone holding your hand when it’s dark; someone forgiving when the fault is theirs; someone speaking truth even when lies would be easier. These gestures remind us that love does not always roar; sometimes it whispers.
But to reclaim that love, we must let go of what is comfortable but hollow: performative caring, conditional spirituality, and transactional friendships. We must dare to be vulnerable, to sit in silence without rushing to fill it, to share grief without expecting approval, to love without keeping receipts. It means relearning to listen, not just to speak and choosing compassion over pride.
Because maybe, in the end, it’s not the world that has turned cold, it’s us who’ve let distance creep in between hearts. If we can remember how to stay warm by showing up, by being real, then love may yet regain its meaning.
The writer is an Advocate at the High Court of Jammu & Kashmir and Ladakh
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