Skip to main content

A Million Saint & A Melancholic Philosopher

Today, in the journey of hope and despair my cogito (Rene Descartes) stays a few minutes with Ludwig Wittgenstein. An Austrian genius who once asked Butrand Russell, "Do you think I am a complete idiot. If I'm, I would become an astronaut, if not, I would be a philosopher"? Why am I interested in a person who lived in here almost 70-100 years ago? Can't I find one who leaves his millionaire father's business to join a  school to teach and to meditate about the meaning, if it exists, of life and death? Can't I find, in contemporary time, a linguist philosopher for whom "Problems" are the life what it means to be, otherwise a "problemless" world would be a nihilistically paranoid situation? Perhaps I can find a million saints who has a trillion way to deceive the truth, but not a one melancholic philosopher who is interested in forgetfulness, to sense the world outside it's meaning, outside the structure of language, in silence, in void. He says, "Something can be explained, can be explained clearly, if not, no word can explain it" (Wittgenstein). We humans are proud of our scientific leap, but never pay heed to the very limitations in which Science as a discipline functions, it is structured in the semiosis; a grammar of logocentrism runs like a common thread to make possible the very possibility of science. In a way, "my world is what the world of a language is, and  limitations what a language has" (Wittgenstein), in which my psyche functions like a mystic pad (Siegmund Freud). Had Wittgenstein born in India in 90, perhaps he would have chosen a life of UPSC aspirant, for whom only Mukherjee Nagar would have the last place to refuge and survival! Why am I making this strange statement? Am I outside the domain of Cultural structure shaped like Derridean "Arche Writing", or Gramscean "Trace", evolved through meaning-making logocentric language? No! I'm writing this post in the very structure which makes me what it means to be Mritunjay actually!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Meeting Justice Rohinton Nariman in a Sunday Morning

Aristotle once wrote in his Nicomachean Ethics that there are four significant virtues for human beings, namely Prudence, Temperance, Justice, and Courage. There are a few judges who have courage and sense of justice, both. Hon'ble Mr. Justice Rohinton Nariman has been truly an exemplar judge and erudite historian, theologian and philologist, a great scholar of music as well as a courageous and meticulous jurist of our country. He did his Master of Laws from Harvard Law School in 1980-81 and taught by one of the finest jurists of the last century, Roberto Unger. He became Senior Advocate in 1993 in the age of 37 and also served as Solicitor General of India in 2011 before he was elevated as a judge of the Supreme Court of India in 2014. He delivered many landmark judgments, including Shreya Singhal v. Union of India. There are a few people with whom time moves too fast, but to count that experience takes ages. Justice Rohinton Nariman is one of those great jurists with whom a meet...

Feminine Mystery

        Portrait Courtesy: Shraddha One day when 'I' die  All would born as free life The long struggle to be Would turn out to be a mirage  Whose mystery is long known But forgotten Every concern or engagement Is an escape to forget  The first germ of life; its completeness Shackles are nowhere  But imagined as real One day that image would disappear And a blank sheet would represent The Being and Nothingness My mother my light  Has merged into the shadow To witness the geist  Glittering in every particle  All around ether  One day when I laugh On the seriousness of playfulness And let the things flow  Without any expectation or resistance The day would be a new dawn To the spirit of wholeness And unity of phenomenon Fragmented in an age of reason And anarchus egoism of individuals  One day the expression of collective Would loose its relevance  When man would realise The silent spirit  And its feminine mys...

पिरोता जाऊँ एक माला ज़िन्दगी का

पढ़ता हूँ हर एक दिन एक ही पन्ना, हर दिन हज़ार ये मालूम पड़ते हैं। जबसे होश संभाला है एक ही पन्ना सवांरते आया हूँ, लोग इसे ज़िन्दगी कहते हैं। इसपे लिखे हर एक लब्ज़ जो मेरे मालूम पड़ते हैं, ना जाने कितने जुबां पे चढ़े होंगे। आज हम भी कुछ पल के लिए ही सही इसके सारथी हैं, जाने से पहले कुछ रंग मेरा भी इसपे चढ़ जाए, बस इसीलिए एक ही पन्ना बार बार पलटता रहता हूँ। हर कोई अनजाने किताब की तलाश में बाहर निकलता है, जिसका हर एक पन्ना वो ख़ुद है। जब ख़ुद के रंग को समझ ही ना पाया, तो भला इंद्रधनुषी किताब के क्या मायने हैं? अस्तित्व में ना जाने कितने पन्ने बिखरे पड़े हैं, बस एक से ही अवगत हो जाऊँ, उसके हर एक शब्द को चुनता जाऊँ, कुछ पल के लिये सही, पिरोता जाऊँ एक माला ज़िन्दगी का।