Expression itself is pious act even if no one is available to listen even if someone is there. Every presence brings in its assuring existence the void which is hardly understood in our daily experiences. People generally fool themselves in the assurance of presence, but infact, remains there to mark his or her absent. Absences are all around; in relationship, friendship, official duties, family obligations, promises, travels, etc. Just look at every presence from the spectrum of absence. I'd go further to see if symbols are present in its existence. I find a deep void in the symbol itself. I'd love to see the full expression of symbol, its heightened banality, its debaseness, its awkward reality. Symbol depicts the true nature of suffering of human species. Symbolism is finding a new height everyday with a promise that one day it will disappear in its highest growth so as to return over what was lived, experienced, despised, loved, enjoyed. I feel as if life is all about symbols or symbols have imprisoned the lively emotions and behavioural contours of existence. What do we really symbolize through smiles when the mind and heart are not enthralled? What do we express in half-hearted cry? What do we achieve in the artificial simulacra and innovative simulation? Do we live or being lived in symbols? It seems that everyone is frightened to face the mirror of true self, the inner self, the true emotion, the true desire, the truth in existence, and everybody, it seems, is living without knowing if he is present there in the very existence. A wise person said, "nature abhorres the vacuum". What if the nature itself is vacuum? It is precisely present there in its absence. Should we believe that one who is absent there in his presence is precent in reality? Or we may proceed to count every absence as a true presence of absence? I'm not able to depict "the real". May be every symbol is "the real". Then precisely, the real is redefined as symbolic reality, which is the real thing in our society.
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।
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