What kind of attitude qualifies as learned and learnable? A distanced attitude from the society or becoming a part of societal happenings? What kind of questions are fundamental enough to be accepted as questions? What is trivial about questions? Whether questions are asked by questionable minds or questions are ontologically natural? Why do we question about the quest of questions? What is childish about questions? And which one is a mature one? I find questionable attitude is a sign of progress. And the most difficult questions are childish, but in fact, mature one remains a trivial one. Maturity is nothing but a symptom of habit, which is misunderstood as seriousness and sincerity. Being a child is the sincerest and a vital stage of human development, which needs the urgency of sensitive nurturing, so as to ensure their quest for questions. A sense of wonder, once starts dieing, all sorts of colours of life are reduced into binary. The serious problem is the death of question. Questions are the fundamental building blocks of our progress. And the one who is enamoured in questions are still alive. Those who accept the boredom of daily routine die daily instead of once. And the one who questions the very existence of pre-suppositions, in form of literatures, paintings, and philosophies, is a torchbearer of progress. The 21st century of our world may have achieved all sorts of technological progress, but the foundations of questions are no more. Superstitious believes are kept once and for all as the truth or the very quest of truth is muddled amidst the dark matters of propaganda and mis-informations. In an age in which we are living, the tradition of questions and critical examination are existential in every way.
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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