In recent few years, post truth has become a well known term in intelligencia, as if, it is a platonic concept, living its realities in a specific age of history. To think about truth in information age is the hardest stuff. Each day you read some piece in newspaper and get convinced that our world is becoming impoverished, miserable, and what not. Believe me, I started not to read these web pages since March, 2020. But I have felt something is missing. Definitely, I was not missing any sense of truth. It was stimulated habit to know something bad was a part of the daily routine, which was normalized in such a way that misery or at least miserable news were passing through mind without affecting anything. It was a new normal, which, in fact, affected the very sense of empathy. Everything became just a piece of news. On every issue, there were myriad version of information without any possibility to extract truth from information. Post truth is not a new phenomenon. It started with post modern jargons, which questioned every reality without questioning the very tool of questioning. Post modern condition brought self under strain, too much questioning has left every one of us confused if fact exists or everything is a part of agenda? Reading too many versions of fact makes the possibility of truth impossible to conceive. In recent tragedy in Indo-China relationship, for example, has attracted all too news reporting, opinion pages, electronic media coverages, and many versions of the incident which are unfathomable for any ordinary reader to grasp. Too many information hide the the truth in various perspectives. Friedrich Nietzsche's aphorism about perspectivism has come true not ontologically as a question of metaphysics but a real reality. At least, this much of sense is recovered from all too perspectivized truths. I often wonder, what happens to public reason, when the masses are left bewildered about what is real and what is hyper-real. Are we living in a post modern condition, to borrow a celebrated term from Lyotard? Or illusionistic landscape is simulated reality our mind is projecting like a platonic allegory of cave? Our knowledge, rather I would say, the oceanic circles of information has turned the question of being into oblivion. We are just a bundle of information, aspiring to accumulate more, amidst it, the real self is numb and silent.
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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