People often blame media for media trial. The origin of trial begins with our own fragmentary thoughts which anxiously blame others or at least like to avoid our own responsibility. Every socio-political, legal or religious institution is the mirror of what people think or like to do. Medium can't be blamed. The first change may be brought by our own conviction for the honesty, truth, and justice. The process of blaming is often underestimated. It is, in fact, a germinal base for avoiding the questions and its answers. Trial is essentially rooted in our culture. One likes to judge and this process doesn't start with self. It is often pursued to avoid or rather hide our own truth. We know not for the sake of extracting truth from falsehood; in fact, every limitation, dissection of truth-false dichotomy is the first step to efface the totality of truth. In modern paradigm, truth is not discovered rather invented and re-invented. There can't be a truth which is wishful or fancy. Trial is, in a way, within us, lives its reality in our ready-to-blame thoughts. The moment, egocentric thoughts are shattered, the evil of becoming happy out of someone's pain will wither away. I mean, how can someone be happy in his or her own trial? Humanity has been on trial since the very origin and growth of society. And it is living its moments again and again in our sense of offence and offenders. Offender or offence is not an effect of law or morality. It thrives in us in our own thoughts of guilt. And we punish no other but own self. We the humanity are the origin of all the possible miseries. We can't be like waters, flowing, without having any shame or guilt to defend, towards its destination. We are, in fact, not fond of truth. We like to hide our own face in a wishful story, which becomes the spectacle, a simulacra of existence. Simulacra is not a fiction. We are the simulacra of existence. Why don't we investigate who we are? A form, a body, a name, a religion, a nation, a species, or what? Do we blame others or in that very process aren't we hiding our own truth?
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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