When success is defined as a quantification of achievement rather a qualitative assessment of the thoughts and conducts, society is at the wrong trajectory to run a blind race to win at any cost. This phenomenon has been demonstrated by the events unfolded at the Sydney Cricket Ground (SCG), when Steve Smith was awarded as the Man of the Match even if he removed Rishabh Pant's guard marks on crease after drinks break; that conduct does not qualify the standard of fairness. And the irony of the day is that he has been awarded as the best man of the match! This is not an isolated story unfolded at the cricket field, but the moment of reflection if civilization is unconsciously cultivating a culture of mass appropriation of goods and resources without having a compassionate heart for those who are less fortunate in running the blind run of success? When a society is conceived at the formula of one wins at the cost of losing many, there is a serious flaw in the way human's life enter into a zone of depression and anxiety; this culture is no longer a part of "individual's unconscious" as discovered by Sigmund Freud long time ago rather this mantra is integrally associated with "social unconscious" (Eric Fromm). The way education is instrumentally treated as a brother institution to provide the labourers for factories, suggests that we have no dream to develop a society of good and graceful human beings, what Aristotle wrote in Greece as the mantra of good and happy life, rather a crowd who are no longer sensitive, grateful, and graceful towards each and everything. But what's happening today is that number is preceded over the quality of life we the humankind are leading to. This is nothing but a process of quantification of everything into numbers and being proud of accumulating a few numbers to become the richest man of the planet. But deep-down the heart is not able to feel the rainbow of existence.
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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