Skip to main content

I am living in a world of questions

What it means to feel alive in a world of utopia? Why the world has lost the art to imagine an impossible future beyond the parochial identity and self-interest? What was the motivation behind the division of idealist and practical world? Why do we prefer to achieve the status of "economic man"? Have we lost the touch with nature? Why do people suffer from the amnesia that each and every faith of possession is just like a traveler in an unknown path, which will wither away without any hope to return back? Whether human being is just like a human capital, invested for a better return? Why do we suffer in our own imagination? Why do we believe that name, fame, and identity shall remain alive in the archive of history, even though, the history suggests that the lives of the human's species on the planet is a tiny spec of dust in the vast horizon of Universe's history? Why don't we care to feel the lives around us? Aren't we busy for artificial and superficial achievements, which are insignificant for a blissful life? Why do we desire to amass the garbage? Why do we inflict pain on the minds and hearts of our fellow creatures? Why do we blame the externalities for our own mistakes and sufferings? Why do we write many letters without any touch of feeling? Have we lost the relevance of questions, which may puzzle and penetrate our hearts? Are we living really in a mad race of becoming? What are we becoming even if mind and heart are occupied in anxiety of failures and jealousy? Do we have any identity beyond the name? Do we have any truth beyond the language and its logic? Do we have any law for love and care? Do we have justice beyond the "institutional fetishism"? I have no answer. I am living in a world of questions.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Imagination

Student: I want to excel in my life. Over the years, my graph of success is achieving a new height. I am doing hard work to become one of the smartest and richest persons on the Earth. Teacher: Wonderful! Who is  achiever and what is achieved? Student: I am the achiever. My name and fame are shining day by day.  Teacher: Who is this ‘I’? What is the material by which it is produced? Student: I is the ego which is the agent achieving successes and facing failures. Teacher: Whether ego is real or imaginary? Student: It is made of name, form, and function. Teacher: Whether name, form, and function are eternal?  Student: No, they are changing. Teacher: Anything changes does it exist? Whether these are real or merely fictitious images appearing and disappearing before the sightscreen of mind? Student: They are the images constructing my identity as a person. Teacher: Well said! What is the stuff by which these images are made of? Who is maker and what is made? Student: They ar...
Post a Comment
Read more

पिरोता जाऊँ एक माला ज़िन्दगी का

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।
1 comment
Read more

Time and Love

Time passes by Like moving in a train of thoughts Its sequence is always forward Vibrating like a cosmic dance of Shiva Time is creating and engulfing The little waves of the ocean Going where? Nobody knows Like a dream does not have a destination It is as true as any absurd play With friends of pleasure It moves like speed of light With friends of need It is felt like a moving river Allowing a little moments of thoughts Before everything becomes a history With friends of virtue Time becomes a sublime touch Soothing and healing the pain Becoming a spectator To watch the cries and follies Beauty and ugliness The rainbow of joy And an album of suffering Time touches Yet it remains aloof Like Purush is witnessing The colours of prakriti Yet remains unblemished And untouched The union of two is always mystical Their touch is a source Of creation and transformation Time is witnessing everything In its sequential movements Who is witnessing time? What is independent of the originatio...
Post a Comment
Read more