Skip to main content

Defining the Definition: The Life of Language and the Language of Life

Nothing can be defined through words. We simply play a game of words to replace one word for others. Just like dictionary keeps replacing words in the process of making the meaning of a word clear. For any beginner of language who doesn't have clarity about any single word will puzzle the dictionary. He will go on thinking what if dictionary is in mood to play a game to create confusions? Dictionary for such amateur is an end product of funny game, which revolves around a circular structure without availing any stable result.


When I ask  to define the definition itself. And one begins to define the definition with a presupposition of its meaning  already keeping in mind that definition can be defined. In the process of defining definition one forgets that the value one is going to capture or assign through definition is preceding the definition itself. Just like God or Infinity cannot be defined by finite being. Likewise the meaning of definition which precedes the words in defining the definition cannot be defined by words. In that sense, the edifice of modern day law, rooted in language and its defining capabilities is a game for those who love interpreting and defining it in every day realities. And the quest to bring certainty in law remains an attempt to hold sand firmly through fists but the essence of law eludes the language games. 


One can say that we the human species invented these signs as  language to amuse ourself or consume our lifetime for a thing whose grounding is fictitious. We go on inventing and investing in fictions and then ask what is real in fiction. We love forgetting our finite reality for we continue coining new concepts and its intricacies like a complicated thread invented by spiders to believe that this is something and somewhere, could be felt as life and its totality. We the spiders of language are playing the games with a firm belief that everything expressed in language is as true as air, water, and Earth. For we use a fancy term, like social fact to express its reality. In fact, no social fact provides any description of fact, but a prescription based upon general understanding. In that sense every social reality is a fiction based upon social contract which appears to be a defining feature of human's life. Our sources of anxiety and salvation are nowhere but in the language itself.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

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।

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...

Dreamer

Empty is mirror, Yet it reflects what is. Chit is absolute abyss, Yet it contains the existence, Like unending horizons of sky. Chit in bond with manas, Creates and witnesses, The playful dance of life. Shunyata is the absolute truth, Yet it is all of the possible worlds. Out of its voidness, World appears and disappears. Is it real or unreal? Or merely the Dream, Of all the possible dreams? If it is the case, Who is dreaming, the dreams of all? The One, the Cosmos. What if the One is also a figment of imagination? What if the world is a poetic creation? And the Poet has deployed itself, In every form of poetry? The poetry of life. What if only bhokta is bhojan? Only observer is observed? Only worshiper is worshipped? Only subject is object? All are the waves of same Ocean.