What is life? This question has huge significance to understand the nature of death. Life is merely an abstraction or it is genuinely true? Life is certainly more than thought or consciousness. For example, a tree doesn't have thought to ponder upon its own existence, even though it is an example of life, or an animal like cat is not concerned with what is state of existence, except for a few basic needs, it moves on and plays the game what we the humans know as life. So to say that life is merely a consciousness is not a truthful statement. Life is a movement or it resides in inertia as well? This question may be investigated only after looking at any inert matter. But the question may be asked is there anything which may be nominalised as inert-matter? Inside every inert-matter there is a chaotic order between various opposite forces. The centripetal and centrifugal forces are at work. Every dead thing is a dwelling place for life. Just like our house, which is occupied by various forms of life. Inside every brick of it, there are various life-forms, who once lived, died, and became soil or to say so a reservoir of life. Nothing in this Universe seems to be useless inert-thing. Everything is life, whether you call it sacred or profane, atman or brahman, nar or narayan, god the creator or subjects (created), these are one-sided judgments, which are established in a binary, based upon a dichotomous logic of inclusion and exclusion. How can someone include life at the cost of excluding death? How can someone discover a day without finding a reality of its non-existent? The paradox is that how does life exist for few moments and goes away without any promise to return? How could there be something which has to be nothing? Either there is something which remains always something, even though, it is transformed in nature, like the second rule of thermodynamics, i.e. all matters or forms of energy don't dye forever but simply get transformed into each-other. In that case, death is an appearance or illusion which has nothing to do with life as a whole, which remains functional as timeless reality, even if it is possible that many transformations happen in me and around me. Or there may be a possibility of emptiness, i.e. one and only reality is nothingness. In that case, appearance is maya (illusion) as claimed by Upnishads as well as Buddhist wisdom. Everything is empty in its contents. In that case, death is merely a superficial event. There is nothing to die except thought and its movements. And the third possibility is that appearance is moving and transforming but behind it phenomenon is still, timeless and spaceless. In either of these three conditions, death appears to be truthful in a binary relationship with life. Life is too serious to leave it living in anticipation of death. Only death deserves a name or merit of dying is the death of egocentric identity, created and nurtured by our thoughts. Bio-chemical process in every component in our Universe is life as much as it is responsible for death. Life is revered and while death is feared. How could someone even conceive a life without its cessation in the dimension of time?
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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