Skip to main content

Scholarship for the sake of Truth

Albert Einstein and Arthur Eddington, two scientists of different nationalities, worked separately but for the sake of truth amidst struggle for claiming the superiority among the nations in the first World War. Two nations, Britain and Germany, were treating each-other like sworn enemies, fighting war without having any cause whatsoever to further the interest of humanity, and in that mad struggle, most of the scientists of both the nations were collaborating in developing the weapons of mass destruction as well as genocide. In that very critical condition, duo worked out diligently and proved sir Isaac Newton's theory of Gravity wrong. Einstein's General theory of relativity was theoretically a masterpiece, though logically correct and imaginatively wonderful, but without proof, no one was ready to accept it, especially, when science was also being visualized as per the national boundaries. In such a testing time, Arthur Eddington, from Cambridge University, went to Africa to take the photographs of stars at the moment of solar eclipse, to prove or disprove Einstein's general theory of relativity. From that very day, Newtonian theory of gravity was displaced by Einstein's general theory of relativity until quantum physics has shown scepticism about that theory as well. 


What does this story signify? For the sake of truth scholars must not limit their imagination for money, power, or privilege or to claim superiority over anyone on the basis of any identity. Truth is one and it is applicable to everyone irrespective of all the limitations one has as a member of any group, sect, tribe, or nationality. For the sake of truth, one must investigate and examine the existing hypotheses, and in doing so, one must be aware of his or her prejudices, which may affect in reaching upon a truthful conclusion, at least, for the moment until a better theory displaces it in future.

Comments

Post a Comment

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.