You exist for society or society exists for you? Asked Jiddu Krishnamurti. Answer must be that each one of us lives for the society, if it is generalized after taking into account the "mass-culture". Mindful life is missing from everywhere. People want to be efficient. There is a competitive ecology prevalent all around between human species and smart computers or between masses of individuals. What do we want to achieve? Nothing! Is there any worth achievement which will be endurable? Even if one's name remains alive for thousands of years. Will it be sufficient to make one happy? Happiness is not an outside object, whose acquisition is dependent upon money. Happiness is not a goal, which may be achieved once for all. It is a means, a way, and it remains a way. Destination is a myth, a perception. Even a dead leaf has not reached to its destination. You may be good at production, of goods, services, wealths, but production mentality is obnoxious to happiness, peace, and integration. You may be a good useful machine, working for someone or something, but in the end, you are being consumed by your works. You might be a victorious, conquerer, a successful person, but your every victory over enemy is a defeat not perceptible very easily. Every conquerer is conquered by his own pride. Every victory is a seed of downfall. One can't fly always. Ground is necessary for every glorious or inglorious flight. You can't be efficient without any cost. Loss is perceptible. We are materially growing and our mind is witnessing its instability. We are living in a culture of "dil mange mor". This culture is thriving at the tune of "hum hai naye andaj kyon ho purana". But do we witness anything new when our mind is malfunctioning like an efficient consumer? Do we do anything differently except recycling old and making it remix? Perhaps, a multitasker is good for nothing except one is running after quantities. Who cares about quality? It is an old school question. Which is needless to be attended.
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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