Subordination is a compromise of human's dignity, which radiates in every soul of the Universe. In ignorance, people keep searching the fulfillment in ideology, faith, material success, and entertainment, etc., Paradoxically, one has everything when one stops searching. And one forgets everything when the ecology of bafflement pervades and dismantle every iota of peace and tranquility. Human's desires are infinite like a long succession of time. Every fulfillment of desire leads towards another quest of desire. In this series of oceanic webs of desires, one gets nothing and looses nothing but remains troubled to meet with the perfection. What is perfection if not an image? Image whose realization doesn't stop one for imagining further. And the quest to realize a perfect sense of image makes one fearsome and anxious. In fact, every idea of perfection is created in antagonism of imperfections. Every attempt to eliminate imperfections leads one towards self-defeat. One can't realize at the cost of not producing other. Perfection is an attitude. It is not to be actualised. It is always there if we forget to actualise an image produced by our minds. A man of ideals is always divided into what is and what is not. Every such division shows our compromised life. A divided mind can't see the beauty of truth. It may be entangled in logic-chopping activities, and in the end, logic will subvert itself, if one takes insights from Chandrakirti, a great Tibetan Buddhist philosopher. Logic may be used from the beginning to the end but it can't reveal the truth which is outside the logic and its structure.
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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