'Har muqam say agay muqam hai tera ,Hayat zauq e safar kay siwa kuch bhi nahin - Iqbal'
Saturday, July 28, 2012
Thursday, July 26, 2012
The Cage.
“You can hold yourself back from the sufferings of the world, that is something you are free to do and it accords with your nature, but perhaps this very holding back is the one suffering you could avoid.” - Kafka
His life was completely sucked up by two concerns lately. An unresolved grief from the past and a fear of complete uncertainty of the future. The present no more existed for him, it was just a void in which nothing meaningful ever happened. It felt as if life was trying to make a terrible example of him. He could not for the love of God understand what was going around. No longer he saw himself as an autonomous individual. His Self seemed to have evaporated gradually. Biologically, he was alive none the less. Not as a living Self in control of the affairs of his own life but rather as a mere spectator of his own Self. Somehow living outside his embodied Self. Always conscious of what his embodied 'false-self' was going through. Being hyper conscious of your own life is a painful experience especially when you are living outside it as a critical observer.
The life that he once knew was no more there. He was no more interested in the 'outside world' which seemed superficial and shallow. The inner world of his own profound (or deluded) experience seemed to be a safe place initially. The inner world provided him the security of solitude, freedom from being misunderstood and above all the protection from being hurt by others. His inner world was initially a shield that protected him from constant attacks of others. No longer he was worried about people treating him as an 'it' rather than as an 'I'. So, he held himself back from the sufferings of the outside world.
Alas! this false sense of protection was short lived. This strategy to protect himself was in fact highway to self-destruction. The fear of being treated as an 'it' somehow transformed into a strategy to treat the others as mere objects. He found it impossible to love someone as another human being or develop a long lasting meaningful relationship. He saw his embodied self living a life outside himself out there. A life he thought he was no longer a part of. This inner world of his was actually a prison. A prison that eventually deprived him of his autonomy, his happiness and above all his own life. He envied his embodied false self that lived 'its' life in front of his own eyes. He was not in control of his life anymore. As a prisoner living behind the bars of his own inner world, he saw his whole life slipping from his fingers. Perhaps he couldn't hold back from this perpetual suffering anymore. There were no more safe havens to run to.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Waiting for Godot: An excerpt.
- ESTRAGON:
- We always find something, eh Didi, to give us the impression we exist?
- VLADIMIR:
- (impatiently). Yes yes, we're magicians. But let us persevere in what we have resolved, before we forget.
Waiting for Godot by Samuel Backett.
Sunday, July 1, 2012
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