For all those who read ‘Nebulous – the science journal‘, you’d remember the article i wrote there, about ‘The dimensions of the procedure‘. It was basically a philosophical article meant to examine how the activities of science have been conducted over the years, and how it might be limiting our quest for knowledge. I received a comment on that post telling me that the article didn’t provide something solid, and I admit to that guilt that I wrote it when my thoughts were in a rudimentary stage. Therefore, now that I’ve given some thought over this, I’ll be able to muster it into a post, which hopefully, will clear you off any ambiguity regarding the stance I’m going to take.
So, what was the initial spark that led to me question some of the fundamental aspects of science? It was the advent of the final examination of my school. It’s this simple – when solving some mathematics paper, i discovered a new formula in arithmetic progression; although it doesn’t hold that ‘awe’ element, but still, the message it carried to me was obvious and amazing at the same time. Human capacity to engage in the quest for knowledge is an amazing one, and something we definitely need to focus on. It’s the art of thinking coupled with the need to attain satisfaction that has really played the pivotal role in human’s progress but the question is, are we limiting ourselves in that very quest of knowledge?
Continue reading “Why hindrance is inevitable”
I used to have another blog long time ago, from where I found a really good real-life story of myself. Worth sharing, I suppose. Enjoy Reading! 🙂
Second grade – and I can’t utter a word. Something trickles down my forehead – sweat? Rain? Blood? I can’t tell – though my brain tells me I must be imagining it, my heart knows otherwise. For surely I must be bleeding – surely this is a river crimson flowing from my skull, a scarlet lake gathering on the ground, a pool carrying within it all the dirt and filth of a liar’s sin – surely I must now suffer a slow and agonising death, all the dark penury of Adam, for having lied to my own parents?
Fear is my companion, the only one I can trust to stay. Isn’t it fear I feel every time I look into my mother’s eyes and tell her – falsely, cheerily – that I have done well, better than anyone, in my exams? Isn’t it fear that makes my muscles limp, my legs loathe to move, my heart racing every time my father asks me genially how my day has gone? Fear lurks in corners, creeps with the shadows, looks out of paintings with eyes that laugh at my burning shame – because I have lied, and it knew, and I knew, and it knew I knew it. And I cannot stop: this is the worst part, the thing that makes my lies almost gruesome, blasphemous, a slight against all that is good and great and noble. Each time I utter a lie, it hovers above me, a dark, heavy cloud that diseases the air – and I go on uttering it, because once spoken I cannot dare retract it; because I am not a bright student, have never been a great student, and I – only seven, at the time – have not the courage to hurt them with the truth. Did I have a choice? An excuse? Only that I was a prisoner to love; only that I was a slave to fear. I went on nearly failing my exams, and I went on telling them I had done well, hating myself each time I did.
Continue reading “Expectations Defied”