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Reasoning With Reason

Is there a solid reason to believe in ‘reasoning‘?

Sure, it does help us understand the world around us, but from the very same logical channels, there are other understandings that eventually commingle to reveal a very distasteful, perplexing concoction. To agree with this, you need to agree with the fact that every discipline we demarcate today to suit today’s world’s context, has been fashioned from the annals of philosophy. The philosophy of politics, the philosophy of science, the philosophy behind reasoning and so forth; you get the point, right?

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Life

Expectations Defied

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.

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Life

Learning By Foot

I have a confession – one that isn’t so dodgy or isn’t as surprising as one would expect – but no matter, it still is a confession, which makes it exciting. I have lived for eighteen years now, and I do not know how to drive. There you go, the inflated balloon has now flown past you with such a demeanour that it doesn’t even deserve a second thought, but whatever. I modestly know how to code, I modestly know how to solve calculus problems and I can even cook the hardest things on the menu, but I have not learned the art of manoeuvring the modern vehicle.

To every confession, there is an underlining story often ignored. The story actually forms the gist of that confession; makes it exciting and gossipy as it should be. Why is it ignored, then? Simple. You don’t question about the ingredients of a Lindt chocolate that you enjoy – you merely consume it, revelling in it’s seemingly everlasting taste that can lift moods. I can safely assume that you are all smart enough to recognise the potency of this analogy, so may be I won’t draw the connection to an obvious point; not by the words at-least.

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Life

Betrayed.

In the early stages of my school-hood, I craved for devoted companionship. The very first bond of ‘friendship’ I made years ago when I started my education was over a packet of biscuits. All I did was to share a piece and Alas, I had a new friend. That special packet of friendship biscuit was joined by a friendship Coke bottle, a friendship crisp packet and several other items. Emotions such as this helped me grow through that stage even though I do not know if they were true and sincere. And perhaps that is what carries weight and would hurt if they weren’t what I think they were.

Having taken enough of barter trade, I realised that human connection is not supposed to be dependent on a ‘material frame’. A mother doesn’t love her child because he or she carries the promise of money for her in the future – she loves her child because the concept of reproduction is strong; it carries significance because that child is her legacy – an indispensable part of her life. A friendship built on a similar structure would be so beautiful and completing. Every moment would be worth more than a carat diamond and the warmth of the morning Sun.

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Life

The right thing for your mood

It’s very easy to get bored in these long summer holidays. School keeps you involved in everything; from friends to studying to politics, school life never bores anyone. However, holidays, specially the ones after the end of high school, are perhaps the longest and the most boring. You simply cannot visit your best friend every other day and play with him. You simply cannot enjoy playing on your console all the time and you simply cannot sit around on the bed holding your laptop, at home. And then, a ray of light breaks the dark; StumbleUpon is undoubtedly, as far as I’m concerned, the best thing to get you out of boredom.  Continue reading

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Life, Story

The Local Heroes

Most students like me have the tendency to waste their long summer holidays, and then fret about the wasted time. This time, I thought it would be a good idea to do something productive, not only for myself, but for others as well. One of such opportunities presented itself  a few days ago, when my mom’s friend just invited me to go with her to a special children’s school, where she worked. As the special school ‘Amin Maktab’ was operating due to their annual summer school, the idea sounded good – ‘the boring days will at least go away’, I thought to myself.  Continue reading

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Education, Life

The End.

Going inside the examination hall for my physics exam still invoked fear. 40 marks could change everything, so an ox’s effort was required. Having not slept for the past 20 hours, the eye-lids were getting heavier as each second ticked by. Facing such adversities, I sat on my special Cambridge-provided wooden chair, which by the way, felt a little larger than usual – so that was another reason for feeling uncomfortable. And finally when the paper started, all other thoughts drifted into the background as I was battling the paradoxes involved in the study of matter. Continue reading

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