Student for life. Student of life.

Debauchery, in the name of existence!


History. Sound. Ideas. What do they have in common? Cycles. Periodicity is the fundamental property of existence. It’s almost scary how these alternating cycles of peace and violence manifest, no matter how hard we try and escape it. There is no trough without a crest. It’s not without merit for sure. How would you even appreciate existence if not for the voids that exist? Between all that is and is not, life is but a swirling montage of the ripples that existence leaves behind. It’s important to strive for peace, for oblivious to these ripples, the cycle continues.

We pride ourselves as the species at the pinnacle of intelligence. We are problem solvers, innovators, and explorers. But if the waves come crashing at your feet, washing the sand away underneath; would you call yourself an explorer for merely existing to witness the awe of mother nature, as the sunsets somewhere at the far edge of the vast sea where it fades into the crimson sky? Why do I even ask this absurd analogy? Meh! No reason. Oh, except for the fact that I reject the premise that we are problem solvers, innovators, and explorers.

Our ego has us convinced of this grand illusion. The fact of the matter is, we have not even scratched the surface of what it takes to solve a problem. Maybe we were once a civilisation that earned all the glory it deserved — not today. Today we are a ghost of our civilisation’s past, slowly withering away into this montage. The only art we truly have perfected is not of solving a problem, but that of a metamorphosis of its presentation to a lesser-known but enticing future. The art of translation. Not to say that it’s easy. No, it is not. However, it’s a case in point for the futility of it all.

Businessmen, engineers, doctors, lawyers, teachers, scientists, and statesmen. The pride of the civilisation that spans across the planet, divided by arbitrary lines drawn in fences, colour, weapons and beliefs. Fighting the wars of our forefathers. Generations of martyrs raising generations of martyrs.

When trust is a rare commodity to come by, co-operation is just a game. Yet somehow, like cockroaches, we survive.

Ross, could you just open your mind, like, this much? Okay? Wasn’t there a time when the brightest minds in the world believe the Earth was flat? And up till 50 years ago, you all thought the atom was the smallest thing until you split it open and this whole mess of crap came out. Now, are you telling me that you are so unbelievably arrogant that you can’t admit that there’s a teeny, tiny possibility that you could be wrong about this?”

Phoebe, Friends – The one where Mr Heckles dies,

I leave the artists out of the herd for they are the only brave ones left to admit what others choose not to, that we don’t know what the hell are we doing. No offence, but we really don’t. All it takes is a window bigger than your puny existence on this planet, to put things into the right context. It’s a tricky debate because we find comfort in the micro details that others don’t have. Building sandcastles in the rain of uncertainty and conflicts, the pride is unmatched. Yet we fail to answer the simplest of questions when probed deep enough. What is consciousness? Do the needs of many outweigh the needs of the few? What is the true nature of existence? The only answers we have ranged from ruthless calculus of quantity to loud voices of belief.

It’s funny how we haven’t yet truly probed the nature of causality and have defined “standards” for acceptable pieces of evidence in the name of peer review. The ancient practices lost and distorted beyond repair, are but a joke to the intellectuals and professionals. Seems to me like one big egotistic, communication gap. Generations of intellectuals taking themselves too seriously. It’s insane how much bullshit flies by in the community, under the name of citations. Yet, one reference to a Vedic practice, and people lose their shit. Why, because we have defined only one dimension of the body in our “science”, but the Vedic texts refer to “panch kosha” (5 “Koshas” or bodies/sheaths to “Atmaa”)? Or perhaps it’s because the intangible archetype of “Ida”, “Pingla” and “Sushumna” is something that’s just not measurable, as opposed to that of the endocrine system, nervous system and wait! What do we do with the anomaly of archetypical mapping again? Not to say that the placebo didn’t get its fair share. It’s a case in point of our inability to listen and contemplate on that which is fringe to our belief. And the thing about science, it’s just another belief system. Albeit one where consistency and elegance are paramount.

God bless us, everyone, we are broken people living under loaded gun

Linkin Park – The Catalyst

We create technologies and ideologies that wreak havoc every day. When greed exceeds our compassion, we carelessly release these “things” out in the wild to chart its course. Drunk with “evidence” and misguided in our ability to govern, we always underestimate nature and evolution. Yet the philosophers who dare ask questions like, “Should you create something knowing full well, it could be used for great evil ?”, are shunned with a template reply in the spectrum of calculus and beliefs. Though we are not stoning them to death like in the older times but then again, oblivious to these ripples, the cycle continues.

It’s human nature to seek the comfort of symmetry in history, sound, and ideas. We fail to see the stretches of silence draped by the ghost of vibrations that permeate as sound. The grand illusion of continuity. Much like history and ideas. This false sense of knowledge and control. The one that keeps us from going insane also keeps us from fundamentally solving any problem. We keep deliberating, as we transfer it from its present unpleasant state to an unknown future state. Our ego hides what lies beyond, shrouding it under a veil of consensus. Seems to me, we haven’t probed the fundamentals of what the innovators’ dilemma really is, beyond what it takes to secure that private equity we have been eying for a while. In a game that’s rigged for survival and not exuberance, the playoff isn’t in your favour. Care to roll the dice, just one more time? Who truly cares about the gambler’s fallacy, when we get it off, from the dopamine? Debauchery, in the name of existence! Oblivious to these ripples, the cycle continues. 😉

Here’s hoping for a more compassionate and a peaceful new year. Have fun folks! And let me know your thoughts in the comment section below.

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Harsh Joshi


Harsh here. Let's talk product, policy, design and maths. I am still figuring things out and am a student for life. Get in touch and follow the updates.

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