the diary of a silent observer

The question why human beings, and not any other species, has been a hot topic for debate for a very long time. Fire, the opposable thumb, the large brain and god have all been given credit for man’s advancement, though it is widely agreed that the ability to create and believe in fiction did the trick for him. In a nutshell, every institution or instrument of value today- be it the concept of money or the bank constituted by shareholders and board members that controls its supply, and the structure and culture that defines that organisation, and the country which is the home to the establishment, are all figments of our imagination. They are there because there is a collective imagination at play here wherein all the people in the world believe it is true. And since this collective imagination has become the manual for day to day existence, anyone who can create new fiction or alter the already existing one even slightly can reap benefits for himself. This is the reason why we lie:

Never been a night as dark, Her shriveling hair locks dangling - rousing storms in heaven and hell. Her diabolic eyes plunged straight into mine The fangs deep in my soul A heart beat died as slow venom spread, I froze. An abandoned stone now, damned to exist Forever to wonder nothing but this What was it that struck me still, Was it dread, or was it love.

Yehuda Halevi once wrote that it is a fearful thing to love what death can touch. Mortality is generally viewed as a weakness, and love makes it more so. Yet like overly romantic poets all over the world lured us into believing, there is no true love without death. We remember tragic love stories. Not comedies. Taming of the Shrew is rarely a subject of any conversation, but Romeo and Juliet is a benchmark in the world of literature. Research says that the average life cycle of love (passionate love and not affection) is three to five years, and is a chemical induced phenomenon. In other words, what appears to be infinite is finite. It is transient and evanescent. Yet interestingly, something as finite as love has dominated not just literature or art, but also philosophy, psychology and social life. We hope that love would be the panacea of all questions on existence. However, the simple yet dark truth called death casts a shadow on it. Which is unacceptable. So through our all