"Cogito Ergo Sum"- A Philosophical Quest

When Faith, Philosophy, AI, and Exams All Attack at Once There are two kinds of people in this world. One who start Lent with discipline. And one who start Lent with determination… and end it by giving up absolutely nothing. Guess which one I am. Lent has begun. The season of purification. The season of sacrifice. The season where people heroically give up chocolate, Instagram, or chai — and I sit there thinking: “Can I at least give up giving up?” Inside, there is this sincere urge to purify myself. Outside, there is gajar ka halwa. And somewhere in between stands my vocation, my existential crisis, and Friedrich Nietzsche laughing sarcastically in the background. Nietzsche Enters the Chat Let us talk about Friedrich Nietzsche . Ah, Nietzsche. The man who looked at Christianity and said, “God is dead,” and then watched Christians panic for 200 years. His criticism of Christianity was brutal, sharp, almost poetic in its cruelty. He saw it as a religion of weakness — morality built f...

A Sick Student Reads Heidegger and Cries for hskdjfhkajhaftaaaraaaakjhfkfh - so many things Soooo… here we are. If Martin Heidegger were alive and saw me right now—half-sick, half-starving, fully confused—he would probably nod gravely and say: “Being-toward-death.” And I would reply: “Sir, right now I am Being-toward-chapati.” Because honestly, when you have fever, existentialism hits differently. You don’t think about ontology. You think about warm chapati with ghee. You think about your mother’s kitchen. You think about a place—where my aunty used to feed me G ajar ka halwa, biryani, and kheer like salvation itself. My God. If the gods hear this menu, even they will descend. Heidegger: Death Is the Only Certainty (Or Uncertainty?) Heidegger said death is the most personal possibility. No one can die for you. No one can outsource it. It individualizes you. Comforting. He calls it the ultimate certainty—yet the timing is uncertain. That tension creates anxiety. And anxiety, he say...

  Hermeneutics, Headaches, Hope, and My Mother’s Food Some days feel like footnotes. Not chapters. Not even paragraphs. Just footnotes at the bottom of an already exhausting page of life. These are those days. Exams on the head. Philosophy in the veins. Coffee pretending to be hope. And time—time doing what it does best: passing painfully slowly . I am overburdened, not just with syllabi but with meaning itself . Because once you study hermeneutics, nothing remains innocent—not texts, not people, not even your own silence. Hermeneutics: Or, How Understanding Became a Burden Let’s begin where the headache begins. Schleiermacher politely told us: “To understand a text is to understand the author better than he understood himself.” Great. As if understanding myself wasn’t already difficult. Now I’m supposed to emotionally stalk dead authors too? Then came Dilthey , who said life must be understood from within lived experience . Suddenly philosophy stopped being abstract and star...