Death, Chapati, and the Hermeneutic Circle

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 Gajar 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 says, reveals the truth of Being.

Sir.

My anxiety is revealing my incomplete syllabus.

Heidegger’s philosophy tells us:

• We are thrown into the world.

• We live in inauthenticity, distracted by “the They.”

• We escape thinking about death through routine, gossip, education systems, presentations.

• But authentic life begins when we confront mortality.

And here I am confronting mortality through PowerPoint slides I don’t understand.

Class Presentations: The True Encounter with Nothingness

Every day I sit in class.

Do I understand everything? No.
Do I escape? Also no.

Because there is no escape.

The hermeneutic circle is real. You understand the whole through the parts and the parts through the whole. But what if you understand neither the part nor the whole? What circle is that? A spiral into confusion?

Hans-Georg Gadamer says interpretation is a dialogue between horizons. Very poetic. Very beautiful.

But in class, my horizon and the professor’s horizon are not fusing. They are colliding.

And then those elders say:

“We studied the same way.”

If you did, why must we repeat it?

There is a generation gap.
My learning style is different.
Your suffering is not a template for mine.

Hermeneutics, Lakatos, Popper, and My Mental Breakdown

My struggle truly began when someone casually introduced:

• Imre Lakatos’ Research Programmes

• Karl Popper’s falsification

• The Big Bang Theory

Why, Lord? Why have You forsaken me?

I don’t want to remember Lakatos.
I don’t want to apply Popper.
I don’t want to debate cosmology while I am coughing.

I want chapati.

And maybe a little peace.

Angels, Dinner, and Grace

In the middle of sickness, angels appeared.

Not metaphorical angels. Real ones. Friends who took me out, fed me dinner, and refused to let me drown in my own philosophical misery.

May God bless them.

Because sometimes grace does not descend in light.
It arrives with food.

Heidegger and Gadamer: Understanding Is Not Optional

Heidegger said understanding is our mode of Being.
Gadamer said tradition speaks through us.

Which means: even when I want to stop thinking, I cannot.

Interpretation is not a hobby. It is my condition.

And yet, why must everything be rational?

We are emotional beings.
We relate emotionally.
We suffer emotionally.

Why is empathy so rare? What does it take to speak gently? To understand without analysis? To sit with someone without diagnosing them?

There are many perspectives in life.
So why not allow uniqueness?

Freedom, Choice, and Entanglement

Sometimes I feel life is unfair.

You make a wholehearted choice—and then you discover the extra baggage that comes with it. Responsibilities. Expectations. Consequences.

But yes, I made the choice.

So I know it is right.

If you give a person freedom, he will choose. And once he chooses, he must stand by it. Maybe vocation is not discovered—it is formed slowly through entanglement.

Maybe suffering is part of the calling.

Religion, Attachment, and the Desire to Experience God

Can one live without attachments?

Religion debates this endlessly. Detachment, renunciation, surrender.

But I still miss my treasured place. I still crave Gajar ka halwa. I still long for someone’s presence.

Is attachment weakness—or proof that we are alive?

In my religious life, my only quest is simple:

One day I want to truly experience God.

Not conceptually.
Not academically.
Not hermeneutically.

But truly.

And then I will say:
“Yes. This is enough.”

Sometimes philosophy intensifies this longing. It doesn’t reduce it. It makes me restless.

And no—I am not an atheist.

But why is there always a fight between faith and reason? Why can’t they sit together and eat peacefully?

History, Liberation, and My Frustration

I hate studying history. I don’t know why.

Yes, liberation is important. Yes, justice matters. But why must we endlessly dig the graves of freedom fighters?

Why not organize a protest and learn practically?

Why not fight once and for all?

Isn’t action also pedagogy?

This feels like penance outside Lent.

Speaking of Lent—people say Lent is coming.

But honestly, in life, Lent is every day.
And so is Easter.
And sometimes even Christmas.

Philosophy of Communication and the Fear of Becoming Dead Dolls

Everyone praises communication.

Dialogue. Discourse. Debate.

Yes, it is good.

But sometimes I feel after too much structured communication we become mechanical. Dead dolls performing intellectual choreography.

Where is spontaneity?
Where is raw emotion?

Exams, Dread, and the Mental Hospital Joke

Exams stand between me and freedom.

Between me and home.

Between me and my mother’s food.

It feels like dread. Like Being-toward-death but with a timetable.

Sometimes I think after studying this much philosophy I might land in a mental hospital.

But maybe that is just the hermeneutic circle tightening.

Death, Desire, and the Hidden Prayer

So what have I said?

• Heidegger tells me death individualizes me.

• Gadamer tells me I cannot escape tradition.

• Hermeneutics traps me in interpretation.

• Education exhausts me.

• Lakatos and Popper haunt me.

• Cosmology expands endlessly.

• History suffocates me.

• Faith calls me.

• Chapati saves me.

• Angels feed me.

• Love pulls me.

• Exams block me.

• And somewhere in all this, I still hope.

Maybe death is the only certainty.
But longing is the only evidence that we are alive.

Maybe authenticity is not heroic.
Maybe it is just surviving another day honestly.

Maybe vocation is formed not in clarity but in confusion.

And maybe—just maybe—God sees this chaos and smiles.

Hidden inside all this frustration, there is one quiet desire:

May God grant all my prayers and intentions.
May He understand my exhaustion.
May He forgive my complaints.
May He bless the angels who fed me.
May He let exams pass.
May He let me taste home again.

And tell me—

If death is certain,
If understanding is circular,
If education is heavy,
If freedom is entangling,
If attachment is inevitable,
If faith and reason are always fighting—

Then what does it mean to live authentically?

And can authenticity include craving chapati?

Because if it cannot,
Heidegger needs revision.

— A Sick Student of Philosophy,
Still Waiting for Dinner and Meaning ---- Rohan Brahmane SJ