Philosophy entered my life when I needed it most. As a teenager grappling with what felt like a premature quarter-life crisis, I turned to books that spoke to the chaos within me.
I loved reading that made me explore different worlds. From John Green’s Looking for Alaska to Elif Shafak’s Three Daughters of Eve -- books became more than stories, they were companions, whispering questions I hadn’t yet found the words for.
What does it mean to exist? Why does life sometimes feel so impossibly heavy? These tales left a mark on me, setting me on a path I didn’t yet understand but knew I had to follow.
The search for meaning pulled me deeper into philosophy. Nietzsche’s The Birth of Tragedy taught me to see beauty in suffering, and Plato’s dialogues offered glimpses of timeless truths that felt both distant and intimately familiar.
Even films like Richard Linklater’s Waking Life felt like extensions of my inner monologue, holding up a mirror to thoughts I couldn’t articulate. Philosophy wasn’t just something I read -- it was something I carried with me everywhere.
That quiet, solitary love for philosophy eventually brought me to the Bangladesh Philosophy Olympiad (BPO) in 2024. At the Heritage School in Narayanganj, I found myself surrounded by others who, like me, were searching for answers -- or at least better questions.
It was here that I met Usraat Fahmidah, the organizer of the event, whose passion for philosophy was contagious. Alongside her, I grew close to Maliha Afrin, who had secured the top spot in the first round. Together, we found a shared purpose and started the BPO Book Club journey -- a community dedicated to exploring philosophy and deepening our understanding of the world. I found myself swept into a world where philosophy was no longer a solitary pursuit but something shared.
The book club began online, each meeting unfolding as we worked through texts like Bertrand Russell’s The Problems of Philosophy and Albert Camus’s L’Étranger. Our discussions often stretched late into the night, the Zoom screen glowing as we questioned what it means to live with absurdity or whether truth is ever truly knowable. But it was our third meeting, in a small authentic local pizza place, that brought everything into focus.
Philosophy has no finish line -- it’s a journey without end. And in the company of friends who are just as eager to keep walking, that journey feels endlessly rewarding
That day, over authentic Italian pizza and pages filled with notes, our discussion of philosophy took on a life of its own. One idea led seamlessly to another, the conversation spiraling in unexpected directions. There were no definitive answers, only the shared curiosity that kept us engaged and the exhilaration of challenging and refining each other’s perspectives.
Lately, we’ve immersed ourselves in Plato’s The Apology and Simone de Beauvoir’s The Woman Destroyed. In The Apology, Socrates’ unwavering pursuit of truth, even in the face of death, sparks lively discussions that feel as urgent and relevant as ever.
Meanwhile, de Beauvoir’s poignant exploration of identity and fractured relationships invites us to reflect on our own lives, challenging us to confront uncomfortable truths. With every page we read and every question we debate, it becomes clear that philosophy isn’t about finding definitive answers. It’s about embracing the journey -- thinking deeply, questioning boldly, and truly listening to one another.
What makes this experience so meaningful is not just the books or the ideas but the people. Philosophy, often imagined as an individual pursuit, becomes something richer when shared. There’s a kind of joy in watching someone else’s perspective shift your own, in piecing together insights that none of us could have reached alone.
Even as the Olympiad draws closer, I find myself less focused on rankings and more grateful for the community we’ve built. There’s a sense that what we’re doing here will outlast any competition.
Philosophy has no finish line -- it’s a journey without end. And in the company of friends who are just as eager to keep walking, that journey feels endlessly rewarding.
Ayesha Amen Aiosharjo is a freelance contributor.
