Nobody
knew what was at stake. Perhaps there really was nothing to be won. And in that
sense, there really was nothing at stake. Yet a trial was imminent – a trial of
patience and resilience. A fight needed to be put up; a fight for mere
survival. And so, in that sense, everything was at stake.
This
idea was not really exhilarating. You cannot plan for survival. You can only put
up a blind fight. This meant that the enemy would be better prepared. His moves
would be planned, strategic. And although we knew this, there was nothing that
we could do, but react once the battle was at our doorstep.
Meanwhile,
we were all trying to fix things in our own ways. Some of us were ignorantly
breaking them further. Yet, we were insuperable in our attempts, convinced that
it would but hardly matter as long as we did not stop trying; that someday we
will fix it all.
At
first, it was almost impossible to grapple with the idea that it could be in
the nature of some things to exist in pieces – to appear broken. These illusory
things exist to consume their fixers.
And the fixers exist to be consumed.
A
tragedy would end here, you see. But this isn’t one. All the effort simply
could not be entirely meaningless. Something had to come out of it all. It did
not matter of what nature. It all had to amount to something. And so, you see,
these fixers being consumed are no longer people. They are products of futility,
installments of ignorance, and causes of nothingness.
They
have become things – things that now appear
broken but aren’t; things that were once consumed – things that are now hungry
themselves. This hunger is what sets us apart now. It is our strength, our
identity, our madness, and our redemption.
It is
all we have left now. But then, why would we need anything else?
