The moral race
Fact is stranger than fiction, but difficult to ascertain.
So, people settle for stories. The weird thing about stories is that there
could be moral of a story, but there might not be justice done to all the
characters. Without the facts, morals are drawn based on interpretations by
different entities. I have heard so many versions of a simple benign event,
that it has forced me to break my silence. The version in vogue is that I raced
with a hare and I won, because I kept going, while the hare took a nap in
between. Some said slow and steady win
the race. Some doubted that I might have drugged the hare, so that he would fall
asleep. Some say, I drugged myself so that I could go faster than usual. One
thing I have come to realize, is that everybody likes to get drugged by
morality. It lets one slip into comfort and let the invisible hand of morality
lead you. But I think it is imperative that I clear out some of these moral
cobwebs.
It all started when the hare saw me training for bit of a
walk. I thought, I have so much age on my hand, why not become a bit fit, and
may be bring some evolutionary change. I did not mind the hare giving me a
couple of tips on my pace and posture. But I kept pestering him for the secret
to his speed. It was getting embarrassing to prance around with a hare and to
not see any progress. Driven to frustration, I asked the hare one last time to
reveal his secret. Hare comforted me and said he would gladly share his secret.
He said, “Down the path and over the mountain, there is a place. There is not
judgment there. You will feel at peace with yourself there. Meet me there and
we will realize the secret together.” So, we went down the path together. As
usual I was slow, but I had the hope of becoming a better self that drove me.
On the way, I saw many mocking me. They told me about the crooked tail of a
dog, the different ways of nature, and about contentment in self. With all the
confusion, I kept going and lost sight of hare in the woods. Not being able to
locate the path that the hare took, I kept going on the path that everyone
took. I reached the end of the path, but there was no peaceful place there.
There were only the mocking birds, that sat there telling the owl about how the
hare and tortoise had raced. The owl declared me the winner, and advised others
to take a lesson in fortitude and perseverance. Celebrations went on for a
night. The hare reached the spot and was greeted with ridicule for losing to a
tortoise. He simply smiled, embraced me and ran away. I called at him to ask
for the secret place, the path to inner peace, but the cheer had drowned my
voice. Surrounded by glory, fame, and praise, I had never felt more alone and
discontent.
There are many hares in the world, many tortoises, mocking
birds and owls. Based on what they see, there are morals and based on what they
think, there is ethics. There is the animal farm and there is utopia. May be
both have a piece of fact in them or may be both are pure fiction. One thing
remains unhindered, and that is learning. Even today, I recall the hare and try
to run as fast as I can. That is the fact, and I suppose it might be stranger
than fiction. But then, I think it makes a better story. With new
interpretations this story will also be drowned into morals. But I pray for a
raft of peace and love, while we float around in a sea of stories and judgment.
Time to go for a run!
