Monday, 18 September 2017

The quest for chaos.

One of the most overlooked subjects in the modern times is anthropology. We human beings consider ourselves the cognoscenti. The ever so mighty and ever so equipped race that has both the volition and the ability to single-handedly steer the course of the future. Truth be told, we have accomplished feats which were once deemed to be the wildest imaginations of a grotesque maniac. We believe we are the creators of the modern world, which is indeed the nirvana for all the successors who are yet to come. We believe every major move we have made in our lives interstices the gap between the plebian that we once were and the aristocrat that we now are. We attribute all the greatness and grandeur to ourselves, and all the leftover misery and all the jejune order of the world to mother nature. We believe that we should take great pride in the gargantuan structures we have made across the rivers and the peaks to protect ourselves from the wrath of nature, and should loather and disparage our own foibles in tackling the remaining streaks of the nature for all the mishaps that occur on these edifices. We are the great grand mighty race, always looking to exceed, looking to improve, aren't we? 

Well, to every man who has succumbed to the system, like me, the answer to the above seems very obvious. All our adulation does go out to ourselves and our feats, and all our chagrin is indeed reserved for what we are yet to do. But for some reason, the world's course post humans took over, doesn't really fit in if our own palpable view of ourselves were to hold true. Our moves are not in fact dictated by an unnerving urge to improve, but by an inexorable craving to extirpate the order we so dearly cherish! 

Picture this. Every great invention came with a substitute of a well functioning product or a concept. The existing solution was adored, with one or two well qualified cynics admonishing the masses for using the substandard solution, and the previous inventors for offering the same. They chastised the norms and made way for a better solution, and viola! a new miracle emerged. The new solution quickly usurped the older one. Massive industries dealing in the former solution are uprooted with many thousands of millions of people losing their jobs and receding to the alcoves of poverty. With time, the new solution becomes the new norm and with improved efficiency, it makes some aspect of human life more prosperous and convenient, thereby making it better for the standard average human being to survive and exist, resulting in greater predilection for more humans to feel elated and grow their species as a whole to further on the current prosperity. As our forefathers did this, we became more and more prolific as a race, with the rich-poor divide holding on the percentage facet diligently, resulting in the more and more overall poverty with a larger span, and more and more prosperity and convenience with a smaller span. So the percentage of the happy and impervious ones remained the same, with just the overall population increasing. 

Hence what held the pretense of making the overall situation better, simply made us become a much larger menace to manage than we once were. In a nutshell, what was ostensibly a great grand move towards improvement, was just a quest for chaos!

It's not that we do this unaware and are supposed to be caught by surprise. Every action of ours has an inherent unwanted ramification waiting to happen. What seems like the current "best choice" has repercussions so far and wide that we inevitably cause much larger tumult, obviously hidden from the normal eye, that they can make a large and unattended to sect perish into oblivion. Consider the invention example above. What seemed to the inventor as the next big revolution, unknowingly put many families out of business, some of which survived courtesy of being docile and hence adaptable, but most of which vanquished because of their belief in the order ensconced by the formal invention, which was extirpated in one single go. 

When we look at this phenomenon in day to day life, the same role play is replicated, minus the theatricality of the greater human pursuits. What seems like the best possible move in regards to our career, may wreak havoc in our lives and the lives of those impacted by our presence, for what is left of their lifetimes, in irreparable ways, beyond anyone's imagination. Or what may seem to be the right guy or the right girl, may not only turn out to be wrong for the spouse in consideration, but for the immediate and even the remotely related members of the connected family. 

This may seem like an inherent flaw of being myopic. But in reality, this is not another one of those fallacies we may again abhor and try to improve on. It's not that we are trying to ignore it and move on either. It is in fact an inextricable part of how we function as a collective species!

Entropy! All the actions of all the people result in changes to equilibrium. Some positives turn to negatives or neutrals, but as we move forward with our actions, and as we multiply and make ourselves a larger species as a part of which more people take actions today and hence there are more actions than ever taken by us, we are just causing more equilibrium changes every passing moment, than we ever did. The universal order may seem intact, but with every new action, more and more entropy is created, and more and more resistance is developed by us to surpass the dogma of considering its presence. We are a self correcting system in terms of how we impede contemplation with surreal ease. But that still doesn't discount the fact that we are the masters of this legerdemain already. Every action, every decision and every move made by you and me, makes things better for someone and things worse for many more. Thus every day you and I live and breathe, we just manifest this quest for harmony to us, which in real is nothing more than a quest for chaos!


Saturday, 5 August 2017

The tyranny of tradition.

We, human beings, have an enormous knack for making things. We are the great grand inventors of some of the most marvelous wonders of the present times. We are such great creators, that at times we take immense pride in that very trait being the harbinger of our superiority. Surely, given how much we have accomplished in the last handful of decades itself, heralds a lot of mirth. However, there is something that we do even better than we are in making things. And that, folks, is making up things! While the things we make do consume a lot of our time and dictate most of our lives, it's the things we make up, that make up for the idyll. 

Money, God, law; they're all mercenaries of the bounty that we have come to gift ourselves. As grand as these concepts may sound, having deloused us out of our disheveled unorganized past to our glorious institutionalized present, these are no better than mere ponzi schemes. Throughout our lives we fight for triviality. We need everything to be linked to something material. If we give a small service, we need money. If we sense any trouble, we need legal indemnity. All the time, all the while, we are looking for a solution that culminates into something tangible in the form of money, or a legal writ, or a verse from the holy books for that matter. But so naive are we, that we don't know that the final quest of these tangible elements, inevitably ends in one of the many made up elements. The one I want to twaddle about today, is tradition.



Tradition is a very ribald vice. It's inherently baseless, but is often concomitant with other baseless entities like God or maybe the institution of marriage. Tradition, unlike other intangible imaginations of mankind, is under a level of protection. In that sense, tradition will only be questioned, after the first layer is questioned. For instance, the concept of voting, which is a tradition in a democracy, would only be questioned after the ideology which this democracy follows, would be put to question. People will always attack the upper and the much stronger layer, encapsulated within which are the much more feeble seeds of tradition. There is a reason why traditions have come to assume this sanctimonious status. 

Ever since we're born, we're enshrined with the facets and applications of traditions. Long before we become capable enough of knowing what god or money is, we are asked to respect and venerate both, and we see everyone around us doing the same. As a result, vicissitudes of tradition, soon transform into various learned behaviors. Later on, courtesy of these learned behaviors, we develop an incessant meretricious craving for making the traditions thrive and prevail. During the course of our lifetimes, some traditions do succumb to the winds of change, but the basic element remains the same. And thus, without even once being questioned, traditions keep going on. In certain rare cases a society may decide to abnegate the outer shell - the larger phenomenon, but traditions are by and large protected because they are much more a part of our subconscious psyche, than they are of our conscious belief. 

Now you must be wondering what's wrong with traditions. Well, the thing that's wrong is that traditions get stronger with time, if they are followed, and their outcomes are never questioned. One very interesting thing to note is that traditions are much more fragile than the belief or the concept that covers them. The very simple reason for that is traditions are dependent on a human agent carrying them out. The Mayan traditions ceased, but the Mayan religion can still be found in their books and architectural edifices. Traditions are weak, because they need actions or they need to be imparted through instruction pleonasms. However, traditions, as long as they exist, courtesy of being ubiquitous, reign supreme over everything else, and thrive. So one day when the world blows up, we'd realize we were following the wrong traditions. But till then, as long as the tradition is being practiced, it continues to live.

One very quirky thing is that from the perspective of the outsiders, traditions are often questioned. However, just like questions on the outer phenomenon, questions on traditions too are dodged. The nemesis of tradition can only come once and there can be no resurrection because traditions, once they cease to exist, either because the humans who kept them alive were wiped off, or because they became a minority largely by the virtue of those traditions, are completely gone. Traditions can never be brought back because once the commoners do realize how vile and full of turpitude they were, they're more than willing to disparage and abjure them. The outer cover, say religion for instance, on the other hand remains strong enough to be passed on despite the foibles, because it has been questioned or tested before as well, and it doesn't need mere humans to keep it alive. 

The above makes traditions both preposterous and jeopardizing. We do know that some tradition is wrong but so deeply ingrained within us are the seeds of fortitude to keep them alive, that we are willing to sacrifice any questioning or beseeching of morality on the altar of conscience, just to keep the tradition alive, because we were simply told to! Consider this. A woman from a sect or a community, who has seen since her childhood members getting married within the community as a tradition. Now even if she grows up to fall in love with someone from outside her community, and even if she has seen many members of her community in the past not deriving any happiness from their marriages because they followed this tradition, she will still go on and do that, because she has been programmed to keep the tradition alive!

Tradition is like a ticking time bomb. It may be woefully wrong since the beginning, but it is considered both mordant and even contumacious to question the same. It, by the very virtue of it prevailing, is given a holier than thou status, and being put at a pedestal beyond all approach of being inundated with questions. Amid the large menagerie that our societies have become, traditions continue to keep us in the dark, and to give us that panacea, which is just a placebo otherwise. Traditions give us this belief that we are larger than just our corporeal composition, and just to cajole ourselves in acceding to that, we let traditions dictate everything, right till them time they destroy us, and destroy themselves in the process. Such is the tyranny of tradition.  

Monday, 5 June 2017

The benign addiction in being a loser.

The concept of losing not only holds very negative connotations, but is even disparaged at times for what it brings along with it. In the present times, the honor and dignity of a loss, have not only been denigrated, but losing as a whole is no longer even considered an acceptable outcome. People will tell you to a battle, and would just expect you to win. You must be wondering what gibberish I am talking, and many would have even considered the possibility of leaving the post. And you should! But what I have to say today, has to be said. 

Losing is not about the state you witness when you're not winning. There's no black and white to life. You'll see your feed flooding with quotes that inveigle people about getting over their losses, about only winners being the worthy occupants of this earth. The way winners self-aggrandize, is now being portrayed as the only acceptable way left to live. Like if you took part in a battle and lost, there's no chance in hell you can look up again till you've scored a victory. But ladies and gentlemen, this is not how it always has been. 

The way times are changing, and the way winners are assuming the rostrum by asserting their natural right to it, losers can just mark the sidelines. Winning is concomitant to the grandiloquence coming from the former masters of the game, while losing is attached to the caricature of a whimpering ruffian who never got his shit right. Everything we ever hear or see only accentuates this. Even Darwin's theory of natural selection corroborates the same. And why not? Everyone who has ever lost has retired to a grotto of sordidness and soliloquy, while every winner has gone on to hit the home run. But no one ever bothered to look back a loser, and see how he feels about the defeat. 

Yes, most losers wouldn't even admit to the loss and would spew cliches about getting it right in the next go. But what about the losers who played knowing this was their last shot? Has anyone ever gathered enough courage to go back to them and see what they have to say about their loss. And what about the celebrated loser who is on his way to being knocked out with no scope of him ever competing again? Wouldn't he be too lugubrious, and too entrenched in his eternal consternation? Or wait, why should I bother about him. He is a reprobate who shall never even listen. In our minds, we are either too apathetic about him or her, or too apprehensive. But truth be told, that person is not as mawkish as he looks right there! 



Oh yes, that person is no longer in the state where he or she could consciously recall what went right or wrong. That person is ostensibly too inebriated in the benign addiction of being a loser. This sounds crazy, but yes this addiction does exist. Why am I referring to this or addiction or why I'm terming it benign is immaterial. Let's just look at what this addiction is about, instead. 

You know, there are a few people who lose because they weren't prepared and so they knew they'll have to pull themselves up and fight again. But then there is a coterie which comprises of fighters who just do their job - to train! They just keep doing their chores and what they expect of themselves to do. In fact, they're too busy doing what they always do, that they don't even have any time for any contemplation or benchmarking. They're so engrossed in their duties, that they don't know when they were transported from the training ground to the performing arena, and when they were knocked out for that matter. Truth be told, the addiction is not of losing, but of doing what they really find to be the only purpose worth striving for. 

People have many ambitions and many dreams they truly cherish. But this breed is monomaniacal. They're so much into their trade, that despite them knowing about their deficiencies and shortcomings, they'll somehow wheedle themselves to the playground again, even if they're mocked and lambasted after every loss meted out to them. What looks to the outsider as a rebarbative lunatic, is actually a frantic who is just too much into something. These people are too impudent towards the outcome. They're not worried at all about what repercussions it shall have on them. They're just in it for the sake of being in it. After all, what's life without a purpose. And while their defeats can take their shots away from them, their purpose still prevails. The purpose of staying addicted to doing what they're doing, even if it means being addicted to losing! 

If you're still with me, let's bring some examples into the perspective. Nikola Tesla. Throughout his life, he was harangued and scoffed at for being the 2nd best to Edison. Even his death was a deplorable one with a carping man dying in seclusion in his hotel room which he had come to perpetually occupy. Or Alan Turing for that matter. He was arraigned of going against the laws that dictate terms on what is considered a natural and acceptable sexual union, and yet he willingly submitted himself to the cause of helping people out, even when they made his life a living hell. 

I saved the best one for the last. Now this one might be platitudinous, but it's more germane to be honest. The classic case of the unrequited love! A person becomes so besotted and enamored by someone else, that he not only loses sense of what's real, but even inveterately denies all possibilities of his beloved being already taken. He is in love, and he believes it his is solemn job to keep the love alive. Any considerations on how he is supposed to achieve course correction if the beloved is seen with someone else, is beyond the scope of what he finds deft. In fact he becomes this adiaphorous man with no regard to how the society or his supposed beloved treats him anymore. To the world, he is a loser who couldn't get over him being played out, while to himself, his job is to remain addicted to the benign addiction of love, which to him means more than paltry coquetry. 

There is no merit in the fact that such a recluse has an acceptable way of leading his life. However, there are cases when an addiction is beyond reparation. That's true for malicious addictions like that of liquor and meth, of course. But this benign addiction of getting defeated is the most extirpating of them all. Not only is the person being expunged from inside, but he is addicted to to it, and in a rather trenchant way is even oblivious to it. Truth be told, any addiction when it has crossed the threshold, has already claimed much already, which this person may not approve of, but which is never going to come back nonetheless. The most important thing being how he used to be. Yes, the loss of identity is the biggest of them all, and beyond that, there's not much left to lose. So hence ladies and gentlemen, this was the story of a man suffering from this benign addiction of being a loser. The addiction no one would talk about, but an addiction that exists.

Sunday, 23 April 2017

The battles I've lost.

There's a lot that changes everyday in our lives. The OOH ads near your building are taken down, the headlines of the newspaper change, the one odd pal in your neighborhood leaves and so on. We witness all these changes as a passive observer. We even take a note in our subconscious mind, but they're all so jejune. But hidden in these vacuous changes is a truth, which often escapes our attention. In fact while this truth is furtively hidden in every chapter we're taught, this dictum seldom receives the attention it deserves. The only truth that shall ever prevail is change! 

A lot has changed in my life, and for some reason it is only today after so many years, that I feel like taking a note of it. Why? Well recently something pretty big happened. Not big to the naked eye, but gargantuan given the impact it shall have on my life. For 3 years, something had become an innate part of my life. It had suddenly assumed such a pivotal position that I could always aim for it everyday. All of a sudden, my lackadaisical demeanor had left and there was a new me all over. 

For some context, I have been a very wayward and apathetic guy throughout my life. I was the typical iconoclast no one could really relate to. To be very honest, even I didn't see myself amounting to much. Like a vapid litany from the church, I was just a stream of actions after actions, all falling haplessly apart in the longer scheme. There was no routine, no structure and no purpose. And then suddenly something changed. 

In this post I'll not mention what that thing was. However, I'll enunciate what it really meant to me. The thing, or the event I shall call it from hereon, made me realize that there is a method to the madness. Haven't you heard the platitude - God has a plan. Being an agnostic, I never really discredited god, but I didn't have much in my quiver to corroborate for his presence either. So yeah, this kaleidoscope of light was quite a phenomenon. Not something I had the privilege to experience before. 

In the blink of an eye, my actions became more organized and life became very euphonious. My apathy from the past, which was often quite an odyssey to reason with, had now given way to consideration. I suddenly became a much better human being. From a drab, reticent and garrulous person, I had suddenly become the debonair. I was seeing sense in living out, rather than considering it as a mere formality. The event was numinous and the effect palliative. It seemed like after 24 years of a dismal and laconic existence had finally given way to surfeit of human emotion. Little did I know then. 

There have been many battles that I've fought in my life, not because I wanted to but because I had to. From being an infant born with a right clubbed foot, giving pangs of tribulation to my parents right from the word go, to the profusely sweating boy who was always sick, to the confused schoolboy who just went blindly with his career choices just because the society deemed so, to the professional who was again a rather apocryphal placeholder. I never chose any of those battles and even defeats could only annihilate a small chunk of me. But this event, not only gave me a lot of solace, it also gave me a battle I chose to fight. The battle to ensure this event was not evanescent, but permanent. 

I've been fighting for three years now. I've learned a lot during this course. For the first time, just a single event had made such a profound change in everything. This entire event and the entity linked with it, came across as being so sibylline, that I decided to reify their status by making them a mission. So this was my first conscious battle. I knew the odds were stacked against me like they did in many battles in the past as well, but boy did I have to fight this one. 

Like a bewailing hermit who didn't know the trade, I have cringed and cowered against myself to stop. I kept telling myself this was not the battle for me. However, the unperturbed stoic in me told me to keep going and so I did. On the way I had many hurdles, some which I could nip over, and some which extirpated a part of me at many levels. I didn't realize that not only was I fighting a tough battle, but the fact that the battle was expunging my identity from within!

I did not have much in the form of an identity either. All I had was a random set of events which helped me get to whatever maudlin position I was. However, that excuse in the name of identity was all that I had. It was all that I could garner throughout my life. So during the course of this ravaging battle, I slowly and steadily eschewed all of it. What came of me was a socially acceptable man, but what ensued behind was a larceny of all that I ever was. 

Of late, as expected, I've lost the battle. What's more vitriolic than the loss is the fact that I was just destined to. You're raised on this planet with maxims of hard work. You are told that if you stick to your morals, you'll get everything you ever need. And I duly vested my faith when I fought this battle. The defeat was excruciating, but the toughest part was knowing that even a win would have been Pyrrhic. For a shred of momentary glimmer, I chose to traduce my own history. Whatever modicum of a man I was, there was a certain set of experiences that defined me. Today, as a loser when I try contemplating them, I can't even relate to them anymore. 

A period of 3 years ha just passed by, withering away in the tempest of change almost every hope I had from this first battle I chose. I've walked out conquered, but I've also bore the brunt of my own alter ego from 3 years ago, having a guttural laugh at stepping into a battle I was bound to lose. We all have to fight in our lives. For our people, our opportunities our standing, but there is a fight everyone is in. We as human beings don't have much control over the purview of how battles progress, but we do have dominion over the battles we choose. I chose my first battle and I've lost. And now all of a sudden, there are no more battles left ahead of me. This, my patient reader, was my miserere for all the battles I've lost!

Friday, 27 January 2017

The tale of tranquility.

Of late, my blogging skills seem to have gone for a vacation. There isn't much happening in life on the exploration front. Not many new experiences galore and neither has the candor of anyone struck that chord with me. There often comes a phase in your life when you furtively befriend clamor, for it becomes the only constant. The din at the workplace to the chattering of the transport you take to work. The more the world runs amok, the more you embrace its futility, and the more you give in to the chaos. You live with it, thinking that your involvement in the universal entropy, gives you a place in the order! While order, ironically, doesn't even exist. 

This longing for your own place in this fast paced world, endows certain lifelines to you. These lifelines are boons because without them, you'll find your hallucinations about the aptness of your current world vivisected. In the noise, you avoid the noose of penance. Penance for having overlooked the vagaries of a life that was not worth living, but that you merely convinced yourself to endure, at the expense of fitting into the paltry order. And once you've avoided any considerations about the moral ineptness of acquiescing to that life, you're off the hooks. However, if you fail to do that, you give in to a force so ravaging and so grotesque, that you simply can't escape it. Tranquility! 


The perilous move to surrender to this force can often result in rather dastardly consequences. The juggernaut of human progress, concomitant with the promise of prosperity, hides a lot more than it reveals, In the mist of universal cacophony, tranquility loses its place, only to be found by those who have "lost their way". And losing your way is always a pernicious misdeed in the now nearly perfect facade we call the modern world. 

Human beings as they are today, are not a product of natural evolution. When homo sapiens went on to beat various other species of the same genus, it was nature calling the shots. But then, we took over the reins and produced an evolution of our own. It was the evolution of collective psyche. From individuals, we formed clans, then tribes, then villages, then towns and then cities. And just like that, the collective psyche spurned its magic. The purpose for congregation was different. From water to river basins to religion to opportunity, but something always acted as the magnet. And as folks got attracted towards the rather innocuous common objective, the lying purpose often became nefarious, and we couldn't catch a blink.

When we came together for opportunity, our actions bred inequality. When we came together for religion, our motif turned into a massacre. And likewise, when we came for water, we invented bondage basis the first come first serve principle. Our purpose always got desecrated, but the root remained true and sactimonious. And thus, emerged from the ashes of the purity of our original purpose, the myth of order. What lies beyond this myth, bemoaning and wailing while dying a slow death, is tranquility.

Tranquility is not merely the absence of din. It's what we've made it look life because of the noise that our lives now largely comprise of. Tranquility, in fact, is a state in its own right. It's the state when we get to see beyond the diaphanous curtain of morality. It is the curtain that ensues in our daily hypocrisy; the art of keeping two faces which nature certainly did not endow upon us. But tranquility, true to the peril that it presents, is too strong to make us realize its presence. 

Tranquility is not akin to silence amid the shores, but the foreboding of the upcoming tempest. Like the sonorous metal utensil that lies on the shelve, untouched for days, biting dust, and suddenly on a single jerk, falls on the ground and shakes the last neuron in the brain. Likewise tranquility is a barrage so powerful and yet so surreptitious. that it's only when you witness it, that you feel the impact. 

The moment you strike that curtain, you see your misconceptions char to ruins and the hard hitting reality annihilating the irascible liar in you. Deep beneath the usual go-to man, lies a suppressed giant, one who sees his horrid face only on the surface of the stream called tranquility. The absence of chaos with the compulsion of vices absconding, you surrender to revelations, more vitriolic and more condescending than the pressure to act against your will ever was!

Yes, that's true. You always knew you ere going wrong. A child's questions are never wrong for they come out of natural instinct. What you don't find right in the world is not right because you're a manifestation of unbridled nature. However, your questions either result in the elders' futile circumlocution or in you getting reprimanded, and the questions are turned into hardwired answers. But throughout your lives, you do ask some questions once in a while, only to no avail, as you fear falling out of the universal chain. The chain of following a trend, or the literal chain of holding hands together at a procession. But it will always be a chain and you are always the next victim, made to act against your will. 

Now you've given into tranquility and you see the fortress of the enigma you called your life, crumbling into pits and pieces. In the splinters of the glasses from your kingdom of vignettes and achievements, you find pieces that reflect the hideous blurred and inverted image of that 'you' who did something to earn what that shred was worth. Bit by bit, you toil hard to put the entire image together and try seeing it all at once. But the sight is too grisly, and the contempt for self too labile. So you keep looking, as tranquility enshrouds the stubborn giant, which as it now turns was only the semblance. 

Tranquility, I reiterate, is not the absence of chaos, but a rambunctious state of mental thought. It's a figurine of your true self, beneath which lies that suppressed motley of questions from when you were a child, and over which is plastered the palliative visage you present to the rest of the world. Tranquility is so eerie and so obscure, that while all your life you craved for something or the other. Be it that girl, that car or that promotion. But tranquility, makes you renounce, and not just eschew those earnings and those possessions, but your very own self. 

Tranquility is much more than just silence. It's a stream of your virtues, winnowed away in the whirlpool of universal redemption. It is a silent reviling of the code of conduct , which you reluctantly, but eventually vowed to. And it is indeed the moratorium of the application of the same. In that sense, tranquility is a like a computer hanging for a while. All inputs resulted in a particular output and suddenly, either excessively prolonged operation or some undefined input results in erratic behavior. Likewise, despite the attempts of mankind to make our species a factory for producing more and more individuals programmed to act in a set manner, our program too goes awry, and we don't hang, but we recede to tranquility. 

Moreover, just like a computer program, at times one may return from there, but more often than not, the fault was too grand not to have a long term impact. Tranquility casts a spell on you, where for the first time, not only do you confront the truth about the myth of the order which you made the holier than thou tenet of your life, but it also absolves you of the guilt to question the same. Tranquility is the catalyst that provokes you like a seductress to give into her charms. It lures the stubborn you and leaps you within in the whirl of emotional concoction. 

It is in the mist that surrounds the silent shore, that the strength of the tides beneath the surreal moon becomes most prominent. Tranquility is an agent too powerful to shatter all myths, and yet too irrelevant to even exist. It is the force that exists within, but one that fights through the whims of gunfire, which it prevails through, and then suddenly presents during the ceasefire. It is the actions men take during the ceasefire that decide what happens next. Whether we all die by opening fire again, silently longing to kill each other only to attain a permanent silence, or we realize that the silence we just got is all that was ever needed. This, was the tale of tranquility. The might of the warrior of the masses, subdued by the meekness of mankind!