He stared at the night sky, a faint sigh escaping his lips. The fire cackled near him, and the night felt suddenly cold, as if the sound of the fire had made him realize that it was indeed a cold night. But it was just a physical reaction. His mid was somewhere else, somewhere very far.
The entire cosmos seemed visible in the night sky. Far far away, he could make out the distant constellations. Suddenly he felt tired. And irrelevant. "Why?", he asked himself.
But then he knew the answer to it too.
He looked around him. The place was finally deserted of humans. There were hyenas and vultures and foxes, feeding on the dead. But he wasn't afraid of them. Scavengers feeding on the dead. It was an animal instinct. Nothing else. But the destruction around him, the human loss! Oh, that saddened him.
Power,and greed. How it corrupted the human mind.
Great, powerful men had fought, for power, land and gold. And had left everyone dead, but just a few.
"Had good won?" He thought, and then again where could one draw the line between good and evil?
The war hadn't lasted long, just a few days. But it was the culmination of a long drawn feud. A feud that had been simmering for decades. That had, very often, resulted in skirmishes and conflicts. But an all out destructive war!
But now, it had ended. Whole clans decimated. Alliances destroyed. All that was left were a few survivors, and the horde of dead bodies.
Why had it happened? Where had he, a philosopher admired by both the sides, gone wrong? Why had he failed to stop this?
He looked back at the night sky. Deep inside, he wished that there might lie an answer. But the sky remained the same, and yet constantly changing.
He felt very trivial, sitting there, the ever shifting universe above him. He wondered. Does anything that we do change anything? The universe moves on, and yet, we kill, and battle for those tiny moments of gratification. We feel powerful, control other men, and yet, what are we, but a mere speck in the grand scheme of things?
He wondered what went through the minds of these feuding clans, their leaders. Had they no sense of morality? Didn't their hands tremble before they butchered one another?
"Morality".
A faint light shone in his eyes.
He knew that they were scared of nothing. That no good or evil went through their minds. For them, it was but a natural flow of things. And yet, he had to stop it from happening again. A tragedy of this scale should not occur again. Somehow, he felt that it was his duty to make that happen.
His destiny.
They had to be made aware of a righteous force. That was the only way.
He had to create a creator.
An omnipresent, omnipotent creator who would pervade and instill a sense of righteousness among his people.
Dawn was slowly breaking.
Vyasa sat up, and began writing.
The entire cosmos seemed visible in the night sky. Far far away, he could make out the distant constellations. Suddenly he felt tired. And irrelevant. "Why?", he asked himself.
But then he knew the answer to it too.
He looked around him. The place was finally deserted of humans. There were hyenas and vultures and foxes, feeding on the dead. But he wasn't afraid of them. Scavengers feeding on the dead. It was an animal instinct. Nothing else. But the destruction around him, the human loss! Oh, that saddened him.
Power,and greed. How it corrupted the human mind.
Great, powerful men had fought, for power, land and gold. And had left everyone dead, but just a few.
"Had good won?" He thought, and then again where could one draw the line between good and evil?
The war hadn't lasted long, just a few days. But it was the culmination of a long drawn feud. A feud that had been simmering for decades. That had, very often, resulted in skirmishes and conflicts. But an all out destructive war!
But now, it had ended. Whole clans decimated. Alliances destroyed. All that was left were a few survivors, and the horde of dead bodies.
Why had it happened? Where had he, a philosopher admired by both the sides, gone wrong? Why had he failed to stop this?
He looked back at the night sky. Deep inside, he wished that there might lie an answer. But the sky remained the same, and yet constantly changing.
He felt very trivial, sitting there, the ever shifting universe above him. He wondered. Does anything that we do change anything? The universe moves on, and yet, we kill, and battle for those tiny moments of gratification. We feel powerful, control other men, and yet, what are we, but a mere speck in the grand scheme of things?
He wondered what went through the minds of these feuding clans, their leaders. Had they no sense of morality? Didn't their hands tremble before they butchered one another?
"Morality".
A faint light shone in his eyes.
He knew that they were scared of nothing. That no good or evil went through their minds. For them, it was but a natural flow of things. And yet, he had to stop it from happening again. A tragedy of this scale should not occur again. Somehow, he felt that it was his duty to make that happen.
His destiny.
They had to be made aware of a righteous force. That was the only way.
He had to create a creator.
An omnipresent, omnipotent creator who would pervade and instill a sense of righteousness among his people.
Dawn was slowly breaking.
Vyasa sat up, and began writing.
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