And as the second wave that mercilessly killed thousands in the country, exhausted the logs of wood in crematoriums, had bodies lying in queue, like they’d never done when alive, muzzled oxygen supply so that men and women could not avail the most basic requirement to live; to breathe, floated bloated bodies on sacred rivers, forcing policemen and soldiers to cover them up in the dead of night so that the press would not get wind of telltale stench, made mockery of vaccine supply so that the highest court of the land had to intercede to balance an equality that had disappeared, and as that second wave after being allowed by default to create such disaster now recedes, politicians rise from the wormwood, where they’d lain hidden from the wrath of their people, and proclaim, “We controlled the second wave!”
“He pushed the wave back!”
The exhausted people of the country, those still alive, wearily hear their boisterous proclamations of victory, till one among them, pushes back the pages of history, and says, “Read!”
The pages turn, and fit story confronts the proclaimers: The story of King Canute!
Long, long ago, England was ruled by King Canute. Like many leaders and men of power, Canute was surrounded by people, always praising him. Every time he walked into a room the flattery began.
One day while walking by the seashore, his officers and courtiers with him, praising him as usual, Canute decided to teach them a lesson. “Bring me my chair and put it right at the water’s edge.” He sat down and surveyed the ocean before him. He noticed the tide was coming in, “Waves,” cried Canute, “I command you to come no further!”
He waited a moment, quietly, and a tiny wave rushed up the sand and lapped at his feet. “How dare you!” Canute shouted. “Go back!”
And in answer another wave swept forward and curled around the king’s feet. The tide came in, just as it always did. The water rose higher and higher. It came up around the king’s chair, and wet not only his feet, but also his robe. His officers stood about him, alarmed, and wondering whether he was mad.
“Well, my friends,” Canute said, “it seems I do not have quite so much power as you would have me believe. Perhaps you have learned something today. Perhaps now you will remember there is only God who is all-powerful, and it is he who rules the sea, and holds the waves in the hollow of his hand. I suggest you reserve your praises for him.”
It was a cruel second wave that killed thousands mercilessly in our country, shouldn’t we like Canute, realize it was no politician who rescued us, or do we need a third wave to hammer the truth into us?
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