The Wise Man Who Saved The City
He's not "a" wise man, but The Wise Man, the man who saved the city in the day of trouble.
Imagine: three thousand years ago.
The city is no bigger than a few present-day street blocks.
Walled in.
Big walls, compared to the stucco and stone flat-roofed houses, of the type you can still find in some old towns, like Bhaktapur.
Vulnerable.
One house is a bit bigger, that of the King.
It's called a "Palace" and it contains much-treasured gold, silver, gems - and a royal family which sways influence over the surrounding countryside.
The Enemy: another similar king and his walled-in city.
Like two snarling bears, they oppose each other.
The one desires the other's influence, lands, gold, silver, women.
Some time ago, they had a pact.
They signed a covenant with blood, signifying that, if one should break it, the other had the right to shed blood.
Much like present day democracy.
While you ponder this one, let's consider our ancient city-state once more: The discipline of being peace-loving had become too much for one of the kings.
He heard - whether true or not - that some of that gold in Other King's palace was actually his grandfather's.
So the snarling started.
He sent over a few troops to wander into enemy land.
Conspicuously so.
They got captured and interrogated.
That was his very plan, yet he got furiously indignant when he heard about it.
An exchange of poisonous messages - for lack of e-mail facilities, sent by couriers who were all to lose their lives - fouled the young earth air.
And so the City was Beleaguered.
It was a wrong move, realized too late.
The enemy wielded troops like a swarm of locusts.
Foolish old king.
Jealous old Troublemaker.
Hugely unpopular with most of his subjects, especially with a few Tame Dogs who were looking for an opportunity to bite the hand that claimed to feed them.
The stuff of Conventional War and Civil War combined.
Few would survive.
The Wise Man Who Saved the City: Close to the wall there lived a man who could have been the next king, but for the Old King, the Tame Dogs and the Dissatisfied Populace.
His image of God differed from that of the hungry Priests who advised the king, or the greedy ones who incited the dogs, or the enemy king who carried his carefully crafted wooden idol to the battlefield.
He found himself to be non-aligned, having heard a Voice when he was still a boy.
Then, in his younger days, he made some terrible mistakes.
Humbled but forgiven, doubtful, but worshipping, he now occupied higher ground, looked further without realizing that he was standing on a mountain.
He could talk to the enemy.
He could talk to the king.
He could talk to the opposition.
He could talk to a God who was neither idol nor local.
He could talk to himself and put his own life at peril.
What exactly he did to save the city, is unknown.
His wisdom got drowned out in the pomp, politics and economic upturn that followed.
Not to mention the history class teaching about the Line of Famous Kings, the role of the priests and the imported peacock's call on the palace terrace.
The Chronicler didn't put down what the Wise Man did.
The wise man was Forgotten.
One king ruled for another six months, after he had himself glorified and deified for saving the city.
The opposing king did likewise, for having taunted the enemy into temerity.
Each in his own city, they sat like robed statues.
Revolutions followed, other kings, ever more worthy, ascended their thrones, in an evolutionary succession that would one day provide the world with Democracy, a Perfect world order, an ultimately Civil society, Back-ups which prevent information decay, and more advanced ways of Forgetting wise men.
Also then, this came to nothing, like chasing the wind.
Imagine: three thousand years ago.
The city is no bigger than a few present-day street blocks.
Walled in.
Big walls, compared to the stucco and stone flat-roofed houses, of the type you can still find in some old towns, like Bhaktapur.
Vulnerable.
One house is a bit bigger, that of the King.
It's called a "Palace" and it contains much-treasured gold, silver, gems - and a royal family which sways influence over the surrounding countryside.
The Enemy: another similar king and his walled-in city.
Like two snarling bears, they oppose each other.
The one desires the other's influence, lands, gold, silver, women.
Some time ago, they had a pact.
They signed a covenant with blood, signifying that, if one should break it, the other had the right to shed blood.
Much like present day democracy.
While you ponder this one, let's consider our ancient city-state once more: The discipline of being peace-loving had become too much for one of the kings.
He heard - whether true or not - that some of that gold in Other King's palace was actually his grandfather's.
So the snarling started.
He sent over a few troops to wander into enemy land.
Conspicuously so.
They got captured and interrogated.
That was his very plan, yet he got furiously indignant when he heard about it.
An exchange of poisonous messages - for lack of e-mail facilities, sent by couriers who were all to lose their lives - fouled the young earth air.
And so the City was Beleaguered.
It was a wrong move, realized too late.
The enemy wielded troops like a swarm of locusts.
Foolish old king.
Jealous old Troublemaker.
Hugely unpopular with most of his subjects, especially with a few Tame Dogs who were looking for an opportunity to bite the hand that claimed to feed them.
The stuff of Conventional War and Civil War combined.
Few would survive.
The Wise Man Who Saved the City: Close to the wall there lived a man who could have been the next king, but for the Old King, the Tame Dogs and the Dissatisfied Populace.
His image of God differed from that of the hungry Priests who advised the king, or the greedy ones who incited the dogs, or the enemy king who carried his carefully crafted wooden idol to the battlefield.
He found himself to be non-aligned, having heard a Voice when he was still a boy.
Then, in his younger days, he made some terrible mistakes.
Humbled but forgiven, doubtful, but worshipping, he now occupied higher ground, looked further without realizing that he was standing on a mountain.
He could talk to the enemy.
He could talk to the king.
He could talk to the opposition.
He could talk to a God who was neither idol nor local.
He could talk to himself and put his own life at peril.
What exactly he did to save the city, is unknown.
His wisdom got drowned out in the pomp, politics and economic upturn that followed.
Not to mention the history class teaching about the Line of Famous Kings, the role of the priests and the imported peacock's call on the palace terrace.
The Chronicler didn't put down what the Wise Man did.
The wise man was Forgotten.
One king ruled for another six months, after he had himself glorified and deified for saving the city.
The opposing king did likewise, for having taunted the enemy into temerity.
Each in his own city, they sat like robed statues.
Revolutions followed, other kings, ever more worthy, ascended their thrones, in an evolutionary succession that would one day provide the world with Democracy, a Perfect world order, an ultimately Civil society, Back-ups which prevent information decay, and more advanced ways of Forgetting wise men.
Also then, this came to nothing, like chasing the wind.
