Ladybirds settled uncertainly on bushes, people and the ground, unnerved by the sudden squally weather. It was pathetic seeing them squashed and smeared on the asphalt, dying before living out the short span apportioned to them. They were innocent victims of a silent unappeasable rage worked inextricably into the fabric of nature. It wrenched blossoms off the trees before they had imprinted the image of their fruit on sap-rich branches. It let the instinct within each shuttered bud burrow deeper into oblivion, till the will to live was lost.
There is a hidden madness incorporated into the framework of the universal law which normally moves all in an orderly way. Then, when least expected, it fissures the earth into chasms, uproots trees, sends landslides hurtling down, spews out the guts of the earth and devastates all. A seething mindless flood can surge over and destroy carefully crafted lives on land, while a blistering summer heat scorches the very soul with its anger. One can only wonder at the great negative force which shoves the bus off the road and sends it hurtling down below to end in twisted steel and crushed torn flesh and bones.
The same destructive force is mirrored, like a genetic flaw, upon our psyche; otherwise why should we drink and smoke to riddle ourselves with deadly diseases! Why should we push ourselves to the brink of annihilation by felling trees indiscriminately, polluting water-courses and the atmosphere by over-building? There is an instinct gone awry in us too, which makes us revel in bloodshed, for we’ll readily lose a thousand lives and kill another thousand to hold on to a piece of land! Why should the sublime in us, which makes us pray, love, trust and help, be juxtaposed with the sadistic quirk which thinks nothing of hating, hurting and destroying the most precious things on earth, namely, existence.
Science can explain many things, logic sorts out the rest, but the subtle inexplicable rage in the universe persists. It jostles a meteor out of its peaceful orbit into a crashing course. Just when everything appears to be running smoothly, a disturbing message, an untoward incident, a deception disrupts the tenor of life. There is no reason for it. It just happens! Mortals and nature, it seems, can never divest themselves of the tragic note which may, unexpectedly, churn up the peaceful surface of the lake and drag a pleasure boat and its occupants into the spinning abyss of a whirlpool.
But rage subsides. It flashes summer lightning on to the horizon to remind of detonations that were. A new day dawns over the debris of devastation. We go about picking up the flattened stakes of our existence and fixing them again, while a spent rage languishes and slowly build itself up again to unleash another bout of madness.
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