It has been almost a week since the governor’s killing, but the aftereffects keep coming. I, like many others, have travelled across shock, fear, indignation and disgust, but in the end, only sadness remains. There are, of course, many tragedies linked to the whole event, but perhaps the biggest tragedy is that of Quadri’s life. I look at the tranquillity on his face, and on the face of his brother, and all I feel beyond shortlived disbelief, is a gut-wrenching sadness at the cruel mockery of deception. So, this is what it is to be lied to.
There are many things that can be taken from a man, which leave him for the worse. But the greatest robbery is that of a man’s reason, his mind. For Quadri, in true madman fashion, believed in the sanctity of what he was doing; he believed in the truth of it. There was no conscience disturbing his thoughts, no cold feet once he was on the path that lead to glory. No shame descends now upon his supporters : they hail their hero for his righteous deed. Which leads us to the question of whether previous definitions of madness still stand. As far as I know, the ‘mad’ have always been in the minority. But when the opposite starts to be the case, I feel like I’m under siege, slowly suffocating. But mostly, I feel like there is an invisible phantom around somewhere, laughing his head off at the black comedy he has orchestrated.
I believe it is a wonderful thing to have a passion, and to fulfil it even more so. But for that passion to be a lie is a tragedy of epic proportions; it is a death died many times over. It is remorse multiplied by a hundred, and added to ruin.
Yet it is true that we all yearn for certainty, for purpose...Quadri had one. What a pity it was all in his head.