War makes savage beasts of us all. It is this savagery and bestial spectacle that is exalted and even revered by our own successor on this earth. It makes us heroes in the eyes of everyone in the times to follow. War, is where we cheat on our education and indeed, our evolution. Every war is remembered through history as an instance of man embracing his base desire to spill the blood of his fellow man to serve as an outlet to his aggression. The sight of it seeping out from wounds and gashes makes for a terrific celebration and reduces us to our most vile juveniles. This war was unnecessary, he thought. I’m better than this, he thought.
And yet, we succumb to that which is easier. It is easier to believe that this is all for a greater good, a nobler cause. Each man notwithstanding the flag he stands by, believes in that greater good. Is there a greater good than sparing your fellow man his right to continue living? Is that not why we learn and live together? What good is the greater good if there’s no one to have it with? Am I any better than a wild boar in the forest incensed with a desire to kill for food? Was I born to kill another of my kind for the illusion of this greater good? Was he born to die for his illusion? He thought, as the war waged on all around him for miles and miles as far as he could see.
This perverse ritualistic savagery must end before it consumes me and everyone I know. I will not have it this way. All pride shall be lost but what pride is there to feel if I murder my kith and rejoice brazenly as if celebrating an accomplishment? Am I worthy of pride then? No man was born to die on a battlefield, dismembered across the earth he was born from by pieces of iron. This ghastly expression of collective rage vindicates nothing. And yet in that moment, his hands wielded the spear like a man possessed, with a dexterity tantamount to art.
The next instant, his forearms bolstered his wrist causing the spear to tear through Shalya’s armor, shatter his ribcage and cut his chest open like palms cupped together to collect water to splash on the face. Yudhishtir retrieved his spear from out of his uncle’s throat who was alive just a second ago, wiped the blood from his forehead and returned to his chariot.