If the Night Rider in a shining armour takes over a country inhabited by disillusioned people, chances are that nobody would be able to challenge his rule
RIDING a wild stallion, the Night Rider arrived in a godforsaken country in the dead of night. The earth shook under the hooves of the legions of the Night Rider. The disillusioned people woke up, trembled, and gathered together their frightened children in the dilapidated houses. They peeped through the shattered windows, and watched the arrival of the Night Rider. He was clad in a glittering armour. A huge headgear masked his face. Bewildered children stayed close to their parents and looked at the Night Rider’s triumphant entry.
Sizable torchbearers paved the way for the Night Rider through darkness. As he came marching along, the horses neighed. The cats mewed from a butcher’s abandoned shop. At an appropriate juncture, the Night Rider pulled the reins of his wild stallion, raised his hand and halted. He drew his heavy sword from the sheath, kissed it, and then heaved it towards the heavens and said, “In the best interest of the miserable people, I take over the godforsaken country.”
The inquisitive teenagers, though shaken, talked to their parents and asked, “What brings him here at night?”
“The Night Riders always appear at night,” The elders among the disillusioned people spoke in whispers and said, “He follows in the footprints of his predecessors.”
The frightened children said, “Then, he is not the first Night Rider to have taken over our country!”
“Right,” The elders replied, “We have experienced the arrival of his predecessors before you were born.”
“Did they leave on their own or you drove them out?” The children asked.
“They did not leave on their own,” An old man sighed and replied, “The Creator of smaller creatures arranged their departure.”
“Meanwhile, what did you do?” The children asked.
“We had no option, but ...”
“But, what?”
“To welcome them.”
The boys thought for a while, and asked, “What do you intend to do this time?”
The elders replied, “We intend to welcome him, but on one condition.”
“What kind of a condition?” The boys asked.
“He will have to take off his armour,” The elders replied. Surprised, the boys queried, “Why don’t you tell him to leave?” “He is invincible,” A wrinkled old man said, “No one can drive him away.”
The younger people looked searchingly at their fathers, grandfathers, and great grandfathers, and baffled them with a question. They asked, “What, if the Night Rider refused to take off his armour?”
The bewildered elderly people looked at each other in disbelief. One of them rose to his feet. Facing the younger people of the years to come, he said, “We will chalk out a suitable strategy then.”
Like his predecessors the Night Rider soon cultivated a harvest of his supporters. He began talking to the people from the Mound of the Meek, which later on became protected archaeological site in the World Heritage. In each speech, he justified his taking over the godforsaken country, for the inhabitants were utterly incompetent in good governance.
“For good governance you need someone like me,” He would say. “Thus, my arrival was inevitable.”
People who applauded him were considered to be his supporters, and well-wishers, and they found favours with him. People who did not applaud him were branded as dissenters. With the passage of time, the number of people who applauded him increased substantively and the number of people who did not applaud him decreased considerably. He rewarded his followers fabulously. Their chests expanded and they stood taller than the insignificant radicals in the country.
It was during Night Rider’s overtures for consolidation that his informers came up with startling revelation. They told him that overwhelming majority of his supporters consisted of self-seekers, and turncoats whose only purpose was to grab as much wealth and as much property as possible.
Not content with the praises showered on him by his devotees, the Night Rider was bothered by the persistent grumbling of the people who called him an intruder and a usurper of their country. One day he entered into a dialogue with his adversaries and asked, “What prevents you from acknowledging me as your supreme ruler?”
The spokesman of the adversaries replied, “We do not want a ruler clad in armour.”
The Night Rider said, “It is in the best interest of the country that I remain in armour.”
The adversaries unanimously said, “We do not agree.” “Your country is besieged by hungry hyenas and savage wolves.” The Night Rider said, “If I take off my armour, they will devour you.”
“It is hard to digest,” the spokesman said. “Would you like me to improve your digestive system?” An annoyed Night Rider said, “I have an effective chooran (herbal digestive powder) for you.” “No, thank you,” the spokesman pulled a strategy from his pocket and said, “We accept you as our supreme ruler.”
