Life, or something close to it.

"It seems a shame," the Walrus said,
"To play them such a trick,
After we've brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!"
The Carpenter said nothing but
"The butter's spread too thick!"

"I weep for you," the Walrus said:
"I deeply sympathize."
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.

"O Oysters," said the Carpenter,
"You've had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?'
But answer came there none--
And this was scarcely odd, because
They'd eaten every one.
- An excerpt from The Walrus and The Carpenter by Lewis Caroll


When times are harsh and the days are bad, it doesn't take much time for them to get worse. This seems to be the inevitable protocol of bad luck, bad times lead, without fail, to worse times. There is no reprieve, no concession but a constant order of inescapable misery that keep piling up till even a hazy ray of light seems to be as bright as the sun, and we confuse a sliver of hope to be the answer to our prayers, God has finally remembered us. We offer our thanks, we offer our praise. We never wonder why he always lets us go through all that suffering for so long. Can we dare ask what was he waiting for? No, by then our strength to question has been replaced by a willingness to feel grateful to anyone or anything that’ll throw the dog a bone. An angel of god, he'll be to us and we'll be his debtors, his slaves. And god will feel good about himself on having helped an insignificant little man, and we’ll be thankful to our true savior for rescuing us. But what of all the agony we endured, what of the eternity of unanswered prayers, of unjust punishment. ‘Them? Well they’re all in the past. What you need to do is look ahead.” We’ll agree. We’ll keep quiet. We’ll follow.

The fisherman knew about this. Knew about it through experience. Years and years of unwanted experience. Seven years ago, he didn’t catch a single fish for 23 days. He stopped praying on the 24th day. He didn’t catch a fish for another 12 days. When he finally had a decent outing on the 37th day, he wasn't grateful to anyone, he didn’t thank anyone. He ate. Weeks of living off borrowed money, saving every penny, eating only when absolutely necessary had left him hungry. So he ate. If there was someone he should to thank when things are going right, he had every right to blame this entity when things aren’t going well. Since, he had decided not to blame anyone for all the misery he had to go through, he would not thank anyone for his happiness. If he had to go through all his pain alone, he would enjoy every bit of his pleasure alone. He would definitely not share his fish.

Days had just turned worse again. He still liked to say days were just bad, not because he was an optimist but because he knew there was whole level of worse still encroaching. Years and years of unwanted experience. The glass is never half full. It had been two weeks since he had caught anything significant. Today, all that might change. Though he didn’t pray for good luck or divine blessing, he still hoped.

He was out in the sea before the break of dawn. His small boat gently swaying with the waves. He rowed to a calmer area, with his rope already cast, he waited. The hours passed by. The sun was vengeful, with all its fury concentrated on the small boat out in the sea. He took a gulp of water, careful not to drink too much. Time kept moving on. 'This used to be a good spot', he thought, 'have I grown too old? Can’t I tell where I can catch a fish and where I can’t? Is this what it has come to? How can I call myself a fisherman anymore?' The water was almost over. This was the ultimate joke, he thought. There was water as far as he could see, but it was as if he were stranded in a desert. There were so many things he could’ve done in life, but…. It was about time he headed back. 'Two weeks and a day', he thought. Then he felt a tug, but it wasn’t just a tug, it was a pull and a strong pull at that. And in that moment he felt true happiness, there was no past, no future, no God, no Devil, no Right, no Wrong. For that moment, life was now, there was no other time no other place. The world shrunk to him, his boat and the fish. He pulled, the fished pulled back, he pulled harder. One pull at a time, slowly he won the battle. He was a man, adept at his job, the fish was just a fish.

It was a big fish, would get him a good price at the market. Should he wait? There may be another one to be caught. But it was getting dark, and with no water things might turn ugly. He will have to head back he decided and hope tomorrow is just as good as today, or maybe even better. He smiled, let’s not get carried away.

'Please let me go.' he heard. There was nobody around, except him and the fish. Was that the wind? It sounded very clear to be the wind. Was he going insane? Slowly the fish opened its mouth again, 'Please, let me go' it said. 'I have a family.' the fisherman kept quiet, it wasn’t the wind. The fish pleaded again. 'I won’t' he said, not I can't, but I won’t. Because he could, all he had to do was, catch it and throw it back, but he wouldn’t. 'I will not, throw away what I’ve caught. Regardless of whether you are actually talking or just a hallucination. You have a family you say, so did every other fish I’ve caught, if I let you go and feel good that I sacrificed my stomach for a life I will have to endure the guilt of the hundreds of lives I didn’t save. And I feel no guilt, you are like every one of them, by which I do not condemn you but praise them. And I will do what I want to, not because it’s an obligation but because it’s a choice. Even now, when my life seems desperate, I still have a choice. I have survived two weeks on failed expeditions another day will not make a difference. But I choose not to. I choose to, to put it honestly, kill you so I can survive in my terms. I will not patronize you and tell you how sorry I am, because I am not. I feel no guilt or sorrow in having to do what I do. Because what I do is not wrong. You might think it is, you might I am a monster but that is irrelevant. I know what I am and what I do. If I feel sorry for taking your life, I will in essence condemn my entire existence. What I do is not wrong and I am not sorry. I am a fisherman, this is what I do. You're having a bad day. And when days are going bad, it doesn't long for it to turn worse. I know through experience.'
“But I have done you no wrong. Is your need for a few pennies of more value than my existence? Isn’t my life worth more than you being able to afford a good meal.” the fish pleaded.

“No, you have done me no wrong. But this is not your punishment. I do not intend to kill you because you deserve it for your sins. I am not here to issue judgment, no I am here to fish. Me killing you is not about you, it’s about me. This is what I do. Your life is not more valuable than a good meal, not to me, not to all those who will bargain with all their might to get a piece of you. You may disagree, but we have our own perspectives. What you think is the greatest blasphemy, it is for me a daily routine.”

“Have you no mercy?”

“No. Not when I am asked to think that my life’s work is a business entangled in cruel murder, not when I am asked to show mercy that will make me question the work I do. I am a ruthless murderer to you, I am a mere fisherman to the world.”

“You are a heartless man. I pray to god you die in the worst circumstances.”

“I am an honest man. I spoke the truth. I do not wish to mock you with gentle words. You deserve the truth. I hope your prayers are answered.”

The fisherman ate a hearty meal that night. He died three weeks later. For once god was quick to listen.