On the ides of March, when the dagger pierced through Caesar's back in a fatal blow, the words that escaped from the mouth of the dying man were so powerful that they betrayed his own body as it fell limp and powerless.
Et tu, Brute? Then fall Caesar!
Is it you my beloved Brutus? Then surely, Caesar will meet his end, without resistance.
Surely, Caesar will find his solace in the (bloodied) arms of his best friend.
Surely, Caesar will give Brutus what Brutus desires.
Beautiful, isn't it? I have forever been in love with the words spoken by a man on the cusp of death, slain by the one he most loved. If it is you on the striking end Brute, Caesar will fall with grace.
To me, those words epitomise friendship. They form the foundation- albeit subconsciously- of most of my relationships. Unflinching, unwavering trust and respect. What else can otherwise prompt a man to say I'm sure there is good reason behind this action, so I'm going to respect it.
But let's just consider this for a moment: what if Caesar hadn't died then? Let's say Caesar survived; betrayed, wounded- but alive. What do you think would happen, now that reality had became clear? Now that Caesar could completely absorb the horrors of his friend's crime, what action would he take? Would Brutus be punished, exiled, tortured...or killed?
NOPE.
The Caesar that I have come to understand was a man of integrity. A man who protected his friendship when dying, would surely not allow it to fray, now that he was alive. Brutus would hence continue to enjoy his status as a Minister, an adviser and a friend- much to the disbelief of his fellow Romans. Caesar's "second life" was to proceed as though no damage had occurred to the former, and Brutus was to proceed as though his soul was free from sin.
Ofcourse in writing the above paragraphs, I have completely discounted "Fitrah" from the equation. What I have written is a Utopian tale, where Caesar and Brutus are seen riding unicorns and painting rainbows. An ending where Caesar is wiser and Brutus is loyal and nobody is hurt.
But Fitrah is not a thing to be easily ignored. It is the final sting in the tale that can veer my story completely off-course.
So what would we see, if we were to add Fitrah into the equation? We'd see honourable Brutus striking once again. It could be a dagger, a sword, poison or maybe just a string of words spat out with venom. Because it is in Brutus' Fitrah to strike, especially now that he knew his friend's foolish virtues. He could do anything, say anything and this emotional fool of a Caesar would take it all! Better yet, he could now do it without batting an eyelid- he was getting better and better at it after all. He could now let Caesar bleed out in front of his eyes, and if Caesar were to express his agony, Brutus could simply say "You're Caesar, you fight battles, you're pro at bleeding out."
One can almost hear him say:
but, as he was ambitious, I slew him.
And in this manner, mighty Caesar would face defeat, yet again, by the man he most loved.
Well...not quite.
We seem to have forgotten one other factor in narrating the above tale: Endurance.
Caesar, a man who had lived through a life that was sometimes worse than a nightmare, was fast getting tired. Brutus' seemed to have lost his sense of moral direction and Caesar's patience and endurance had been stretched to the maximum, ready to snap at the slightest provocation. The provocation came in bucketfuls.
"You're Caesar, you fight battles, you're pro at bleeding out."
AS IF IT WAS A SHOW!
Wounds on the battle-field are inflicted by the enemy and are always easy to fix. Caesar's wounds were far worse, in both cause and effect.
To put it in a modern way, Caesar was "done."
The mighty Caesar who was to lay at the foot of Pompey's statue once again, had decided he wouldn't. Not one more time and definitely not by the same person.
You can imagine what a shock it might have been for poor old Brutus! Caesar had suddenly found a voice! ( but of course, he was pro at addressing large audiences, wasn't he?) Not only had Caesar "found his voice," he seemed to have grown in courage too. Because for the first time in his two lives, he chose HIMSELF.
And that is how, Caesar lives onto this day. His story begins in death and ends with life and teaches me a lesson I needed to learn myself:
Et tu, Brute? Then fall Caesar!
Is it you my beloved Brutus? Then surely, Caesar will meet his end, without resistance.
Surely, Caesar will find his solace in the (bloodied) arms of his best friend.
Surely, Caesar will give Brutus what Brutus desires.
Beautiful, isn't it? I have forever been in love with the words spoken by a man on the cusp of death, slain by the one he most loved. If it is you on the striking end Brute, Caesar will fall with grace.
To me, those words epitomise friendship. They form the foundation- albeit subconsciously- of most of my relationships. Unflinching, unwavering trust and respect. What else can otherwise prompt a man to say I'm sure there is good reason behind this action, so I'm going to respect it.
But let's just consider this for a moment: what if Caesar hadn't died then? Let's say Caesar survived; betrayed, wounded- but alive. What do you think would happen, now that reality had became clear? Now that Caesar could completely absorb the horrors of his friend's crime, what action would he take? Would Brutus be punished, exiled, tortured...or killed?
NOPE.
The Caesar that I have come to understand was a man of integrity. A man who protected his friendship when dying, would surely not allow it to fray, now that he was alive. Brutus would hence continue to enjoy his status as a Minister, an adviser and a friend- much to the disbelief of his fellow Romans. Caesar's "second life" was to proceed as though no damage had occurred to the former, and Brutus was to proceed as though his soul was free from sin.
Ofcourse in writing the above paragraphs, I have completely discounted "Fitrah" from the equation. What I have written is a Utopian tale, where Caesar and Brutus are seen riding unicorns and painting rainbows. An ending where Caesar is wiser and Brutus is loyal and nobody is hurt.
But Fitrah is not a thing to be easily ignored. It is the final sting in the tale that can veer my story completely off-course.
So what would we see, if we were to add Fitrah into the equation? We'd see honourable Brutus striking once again. It could be a dagger, a sword, poison or maybe just a string of words spat out with venom. Because it is in Brutus' Fitrah to strike, especially now that he knew his friend's foolish virtues. He could do anything, say anything and this emotional fool of a Caesar would take it all! Better yet, he could now do it without batting an eyelid- he was getting better and better at it after all. He could now let Caesar bleed out in front of his eyes, and if Caesar were to express his agony, Brutus could simply say "You're Caesar, you fight battles, you're pro at bleeding out."
One can almost hear him say:
As Caesar loved me, I weep for him;
as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it;
as he was valiant, I honour him:
Well...not quite.
We seem to have forgotten one other factor in narrating the above tale: Endurance.
Caesar, a man who had lived through a life that was sometimes worse than a nightmare, was fast getting tired. Brutus' seemed to have lost his sense of moral direction and Caesar's patience and endurance had been stretched to the maximum, ready to snap at the slightest provocation. The provocation came in bucketfuls.
"You're Caesar, you fight battles, you're pro at bleeding out."
AS IF IT WAS A SHOW!
Wounds on the battle-field are inflicted by the enemy and are always easy to fix. Caesar's wounds were far worse, in both cause and effect.
To put it in a modern way, Caesar was "done."
The mighty Caesar who was to lay at the foot of Pompey's statue once again, had decided he wouldn't. Not one more time and definitely not by the same person.
You can imagine what a shock it might have been for poor old Brutus! Caesar had suddenly found a voice! ( but of course, he was pro at addressing large audiences, wasn't he?) Not only had Caesar "found his voice," he seemed to have grown in courage too. Because for the first time in his two lives, he chose HIMSELF.
And that is how, Caesar lives onto this day. His story begins in death and ends with life and teaches me a lesson I needed to learn myself:
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