He sat on the shore after a long day. It was a gesture of good will, a gesture to the people and to his conscience. Sitting on the golden shore he looked into the distance and could see the sun sink into the sea, the huge ball of fire being engulfed by the Mediterranean. How could the ocean consume the sun like that? And how did the sun rise again the next day restored to its former glory! No, not miraculous, not magic but nature. That was the nature of things. One must fall to rise. Winning without obstacles is just victory, he overcame obstacles, and thus he created history.
Le petit caporal. That’s what they called him. Nobility can fight in an army but they will never work. He was nobility, in title and in essence. He was born to rule the seas but never went to the navy. A challenge he saw in anything and everything. At the Siege of Toulon, he rode defying the conventional strategies and led his self devised assault in which he injured himself but emerged victorious. In his own way, he rose to command the French army in Italy after being demoted. He fell to rise again.
He fell many times over only to rise again greater than before. He helped himself to treaties by backing empires into corners. His assessment of outcomes based on numbers and deception by inception was a unique skill he deployed on his enemies. He saw the consequences of his words and actions and acted accordingly. No man has every commanded an army which he treated as his own family. He never lost many men. His tongue spoke where it should and stalled when it should. He conquered the Alps. He was like no other the world had seen in a while, and they were baffled. His wars led to peace. He didn’t rule the people, he served them. On 2nd of December, 1804 he was crowned the Emperor of France.
His rise to power was unprecedented. No one had witnessed a man rise to such heights. His fall, when it came, was too grave. As to be repeated by another great hero in years to come, the Russian weather was his undoing. His fall would have not struck him hard if not for the deaths in his family. His men, his toils of sweat, tears and blood. The heart could not take the fall.
Exiled to the island of Elba, he waited. His fall was great, his rise will be greater. Seas surrounding were swarming with British dogs. But dogs are chained by masters, and the masters were blind bats. He returned in style. Men of Honor are different from the tyrants of Europe. Corsican blood was beget to be spilt for the glory of France. He fought. He slew. He conquered. He won. Talks of false friendships to subdue the Imperial Majesty by the Grace of God between Prussia and Great Britain were held. He laughed at their faces. Despite his failing health, on the 18th of June 1815, he went out to battle at Waterloo. Against all odds he won the battle fair and square, but…..
So much to do, with so little time. So much time, with nothing to do. How nice would it be if we could put time in a storage facility and use it when we want at our leisurely pace. We would then have all the time in the world! The very thought sets us dreaming of dreams and countless scenarios where we may benefit from stored time. But as always, only time will tell.
“I may win some battles in life, I may lose most, but what matters to me is what I do and only what I am responsible for and thus I am Immortal.”
-Shravan “Murdock” Santosh
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