There are times when we humans create our own Gods. Sometimes for the sake of our humanity, sometimes for our own benefit, but most of the times, just because we believe in a legend. We never know how true it is. But what happens to one who becomes god. Yes he gets enormous power, but have you ever thought what happens to his personal life. What if he never wanted to be a god? What about his freedom? Freedom is scrapped. Options are thin, whatever you may think or choose but you will have to be our god. Worst comes when that legend fails. One whom we have served now becomes our enemy, the one who have betrayed us. But it us, who have betrayed him. Belief and faith are good dictionary words, but in common life valid only when uses for oneself. His belief, his faith in himself. Not in some God or in some legend.
He stood next to his horse gazing at the series of pillars rocketing upwards. It was a very uncommon day in those waste barren lands of central Africa. Sun was hiding under the clouds. There was no sign of wind. Adding to his amusement, no one followed him today. They were simply letting him move away from tribe. There was time when he the God, he was the king but everything changed and now he was a simple common man who has been thrown out.
Those pillars marked the boundary, never in his whole life he made it this far. Half-heartedly he crossed those columns, but his heart was still with his tribe. He was just reviewing where he actually went wrong. Oh Boy! Those memories with Iksitra were beautiful. Those memories brought a little solace to the grieving Dehitro. His thoughts crawled. He can now remember each and every day at his tribe. It all started just few years back when he lived up two legends one after another.
There tribe, Hordes was prone to attacks by Rangers from north. Generations passed but attacks never stooped. Every few years, an attack will pile up few more dead bodies and every resource they have will be looted. Even animals were not spared. Ancestors have told to their descendants which was further passed down to their descendants, that there will be a rider who will rise when there will be no hopes. He will fail but your support will strengthen him. And one day riding alone in those cold nights he will finish the tail of Rangers from North. He will be your God, your King. There was another saying which was fried up by few. Most of those who were devoted followers of teachings from ancestors never believed it. But still there were some who believed that the Rider will have magical powers and will be able to cure any disease.
Three full moons before when there tribe was under attacked. Dehitro rode with seven other riders to join defenses of his tribe. They fought till evening before Riders of North retired to gain strength. They went back to camp just few miles away. Dehitro followed them with his seven members as he prepared for a surprise attack. But Riders from North, BlackWagers were smart enough to sense that they are being followed. They bounced back and killed all seven troops and held Dehitro hostage. Dehitro heard that they were planning to kill him very next day in front of whole tribe, to send them a message, a message of horror, a message of pain. But what destiny had decided for him was far different.
It was tickling, as if he was licked by someone. He knew very next moment that itâ€™s his horse Turas, But how? He opened his eyes to find dead bodies of BlackWagers lying around, not even a single was alive. But how? He knew that there was no battle. If there would have been, he would have known. But then he saw it. There were some marks common to every body lying there. They were poisoned. To be on a safer side, he pulled his sword and stabbed every single Ranger before he started to pile up bodies of his troops to cremate them.
Sun rose from east, a red sun. Diaz knew that a lot of blood has been shed. He was on hunt for seven troops and their squadron leader Dehitro when he saw smoke rising high from west. In those barren lands it was unusual unless you are burning something huge, as sand and wind never allowed fire to flourish. He rode with his men to west. He was greeted by a fearless Dehitro, wearing blood all over his face cremating his friends all alone. What amazed him was the sight of Rangers from north lying dead just few meters away. He was amazed, he now remembered the legend. No one was talking they knew well, that this was the men their ancestors have talked about El Rodrigo, The Ruler, The King. They stepped down from their horses and bowed to honor their god.
It is going to be long day, thought Rodrigo. He tried to talk to Diaz. But Diaz knew well that his tribe will rule every other tribe in region if this legend comes true. So he signaled him to keep his mouth shut and to lead tribe from front.
They have prepared a throne for him from finest tree branches in whole region to honor their god. A feast was prepared and whole tribe was decorated.
Diaz sat to his left and Iksitra was sitting to his right. They were having a good laugh just then it started- The Gumboot, famous dance in their whole region. Few young lads were hooting and cheering sitting just near those dancing ladies, Dehitro so wanted to join them and enjoy the way they were. But he was under strict orders from Diaz to maintain himself like a king. He was their God and should behave like one, thatâ€™s what Diaz told him. At that moment he felt enslaved inspite being a king. Just as ladies finished, tribal people sitting near throne moved away, making way for other tribal people to move in with their children, their wives. He felt pity when he saw them. They were all suffering from various deadly diseases. It was the time for second legend to come true. Nobody believed it though but still those who were suffering had faith that Rodrigo, their god will help them out.
He knew they now trusted him as god. They believe in him, but he also knew he wasnâ€™t the chosen one. He wasnâ€™t the one legends have talked about. He wanted to shout and get relieved of this burden which was far heavier than that of dress and jewels he carried. He wanted to tell everyone that he wasnâ€™t the one. But he knew that they were so badly in legend that they will never trust in what he will tell them. His great grandfather Alfrode being a medic was his teacher when it came to medics. He taught him about various herbs and methods to cure diseases which were considered deadly. But he choose to be a warrior following his father.
He gave them few herbs, curing deadliest of diseases. With time very few were cured by those herbs. But then it was the human nature, which choose those who were cured over those who were still suffering and his reputation travelled across the region and soon he was god of few thousands to few lakhs to few millions.
He was god now. He desperately wanted to enjoy a normal life. He wanted to move out of his tribe with his friends, go hunting, enjoy the setting sun savoring few moments of solitude, but he was never allowed to. There were always few who accompanied him. The glittering plates no longer gave him solace. He wanted to enjoy the simple food served on banana leaf. He badly longed to celebrate his moments of love with Iksitra, he desired the conversation between them to be progressed from eyes to words, he wanted to hold her hand and spend hours giving words to his feelings for her but he could not, he had to follow the code of conduct that he as a GOD was supposed to.
Even being God is tough, your every move is noted. You are expected to behave gently. People have faith in you. They are always expecting some magic from you. But problem arises when you are a simple common man honored as god for a FAKE LEGEND. Or for a legend you were never a part of. He tried hard to sleep but his thoughts betrayed him. Another sleepless night he thought. Just then there was a knock at door. Diaz came in reporting about another attack of riders from North and tribe was expecting him, their god to lead. They both knew there was no escape now, the tale of Rodrigo was about to end.
He led from front but they lost badly, Yusuf famous for his brutality burnt the village and took whatever they had. There were loud cries of pain all around. They were hurt. Their belief, their faith was hurt. He knew he had betrayed. And worst happened when he was unable to heal wounds of troops by his herbs. It was then in actual he had lost everything.
Our God was standing at the far end of village when the battle to Rangers from north was lost. He had betrayed us. He is not the one who was chosen but still for his own sake he became God. Diaz has told us that he never killed Rangers they were all poisoned when they ate those deadly herbs found in west.
He was beaten to death before he was ordered to leave tribe. It was hard to leave whom he loved. But it was much harder to gain their trust again. He silently waved goodbye to Iksitra, only one who still believed her. Because he knew who he was- The Rodrigo, who brought tribes together which no body was ever able to do.
A common man, who became God, was again a common man now riding away from his beloved people for just one reason. His people believed in some foolish legend. He lost his freedom, his life,