In comparison and contrast, we understand things. This is the rule of the universe, the subconscious that runs our brain. It is essential to feel hatred, to be able to feel love, you must cry in pain, to understand how relief feels. Does the one who is an ancestral king, understand what kinghood really means? Is the Shah bin Shah bin Shah even a Shah anymore? Let me recite to you the tale of silk. In early days of Arabia, silk was a very rare fabric. It did not cultivate in Arab, and it was very expensive. Nor was their enough demand for it to flow through the marketplace, nor was it safe for any caravan to travel through the never ending deserts of Arab while carrying the precious silk. The fabric, valued more than gold amongst the arabs, was only told as fairy tales to the children. There was one piece of silk however, in the entire Arabian peninsula. Spanning barely half a meter, it was in possession of the noblest, wealthiest, and respected most family amongst the Arabs. The leader of their tribe had only one son, the only heir to the throne. Every year, people came to pilgrimage, to pay their respects but not to the God of the heavens and the earth, but to the god of the minds of men, and the god of the society revolving around selfishness. The god we know as money. People from all corners of Arab, would come to see this piece of fabric, silk, in all its might. The family in possession of it would celebrate this day by putting the piece of silk on showcase, and to be able to show to the world their might. Days passed by, the head of the tribe became old, and death started taking turns over him. On one night, finally, he got caught in the claws of death. There was a dramatic ceremony, and women mourned. The son, the only heir eventually sat on the throne and took headship of the tribe. Next year the pilgrims gathered and went to the usual place, only to stand in shock, and perceive in awe what they were seeing. The newly knighted king of the tribe, rubbing the most important piece of fabric in the Arab, against his shoes, wiping his shoes clean.
It was not that he understood that this is but a piece of cloth, rather it was so that this young man stood in the marketplace selling goods in the heat of Arab, pre his time of kinghood. From the hard earned wage of the day at the marketplace, he bought these expensive shoes that he kept dear to him. This is all his senses conveyed to him. Even though he was told tales of how much wealth had to traded out to acquire the fabric, it was to him, still, something he inherited. He never had to move a step for it, or drain a sweat for it. What made his senses go numb over the value of this gold of fabrics even after all the facts were laid right out in-front of him? Perhaps, it was the lack of comparison, perhaps it was the absence of contrast.
