Centuries ago; I take you so far back in history, that terms like Prime Minister and Democracy were not even coined, and being called a ‘King’ was not yet a matter of shame.
Kingdoms were won on the dint of the sharp edge of a sword and lost due to it. There was, in those days, no percentage, into manipulating a small section of the population, to press a particular button on inscrutable EVMS. That was the ultimate smart move, but it came later, much later.
Off course, even in those forgotten eras, some men were born smarter, and thus more ambitious then their brethren. Treachery, deviousness, and opportunism were valid currencies then, as today.
But what worried the ‘kings’ of those times, was their fate, once their sinews weakened. It was similar to that of the forsaken leader of a pack of wolves. No, you were not allowed to retire in peace, write your memoirs, and enjoy your loot.
They were simpler times, If and when you became the king life became a bed of soft bodies for you. The best of food, cloth, and women were yours for taking. Even the most superior of men bowed and scraped before you. But the route from the palace to the cremation ground was short and brutal .Your best buddies were ever ready to give a shoulder to your hearse.
The second-in-commands were forever spreading the seeds of mutiny amongst the ranks. The question asked was, “Why him? What’s so special about him?” No matter how much the king would distribute his goodies amongst these disgruntled lieutenants, they were never satisfied. They wanted more, they wanted all.
To desire your Boss’s chair, as well as his women, is an ancient desire of all men. You get one and you literally go one up on him.
Then one amongst the fraternity of kings chanced upon a God man. The man of God, was frailer of the body but glib with his tongue and a great actor, a thespian. He owned no sword. But still earned a rich living. He scared and bamboozled his followers into doing his bidding; else they would face the wrath of an all powerful, esoteric being. The best part was that the older he would grow the more followers he would garner.
His kingdom was must more permanent than the king’s.
Bingo! The two got together. The man with the muscles and the man with the scriptures. In return of a much more cushier life, to be spent in state sponsored temples, churches and monasteries, by what ever names called, the so called priests were told to coach the population about the reason of the king being the king .
God had willed it so!
Theories were coined and preprated. Cometh the populace cometh the theory. The king had the divine right to rule. It was his ‘karma’ from earlier births, when he had led the life of austerity and goodness. His progeny also had the same right. In return of ‘ governance’ he was entitled to take what he wanted, who he wanted. To rebel against the king was to rebel against the ALMIGHTY.
The God men worked like the modern day marketing and advertising Gurus, who take an arm and a leg as their fee, and in return give zilch as a real product .But they know how to sell your product. Thus they created a marketing strategy called religion and sold GOD! Forever.
