How easy is betrayal? How easy is it to betray someone who never would have expected it from ‘you’? Apart from the practical fact that it is easy to betray someone who is vulnerable or someone who you are confident of never meeting again, is there a certain ease with which you push away a human life? Maybe a swift-paced deletion of a ten-digit number or a block of communication becomes a technological feasibility. Alternatively, you indulge in a ravaging of mementos with the hope that with every disappearance something human too vanishes. Perhaps that serves the immediate physical shield from the pain of guilt. As time passes, perhaps one day, under the leaden years of a sky, you remember a face that trusted you, you remember the way a certain hand gripped yours in faith, and you remember the way you assured of the absence of betrayal.
Then perhaps you realize what was deleted, what was sent to bin was in fact just a shadow of what stayed behind in something within you. When you betray someone, whom actually do you betray? Is it the person at the other end or is it just finally something within you, something abstract like conscience? Life perhaps is not about how easy a betrayal is; perhaps it is just about the way another human life ends within, when you decide to go easy on a breach of trust. The whisper of a human conscience perhaps is louder than the deafening noise of a betrayal justified.
