The parable of the rabbits, the foxes and the wolves - The Sequel

And so, Chief Wolf took the driver’s seat for 5 years, safe in the knowledge that Maverick had self-destructed and the foxes, banished into Neverland.

The journey was bumpy.  A large number of the rabbits believed that Chief Wolf was leading them on the right track; there were many others who believed that it was the road to perdition. The fault lines kept getting bigger over time. 

It began with the latter believing that the wolves were trying to drive a wedge between the rabbits by redefining the idea of the Promised Land.

“The Promised Land will be that in which everyone will be bound together by rules that we set – linguistic, sentimental, ideological and communal. Anyone disagreeing is free to hop on to the green bus bound by rules same as ours. Ours, however, will be an orange bus!” , thundered the Werewolf, chief navigator amongst the wolves.

“But the green bus is falling apart, precisely because they’ve used the same rules!”, protested the rabbits. “Besides, why orange? We’ve always had the rainbow on ours!”, was their entreaty.

As the journey progressed, there were several twists and turns; some U-turns too, all of which sent confusing signals to the passengers about where the wolves were really headed.

The foxes, while they were at the helm, had begun working on a project of numbering every single rabbit in the forest. This, they’d explained, was because it would ensure that every single rabbit in the forest, rich or poor, irrespective of creed or colour, would get their share of carrots, lettuce and drinking water. Nobody would go hungry and the share of the forest’s resources could be apportioned well enough to ensure that.

The wolves had vehemently opposed it, saying that the time and resources employed for it could be put to better use, since the exercise would only help the foxes corner more resources for themselves. The moment they got their hands on the wheel, however, the wolves made a pitched campaign about the virtues of numbering. The foxes, however, smelt a rat.

“The reason they’ve flipped their stand is because they will be able to segregate  rabbits that like carrots and those that like lettuce. The carrot-eaters would be treated better, because carrots are orange. Wolves love orange. Rabbits that like lettuce, however, will be shunned because the wolves detest green.”, they warned.  

Another significant turn was the wolves making a virtue of running into the green bus. To be sure, the green bus has always been a thorn in the flesh of the rainbow coloured bus, even though the rabbits in both had very similar identities, separated as they were, at birth. The only real difference between them was that the diet in the green bus was lettuce, and the ones in the rainbow bus could eat whatever they chose to. The drivers of the green bus were rash and reckless, and the foxes in the past only brushed them off as a nuisance, without really putting an end to the menace.

 “The only way to show the lettuce-eaters their place is to show them who’s boss”, the wolves thundered, their Chief brandishing his large, designer armour.  He blamed the pusillanimity of the foxes for  things to have come to such a pass

“We’re the only ones that can keep you safe. That is good enough reason to let us continue to drive”, the rest of the pack bellowed.

“Forget the protecting us from those in another bus!”, the detractors cried in unison, “Who is going to protect us from the wolves amongst ourselves here?”

What was very obvious was that there was a cleave running right through the denizens of the forest.

The supporters of the wolves tended to be acerbic and impatient. They swatted aside any contrarian view, and seemed to be morph into an abrasive lot that couldn’t quite comprehend why the naysayers couldn’t see what was so evident – that Chief Wolf was the modern-day Moses.

Their detractors didn’t particularly favour the foxes, but sure as hell, were anti-wolf. There was a very loose confederation of rabbits of various hues, bound quite often by nothing than their common distrust of the wolves, Chief Wolf and Werewolf, in particular.

The foxes, sensing this wedge, moved in for the kill. Prince Fox, seemingly a caricature of the  foxes of yore, got emboldened and began to make fresh overtures towards the rabbits. What’s more, he also dragged Princess Fox into the act. The foxes, somehow, believed that it was only the First Family of foxes that could give them deliverance.

“That’s how they have enfeebled all of you”, chorused the wolves, “reinforcing your helplessness over the years so much so, that you can’t see what you are actually capable of. Free yourself! This is your opportunity”, they sang in harmony.

“If you’re anything but a carrot eater, you’re doomed”, went Prince Fox. “We stand for everyone, irrespective of whether they’re disposed towards carrots or lettuce, or indeed, anything more meaty”.

What’s more, the foxes also got into an arrangement with the hyenas – some of whom had driven the bus, many moons ago – all with the intent of keeping the wolves at bay.

“We must put all our other differences aside, and come together. We might not know the right route, but we know that the one we’re on, in headed towards the cliff”, they began to chant collectively.

This, then, dear reader, is the conundrum the rabbits face:

In the orange corner : The  wolves who seem to be very sure of the route, but insist that several kinds of freedom, which the rabbits had taken for granted, would necessarily have to be curbed. There’ll be carrots for all at the end of the journey.

In the rainbow corner :  The foxes and the hyenas, who the rabbits are sure don’t know the way, but who they believe would cook up more wholesome meal along the way. 

What would you choose?