No elephants were misrepresented in the writing of this piece. Truth is subjective and beauty lies in the eyes of the beer holder. The content here reflects the internet’s chaos. Accuracy is not guaranteed. Any resemblance to X posts, WhatsApp forwards, or troll wars is inevitable. We’re not liable for your echo chamber. Scroll at your own risk.
Once upon a time, in a land
where logic went to retire, four blind men were led to an elephant. No one
knows exactly why. Some say it was an ancient wisdom test. Others believe it
was a prank gone too far. But the most reliable source, the palace janitor,
claimed that the public needed a distraction from an ongoing scandal about
funnelling taxpayers’ money in a dubious “King’s Care” fund.
The four men had no sight, but
what they lacked in optics they made up for in confidence. "Describe what you feel," said the
royal scholar, who had the weary expression of a man who had explained the same
thing too many times and had long given up on expecting a sensible answer.
The first blind man
reached out and touched the elephant’s side. His fingers ran across the vast,
sturdy surface. His face lit up.
"This," he declared, "is
obviously a wall!"
"A wall?" asked the second man.
"Yes! A grand, immovable wall! Likely built to keep enemies out! Or
maybe to divide people! Or perhaps to keep out misinformation! Or immigrants!
Or Trojan viruses."
Nobody knew what he meant
by misinformation, but the scholar quickly realized this man had
been spending too much time on Twitter, which mostly consisted of
people yelling about walls.
"I shall call for reinforcements to protect this wall!" the man
continued. "We must guard it!"
He pulled out his phone (yes, blind men in this kingdom had phones,
don’t question it) and started a group chat titled “Watchers on the
Wall”. Within minutes, thousands of people joined, none of whom had
ever seen the elephant. They were, however, very passionate about defending the
wall.
The second blind
man reached out and grabbed the elephant’s trunk. It wriggled slightly in his
hands. He gasped.
"This is no wall!" he cried. "This is a snake!"
"A snake?"
"Yes! And not just any snake. A giant, powerful snake that has
infiltrated our land, disguised as an elephant! A deception so massive, so
insidious, that only a few enlightened souls can see the truth!"
"But what about the tusks?" asked the scholar.
"Obviously fake. CGI, perhaps. Meant to keep us blind to the real
danger!"
Within minutes, this man had
started a deep-dive investigative thread on Reddit, where people
discussed conspiracies about lizard kings and how pigeons were government
spies. His post was shared millions of times, and soon, thousands of people, none
of whom had ever seen the elephant, or any elephant, were absolutely convinced
that elephants were, in fact, snakes in disguise. The Ministry of Culture
flagged it as a threat, then quietly reshared it from an anonymous burner
account.
The third blind
man reached out and grasped one of the elephant’s legs. He patted it, nodding
wisely.
"You are both wrong," he said. "This is clearly a tree. A mighty, wise tree. The tree of life. The tree
of wisdom. A symbol of strength and growth!"
The first two men scoffed, but
the third man had already pulled out his phone and was recording
a motivational reel.
"In life, we must be like this tree," he preached. "Strong. Rooted. Unshaken by the winds of doubt.
If you believe in yourself, you can grow as mighty as this elephant-tree!"
Within seconds, the video had
gone viral. People, again none of whom had ever seen an elephant, began
writing inspirational posts about
how they, too, were strong trees. Merchandise was launched. T-shirts with “Be
the Elephant Tree” were sold. A self-help book titled “Grow
Like an Elephant: 10 Steps to Unshakable Success” was released,
instantly hitting bestseller lists.
Nobody knew what it meant. But
it felt meaningful,
which was enough.
The fourth blind
man, who was easily the happiest of the group, grabbed the elephant’s ear. He
gave it a delighted pat.
"Oh my goodness," he whispered. "It’s a giant, fluffy dog!"
The scholar put his head in his
hands.
"A dog?"
"Yes! A big, adorable, floppy-eared dog! And look, it wags its tail!
Who’s a good boy? Who’s a big, good boy?"
The elephant, who had been
putting up with this nonsense quietly until now, flapped its ears. The man
squealed with joy.
"This is the best dog I
have ever touched!" he shouted, pulling out his phone to take a selfie with the elephant’s ear. "I must share this with my followers!"
And just like that,
Instagram exploded. Pictures of the "giant dog" spread like wildfire.
Soon, people, of course none of whom had ever seen an elephant, were convinced
that elephants were, in fact, just very
large golden retrievers.
Within hours, the
kingdom was in chaos.
The Wall Defenders demanded
that the government protect the sacred elephant-wall from foreign threats.
The Snake Truthers accused
the palace of hiding the fact that elephants were just snakes wearing
disguises.
The Motivational Gurus started
charging people for exclusive Elephant Tree Growth Seminars.
The Cute Dog Fans began
campaigning to have elephants recognized as "the bestest boys in the world," demanding funding for
oversized chew toys.
The actual elephant, meanwhile,
stood there, questioning the choices it had made in life that led it to this
moment.
Meanwhile, an
activist, or an influencer, it was difficult to say, upon seeing the chaos,
sighed and addressed his people:
"You have the power to access all the knowledge in the world,"
he said. "Yet you choose only to
believe what confirms your existing opinions. You argue not to understand, but
to be right. You are blind not because you cannot see, but because you refuse
to look beyond your own perspective."
The people nodded.
Then another activist shouted,
"THE KING IS HIDING THE REAL ELEPHANT FROM US!"
The chaos resumed.
And the elephant, in an act of
deep philosophical despair, packed its bags and left for a quieter kingdom
where nobody wanted to know what an elephant was.
