He Laughs Best Who Laughs Last


It would certainly be delightful if we came out winners in the aftermath of the horrible pandemic: the most cherished recurring dream of any nation in the world today. The known illness has proven itself as one of the most politicized woes in the history of Georgia, having altered social life all over the country and painfully hitting the economy. And if it explodes once again, especially with more devastating power, wars might seem like child’s play compared to the possible consequences of the virus.

This is what I read and hear from the doctors, ceaselessly giving us a professional heads-up. Frankly, to catch their medical observations and social remarks, I have become all ears and eyes at all times. It is difficult to imagine what our media would be doing without the viral assistance enabling them to fill the air with deliberations on the topic from a variety of angles – political, social, economic, cultural, spiritual, and fortunetelling. Gossip-mongering, predictions, presumptions and occult infatuations spout from every television screen at all times of day and night, avidly listened to with equal interest both by retarded and sophisticated viewers.

But things have lately changed: after being sheltered for three months within the serenity of our homes and hospitals, we have finally broken the chains to find ourselves outdoors, exalted by the happiness of freedom, overwhelmed with the reacquired human rights, and relaxing in the virus-free nirvana. Wasn’t this wonderful? The only doubt drilling through a sporadic cautious mind remains the presumption that it would be too late to shut the stable door after the horse has bolted.

Hating skeptics, and loathing pessimists as I do, I was almost at the point of joining the celebrating crowds that blissful night, my car ready to take off, but something pulled me to remain where I was, thinking that I might laugh better if I laugh last. Next morning, I heard stories I was not totally happy to listen to: some of those town-cruisers and party animals moved that night from the dreaded quarantine spots straight to even more despised detention centers.

Nobody would be happier than I if writing off those viral restrictions and deprivations were immediately possible, but I would not hurry to jump to conclusions that all is good. I have been taught that all is good that ends well, and I don’t think this is the end! The end of the story, by which I mean the happy end, will loom on the horizon only when the entire world sighs with relief, and nations big and small, simultaneously recognize that there is every reason to believe that Mankind has been saved from the monster, and saved forever. Any other version of the finale of the story makes me feel uncomfortable inside and out.

Stories about the powers that are to control the world through the universal vaccination of humans or implantation of chips in their bodies seem to be a little funny at this point in time, but what if the saying “There is a grain of truth in every joke” proves to be a believable verity? I usually listen nonchalantly when this curious theme is discussed publicly, but when I find myself faced with my own thoughts at times of loneliness, I start taking those presumptions more seriously than I normally do. Adding up all those variables, I tend to conclude that every decision concerning our state of mind and health has to be made with a thoroughly calculated precision. It is well understood that dying of a virus or hunger would not make any big difference in the end, so to speak. This is the thought that takes us to the point of recognizing that our feeder, the economy, cannot and should not be left to its own devices. It must definitely pick up with our help, but not at the risk of even more damage. We can take the fading-away virus easy, but not that easy. It’s not yet time to relax!

By Nugzar B. Ruhadze

Image source: Westend61/Getty Images

28 May 2020 20:59