I shall watch. But no, nothing is as it was to be. Only the festering battlefield and no fate like Karna’s to elevate the mire. No sermon ready for faith, no cosmic peep to contextualise the madness. No sword but these arms, and no code of worthwhile sacrifice but the certainty of ‘kshay.’ There is no exit. The question bites like an insect: what do we do about this? I will watch as you ask.