Once upon a time, a large tribe left their homes and started travelling “back home from back home”. They were told by their captain that the journey would lead them to their ancestral kingdom. Some people questioned it and said this was their homeland. Yet many people left for the long voyage in search of their motherland.

Every day the clan walked. Walked in search of their homeland, a land they knew they will someday reach. Every day they strove to attain their motherland.

And on this tedious journey they met people who told them why they wanted to go back in the first place, when they were all happy living in their new homes. The band tells them that the Promised Land is their right. It is their Holy Kingdom. A realm where there will be utopian happiness and a legendary bliss. They say that their captain will take them towards the dominion of freedom from their present land of slavery.

As each day ends, they told each other stories of their once homeland, stories from their grandmothers’ grandmothers. So each day as they voyaged, their confidence built up. Each day their captain encouraged them forward. And each day they sang about their homes and people.

Some people stopped and left. They felt it was hopeless. They felt it was too tiring a journey. Some people joined in and sensed the crossing was a must. That they must reach their promised land.

People they come across say that it is worthless to travel. Worthless as there never was a motherland. That it was all an elaborate hoax. A deceit, a trick. A prank played by the captain.

Yet the few people who are left do not lose hope, they journey on. Not knowing that there is no difference between the slavery they were forced into and the submission they choose to be in.

And years later, they still are journeying not knowing if there is a motherland. And not knowing if by going back they can reclaim their homes they left in search of their Promised Land.

And as all of this happens, people across the lands talk about this journey, this exodus, and wait; wait, for these people to lose hope. Wait for people to abandon their quest. Wait for the last believer to turn back. And the people wonder how long it will take for a hope to end? How long for a faith to die? How long for a devotion to break down?

Yet they know not that this has nothing to do with the clan’s devotion to their Promised Land, but it has everything to do with their unwavering faith in their own beliefs.