Lord of the Flies was published as long back as 1954, almost three scores of years to the day. But has the descriptions attached with it, the self-sounding importance of the imagery used changed any? Well, we can only comment and not review the book as iconic as William Golding’s wartime offering. To do otherwise would be to try and fill up sand in water sieves and believe ourselves to be great in what we do.

The story begins with the imagined sequence of the boys descending onto an island and gradually as they descend into rapidly disintegrating chaos, we know the same is happening with the adults elsewhere. Is this an imagery that the author wanted us to see and feel? Is this something which was glaringly obvious in its expression but we, as humans, decided to blind ourselves from it? We can only think. Perhaps the process might alleviate us a little. The boy, Jack paints his face, to signify an insignia but we should not forget at the same time, that this is what is father is doing somewhere else. The older species would probably be putting names to it, names that distressingly sound like a uniform and a banner or an insignia. So where’s the difference? It might be argued that the younger species is only aping the older and expectedly, revered ones but where’s the glorifying distinct difference that should be present?

The finish brings us about the rescue of the boys by a British soldier and this is where the similarities end because no one’s there to rescue the adults. And isn’t this proposition infinitely scarier than the former? For when adults go to the mad-house, who is going to slap them in the face and shake them to their senses? No one and that is the world we are living in. We are governed by adults as stupid as the kids, if not more so but the irony demands us to obey what they say.

In all fairness, Piggy represents the modern human being. He believes he knows all, but does not, he feels the need to say something in all matters even if his opinions sound as intelligent as  the sound of a lawn mower on a piece of dry sand. He holds theories about how ‘British’ means civilized and the entire black race is doomed to be savage. But in the end, it is him that holds the aura of indispensability because of not what he innately has, but because of something which he possesses, his spectacles which help the motley band to light a fire. And this is perhaps symbolic of the world we live in, idiots (read: adults) rule because they have the means and the goods, and not because they have acquired even a semblance of intelligent maturity.