Robin Hood Paisa

He stood at the edge of the road high on a mountain, leaning on his car, the engine still running, his arms folded. In the distance was the outline of the mountains that surrounded the city of Medellin. At the foot of the mountain lay the city. His home. If it was in ruins, it sure didn't appear that way this night. Millions of lights flickering in the dark made it surreal and impossible to not fall in love with. For once, he must've felt peaceful. In the midst of this goose chase, the endless hiding, the never ending fear of the safety of the family, this was like a warm bath after a tough day. It was pleasantly quiet without all the shots being fired. He must've felt normal when his life was anything but.

Pablo Emilio Escobar Gaviria. The richest drug lord in the world even 23 years after his death. A net worth of 25 Billion USD in the 1980s (Equivalent to about $77 Billion USD in 2016). What do you do with that sort of money? You dig holes in your backyard and hide them because you cannot go to banks for obvious reasons. You build an empire that's nothing like anything. You build an army of soldiers who wouldn't second guess before taking a bullet for you. You become the biggest supplier of cocaine in the world. You inflict fear in those who don’t comply. You build your own f***ing prison (La Catedral) when the government asks you to surrender and operate your cartel from within. You burn, yes burn, $2 million when your daughter starts to shiver in cold because the wood has too much dew to catch fire!

To facilitate his rise to power as one of the most wanted, most notorious smuggler/criminal the world would ever see, Escobar, quite literally left no stone un-turned. You have to agree to one thing though. A man doesn't just become the kingpin of the biggest cartel by inflicting fear. Fear though useful, is not all powerful. It will make people do things for you, but, it won't necessarily make them eternally loyal to you. Pablo Escobar had a loyal army of sicarios, of associates, a blind-faith following of common folk. No! I refuse to believe it was fear alone. It's must be the faith he mete out. You become the hand that keeps them afloat when they've been deserted in the sea. You show them the light. Convince them that you're not just their only chance at survival, but you can make things better and you'll have their eyes, ears, legs and hands metaphorically served on a platter. They made him theirs and he made them his. His people. He built houses, hospitals, schools in Columbia (which earned him the title of Robin Hood Paisa), which might have been a false front to a backdrop of the power hunger that lead to his rise and eventually his fall. He was an opportunist, a strategist, all that is required to be a successful businessman. Only that his business involved getting people addicted to a life shortening powder and it seems only natural that it involved murdering some unsubstantial creatures to make a point regardless of how substantial or how inconsequential it might be. There was a time, and I'm not kidding, when Pablo Escobar was inches of becoming a part of the Colombian senate. The man had dreams and he had his ways to fulfill them.

It's one thing when people treat you like god. They do it because you held their hand in times of need. But when you start believing you are God is where things start to turn ugly. Modesty and Arrogance. Modesty could've made Pablo great, if not in the truest meaning of the word. Arrogance had him murdered alone and penniless and indeed shoe-less when he was in hiding. Pablo Escobar became the definition of terror in Columbia. He killed thousands or had thousands killed, blasted busy streets without remorse, bombed an airplane in an attempt to kill the president, killed nobles and most importantly, innocent people whom he probably thought he owned. When people thought they owed him, Pablo thought they could pay back with their life and that wouldn't have felt like such a big deal as long as the handful of people that did matter to him lived a life of luxury.

Talking about luxury, the man lived a life that couldn't resonate with Columbia's economic state one bit. His holiday estate included not just a pool, but, a personal zoo. A zoo housing hippos, elephants and giraffes that were imported. How often do you come across an exotic personal zoo, eh?

To gain some perspective on the wealth of the Medellin cartel, here's a fun fact: $2500 was spent every month only on rubber bands to stack the cash they earned from smuggling cocaine into the United States.

What did he leave behind?

Short answer: A police department, Drug Enforcement Authority, the governments of Columbia and the United States in peace.

Long answer: A grieving family without a penny to spare and no country willing to give asylum. Imagine you have a life like no other that you cherish and suddenly, you have a life like no other that you repent. There was a family with no fault of their own who had to live in these extremities just because the head of the family had an ego proportional to his fortune. A seven year old boy and a two year old girl who had to live like criminals when their father was being chased by Colombian and American authorities all around the country. He might have loved his family, I'm not denying that. But, his love for his pride and reputation was far beyond anything mortal. Why else would you end other families in cold blood? He left a name that has cursed his family and the city of Medellin for decades and his stature will ensure that doesn’t fade anytime soon. He scarred the country he loved, his country, his home with deeds that are unspeakable, yet known to a lot. The name Pablo Escobar will haunt the beautiful country of Columbia and the city of Medellin in particular.

If he really loved his home, his family so much, why did he take it to an extent that left everything he touched in a disarray. Arrogance of considering himself above everything?