Life is always a bundle of contradictions. It is a whirlpool of contending ideas and competing ideologies. But nowhere do these contradictions appear so starkly when juxtaposed with the tragicomic tale of Sudanese Congress Party (SCP). Once upon a time, in a land parched by the scorching sun and political turmoil, arose a beacon of hope- The SCP. Established in 1986 as the national congress, it renewed its matrimonial vows with the public under the demure veil of SCP in 2005. Ah! The energy of youth and the flamboyant dreams of nation building! The SCP, unlike an old stagnant river, was always meant to be a free-spirited breeze, lost in the labyrinth of highs and lows. Our tale embarks on the journey of this social democratic, pro-secular political entity. The SCP, with its heartweight ambitions swaying towards the centre-left, was like a naive new bride festooned with dreams of empowering Sudan. Slowly, it started realising that Sudan is not just a land bourne out of the simmering Nile but an array of simmering political issues. Oh! The SCP and its heart-wrenching yet amusing struggle with contradictions. The party, determined to serve the proletariat, was marooned on the deserted island of centre-left politics while the rest of Sudan swung to the right. How poetic, this dance of the left foot in the centre and the right foot towards the abyss, almost like the SCP's political version of ballet, except, without any of the grace. SCP is like that ill-fated but hilarious hero in silent films, whose principled dedication and clumsy comedy routine screams of tragic irony. Guided by the ideals of social democracy, SCP dreams of a liberal Sudan, much like a child who wishes for an ice castle in a desert. But dreams, like the SCP’s plans, are often made of vaporous visions, doomed to evaporate under the harsh light of reality. What I find most amusing is the SCP's dalliance with secularism in a land draped in the robes of Islam. Their push for secularism, inspired by the awkward romance between a fish and bicycle, a struggle so futile yet endearing that one can't help but sympathize with their Sisyphean task. Often, I wonder, if hope is the currency of the SCP, then surely tragedy must be their stock-in-trade. Undeterred by the brunt of disparity and the sting of mockery, they forge ahead, brandishing their banner of ambitious illusions, navigating the treacherous waters of Sudanese politics. And thus the SCP marches on, like a tragic hero from a Greek tragedy, buoyed by their quixotic dreams of social equality, secularism, and democracy. Their story is a tragicomic tale stitched together by the chortles of the critics and tear-stained pages of their manifesto. It is a bittersweet symphony that echoes in the hearts of the hopeful – an epic tale of a warrior who is willing to tilt at windmills, knowing their lance will shatter, yet persisting in the name of the ideals they hold dear. To sum it up, ladies and gentlemen, the tale of SCP is an oxymoron beautifully unfolded on Sudanese soil. It is a ballad filled with heartbreaking chorus offset by soul-rousing satirical verses. It is, indeed, a spectacle to behold, as long as the sun of hope continues to rise above the sandy deserts of Sudan.