Wednesday, August 22

A Scar on the Democracy! [WHiP Part-III]

Part 1 
Part 2

I stood near the half opened black gate and turned back to give one last look at Colxavi, the pilgrimage for people like us, the place everyone dreams of being a part of, I looked at it with moist eyes, knowing well enough that I won’t be able to come back here, never.  I noticed the thick yellow paint on the wall which had faded over the years, and the parking space where no cars were parked today, and the Mother Teresa statue and the moss formed on the lower portion of the gate I was holding on to which made the squealing sound every time I opened it. I wanted to capture everything vividly in my memory, as it was, because I was not coming back here. And after what happened today, I was sure this place wouldn’t stand in its glory like its standing right now, at this moment. I cursed the people responsible under my breath and started to run away from it, to some place far away.

I ran as fast as I could. The thoughts of what happened in the day were still trolling my head. I had done something very irresponsible, something very amateurish, my friends said. I had protested against the decision, I had tried speaking against it. When I was alive, I was told I had every right to disagree with things I didn’t like, and protest against it in a formal and non-violent way. And as far as I remember, my protest-raising of a hand and asking for permission to speak which was eventually denied anyways- my protest in the auditorium when the guy was counting votes was very formal and non violent. Even if I had spoken, I don’t think it broke any rules; everyone is entitled to his opinion in a democratic setting.

I ran and ran till I reached a point where I couldn’t run anymore. I still ran with all my might, my legs were paining, my body was aching, my head had gone numb, but I had to keep running, because I knew they’d looking for me, to take revenge for just this small thing. I ran not because I was scared of them, but because I was sure about them. I ran because I was sure they’d never understand the meaning of a democracy. I just ran…

I wasn’t scared because they would beat me or abuse me; I was scared because they would scar the democracy where one has the right to protest. And then it’d have serious consequences’ everywhere.

Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man's character, give him power Abraham Lincoln

I was tired, my whole body had given up, it felt like the blood had been sucked out of it by a vacuum cleaner, the limbs had been dried off and I would just fall there unconscious any moment. I walked till what looked like a Chai Shop, there was no one around, I sat down on the cold wooden table and tried to regain my whole composure. I could hear my heart beating so fast, the last time it happened was when I kissed her, but this was different, this was scary. I could hear the air passing in and out of my lungs and the blood rushing through every vein and artery, whatever was left by the vacuum cleaner that is. I thought about my life when I was alive; I was so happy then, with whatever little recognition I had as both a student and a blogger. At least I didn’t have people searching for me with bad intentions, really bad. And then the car, which crushed me, intentionally, my parents would still be fighting the case. I wondered if this was my destiny, if this was THE plan for me. But there’s no point in thinking about that now. I wasn’t scared of anything, what was done was done and I was actually proud I protested against an unfair system when no one showed the guts to.

I stood up and started my run, once again, but this time into the void, into oblivion, with no intentions of coming back to the place I loved because there were people, dangerous people, looking for me, wanting to crucify me, wanting to send me to hell.

Don’t search for me, because I was gone, long before you even realized what had happened. Don’t search for me, because I am not here and I am not just one. I represent everyone who stood for what was wrong. Don’t search for me. Because I am honesty and righteousness, and you’ll never know what they mean!

 [Saying it again, it’s a ghost story; I screwed it up big time, your interpretation, your pain. I take no responsibility. Thanks for reading. And yes this marks the end of 'What happened in Politics' trilogy]


  1. Amazing!!! Amazing piece of ART...!!

    The whole series had me hooked. I was checking out your blog day and night for the next part. Digga, love your work!! GAME On bro!!

    1. thank you. now i know why i was getting that many pageviews! :P
      glad you liked it. i am so proud of myself! :D