THE PATRIOT

I drag myself to the footpath and look around me. I see my blood spattered over the road, my shirt lying soaked in blood somewhere.

I curse myself and the moment at which I had looked at the statue of my beloved leader at the crossroad. The dirt is still not gone from his face. It is splattered across his specs. My heart cringes at the sight. The statue of one of the greatest men in History – smeared by feces.

If only I had not noticed the horrific sight.

If only I had not been angered.

If only I had not tried to wipe it off.

If only it had not been the day of elections.

If only the Party who considered my very hero as their ideal had not seen me in that position…

… I wouldn’t have been lying half dead by the footpath, beaten till I could hear my own bones split within my body by the supporters of the Party and the mob.

Where had so many people poured in onto the street from at that hour of the day anyway? There was never a soul on the street every morning that I jogged on it.

I tried and tried to comprehend what had happened in the past few minutes.

‘Aye!’

I turn. I see members of the Party. I get off the statue.

‘Kay challaye?’ (What’s going on?)

The man standing ahead of the mob, hands rested on waist asks me. He could pass as a typical ‘member of XYZ Party’; dressed all in white, Kolhapuri chappals in his feet, hair gelled back and not daring to move even with the breeze, thick black moustache, with the corners purposefully turned up.

‘Kahi nahi…’ (Nothing…)

‘Kahi nahi?’ (Nothing?)

‘Ghan lagli hoti putalyala… Pusat hoto…’ (There was dirt on the statue… was wiping it off…)

One of the other men standing behind the man pulls him by his shoulder. He signals at my feet.

I look down at my feet.

The Party looks down at my feet.

My shoes are covered in shit.

I stare in disbelief.

Suddenly it comes back to me. My neighbor’s dog had done his morning job close to my house. I had stepped into it.

I panic.

‘Aho, mi kharach kahi nahi kela!’ (I really haven’t done anything!)

‘Amhala kay angutha chhaap samajlaye?’ (Do you think we are uneducated fools?)

'Aho kharach, mi nahi - ' (Trust me, I didn't - )

'Hana re haramyala!’ (Beat the bastard!)

I try to run away. But I know there is no escaping the situation.

And now here I am…

Thousands of questions cross my mind… doubts… fears… but the most overwhelming of all feelings is disappointment and sadness… at the whole situation we, as the People of our country and of the world, are in. And its not just politics I am talking about.

I look up at the sky… the sun is beginning to rise higher over the horizon.

I look back at the statue.

I will myself to get up, despite the pain.

I lean on the street-light and drag myself up. I look at the face of my favorite hero. I think of his co-workers… all great men who did things we probably can never comprehend completely.

It gives me strength.

I take a deep breath, and heave my body.

I am standing on my feet.

My legs hurt till I want to cry out loud. But I look up at the statue and smile.

I raise my hand and put it to my temples.

I salute.

I collapse.








Author's Note: it is a request that the reader view this only as a piece of creativity... there is nothing I want 'to hint at' or 'suggest'. No names of any political parties were mentioned, and I leave it upto the reader to give the statue the name of whichever leader he/she wants to give. This was just a piece that popped up in my mind, and I penned it down. Heck, I am not even interested in politics! Still if anyone's feelings were hurt, all I'll say is, it wasn't my intention...