Killers, Rapists and Freedom: A metaphorical conclusion to Nepalese politics
Nobody cared! Everyone wanted a piece of heaven which was above the soil and deep into the sky clad memoirs of the mind. The scapegoats: Sweats and Tears.
The son of god was humiliated and his queen, raped. Such was the brutality that the heavens poured some rain to wash away the blood and the innocence of a virgin mother. There was thunder, there were hailstones and the frozen rain made cold waves throughout the summer. Then there was drought and the dusts powered the leaves like the snow covers a steep of the mountain. The frivolity of everyone’s predicament could be measured with the powdered grey leaves which could barely apprehend its own trunks. The trunks had changed with the dark of the times and ironically time seemed to pause.
“Creative Destruction” had transgressed into the subject of materialism, secularism, and right to express one’s opinion, which democracy so much treasured. “Creative Destruction” patronized destruction which again ironically failed to create. The jewels of a golden kingdom were stolen and divided. The queen. She was made whore.
And there were righteous people who thought their impressive speeches and word-plays failed to dance to the tunes of disharmony created by themselves. They solicited to the rule of the middle class and asked, “What is democracy without food and shelter?” and cunningly took sides with the rapists. The rapists had been subpoenaed and they waited for the silent judge whom all of the unlawful called Judge Dread. It was more of Judge Culturally Silent. The nihilists had failed to manipulate adjudicators who in turn were so silent that the silence engulfed the queens’ thunderous roar of misery and stupidly the judges thought that of it to be strands of reassurance.
The theater which has no answers, has no right to be equated to the society and the culture. The cultures were ranked below gods who had mellowed into rationalization of human consciousness and ironically it wasn’t the civilization that tried to summon the gods but the king, by offering gifts to the corrupt and mundane gods.
This is democracy at its best. It is when the neo-liberalists slam the doors of perception and provide justice through a marriage between the rapists and the queen.
Democracy is when the powdered leaves wonder when the gods will make the rain happen to wash off their dust. They are hopeless. Until then the dusts are viral and make the trunks weak. So feeble that the “roots” refused to live in a hope that death shall craft a new baby seed. The seeds of “universal humanity”. It was then that the forest echoed with laughter and sarcasm which they had perfected since the death of Marxism. They knew that the ultimate freedom was unattainable and a dreamy vision which they did not dare to incorporate into their lives. –“All destruction is finally petty and in the end life laughs at death.”
The rapists were so arrogantly ignorant that they happened to manipulate the killers.
You are a criminal, said the rapist.
The killer replied, “Then I ought to rape your wife”.
The rapist said, I would be obliged to kill your daughters.
The judges were silent. The queen in on the pyre. The king is at the temple. But the gods don’t care!
And it was the wind that polished the leaves.
And the ancient wanderer sings;
This, the truth, do not fear,
My adorable child, my dear!
And mankind shall now understand,
All their knowledge was but a grain of sand;
And all the ignorance once they had,
Of which they were so proud and glad;
Cannot help them in this need,
Darkness prevails in the devils lead.