Thursday, October 14, 2010

The Dictatorship of Democracy - A Reflection (3)

The sealed boxes were piled into the vehicles under the nation’s scrutiny. A dreamless sleep would be sacrificed tonight as the responsible citizens awaited the result of their involvement on the pavement of politics. I leafed through the pages of a battered book discussing democracy, colonialism and freedom, wondering whether intelligent minds might find a solution to the discrepancies offered by democracy. The intrinsic need of the population reduced us to beggars, in order to conform to the laws deeming the magnified surnames our masters.

As I stared at the length of dull paper speckled with colours and boxes, I was overwhelmed with the lack of historical fragments to influence my thinking. Unlike the old men puffing on pipes, my mind was unencumbered with suffering and speeches. I was unable to remember the past which adorned a country with a memorable uprising. My years devoured mention of the era because I had also hoped to lead a revolution for the people. But after those years, rebellion was tamed and fractured into policies, and the tattered clothes replaced with elegance. Society was splintered into echelons which rendered towns superior to the ploughed fields on the outskirts of the villages.

The invention of these lengthy papers prompting our acquiescence was attributed to the definition of democracy. My last glance at the pristine paper was brimming with vehement epithets at the social inequality which rendered all our actions futile. Our jailed freedom coerced us to be loyal to a pretentious system, which rendered our spontaneity a rigid routine. Back in the safe crevices of the rubble walls, I waited for a memory which lacked my participation, to assail the present with a loud roar defining the dimming sunsets I had not been able to witness.

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