It waves to the growing winds from east praying them to erode it inch by inch.
Its a pole.
A pillar that stood in the centre of crossroads.
A pillar once so important.
As much as the rest three to support the kingship.
But the kings are gone and the kingdoms got lost in time.
And the roof flew away with the winds of democracy.
The pillars stood alone for years.
Till the Time and people around tested their strength.
Revolutions fed to histories a lesson.
The rebels learned them well.
They have got tools and patience.
Every night they chipped off each pillar ounce by ounce.
It took them faces and years.
But they did.
Three of four were down.
But not this one.
I was a child when it got me well.
I looked at it every other night under moon and lights,its faces and its agony.
Its wanting to die and its prayers to heaven above,if any.
The village grew into town.
I saw the heads of arch roping the suppressed to its body,beating them all night till they die.
My father weaved a story from epics to stop me wondering much.
Its the story of fate.
Of agony and Gods.
I grew up passing by the pillar for years.
My school changed. The city changed.
The roads around it changed.
The town turned to city.
To make the pillar more painful,the mayor cemented its base.
My house was multi-storeyed and I grew old. Nobody touched the pillar.
Nobody dared.
I didn't know why anyone couldn't.
My father's story of fate still lingered in my room infecting my son.
I see still many dead by every morning.
Tied up all night to that pillar and beaten to death.
I grew old and old only having this wish to see someone rooting it out for once and all.
I may die soon. Why cant that pillar have death like me?
Why cant I kill it and take it with me to the pyre?
And that morning I got up from my death bed and walked to the crossroad with a shovel.
I knocked the pillar with as much might I could.
The sound woke up the city soon but I resumed my last job.
People gathered slowly and looked at me with surprise.
With weakness growing and eyes going blurred I slowly lay myself on the pillar to rest.
I felt its love for me.
I felt the dying.
I know its taking me in.
I felt my poems being read.
I felt the last minute.
I hope the pillar too felt the same. I was alone.
Lying lifeless and loveless.
- Aroon Che