18.11.2025
S: There was a boy from the lowest castes. A boy born in the working classes. A boy from the minority here.
A: So? There are many like him.
S: This boy dreamt of one thing. To be the voice of his people. Their champion. This boy dreamt of The Revolution.
A: What happened to this boy? Has he become a man yet?
S: The man still dreams. But his dreams are besieged by the unpredictability of endings.
A: No one can know the ending.
S: The Greeks said that the gods roll dice. Fate is arbitrary and random. Fate is not a line. It is a game.
A: There are those that have said that god does not roll dice with the universe.
S: If there is a god in this wicked world, it is me. And I do not gamble.
A: No, you risk everything. Which is worse.
S: I am the warrior. It is my duty. Old age stands at the corner, another enemy that wants to piss over my plans, another crony of a world of enemies.
A: Have you not always fought everyone for your principles? You are proud of saying you are a warrior from the warrior culture, the old world.
S: The prayer of the people is for god to walk in the world to vanquish sin. It is the prayer of my Mother. The heart still beats and the blood still flows. Somehow I am standing on my feet. She has her hand upon my head. There is much to do, everything to do. The Revolution pleads for an heir to her. One day, peace will come. Until then, may this arm be the strength that The Mother has longed for. I cannot forget what I have sworn to do. Always one more surge. Jai Maa Kali!
diary of a lone man 