FLAGS
As usual, I was walking all alone. Along the farthest possible edge of the road. Happy to be too insignificant to bother anyone.
The great family that is the universe was being torn apart by petty factions with hyper egos. Perhaps the global hatred had permeated down to this lane, as it had every nation, every state, every city, every town, and every village. Rumors, like limbless ghosts, floated silently in nooks and corners of paranoid psyche of people.
The administration had issued a decree making it obligatory for everyone to carry her or his identity card on her or his person. This made it easy for those who wanted to classify, label, and stigmatize human individuals, and then to execute necessary action.
Thus, that day, as usual, I was walking. All alone. Along the farthest possible edge of the road. Happy to be too insignificant to bother anyone. Given the great international scenario as it was, it was natural that everyone would not exactly appreciate a fellow walking alone and quietly like this.. along the farthest possible edge of the mainstream.
So they stopped me.
‘Hey you…who are you?’
‘…’
‘Name? Let’s have a look at your i-card..’
‘I.. don’t have any’
‘What the hell do you mean by ‘don’t have?’ Everyone is supposed to carry one around the neck..don’t you know?’ One of the guys slapped me hard in the face, and dug his weapon onto my chest.
‘Where do you stay?’
‘.. am homeless.’
‘What do you do?’
‘..am jobless.’
‘ours..or outsider?’
‘..a vagabond..how do I tell?’
‘This side of the border..or the other ?’
‘Border? What border? I never had anything to do with borders and territories- political or ethnic. That’s the reason I am here without any i-card, and I land up roaming like a stray animal.. belonging to nowhere.’
I noticed a brilliant spark in the guy’s stare. The weapon pressed a bit lighter now on my chest.
‘Then join us. C’mon, hold this flag. And here is your weapon.’
‘I reject all flags. I refuse all weapons.’
The guy’s stare regained its coldness, and his weapon its sharpness.
‘I guess you don’t refuse to be alive…’
‘Don’t know.’
By this time, others in the gang were pretty bored. ‘Let’s leave the fellow. Seems to be some harmless idiot.’
Having soundly thrashed me, they left. Till the time I was conscious, I could hear the abuses- and the spirited slogans. Something something zindabad..something something murdabad..!
I regained consciousness after a while. Limbs sore. Senses numb. Having nothing else to do, I continued what I was doing..walking all alone. Along the farthest possible edge of the road. Hoping to be too insignificant to bother anyone.
They stopped me again. No, this time the guys were different. Same dialogue. Same querries. Same unanimous verdict. Only the flags and the slogans differed in details. Now this group was zindabad, and the earlier one murdabad. The abuse and the thrashing were same.
Both groups abandoned me as a harmless idiot. But soon the news reached their leaders and made them furious. ‘What? left that fool alone? Alive? Idiot yes, but not harmless! Go.. catch him. Kill him. Finish him. What if everyone stopped caring about ethnic or national or linguistic borders and territories? What then will happen of our asmita card? What the hell we leaders will do then? How will we survive? Go.. kill that bloody idiot!’
Frail and weak though I was, I did regain my consciousness once again. I promptly realized that even after all this, I had no head injury. No damage to my brain. So I did not become wiser. I still continued walking. Again, all alone. Along the farthest possible edge of the road. Praying to be too insignificant to bother anyone further.

Vague voices in distance alerted me. Gradually the scene became clearer. I saw both the groups, earlier shouting slogans against each other, united. Marching as a single body. Warring groups joining hands. Warring flags fluttering in unison. Warring weapons dancing to the same rhythm. Hurt and aching everywhere though I was, I was overwhelmed with ecstasy at this expression of integrity. I fell on my knees and facing the heavens thanked the Almighty, when..
The slogans became clearer.. and it dawned upon me that..well, this time I was the defined, common target of the composite mob. And I ran for my life.
I ran. I ran fast. I ran out of my breath. I panted. I gasped. I collapsed. Face buried in dust.
Next moment two accurately aimed spears struck me in the back. Each carried a flag of the two different groups.
I had refused every name, every label, every stamp, every stigma, every flag throughout my life. And here lay my dead body with two different flags deeply embedded in it. Isn’t it funny!

(Translated by the author from his original Marathi “Pataakaa”)