looked at his father and there was more than pity in his feeble and frightened eyes. He was a
strong man who had crossed swords with death.
In his disappointment Rafeel said, "Is it more horrible than death? Is there something
more powerful than your Herculean ideas, Father?" His father did not reply, he just looked
at him and turned his face with his head held low. The fall of that great man set off a wail
inside of Rafeel and a horrible wave of guilt overwhelmed his broken heart. In the very
next moment, he decided to leave that land.
His Father spoke in a requesting manner. "You should leave, Rafeel. They are chasing
you like a stray dog."
Before leaving home, he turned to his mother, who was sleeping. He went close to her, sat
near her bed for a while, kissed her hand silently and then, with a heavy heart, moved
quickly towards his mare. He did not have the courage to look back. In those few steps, he
travelled the distance of centuries; the deep sorrow had shocked his soul.
Soon, his mare was running with utmost speed, leaving behind the barking dogs: masters
of the land. On that same dark night, he crossed the border of his country as the thick
clouds covered even the stars. Before disappearing, he viewed his homeland with dejected
eyes. His soul shuddered at that helplessness and he grew weary of his useless existence.
All the teachings of his father about bravery ended in smoke and he found everything
shallow and empty. He was hostile towards the withdrawn souls and now he himself was
one of them. The bitter taste of defeat moved him to tears; absorbed in the heart of earth.
It was then that he saw the ashes of his dreams.
With deep disgust he spat in the air, saying: "This is for you the exploiters. Bravo! You
have defeated your own land, your own men. But don't forget that this was our fault that
we tamed the monsters. You are the beasts who can never be trusted. I spit on you, you
unfruitful and lustful men! I even hate to breathe in this land; woes for those who will live
amongst you and your bad breath."
He was one of those thousands of unknown political workers who were forced into exile, and the
majority of them were killed, unnoticed and without any rewards, medals or fame. These people
were committed to a cause and were led by the dreams of emancipation. Their free spirits and
hearts made their enemies violent. Rafeel was one of those free souls whose heart drove him to
misery. Political leaders, on the other hand, were faint-hearted and self-serving. Later on, these
selfless political workers came to know that the guardians of their commitment were the agents
of agencies and the establishment, but it was too late then. What happened to Rafeel during
twenty years of exile was another story, but the most pathetic aspect was that all these sacrifices
did not bring change in his country.
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