LAST REFUGE
By Muhammad Nasrullah Khan

The sun was about to hide itself behind the black peak, when grey-haired Rafeel reached the old Bus-Stand of his village. Shadow dark, his grandmother would have called it elvish dark. Head still dreamy with travel, he took a deep breath and turned to gaze around him. The air was slow moving and damp, sweet with the smell of wood fires at the village Bus-Stand. Though the particular smell of land made him very excited, he was feeling himself an outsider in the land where he had spent many years of his life. Twenty years ago, he'd left his own land in utmost dejection. He had been young, brave and non-conformist, and therefore was declared a rebel against the army government. There were two choices open to him: he could either surrender or leave the country. He chose the latter.

Now, twenty years later, he was at the same place and nothing had changed; black rock was concealing the sun with the same greed and the Army had come into power again. He looked at the faces of the people; they had become paler. Their eyes were empty and deadpan; they were still in their soiled rags, scavenging through the trash for discarded crumbs. They were the citizens of a moth-eaten country where the land had become more chaotic and poverty-stricken. Their corrupt leaders had sucked the blood from their bodies and raped the country, over and over. Nature also turned against them and there were floods, earthquakes, and famines. Now they were spiritless bodies, living for the sake of life: these neglected souls were the scapegoats of every government.

Poverty was their crime and they were paying the penalty, as had their ancestors. Yet, they were so simple-hearted that any leader deceived them, because their memories were lost. Rafeel remembered the final meeting with his family, when he came out of his sanctuary in the barren mountains. His father said: "My son, now I am too decayed to face the vulgar vultures.'' He 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.