If I Were a Statue…..

I am a frail and lonely marble statue, installed in Central Park, Manhattan. I am the statue of a great National Leader, martyred, fighting against the British Domination.
With My eyes wide open, I observe gazillions of males and females, who gaze at me, with a sense of wonder. Sometimes, they praise my services to the nation. With my ears riveted towards them, I hear what they say. Some of them start upbraiding me saying that I died for winning glory. They condemn me as a selfish man. I hear such criticism with agony in my heart. The question arises: Can I tolerate it? Oh Yes, I have to! Just because I am a statue, I can’t make any reply to them. I have no representative or spokesperson to enlighten them about my sacrifice(and a time machine hasn’t been invented as of now), I remain silent and hear all the indifferent thoughts flung at me. I listen, but I don’t care for praise or infamy.
I be the classic and stationary Photobomber in all the selfies of people, right from the Hippie Guys and Luscious Beatnik beauties in the 60s to the present day Thug life Manhattanites .
I spent my life working for great ideals. Service to the nation and continuous struggles are the messages that I wish to convey to one and all. I continue “standing like a statue” , pondering over the cosmic theme:
“Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, and waste its Fragrance on the Desert air. “
The message I convey through my silent mute may be comprehended in different ways, but according to me, it’s the message of love and service and my message is also the reason for me to be stationed on 5 feet tall concrete, in the concrete jungle of New York. This concrete would sometimes be full of Garlands, candle wax or even “ Valuable spare parts” from the birds, especially pigeons.
Hmph…Well nothing matters. What matters is that…I am a Mute Piece of Concrete.
Sandra S Kurian
S3 EA

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