In the pitch-black night, the luminous tangerine flames were rising high in the sky. It seemed like a turbulence dance was showing by the flames under the fear of great mayhem. Of course, there was the terror, but it was not only the terror of conflagration but the terror of abhorrence that was much greater than the conflagration. There were the sounds of tantrums and rampages everywhere.
I was witnessing this all scene, standing on the hill above this battlefront of two classes of people who were proving which class is right. And that burning thing was the innocuous library that was founded by me.
I had an affection for this library and I should had be. It was the first library in the town, but I fear it could also be the last one. I brought all these books myself. I specially write many books for this library. Every book has a unique story and meaning.
And when this library burnt all these stories were reduced to ash but those stories of the books never really gonna be perished, they all became a new story. A story of fire itself, of man’s potency to get ahead from itself.
After all, we all are destined for this. So, with a quiet serene, I was just being witnessing this story. The story of the fire and the ashes.