The monkey climbed up the lamppost. It was not one of those small lampposts in a cute town, as shown in American, British, or even Indian movies. Rather, the lamppost was almost four story tall. That’s what the Road Division and the Municipality had agreed on when deciding the final design of the lamppost that were to be installed in the newly renovated Jawalakhel – Ekantakuna road section. The tall height was supposed to represent the glory and magnificence of the city. “We might all be short but let the lampposts reach the heavens,” the sarkar had decided.
He moved swiftly till he reached about two and a half story high. Hanging towards the sidewalk-side of the lamppost was the solar system that powered the lamp. The monkey made sure that he was stable enough to sit down on top of the hanging cuboid case covering the electrical materials before releasing his grasp from the pole.
Attached to the solar system was a flag. What was the flag for? Nobody could tell at this time of the night. But one could imagine the flag flapping in glory in the chilly evenings breeze of Magh. The monkey touched the material that built the flag. A rough rectangular patch of cloth. Attached to a small plastic rod. Tied to the pole with a piece of electric wire. He could sense an imprint on the cloth. A feel of paint of some sort. But of what shape? He could not tell.
He untied the flag and grabbed it. It felt portable and light. He climbed the remaining one and a half story worth of height and reached the summit.
He had seen a group of people wave some red flags on the street as they passed by that afternoon. The previous day another group of people had performed a similar act, albeit with flags carrying different symbols. They had spoken gibberish as they passed by. Loud, synchronous gibberish.
The monkey stood up on its two feet. He raised the flag high and swayed it – side to side. Just like people had done the previous few days.
What was coming?