Smog, Airport, and Lollipop

The leader woke up. How was he feeling? His muscle felt tense despite his 8 hour slumber. Anger. That’s what he was feeling. All day. Everyday.

Apparently, the other leader had hurt his ego the previous day. “Chitta dukhyo. Kamalo mann tutyo,” he had complained the YouTuber who had taken his interview. His own followers that had comprised of the audience body had laughed at his comment. Seeing the response, his chest had swollen with heavy pride for himself.

He made a loud yawn, took his time to close his mouth, then slowly looked outside his window. Yellow. It seemed as if a sepia tint had been magically induced inside his eyes. Pollution. His mind made the immediate connection. His analysis was not unique. Everyone who lived in Kathmandu could make the linkage.

He rubbed his eyes to awaken himself only to find out that he had more eye gunk than usual. He tried to pick on them in an attempt to remove them but failed. The dried-up dirt had seemingly become a part of him.

“Only if the other leader would compromise with us, then we could maybe form a coalition government. Then we can do something about this smog,” that’s what he had said the previous year, in an interview with Mr. Gamala. He had known that a joint government would not make anything other than a small dent in the environment. But the public needed to be deceived. Otherwise, how would the new airport’s money come to him?

Small dents lauded as ‘mass development’ was how he framed his self-proclaimed success. And people believed him.

He walked up to the dressing table and took a lollipop. He opened the packet and sucked on it. He looked at his charming face in the mirror. A red puffy ball was on his nose. The white lollipop stick hung out from his mouth. “What a handsome guy,” he thought to himself.

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