“Turn up the volume of protests …. change is never an easy feat to achieve,” the voice is dominating, emphatic and reeks of impatience to win the war.

“Does change even matter any more?” I speak after a long, pregnant pause, sounding ominous to him, but at peace with myself.

“What do you mean,” his eyes and voice are both spewing fire, as he prepares to silence everything that is not designed by him.

“I can sense the intolerance to dissent. Hence, I ask the same question again – do we really need to fight to serve the same devils once again?”

5 thoughts on “Ominous

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