‘It’ was lying discarded on top of the garbage heap. ‘Oh! For the days of yore – the days of Glory! Sigh! ….’ ‘It’ became wistful. ‘It’ started to slip into a reminiscent stupor. Was it just yesterday that ‘It’ had occupied pride of place in the shop window at the most prestigious store in the swankiest mall in town? How it felt to be the focus of all eyes – eyes that belonged to the multitude that could, at best, only yearn for something like ’It’. How ‘It’ gloated with an almost arrogant sense of superiority … How the mighty have fallen! ‘It’ had heard about Ozymandias and the superb sculptures languishing in the desert made by nameless sculptors who had sunk into oblivion – a prey to the vagaries of Nature, but it never, never did strike ‘It’ that Time would mete out an identical, inhospitable, impartial and insensitive treatment to ’It’ too. Pride and Greatness are but transitory, ‘It’ realised, now, ruefully. How exhilarating it felt to be, to realise, to know that people craved for ‘It’s possession – to flaunt and to scream in silence to the material world that they had achieved ‘It’. But, in the end, where did it leave them? Once the initial flush of success and the novelty of ‘It’s possession wore off, human nature being what it is, began to set newer or as yet unreachable goals and continued its quest. Wear and tear, changes in the dictates of the whims of fashion, and plain boredom – now that the hitherto unattainable goal had been achieved – sought fresher pastures. The garnish had served its purpose: out with it. ‘It’ could sense the other occupants in the garbage heap – the very same denizens that ‘It’ had looked down upon with scorn, if at all ‘It’ had spared them a glance until then – were gloating at the misfortune that befell ‘It’. Or was it just ‘It’s guilty conscience acting up? Tomorrow was only fond memories of Yesterday. It could see the claws of the hydraulic shovel coming closer. To lift ‘It’ into the truck. On the way to the incinerator. To Oblivion.

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