"...for ages they have oppressed us," roared the leader, draped in black neck down. The crowd looked on in eager anticipation, as he grunted and proceeded to take a sip of water. The looming thunderstorm accentuated the grimness of the ceremony and the anger in the hearts of the people. What was merely nagging discomfort until an hour ago was now simmering hatred and people were raring to exact revenge. All, except young Samar.

"Sir," he raised his hands before the leader resumed, "you say they have oppressed us. I've never experienced it. Any examples of how they discriminated against us?" 

The last thing the leader wanted was a rational presence in his hatred-numbed camp. And the second last thing , someone questioning him. He couldn't admonish the boy, for he would then risk creating more rational spirits. "Good question, Samar. They made us divide out restaurants into two - one for them and one for us all. We were never allowed to occupy their seats or eat off the same plates. Isn't that discrimination?" he said, swallowing his pride.

"It is, sir. But only a while ago you said they were a clan that didn't eat anywhere but at home and wouldn't come out and mix with others. Also, won't a clan that asks for separate dining halls ask for a separate kitchen, assuming they did eat out? And so, how is it possible that they asked for special treatment in place that they never went to?" 

"Young man," the leader said, containing his irritation as the crowd watched with bated breath." What about their treating us as untouchables? And,  they never allowed us to enter or leave their colonies." 

"Sir, what do you mean by untouchability?" 

"Well, not shaking hands, for instance?" 

"Good, sir. But we as a people didn't know what shaking hands was until we were colonised. We always greeted each other by placing our palm on our chest and bowing. We still do. Also, we all have our own little gated communities and reserved zones, don't we? So, how are they alone seen as discriminatory? In fact, my grandfather told me that he often visited their colony as a youngster when there was work to do. That shows they engaged with us."

"Hmm. Perhaps there were few who were good. But we have been oppressed. Do you find as many of our pursuing higher education as theirs? Do you see our people holding as many offices as they do? Isn't that a result of past oppression? And shouldn't we work towards an inclusive society where our people have equal opportunity too? Doesn't your blood boil for the downtrodden?" 

"Even assuming I buy your theory, how is vilifying them the way to being inclusive? How is oppressing them the way for us to go? How different are we from them then, sir? Or, are you making it easy for yourself by dragging them down to make things equal rather than work hard to lift us up?" 

In a while, as the men marched ahead with a war cry that drowned even the roar of thunder, no one cared for the youngster who was let to bleed and die by a gutter. "An unavoidable offering to the Gods of equality on the altar of revolution," the leader may say perhaps if he is caught and questioned one day.