The Fate Of A Nation

As a traffic policeman, I became one of the best bribe collectors in the department due to constant methodical instructions. With the amount of bribe money in my possession at this time of my youthful life, I was capable of purchasing anything money could buy- a beautiful house, a flashy car and other mundane possessions; but inside me, I was completely wretched. I had become morally and culturally bankrupt. I felt like a helpless automation, determined by forces beyond my control, motivated by innate depravity. In general terms, I was facing a crisis: a crisis that its cause was known to me, and that it was me, and only me alone that could formulate a solution to it. Worst of all, my young intellectual mind once filled with crusading element had been overtaken by indignant frustration. I had become hopeless. My pulsating and rebellious personality had varnished into the silence of subjectivity just because of money. At a point I was so incensed with money that I coined its meaning by explaining what every letter represented in the way it appealed to me. M- Many shall die for my sake. O- On me, everyone shall depend. N- None shall be happy without me. E- Engage me in anything, it shall be possible and Y- Yet, I am the root of all evils. Who can argue with that? Avarice and the need to get rich quickly were not my main aim of enlisting into the police force; but the malleability of my personality by the police system had become so evident and pronounced as I became a money grabbing, evil knave; an acquired secondary quality which my entire system was now fighting hard to reject. The police had almost succeeded in making me a monster. It had to stop. The moment I started to nourish this sense of compunction, I knew there was hope for me to repent, and the only hope for repentance was to quit.