This file represents a nation gradually falling into ruin, a place where conscience has made its resting ground. It lies abandoned in a dark corner of a smoke-stained drawer, unrecognizable and forgotten. The pages of its history are inscribed with promises that yellow and fall away before even the sun can touch them. Thick dust settled on its spine conceals the tears of its people.
Within this file dwells corruption like an ashram, with thousands of carbon copies produced. From the highest to the lowest level, every hand bears the stains of carbon paper. Good governance here is but a labyrinth: some files advance, others vanish, and the rest remain piled up, untouched. The letters of the law are written in invisible ink. Contractors roam around with pockets full of rubber stamps.
Maladministration has turned every file into a grave. People, wandering in search of justice, collapse one after another. Complaints of the poor and the voices of the oppressed have been buried alive. Clerks climb over the coffers, busy arranging deals among the elite. This is a file marked “Extremely Urgent” on the cover, yet trapped under the weight of countless “Pending” stamps.
Beneath a mountain of unread files, the fate of the nation is crushed. Today, watchful eyes ask: Is there anyone here who can retrieve this country from the endless ocean of unrecorded, damp, and torn files—a nation gasping for breath?
