Those were great and glorious times! ‘Ozymandias!’ Even this word was enough to make people tremble and bow in respect. The rich and the mighty looked upon my glorious feats and heroic deeds and were lost in deep despair. The commoners trembled. The rich and the powerful bowed. The fate and fortune seemed to dance to my tunes. I wanted my memory to be alive even after my death. So I employed the best sculptor of the kingdom to erect the grand statue to perpetuate my memory for the coming generations.

And now. O God! How pathetic and heart-rending the sight is! ‘The king of kings’ lies shattered and buried in the sand. The ravages of time have reduced all symbols of my power, authority, glory and grandeur to dust. Only two huge legs of stand in the desert. The ‘head’ that used to bow thousands of heads in submission is not traceable anywhere. Only the half shattered and half-buried face mocks at my fate. And nothing else is left except the boundless and bare sand all around.