It was only a few years before he was born that the royal family had been massacred. When he went through what the history section of the social studies book told, he realized that this was not an isolated event. Throughout the country’s past, kings and queens had been murdered, often by people who were considered their own.
But what now?
There was no royal family in the country anymore. Where would the drama come from? Of course, there were always feuds and fights amidst the politicians but would anybody dare to slay the enemy. Or considering how things played out in the past, one of their own?
Between his musing, his mother walked in, with a tray adorned with two cups of Tokla chiya and a half torn packet of Gooday buiscuits.
“Aama, who killed the Royal Family?” he inquired, pulling a cup towards himself.
“Khai? Who knows,” she responded.
“Why did the kings always kill each other?” he asked, as he sipped his first.
“What have the leaders ever done in this country?” came the rhetorical answer.
Maybe the future would repeat the mistakes of the past, he thought. Only if we ever learnt.