Sunday, February 28, 2010

And yet another Bard Succumbs.

By Sadho Ram

|| मुझे भी गम होता बेहद, 'गर होता कोई मेरे साथ नहीं
मुझे पता है मैं क्या हूँ के मैं मर गया तो होगी कोई बात नहीं
पर उस सुखनवर का क्या करूँ जिसने यह सोच कर आज ख़ुदकुशी की है
की उसके शब्द बड़े फीके हैं, उसकी जुबान बड़ी तीखी है
और उसकी स्याही में कभी था कोई जज्बात नहीं ||
|| I would have also felt very sad, if no one would have been there with me
I know my repute in society so if I die tomorrow there wouldn’t be any talk about me
But what to do about that bard in me who hanged himself today thinking that
His words are awfully sallow, his tongue is extremely sharp
And he possessed that dismal ink which never had a sentiment in it ||

In Bombay they say – ‘No matter what, nothing ever stops. And so as the saying goes, nothing really stopped.’

Life at every corner, at every junction went on as it used to. Vehicles zoomed away farting the toxic smoke while the rag pickers continued their ‘cleaning campaign’ at the nearby block.

And the ambience in the room no. 786 of the building no. 43 inside the Aazad nagar colony was in full swing when I stepped inside its periphery. The weekly gathering around the fading evening there of few regulars was yet another proof that, indeed, in Bombay nothing ever stops.

Anyways, their drinks surely did stop, though, for a second only when they raised their glasses to greet me. I bowed at them and threw myself over the bundle of cushions which were kept on one side of the room.

I sat there quietly looking at them when one of them came to me with a big sized glass of bear.

‘Have some, brother.’

I looked at him and as I was going to politely decline his offer a ‘someone’ yelled at him from behind –

‘Bloody, how many fucking times we have to fucking hark back to you that Sadho doesn’t fucking drink?’

And before I could part my lips to utter something ‘the one’ who had come to me offering the glass of bear was already begging and pleading –

‘Oh shit, brother, please, forgive me, please. I always tend to forget this one little thing. I hope you didn’t felt bad ...’

And he would have gone on and on had I not requested him to stop. I felt he was genuinely feeling bad it. And eventually I felt bad for him that he had to feel as such coz of me. Then just to cheer him up I patted on his shoulder and smiled at him and even though he didn't but I could see the feeling of embarrassment was fading away slowly.

‘Come on, guys, let it go now.’ – I requested everyone.

It took some time before the bear again started to roll down through their throats. The mood gradually but mercifully started to mount again as everyone, except me, got in the battle to gulp down as much bear as one could.

And though, I was not feeling the way I always felt whenever I was around them but I tried to hide my uncalled emotions from them. It was that moment when they started to insist me for some food for thought without much realising that Sadho today is a bit lost.

‘Never mind’ – I said to myself.

And tried my best to gather few words and force a line out of them for these literary nerds. Well, I failed. And I kept on failing and they kept on staring at me. Not in disbelief but in anticipation that any moment from now on Sadho will say something on ‘love’s lamenting’ which will not only be intense but will also heal their wound. But, I failed.

I closed my eyes. Not that I was trying to think. But instead, I was trying to avoid their anticipated gaze which was so full of humbling appreciation that it shamed me. The appreciation which I, at least, at that moment did not at all deserved.

How could I? After failing to fulfil their little wish how could the Sadho in me take something from them which did not belong to him? How could he?

And, so he didn’t!

‘Excuse me.’

I stood up from there and at once flushed myself out of their presence. I had failed today. Today at the birth and also the death day of Prophet Mohammad, at the day of ‘Eid-E-Miladulnabi’ ...the poet in me has failed so miserably that I felt –

‘Damn, such a promising day, along with such humble friends... and, yet another bard succumbs.’

May he – “Rest In Peace.”

Monday, February 22, 2010

Their Futile Hopes! My Wasted Life!

By Sadho Ram

My brother, the one who stood by me when I was falling apart, financially and emotionally, and supported me in my every necessary and even unnecessary demand, has now stopped taking my calls!

My sister, the one who never ever dared to even stare at me, has now started questioning me, though in jest, about my commitment towards my professional life!
But it ain’t their fault.


It’s bloody me, who have been cheating on them and few others. It is because of me that those who once never got tired of me and my egotistic gibberish have now started looking for petty excuses to avoid my useless company. But what am I doing to stop all this and bring back the lost respect of mine?

Well, to be precise nothing exactly, except lamenting boorishly over and over again.

I have no clue about what has been the prime reason for continues untried failure of mine in every path, which would had taken me to certain heights till now if only I would had tried once! I have made my life miserable. So miserable that now it seems even the destiny has decided to dump any kind of support it may have provided to me in my future endeavours.

Sometimes during the evening time of day when the crimson Sun prepares itself for way back to home, I take an auto to the Barista Rock Beach in Versova and sit there pondering over my past life and the deeds. Of course, without any thoughtful outcome, as to why the bloody hell am I in such sympathetic condition where I am bestowed with what usually most desire but lack the audacity to claim that particular thing which is there for me?

Because I took everything, my life devoid of the love’s warmth, my path devoid of determination, my goals devoid of inspiration, my people devoid of trust and my ability devoid of productive use, for GRANTED! Yes, I took everything for granted.

Even the dreams of my late parents which, at one point of my life I have vowed to fulfil by turning them into reality. I guess I should bloody slit my throat and let every single drop of my unworthy blood drip out through the hole and then die slowly.

Yes, I ain’t kidding. I do think sometimes and have often taken up the knife but as I my failed life I regularly fail to fail my failed attempts.

My people, back there, still think I will someday be a very big person. That someday I, too, like thousands other, will bask in the glory and make a hell lot of fortune out of it. But alas their hopes have proved futile just like my wasted life.

I have forgotten my past (and they say the ones who forget their past are bound to doom) and I am lost in my present which means, as of now I have no future.

A somewhat self-constructive article by a very self-destructive Mango

Monday, February 15, 2010

And The Mango's Heart Was Ripped Apart

By Sadho Ram

The joint-gimmick and its much publicised propaganda, that of our ‘bloodthirsty old neighbour’ Pakistan’s and of our very own diplomatic (read- coward) government, though a major success among the fools of sophisticated (but ignorant) and elite class, is now finding a place to hide itself from all those particular few Mango’s eyes who are forced to shed tears and mourn on the dream shattering death of their dear little Mangos. The ones bubbling with hopes and zest were bombed on the eve of St. Valentine’s death anniversary.

But does the same damn ‘sophisticated and elite class’ really care?


Coz’ it simply ain’t their thing.

To care about LIFE is one thing they have not been taught in that schooling system where they were so passionately taught about how to market themselves and their propagating views through the sticky label of age old exaggerated culture and heritage in the name of spreading the so called LUST & PEICE ...err I mean LOVE AND PEACE with that nation who has the tendency to stab in the chest as it is this ‘pure’ rotten blood which runs inside their vein which has ‘masterfully’ demented their soul and have cemented only one thing inside their ‘Jihadian’ head – ‘to stop the ever increasing, world alarming, earth threatening, space consuming freaked out population of the Indians.’

Yes, that’s what I think. Seriously!

See, they, the gory-whory Pakistanis, are worried over our freaked out population which seems to be fighting for the top spot in the world’s highest population category and so their worry is very much justified as it is their country, the same gory-whory Pakistan, which has the potential threat of losing its ‘Independent status’ to our crooked Country.

Not getting what I am telling?

Well, now pay attention as I am not going to explain it over and over again.

According to my reliable Mango in “Board of Control for Population in India” (BCPI) it has been stated that the BCPI are planning a scheme to grab the top spot in WHP category and they can only do this if they overtake the Pakistan and re-merge it with our Nation so to have more physical land space so that our Country can keep that coveted spot for much longer than it can now with its limited ‘India’ only land space. And that scheme requires an uncontrolled birth-rate of Mangos among the Indians... but somehow the information got leaked out and our ‘Oh-so-sorry-gory-whory’ neighbour got hold of it. Now the only possible way that seemed fast and feasible to them to stop the Bloody BCPI from maligning their ‘Pak’ Country by re-merging it to ours is by – ‘Bombing the bloody deceiving Indian Mangos.’ And so the Mangos in Pune were perished. So the Indian media should refrain itself from blaming Indian Mujahideen and Lashkar-e-Taiba for the blasts which ripped apart the many Mangos heart as it is this BCPI and their unsafe security system which should be blamed and paraded instead.

Now did you get it? If still not then go to Pakistan and find -

He will erase all the foggy confusion from your head and guide you towards the path of True Jihad.

A very informative Article by the superlative Mangoes

Friday, February 12, 2010

The Mango Dream!

By Sadho Ram

The vibrant skin of the state government goes pale, the animated bones of the babus of the state starts to shiver, the ‘so called’  rainbow spirit of the ‘Bombayait’, ‘Mumbaikar’ (or whatever it is called) die and the underrated ‘Mangos’ are left alone to cry as each time the Shiv ‘say-na’ to anything and everything that they think is immoral and un-Marathi or for that matter damaging the world famous, superbly illustrious and overwhelmingly generous image of their (yes, as claimed by them) Mahan-rashtra.

Now whether its Shah Rukh khan, a Bachchan (not necessarily the Bachchans) eating a Bihari paan, a movie named My Name Is Khan, or the Courageous service of the NSG Jawaan.

Anything is simply not enough for them. And it’s not surprising considering the fact that ‘nothing has been ever enough for the idiots of any kind in any part of the world’ and so is the case with these parties with idiotic ideologies of regional politics who has only one single agenda- “To spread hatred among the already hate-loving and hateful people of the country” -who goes breaking, destroying and vandalising anything ‘breakable’ that meets their eye.

Well, of course, it has to face the wrath. Of course, it has to be condemned and of course, it has to be labelled as damned. Of course, it has to. Yes, according to them, it must have to.
I don’t remember who said this (but I remember it was an Indian who did, well, it was me then, probably) that-

‘Ours is a Country of hypocrites... bloody two faced people with even bloodier two faced ethics.’

It pains, trust me, it really does to foresee the shattered future of the Country, to see it burn into cinders, to witness its glory being eaten by these ‘termites’ and turn into dust. It pains a lot.

But of what value is my pain to ‘them’?

Zero. Nil. Zilch. None. Nothing.

Yes, that’s what is the value of My, Yours and Ours pain to ‘them’.

They care for their greed for money, power and double-meaning politics and they won’t spare anyone who dares to ‘bark’ or ‘howl’ at them. Not even the so called Marathi ‘Mangos’ for whose dreams they seem to be fighting. For example, they didn’t think twice before slapping (verbally) Sachin Tendulkar, who by caste happens to be a Marathi Mango or Lata Mangeskar (she, too, is a Marathi Mango) and there are many similar cases and instances where ‘these’ self-proclaimed owner of this Mahan-Mango-State has tortured, abused and hanged the people who have dared to even ‘hiss’ at them, forget the barking and howling. No, it didn’t matter to them that those Mangos too, were Marathi. The very part of the same Marathi ‘Mangos’ for whose ‘owned’ rights they have taken birth into this Mahan-Mango-rashtra of this Neech-world so that they can project it, guide it and then lead them into the darkness of... err... I’m sorry; really, I’m sorry from ‘mann se’... I meant, into the lightness of ... well, whatever it is that they think it is.

Well, I guess, I have said enough. So I would like to end it here, well, of course, with one last thought. It’s just that it has been boiling inside my head from last few weeks.

As these ‘Shiv Maniacs’ ...err, I mean ‘Shiv Sainics’ and “aM-aN-asS” are always so keen and eager to demolish the state property and kill country Mangos then why not allot them the task they master so brilliantly. Like these days there’s too much construction work is going on in and around the Mahan-Mango-rashtra where big and huge and giant machines are being use to demolish the old buildings so to build the new ones in their place. The government is spending thousands and millions of rupees for it so why not let the ‘... Maniacs’ and the ‘... asS’ do it. As it will not only save the huge government fund but will also cut down heavily on the ever increasing global warming.


Well, these ‘... Maniacs’ and the ‘... asS’ unlike their counterparts (the big and huge and giant machines) don’t require any kind of fuel or gas to run or operate to destroy and demolish. And then ‘these’ two great parties will also be able to boast about their own ‘Mango-power’ except that this time the whole Country will give them a toast.

What an amazing idea, right? Everybody will be happy and then we all can turn idiots and sing “Aal Izz Well, Aal Izz Well.”

Well, I hope the Mango with the real power reads this and creates a committee which will domesticate the ‘... maniacs’ and the ‘... asS’ and then save the Country from needlessly spending its precious fund on machines by allotting ‘them’ instead and the World from the threats of Global warming by reducing the consumption of ever decreasing fuel and gas. Amen!

Article by a Mango among the other Mangoes