Why I'm Celebrating 1st January As My Birthday Instead of 20th August

By Sadho Ram

I was not born on the 1st of January. But the day is so much more important to me than my actual date of birth, which is the 20th of August. I'll explain why.

But first of all, let me take this opportunity to sincerely thank everyone who has been kind enough to take note and wish me. It truly means the world to me.

More than a decade ago, when the world hit the new millennium, things in my life changed.

In less than four years, I lost both my parents — my mother was murdered in August 2000 and my father was poisoned in May 2004. He was an influential politician in Eastern India.

But my life didn't stop. It went on, albeit with a few minor hurdles. Over the years, though, something kept transpiring and by the end of 2008, it became so much harder for me to carry on.

I despised the name I was given, the identity that was associated with it, and all that it reminded me of my past, including the people. In other words, I didn't want to exist carrying all that further.

But I couldn't just stop. I had a little sister to take care of, to see that regardless of what my situation is, hers is a good life.

After much consideration and reflecting upon the possible repercussions of the decision I was going to take, I finally decided to renounce my name and the identity it carried with it and in the presence of my friend, Swapnil Shahane, I named myself Sadho.

That was on the 1st of January 2009.

I named myself Sadho after the 15th-century mystic, Kabir Das, who — in his couplets — had used Sadho to address anyone in search of something; a seeker. In my case, it became my search for myself.

That morning I not only renounced my old name, but I also renounced other Hindu societal norms that came associated with my birth and I was made to carry in the name of keeping the family honour alive, such as caste, religion, surname, etc.

People's reaction to my decision was very... frustrating, to put it mildly.

Almost none of them took it seriously (some still don't). Everyone thought I'm just fooling around, because who really changes their name and shit, right? I kept bearing them on while telling myself that it's alright, people don't really understand and sometimes they need time. So it went on. I found a few who even though could not understand me completely, respected my decision to do so and started addressing me as Sadho.

Anyways, fast-forward to 2013, I was still struggling to get my name legally registered and get myself a government-issued photo identification card under my new identity — not to mention, and still dealing with people who refused to take my decision seriously.

But after several dozen failed attempts and reattempts, in December 2014, it finally happened.

With the help of some really kind people in my life, I managed to get my name legally registered and got the Income Tax Department to issue me a new ID. The entire process was filled with ordeal and disappointments, and it would have never ended if not for a certain few people who used their best resources to help me.

To name a few of them, Neha Vaswani, who from helping me file the papers to finally using her personal contacts got the entire process done, Anshul Tewari and Guneet Narula, who truly tried all they could do to make sure the issue is sorted out, and finally, the guy at the Income Tax Department in Delhi. His name is Azam and he, even though there were some issues, made sure that my new ID is issued to me. No amount of 'thank yous' would ever convey my gratitude to these people.

All this while, I kept celebrating my birthday on the 20th of August, but somewhere in my mind, there was always this thought that I shouldn't, not on the 20th of August at least. So I made another decision, this time to start celebrating my birthday on the 1st of January instead of the 20th of August.

Swapnil with me. This picture is from 2011.

Why?

Because it makes more sense to celebrate and acknowledge the date — 1st of January — as my 'birthday' on which I renounced what I despised and everything else that held my relation to the people who are responsible for making me and my sister orphans.

Much has come to pass since the morning of that 1st January when I changed my name in front of my friend. Many who are close to me have become more privy to some of the most vulnerable memories of my past, some of which I've written and published for the news site I work for.

My Idea of Romance!

By Sadho Ram

Author's note: It was written back in 2010-11, as a result of a very lengthy discussion on my Facebook profile about how when we associate ourselves with a cause, IT IS our moral obligation to fight for it till the end. No matter what. To be honest, this is an incomplete write-up of the whole idea of romance that I have, but sadly haven't been able to get down to it and complete it. Maybe, someday I will, let's hope! For now, this is what it is..

The word – Romance, regardless of the magnitude it carries in its meaning, is but a much underrated word. It though continues to flourish today, but its reach as well as its breeding is limited. Its usage in terms of the way people use it, is barricaded to emotional love between the two human species – male and female. But Romance is not limited to just between these two flesh and bone subjects. As such, as it never should have been, but shockingly it has, either forcibly or deceptively. Today, when I look around, I see no Romance. Oh, leave romance; I see not even a tint of it.

There is this other thing called self gratification prevailing all around the Globe in a manner and speed, which is beyond any earthly comparisons. People, in their desire (which too, get born by /from observing the activity of other people) to be different in a manner they think that will make them attain uniqueness, are but becoming impostors.

To explain my above statement, I will request you to consider, for instance, the “Save Tiger Campaign” (in India) by several media houses and corporate organizations. Whatever has been done has only been done on papers and screens only. That too, without any, and I can say this much that with Zero concrete outcome. TEHELKA’s Chilling Exposé is the blatant proof!

As “Save something campaigns” have become fashion statements these days, people pick one depending on their choice/life-style, as they pick clothes, and then make some noise. What happens after that, no one gives a damn! Whether that “something” lived, died or whatever is of no concern for anyone. Because what matters for them is the visibility of their campaign, the self gratifying pleasure that they squeeze from it. Not the authenticity or the purpose for which that particular campaign was initiated.

And I’m not generalizing everyone in this generalized statement. I understand what certain people – the artistic kinds and few other tribes; feel or might feel about issues and factors affecting and plaguing our society, and I’m in very much in awe towards this nature of theirs and carry tremendous amount of respect for them in my heart. But that is not the point here, the point is, people today are applying the “herd mentality”everywhere they can or want to, and in everything. And this is very dangerous, because, while they are at it, they are at the same time also not aware of their selves being at it. It’s like sleep-walking. You are walking, but you do not know you are indeed walking, because you are not awake, therefore, not aware.

You don’t start or initiate a campaign just because your neighbor did and got famous. You ought to have something concrete to do so, something valid. Something which gives you not just the self gratification, but the purpose of fulfillment because of the initiative and the steps taken in regards of it. You ought to have the gut to fight it out, even if it demands your blood. Yes, blood!

I know all this sounds too ridiculously romantic but then that is the purpose of it, that you make love – Romance – to it. As this is the way you make love to something or someone. To speak in the tone you would understand – it is something that when you feel about someone in a very emotional manner. Say, for the most simple example, if you are a man and feel for a woman, and are willing or are determined to do anything that circumstances or in circumstances she might demand you to do, and you will do it, without much consideration of the outcome that your action might have on you or on your life personally. Because you know, if not for her, your life has no other purpose or meaning. Because you have given away yourself to that cause which is her. Because you realize she is your purpose or campaign, which you must save, because you initiated it, and now she is your duty above everything and everyone else.

So, when you feel about some issue affecting a certain section of society, you ought to have that romantic attitude you are supposed to have when you are in love with a woman as a man or towards a man as a woman or in similar sex and are willing to do absolutely anything for your partner’s sake.

And this is my idea of romance, where I attain ultimate freedom only when I give myself completely to the cause which I have chosen. And it does not necessarily need to be a social one, nor does it need to be for the betterment of humanity or any such kind. My cause can perfectly be me. I can be my cause and dedicate myself towards it. As for me, life is too small to live for others, I live it for myself. I do not help anyone. I do not intend to do so. Although certain people, at certain time, may have or might benefit from my actions. But that’s purely non-intentional and also completely coincidental.

When speaking about the ‘whole’, I understand the limitations that a certain major section of it has, carries, or builds. But that’s precisely what’s it’s all about that all those limitations are but the creation of their mind, their own self. As my friend, Mrinal, phrased it up perfectly – “The defined capacity, the sphere of life beyond which they can’t tread.”

So, WHO defines the capacity but, the sphere of life beyond which they can’t tread?

Well, it’s the same person, who wants to support the cause or dedicate his or her life towards it. And if that person starts freeing himself or herself rather than restricting or limiting himself or herself with preconceived notions, conventional rules and regulations and boundaries then there would actually be no “defined capacity, the sphere of life beyond which he or she can’t tread“.

Consider this little analogy; a man is like a lion. A wild one. Angry yet calm! But at the same time restless too. He walks as if he rules the land beneath and he looks at the sky as if he is acknowledging the fact. As he should, indeed! The entire earth is his forest; he roars and with it thunders the entire vicinity, he hunts and hunts like a king ought to do – with ferocious wildness! But he does all this, while he is free. Once he is caged, behind the iron bars, for the entertainment of mass, in the name of hypocrisy born from the mass’s own greed, he is no more than a motor-operated toy. He is not there, inside that cage with his own wish or choice, but is there, forced, by outer forces. And so, he now awaits the two moments, the first of his approaching last breath and the second of reproaching hope of his freedom before his death, because he is unable to do anything else. But man isn't  he though resembles the lion, but is above him in something a lion can never have – mental superiority and the ability of rational clarity which comes from within but is realized by endurance of years and years of desire to have what he wants, what he deserves and what belongs to him – his self. His own self, or to say in simple manner – freedom. Because, no life, without a cause or purpose, irrespective of its nature, can ever attain the freedom which belongs to it and for which it longs.

Life, without it – cause or purpose, is exactly like that caged lion, who knows that freedom of wild is what he deserves but he will never have it, until he frees himself from the cage. In the similar manner, you might know what you want or deserve, but will never have it, till you make yourself wholly committed to it.

So, in my idea of Romance, if someone is voicing his or her opinion on a certain issue, say for example, the disgusting whiff coming from the gutter, it does not necessarily mean that he or she have to go literally down under the gutter to clean it. He or she can implement/execute means via his or her opinion to do so. But he or she has to be completely romantic towards it i.e. truly committed at voicing it out till it’s finally heard and done by the concerned parties/agencies/department undertaking the particular job.

In romance, what matters is that when you feel about it or for it, you be true to it, in whatever form that you find yourself drawn to it. Like for some men, when they are in love with the woman they dream about, all that matters to them is that they keep looking in her eyes. Nothing else matters. In the similar manner, if one is romantic about voicing just his or her opinion, one should just do it. And keep doing it. Continually. Voice it out. Simple. Straight. Voice. Voice. Voice and voice. Because for that person, voicing out his or her opinion, in the idea of romance, this is what will define it and the true purpose of it. That he or she be true to himself or herself and the path that he or she chose. And did not just pick it up, because the passerby was doing it or for better excuse, oh, my neighbor or the person I admire is speaking for it.

And it doesn't matter that people or organisation and governments will listen to you or there will be some concrete actions be taken upon your voicing out your opinion on the issue, however valid. But what matters and what actually should only matter is that no person, organisation or government can tell you to shut up and sit down. Because you know what you are doing and why you are doing. Because you know you are right and you have a right to voice your ‘voice’ till the time you are being true to your purpose. But, whatever you do, whatever you may oppose or support, whatever means you may take for the cause, the purpose, or your romance, should never be at the expense of other people’s life.

And that is My Idea Of Romance!

First published on Youth Ki Awaaz

... And So We Must Rise Before We Die A Death With Every Tock!

By Sadho Ram

Helplessness—of all the worst feelings in the world known to human beings out there—is the most worst of them all!

Helplessness—in the face of an apparent problem which one may know how to solve but is unable to—why—because the feeling of helplessness makes them feel just inadequate or plain hopeless!

Helplessness—that's what it does. No matter how strong a person maybe—this feeling—the helplessness makes a man incompetent.

Incompetent towards himself. Insufficient for himself. Insecure about himself.

And if untreated, left in the hands of fate and destiny, gradually but surely the very feeling of helplessness grows and grows like... cancer, YES, cancer, advancing, slowly but surely to its last stage—a stage from where there's no return!

It is then that this helplessness doesn't just remain merely what it is, it becomes something bigger, something more worse than worst of things, something so gigantic that when the realization hits us—the realization of this final stage of helplessness—we see nothing but foggy darkness, the line between reality and fantasy blurs, the emotions and feelings that may have kept us going—starts coming out in layers!

And with every tick we lose a breath and we die a death with every tock!

But wait, that's not the end of it—certainly not the end of us. We are better than that and we deserve better—much, much better!

It is now that we—the helpless, hopeless beings—shall rise—rise like a Phoenix rises from his ashes—no, not because life is a fairy tale but because life isn't a fairy tale. So, we must rise in the face of each adversary—no matter how Goliath-like they may appear at first, second, third or even at further sights—because there's a little David in every one of us—a David whose purpose is to discover itself within the self—and which can only be done in the face of Goliath-like adversaries.

Because no matter what—when the cause, the reason behind helplessness is realized or figured out—it can be stopped—much like the cancer if it's detected in the first stage!

Because there is nothing that can put us down but we—ourselves! Because there is no one out there who knows what it takes to wake up every morning even though we don't want to but we must because life is not a fairy tale because standing up for ourselves is the first stand we make because at the end of the day when we go back to bed that's what counts the most because those who don't stand up for themselves, certainly cannot stand for others because a house first must have strong foundation in order to sustain itself so that it can sustain a roof for others over its walls because... because we must first come first to us before others because in this life-long journey of constant adversaries it is us who won't desert us, who won't leave our side because whatever may be the circumstance—helplessness or hopelessness—cannot last forever—because they are not meant to because almost nothing ever last that long because all we need is to wake up, make a stand, face the problems whatever they maybe, look into its eye and say—enough is enough!

A Note on Atheism

By Sadho Ram

Atheism is not a religion. The basic premise of atheism is to reject the very idea/belief in the existence of god, any god.

So if you identify yourself as an atheist, you are opposing god/religion (which is right), because if not then you are not an atheist or perhaps do not clearly understand atheism.

Religion, which was made by us, and the notion of god are co-dependent, without one, the other can't exist.

An atheist will never believe in any of those two, because if he/she does, then the very purpose of atheism fails, the person who identifies himself/herself as an atheist fails, the realization, the awareness, the knowledge and the observation that led to the person declaring himself/herself as an atheist... FAILS!

Absurd but an Absolute Truth!

By Sadho Ram

Out of many absolutes, there is one absolute truth whose absoluteness can’t be denied, but then its absoluteness is also not accepted, it’s hanging in the middle, in the open thin air, without any support, not because it needs any, but solely because of the same reason that it doesn’t need any.

Yes, a truth can survive on its own without any support of any kind except the conviction of the living being born with the ability to think who has the honesty to accept it as it is.

It’s an absurd kind but then its absurdity is what which makes it absolute in its nature.

That – in this world – it’s not the men, no matter what, who get used, it’s the women. One way or the other, whether physical or emotional, out of choice or due to circumstances, it’s always the women. It has been women, it is women and, I say it without any vested interest or hidden motive, that it will be women.

And that is one truth men don’t want to accept and women don’t want to believe. Not because they don’t really want to, but because they lack what it takes to accept a truth and what it also takes to believe a reality. I’m not going to put that word here. Because I know it won’t mean anything to those who know nothing about it and nor do they care do know anything about it. This is one word I know that have been used just as like women all over the world have been and are being used.

But I know a few rare living being born with the ability to think who has the honesty to accept things as they are and not put label on them with a veiled interest or motive of any kind. And they are the ones who have kept the truth, of any kind, alive still.

At times, I’ve wondered, with great amount of a grief unknown to me and an undirected compassion towards anyone, as to why we – the human being – who were supposed to be the most virtues have turned out to be nothing but a mere bunch of vultures eyeing to feed ourselves and our hunger on others weakness and their circumstantial need for us? Why? But never, not once, I’ve come to any rational conclusion of any kind anywhere.

Sigh.

And I don’t think that I will ever reach to any rational conclusion ever over this. But that won’t take away what is there, the truth – the absolute, absurd truth – that the one’s getting used are not men but women. And not just in the hands of men but also in the hands of women.

A Conversation with a MAN!

By Sadho Ram

So you are a writer, Sir. Hun…

Image Courtesy Google

And you keep travelling?

From city to city, just to write the stories?

Must be an exciting life, Sir! Hun…

Me?

From last 5 years, Sir.

Yes, it’s been five years since I came here to Bombay.

No, Sir, I don’t call it Mumbai.

I like the name Bombay, that’s why, no particular reason why I call Bombay as Bombay.

No, no. I came here with a hope to get a job in some company, Sir.

My cousin brother, yes, he brought me here.

I’m a 12^th pass, Sir.

No, no one took me in.

I searched and searched. But nothing happened.

A few of them didn’t even consider talking to me after finding out that I’m 12^th pass and I’m from Bihar and happen to be a Muslim.

Yes, Sir, a Muslim I’m.

No, I didn’t feel bad, Sir.

Not actually.

It’s not their fault, Sir.

This is how the people are brought up in society. They judge you and your character by your religion, Sir.

And this didn’t happen with only me, there are many who are judged based on the community that they belong to… so it didn’t affect me, because I was not the only one.

No, Sir. They did what they had to; I’m doing what I have to.

Yes, yes, I’m very happy with my life, Sir.

With this auto, sir, I married off my two little sisters.

Yes.

Actually one is married; the other’s marriage is fixed. I’ve made all the arrangements for it.

Since about 5 years, Sir.

Yes, just about the time I came here, I’ve been driving this auto.

Actually, no, not this auto. This is a brand new one, Sir.

Yes, yes, I just brought it a week ago.

Before this one, I was driving the one my cousin brother had given me.

It was his auto, Sir, but he gave it to me to drive at night.

Yes, very kind man, Sir. Like a father to me.

My father, Sir?

My father is dead, Sir.

No, no, Sir, please don’t be sorry.

He died doing what he did.

Work.

He was a truck driver, Sir. Met with an accident, and died on the spot.

His head was crushed under the wheel.

Yes, I cry sometime.

His name is Rizwan, Sir.

Yes, my cousin brother, who brought me here.

Has been really kind to me, otherwise who does what he did and still is doing for me?

No one has time for anyone, Sir.

My own relatives deserted me. After my father’s death, they did support me for about 3-4 months, but then eventually started distancing themselves.

I did not know what to do. There was nowhere to go, Sir. That’s when Rizwan came.

Almost like a blessing.

He not only gave me his auto to drive, Sir, but also kept me with him, and is still sheltering me.

And I did not even have a license to drive at that time, Sir.

So what would he do, you know?

He would go to the area constable and give him some money and fix me so that when they catch me, they wouldn’t, you know, fine me, because their man is already paid and I’m immune for 2 weeks.

Yes, every 2 week, Rizwan Bhai jaan fixed me and helped me.

This went on for about few months. Yes, and then I got my license.

Yes, I was very happy. I thought about my father.

No, I don’t regret being an auto-rickshaw driver, Sir.

I believe no job is bad or small.

It’s the people, Sir.

They, we malign it, the work, Sir.

And you only tell me, Sir, how can a job, regardless of what kind it is, if  it is helping me live my life on my own terms and giving me the freedom to do the thing I want and enabling me to look after my family, can be ever wrong or bad?

Can it be? No, right?

Yes, so you see, I feel proud of myself as an Auto-rickshaw driver.

I take pride in what I do, Sir.

This is me.

My identity.

How can I not like my identity which provides for my life and my family?

Can you, Sir?

No, Sir, I’m just a simple man, doing what I have to do, living my life as freely as possible for me.

Oh, I love this city, Sir.

I love Bombay. Yes, very much.

Why, no such specific reason, just that I find the people of this city to be quite nice and honest, Sir.

They do hard work here and live their life to the fullest.

Of course, there are bad people, as always there are bound to be, everywhere.

But that doesn’t make it a bad city. Does it?

The people here have not wronged me, Sir, and I’ve always tried to not do any wrong to anyone here.

Believe me, Sir, a lot of time, my passengers forget their stuff in my auto, and never return back.

I find them out and return it to them.

If I can’t find them, I deposit the stuff at Police station, Sir.

No, I never took anything home. Never.

Yes, sometimes the urge is there, but it is something I’ve resisted, Sir.

Money is what, Sir? Just a mere necessity to survive in today’s world.

Anyone can acquire it anytime they want, if they work hard for it.

But, Sir, my Imaan, my Zameer, Sir, if I lose it once, I can never get it back.

Money… I can always get it by working hard.

But no matter how hard I work, after losing my Imaan, my Zameer, I can never get it back.

No matter what I do. Once it’s lost, it’s lost forever.

And I can’t live without my Imaan, my Zameer, Sir. Never.

130 rupees, Sir. Yes, that’s it.

Yes, the place you are looking for is just behind the Mehboob Studios. Yes.

My name?

Anis… Mohammad Anis.

Khuda-Hafez, Sir!

#With special thanks to Richa Jain for grammatical corrections.

The Joy of Giving!

By Sadho Ram

“Sometimes the joy of giving has the amazing potential to surpass even the most strongest of feelings known to human being. Because when you give, you love; and love, I’ve experienced in my life is the purest of emotion.” – Gulab Ram [1960 - May 14, 2004]

Time 21:55 [October 18]

I've never actually given anyone anything except that once I gave out my heart to a pretty looking girl, who later “respectfully” returned it to me, when my childhood buddy offered her his own. Anyways, that doesn't count. Though I’ve always had this feeling deep down inside that one day when I’ll give, it will be substantial in many aspects. And currently I’m having this intuition that the moment has come.

Time 23:46 [October 18]

I’m going to give. Yup, I’m finally going to give something, and this something, as felt by me, is quite substantial in its nature, as it is one of the main sources of life inside human body, in fact it’s something that our heart pumps throughout it’s time – blood.

I don’t know how to say this, but I’m kind of really excited. I know most of you might be thinking – “Dude, what’s there to be so excited about?” Well, may be the reason that it’s my first opportunity to give something to anyone, and when that something is the synonym of life itself then I think, it, indeed, is the very reason to be excited about.

I don’t know the person who needs my blood. But the person happens to be a friend of my Facebook friend Rizvi Amir, who was introduced to me by another Facebook friend.

I’ve always believed in the saying that – “Everything happens for a reason, and the reason is always good.” So, when we, me and Rizvi, were introduced (without any particular reason), I immediately had this feeling, that it must be for a reason, which is not clear/known to us now, but when the moment will come, it will reveal itself. And see how it has unfolded itself.

A friend of Rizvi needs O Positive blood and Rizvi puts a request in his Facebook status asking if anyone is in his profile with this particular blood group. And call it co-incident or a cosmic conspiracy, I, who only few days ago became his friend via another friend, happen to be the one.

So, I’m expected at Tata Memorial Hospital (Bombay) around 09:00 and so I better get some sleep, as the Hospital is a bit far away from my place, and in the morning a tsunami takes place every day on the route (Vashi – Church gate) in which the Hospital falls (Parel).

Time 13:30 [October 19]

I can never, ever donate blood. I was tested positive for Hepatises B seven years ago, and thus my blood is not safe for others.

This was what I was told by the doctor who was questioning me. And the moment I heard it, believe it or not, I felt an strange kind of ache in my heart; an ache which I know will last till I last.

Time 18:40 [October 19]

When I came out of the room, I was feeling really sad, but then the one who needed my blood said – “You take care of yourself. You came here with good intention; intention to give something to someone whom you don’t even know, and that’s what really matters. It’s another thing that it didn’t materialise the way you had thought it will.” And other’s too, his wife, and my friend Rizvi Amir, and later my boss also said the same thing to me.

And coming to think of it now, I feel good inside that at least I had the right intention and went there with the heart to give, where there are people who, though completely capable of giving, mentally and physically, but never come out.

But then one thing is for sure that I will never experience that feeling, which in the word of my late father – “…has the amazing potential to surpass even the most strongest of feeling known to humans.”

I’m stripped off of that joy, even before I could have it.

About the person, who needed the blood, well, he has cancer and will be going through a major operation of Thursday. I hope, yes, that’s all I can do now, that everything goes well with him and that the operation be a successful one. I hope that when he comes out of that operation theatre on Thursday, he be gifted with a life, not only healthy but also prosperously long. I hope that he now not merely live, but also enjoy life to its fullest. Because somewhere in my heart I know that on Thursday, a new life will embrace him. A life, full of joy; joy of acceptance and humility towards others, and a life, full of love; love for life itself.

And, lastly, I also hope that all of you, who have come this far here, will also hope for him in the manner most hopeful for him.

Thank You

The Utter Lamentations of a Bard’s Jaded Mind!

By Sadho Ram

It’s almost three months now, almost! Three months of life living behind the concrete walls of a very hostile house, yes, a ‘house’ not HOME, a very-very hostile ‘house.’

And though, this house, in a very posh but quiet, not serene, ‘quiet’ locality, stands proudly with poise and confidence; a confidence that only comes to a soldier standing at the border guarding his country, but isolated; isolated from the much needed chaos of daily life and happenings, isolated from chirpings of birds in the morning, and isolated from the barks and howls of dogs in the night, in fact so isolated that his eyes longs to see a fellow human being who is receptive, but alas as he finds none, so do I, after almost three months, almost, found none with whom I could share that how it feels like to stand in crowded town, but isolated.

The only saving grace is the wind that blows here, unperturbedly, but then it carries nothing except a few more ounce of quietness; a quietness which instead of being the source of comfort and bliss, frightens the soul to that extent that the ‘remote’ which controls it, yes, that tiny piece of muscle ‘pumping gallons of blood and beating in rhythmic cycle’ in the chest, starts to shiver so peculiarly that it hurts, sometime for hours, to breathe; hours which sometime surpasses the usual day-night cycle and still continue to an unforeseen period of time, and in those ‘hours’… in those longer than day & night ‘hours’ I find myself gasping for air even though it’s flows like a river all around me, but seems as if it has barred me, cast me out from her club of lovers, from touching and feeling her, from experiencing the ecstasy that her touch would provide my soul.

Ah, how I long to be cast away from here, from this town called Barddhamaan, to that place where the wind instead of prohibiting me from ‘making out’ with her, would indulge herself in the ‘foreplay’ which would reignite the soul within; a soul that drives me and my passion – passion for people and poetry, passion for life itself, passion for adventure, passion for compassion to some extent and moreover passion for passion itself, the place called Bombay!

My mornings here start with a very unusual headache; a headache which begins its journey from one side of the head and then travels towards the other side of it, daily, leaving me in acute pain for the day that doesn’t easily ends. The days here lingers, actually it’s the feeling that lingers but seems as if the days have stopped, and so I try to endure the days and nights here and indulge myself in the work that though otherwise enlivens me but due to the catastrophically monotonous life of mine, the work too, has become so dreary that I often look at it with repulsion, yes, repulsion for that same work for which I once gave out a sumptuous banquet treat to the comrades of solace – my friends.

And as the night approaches, the restlessness grows inside; restlessness to go out ‘prowling’, to slaughter the silence that I forced myself to endure during the day, but as the night starts to discolour itself, I once again force myself, this time to endure the restlessness within. And I succeed to an extent, but then silence and restlessness are two utterly distinctive feature of human nature, and that too, with their own set of different natures, as where the nature of silence, which is like a baby, allows her to be tamed, the nature of restlessness shatters all control, like a insanely flowing river destroys any barrier that tries to forcedly stop her, thus, my soul, after losing the battle, abandons me, making me almost a ‘carcase’, which then collapses over the big bed in my BIG room, for few hours, only to come back into it and wake me up with the same headache that begins its journey from one side of the head and then travels towards the other side of it.

Sigh.

I now think that this was not what I’d imagined when I came here and this is something which I’m sure I will never experience anywhere. Before it happened, I always used to say I wonder – ‘how living alone, away from the chaos and cluster of the world will be?’ – but today when I now no longer need to ‘wonder’ about it, when I know about it more than I ever ‘wondered’ about it, I pray that – ‘if living alone, away from chaos and cluster of the world is like this, then I don’t want it, ever again, not even in my worst of dream.’

And I now wait for the September to come, like a child waits for his father to pick him up. So, till September comes, I will have to keep myself from going bonkers, which is obvious to happen if …I fail to wake myself up… when September comes!

A Journey, A Longing: From Bombay to Barddhamaan!

By Sadho Ram

It has been about 2 months or so since I stirred out of the concrete jungle, the city of dreams – Bombay, leaving my friends, my foes, the gatherings at Rock-Beach, the much awaited 4^th Tuesdays of every month for one of the best things in Bombay – 2 hours of poetry reading Session at Prithvi and virtually a bit of everything.

The day I left Bombay I also Left a part of me there… a part which was as liberated as wind and as gregarious as the streets are.

And at this moment I am confined in the aloofness of a rather small and an awfully conservative town in West Bengal, known as Barddhamaan.

The reason of my arrival in Barddhamaan was though an exceptionally ecstatic one but the sensation is rapidly vanishing… and as each day passes by, I feel more and more drowned.

Like an enslaved lion I am, searching for that ‘door’ to set myself free and flowing again.

Although I’m almost living the ‘dream’ but it’s only scarcely industrious.

And as a result, I’m always sceptic… sceptic about my abilities to fulfil the numerous commitments I’ve taken up, sceptic about the outcomes of the works I engulf myself in, sceptic of the people associated with it and sceptic about practically every small things.

Life, it seems, has unexpectedly become a conundrum of little nothings, which in a way doesn’t count imperative most of the times but then, they do matter the most sometimes.

But I am determined to bring this ‘detachment’ of mine to its end and I’m going to do it pretty soon. Though I’ve no idea how but I guess my hope will show me the door.

I still very well remember, what my science teacher Mr. Anil Murmu has once told me –

“Sadho, you are a man of free will, a will of a very rare kind, possess it, son, but never let it possess you”

At that time, I just smiled to him, as I didn’t know what to say. But as the time went by, and I started travelling I found out what exactly he meant by it.

And, today, though, I may be “a nothing” but one thing I know and I’m pretty much sure is that, my this ‘free-will’ will make me what I want to become, so there’s nothing for which I’ll ever trade this ‘will’ of mine, as I know I’ll be “a something”… something of a very rare kind.

And one very important thing –

I would have never made it this far… if YOU all would have not been here at ARTH with me all this while. So a GRAND thank you to each of my reader who has now become my friend of solace.

Thank You. Thank You. Thank You… from the bottom of my heart.

Let Me Be

By Sadho Ram

I did not bleed my finger-tips blue to help wake the human race up from its deep slumber. Let it be as it is, I shall not do any good to it and shall also not wish that it be good to me. But I do ask for one thing –

‘Do not yank me out of my grave.’

Let me be there as I want to be or else I shall disregard all my vows and bend the tip of my fountain pen in such a way that the ‘blue in colour and rebellious in nature’ blood oozing out of it shall go down to the very roots of this somnolent human race and blemish it so bad… it shall be void of hope and beyond any repairs.

O’ world, it was not you who had to put up with the throbbing for 9 longs months and it was also certainly not you who had to be out day and night, cold and in scorching heat to earn the bread and butter so that I could be raised.

No, it was not you, O’ greedy-greedy world, it never was you!

She was my Mother. He was my Father.

Then why do you seek me when all I am, what I am for no one but for them?

Then why do you blame me when all I do, what I do for no damn one but for them?

And why should I pen for you when each time that I do, I do it for no one but for them?

Forgive me not, O’ opulent world, for I anyway do not seek your mercy, but you shall stop me not from writing about the misery and treachery, despair and about being unfair, death and about fallen faith, about illusions you create, and lies which you propagate.

And if you promise to do so, than I might also pen for your false assumptions about all those things... things which you think needs propagation.

Till you obey by your promise…

‘Let Me Be’