Woh Subah Kaise Aayegi

By Sadho Ram

Naxals Killed 27 CRPF Men With Horrifying Brutality.

76 Troops killed In Dantewada Massacre.

These are just two of the many news headlines of last few days of killings happened in one Indian states. I wonder what would be the condition of other affected states.

In the year 1958, Sahir Saab penned the hope filled and heart-wrenching lyrics “Woh Subah Kabhi Toh Aayegi” to give hope to the then hope-emptied hearts and souls and till today the song continues to fill the “empty” hearts of millions of people all around the world with hope… hope for a better and improved dawn.

But somehow that dawn seems a far distant possibility in today’s time when each soul is corrupted with greed for money and flesh, and each heart has been contaminated with hatred for fellow human being.

Seeing fellow human beings suffer for no apparent fault of theirs fills my heart with unbearable pain and an unknown rage… a rage which I fear might destroy my faith in sanity and humanity completely.

In the song Sahir Saab writes “Jab Ek Anokhi Duniya Ki Buniyad Uthai Jaayegi, Woh Subah Kabhi Toh Aayegi” but all this talk of ‘hope’ and ‘dawn of a new world of togetherness’ only makes the unbearable pain of my heart grow by heaps and bounds.

How will that ‘dawn’ come when all we are doing is fighting each other, killing our own brothers, raping the women who lay the foundation of this very society and torturing the future by forcing it to work in factories and chai-shops and disgracing it by snatching away its precious childhood?

…Woh Subah Kaise Aayegi?

Sahir Saab further writes “In Bukhi Pyaasi Roohon Par Ek Din Toh Karam Farmaayegi, Woh Subah Kabhi Toh Aayegi” but I wonder what would he write after seeing the condition in which the poor are forced to live (here I am talking about those thousands and lakhs of Adivasi people who live in unimaginable atmosphere and condition). I wonder what his pen would ink if it would have witnessed the misery not of their life but of their death.

I have heard people say that “death is kind” but I have not seen a single poor die whose death was kind to him. In fact it, the death is brutal and it’s worse than the hunger which forced them to succumb to it and it is as frightening as the thought for you and me of living a life a without a drop of water.

You and I can’t even imagine the kind of life these people have to live and deal with, so I guess you and I should also not have the right to decide the kind of death they should be awarded with when faced with system made adversities and greed of upper/middle class mass, they chose that failed path of violence which ultimately leads them to their own destruction.

I know you won’t agree with me here. And I guess I have pretty fair an idea about what would you say to defend your point but for a while forget about YOUR own perfect life and place yourself in their shoes and then think.

Is the way the system has been dealing with them justified in its stand which is nothing but sheer hypocrisy? How a man is supposed to support his family of four when everything that he had was snatched away from him and was given a meagre compensation of few thousand rupees? And even after that when he somehow manages to provide two time of meal to his family, what is he supposed to do in YOUR eye when one fine day he finds his family slaughtered by the same hands for no fault, no crime of them, hands which were supposed to protect them?

Spread peace?

I guess not.

I was born among them, in the dense forest of Jharkhand, surrounded by huge green mountains, near the free flowing river, which now has completely gone out of water (thanks to the land encroachment in the name of development).

I have seen the pain in their eyes and disgusting looks that they get from the so called ‘elite’ class. They live in fear. Not because they are weak but because they are naïve and innocent and happen to have no formal training and exposure to study due to the lack of government interest and lethargy of the babus of these areas, who considers these people of no value to the society.

And when these same people raise their voice they are labelled… labelled as Maoists, Naxals and terrorists of different kinds.

No, no, I am not trying to justify their ways and their views; I am only trying to say that what a man is supposed to do when he finds no door, no window in that system which was supposedly created to protect him and his family but instead became the destroyer?

Tolerance has its limits and when forced it can be as torturous as tolerant it once was!

And in the year 1967, when the tolerance finally broke, a land of “voice-raisers” was born. Today the “voice-raisers” have become “violence-raisers” thanks to the ever continues stand of Indian Government to not give the basic rights to these peoples.

As a result the ink of the news papers have gone red and television media screens are burning with the daily dose of slaughters of CRPF Forces and innocent publics that these poor now execute.

Coming back to Sahir Saab and his lyrics where he further writes “Jab Ambar Jhoom Ke Naachega Jab Dharti Nagme Gayegi, Woh Subah Kabhi Toh Aayegi” though no matter how impossible this dream may sound but that flickering ray of hope inside the dark corners of my heart wants to believe that someday that dawn will come when no one will kill a fellow human being because everyone will have what they rightly deserve.

But till that dawn comes… I shall continue to ask –

How will that ‘dawn’ come when all we are doing is fighting each other, killing our own brothers, raping the women who lay the foundation of this very society and torturing the future by forcing it to work in factories and chai-shops and disgracing it by snatching away its precious childhood?

…Woh Subah Kaise Aayegi?

The Kashmiri Pandits: Dispossessed and Discouraged!

By Sadho Ram

“Gairon ke sitam pe kya sikwa karein

Hume toh apno ne hi patthar maare hain”

These two lines in Hindi by Dinesh Naidu fits that bleak pitch in which the thousands of Kashmiri Pandits are today so repulsively forced to express themselves and their unrelenting plight after years and years (exactly 20 years) of life living as a refugee at the doorstep of their own home.

And while India commemorate its ‘kaagzee taraqqee-ae-nation’ (Paper Progress of a Nation) and whatever it wants to, the Kashmiri Pandits, being dispossessed and discouraged in the hands of their own country, have got nothing else to do beside indulging themselves in the song of lamenting. And Ehsan Amir’s these two lines seems to be giving voice to their unheard sighs-

“Humse mat poochhiye hum kidhar jaayenge

Thak gaye hain bahut, apne ghar jaayenge”

Reading the huge online archives of sites dedicated to Kashmiri Pandits and going through the word-by-word description of the atrocities that was ‘showered’ upon them, my brain along with the raising impact of migraine tells me to stop reading any further but my heart, who himself is living the life of a forced rambler after being thrown out from his own house, pleads me to read on, so to grasp even a little bit of that inhumane treatments that Kashmiri Pandits had gone through, I read on.

It was the unfaithful year of 1989-90 which made nearly 400,000 Kashmiri Pandits ‘migrants’ (as Indian Government ‘fondly’ addresses them) inside their own nation, when Jammu Kashmir Liberation Front backed by the country on the other side of the border, indulged their selves in the ruthless genocide of tens of thousands of Kashmiri Hindus, they, the Pandits, then ran away, forced to leave their land, their home, their past, their present and into an uncertain future where today, they find themselves – unaccepted, unwelcomed and uncared – among the very people who happen to be their own.

A long quota of years (exactly 2 decades) has passed since then but the pain and the wound is still fresh – fresh enough to fill their eyes with tears and heart with pain of betrayal. And there is not a single day goes by when they, looking at themselves in the mirror, don’t see the longing in their red eyes which have been barred to soak themselves from the beauty of their own native place. It’s a longing for that home, which now belongs to the killers of their parents and relatives and which they, the Pandits, know that what was snatched away from them will never be given back to them – their home, their land.

This gruesome tale of Sarwanand Koul “Premi” – a Kashmiri Pandit, who was born in Kashmir’s Sofshalli, Anantnag village, depicts the misery that the thousands like him had to go through.

“Premi” was a poet and a teacher and when terrorism was at its extreme in the valley (though it is no less today, too) he refused to leave his village. He thought that he would withstand the Islamic hurricane as he had taught every Muslim man, women and dog in and around the periphery of his village and so they cannot as ungrateful as to kick him to dust along with his teachings and then bite him to death.

But his faith or whatever that he had in his heart for them, taught him the lesson which took away his life.

The ‘Patrons-of-Death’ entered in his house on the night of 28th April, 1990 and ordered all the members of his family to assemble into one room along with all the valuables. Whatever existed of any monetary value in the house of “Premi” was offered to those ‘guardians of Jihad’ who, as they put it, were fighting for their freedom – freedom for an ‘Azaad Kashmir.’

After taking away whatever material “Premi” had in his house, the ‘terror-mongers’ then demanded that “Premi” step out of the house for few words to be exchanged in private away from his family. And when the members of “Premi’s” family howled and whined the ‘Gods-of-Mercy’ gave them their words that, “Premi” would return and return ‘safe and in one piece.’

But “Premi’s” only son requested to be allowed to accompany his old father. So the ‘kind’ and ‘good-hearted’ as those ‘unmasked-men’ were, agreed to the plight of a son, saying-

‘If you wish you may also accompany him…’

And once they stepped out of the house, they never returned. The cold-blooded torture that was carried out at the old teacher’s body and his young son’s can put to shame even the worst tyrant of the three worlds put together.

The spot in the forehead where “Premi” would put his Tilak mark was brutally nailed. His body had the burnt dots of cigarette butts. The limbs of his body were broken and bones from his shattered ribcage poked out. His eye-balls lay crushed on the dust and he was hanged from a tree upside-down and bullets were fired on him. And the same orgy was bestowed upon his son.

The women inside the house ‘wailed and waited’ but feared to go out – feared that they too, might get raped just like the other day the wife of their neighbour was raped by these same ‘kind-hearted’ men.

Shame on those men who call themselves human after performing such tasks!

20th June marks the day of world refugees and their plight. And on this day the entire world comes together to give their bit to the refugees from all around the world, but at the same time the Kashmiri Pandits who are in there 20th year of being the refugees in their own nation are still waiting to be remembered and addressed in that proper way which any countryman deserves to be addressed – as Citizens.

So a group of hundred odd Kashmiri Pandits in collaboration with a group called Roots In Kashmir, whose members are born in exile (as claimed by them) in Delhi organised a peace protest on 20^th June 2010, which was held at Jantar-Mantar, in the scorching heat of 45 degree Celsius. The protesters, dressed in traditional Kashmiri outfit and draped in white, demanded that the Indian Government take notice of their plight and give them the status of Internally Displaced Persons (IDP).

The many thousand Kashmiri Pandits since the exodus in 1989 have been living in the Indian Government's "semi-permanent camps for the displaced" in Jammu and New Delhi.

But if you go visit these camps, then you will see that, not only they are disgustingly stuffed but also lack sufficient facilities and basic necessities.

Like there is no regular supply of drinking water, always there’s a shortage of medicines, plus the sanitation facility are in the worst conditions imaginable. And on top of all this, the education and employment opportunities are severely lacking.

And so not surprisingly, as the result of all this below level of living conditions, the Kashmiri Pandits, after 20 years of their disarticulation, have faced serious health issues like high incidence of several kinds of diseases, depressions, stress-related problems and high death rate.

People might wonder why isn’t the government doing something concrete for them than? But the silence which marks the being of Kashmiri Pandits as refugees is actually an awkward truth that our politicians, our media and our secular parties are unable to come to terms with, so they push this matter under that dark carpet which happens to be the outcome of culpable silence and deliberate ignorance.

I can only hope – hope that someday these silent Kashmiri Pandits will be heard by those who can make a concrete difference in their life and with this – I pray (though I hardly pray) that all those who have died in this massacre may Rest In Peace (Although I feel that it ain’t going to happen any soon).

“Remember Kashmir. Remember 1989. Remember Kashmiri Pandits.”

Article Source and Few related Links:

Roots In Kashmir

PM Pledges Major Relief For Kashmir Migrants, Refugees

Ethnic Cleansing Of Kashmiri Pandits, Culpable Silence

Kashmir Information About Refugees

A Paradise Lost

GRPF- The Unholy Saints In Khaki.

By Sadho Ram

The digital clock at platform no. 3 of Lokmanya Tilak Terminus was precisely showing 20:35, when Jnaneswari Delx blew its final whistle and left for its destination – Howrah Jn. – a 31 hour long and tiring journey, for each and every passenger, in that scorching heat of may 2010, who was travelling in sleeper and general compartments.

To say that the sleeper and general bogies were jam-packed and over-stuffed would be an understatement.

People were sitting all over the train floor and few lucky ones were sleeping beneath the lower berths (a place used for keeping luggage), each berth was shared by 3 to 4 persons, every vestibule was cramped with more than 10 persons standing inside it,  and those who couldn’t find a place, took shelter inside the lavatories. It was as if the kumbh has moved from Banaras to Jnaneswari Delx. It was as if was the last train to heaven.

This is the usual scenario which goes on that train on daily basis but on that day it was mainly because of those hundreds of students who were going home on summer vacations.

Ah, home sweet home.

Nothing, absolutely nothing… excites more than the thought of going home to all those students who are forced to go to other distant cities in order to pursue better education for a better life.

But all those students knew not a damn thing about that law which dictates – when travelling via trains in India – there are these unholy saints who are dressed in khaki and are better known as GRPF – General Railway Protection Force – who are to be FED and SATISFIED fully for their pampered bellies in order to have a safe and relaxing journey till the sweet home arrives.

So those who are not aware of the law must be taught about it well and taught hard. And that’s how it happened.

After completing the 27 hours of its journey, 2010 – the Jnaneswari Delx – was hurriedly running towards its final destination, when around midnight, a station before Chagadarpur (in the Jharkhand region) the GRPF (about 12 in total) boarded the train. Now there was absolutely nothing wrong in that, they are the Protection Force and are supposed to board the trains at night to help protect the passengers from the thieves and thugs. But there was something on them which was not only wrong but was also against the rule.

None of them were wearing their nameplate on their chest. It was empty, to say they looked precisely like those fake Sadhus who sport long hairs and wears saffron coloured clothes and also carry their kamandal but forgets to have that one thing which makes a man a saint (Sadhu)- ‘Calmness of mind, body and soul.’

People, who noticed this, immediately knew what was going to happen. But apart from that what was more alarming that they were so heavily drunk that none of them was able to walk properly.

Few people from a certain society would ask, ‘so what’s the big fuss in that? They work 24x7x365 days, they are also human beings, can’t they have a drink or two to relax?’

No, they can’t! Not that they are not supposed to but because they are out their protecting the law, a law which has to be abided. And if they are allowed to drink on duty then it means that because they are from the system and anyone who is from the system has the righteous right to break the law first. I.e. if they desire to do so nothing should and could be done to them as they are out there protecting the law from non-system guys.

Just like the theory the ‘fake’ Sadhus believe in – that if they touch anyone while giving them blessings then their (Sadhus) good deeds and all the holiness will go to the person whom they touched while blessing them and so they refrain themselves from touching, of course, there’s always an exemption- so when it comes to blessing the young females they go out of their ways to bless them (if you have been feeding yourself with recent daily breaking news regarding the retarded godmans of our nation then you will not be having any problem understanding the message I am not clearly stating here).

Moving further ahead, what followed was not only disgusting and shocking but was sheer mockery of the law and system from its own mans.

The GRPF started picking up every second passenger who were either sleeping on the floor or was sharing a berth together. They then divided themselves in 4 groups and began their ‘search.’

The passengers knew what was in for them but couldn’t dare do or say anything as it would mean that they then had to go through those laws which the ‘Unholy Saints in Khaki’ invent.

Some of those ‘laws’ include – getting beaten down by thick wooden sticks, being stripped down in front of others, or worse going to jail for interrupting the so called bloody mandatory search.

These are just few of the lawful punishments which the ‘poor’ passengers face when they ask – ‘par humara gunaah ka hai, maalik, hum kiye ka hain?’ (But what is my fault, sir, what crime have I committed?)

But there’s a way out of it. If they pay the ‘fine’ charged by the GRPF guys, which ranges anything from 50 rupees to 100 to 200 and sometime even going to and above 300 rupees, that depending on the distance of the crime the passenger is committing in travelling via the train (even if they have a valid ticket and ID proof in some cases), they are then ‘let off’.

Of course, with a very sincere and lawful warning by the GRPF guys, that goes something like this – ‘Aage se kono sawaal na puchhiyo… je maange chup-chaap haatheliya me dhar diyo, nahi toh jaanat ho na, kanoon ke haath ketan lamba hot rahis?’  (From now on do not ask questions, whatever we demand, silently put the amount in our hands, or else you are aware of the fact that the hands of the law are how big?) – And then they would break into a mocking laughter.

The other passengers fearing that the same might happen to them doesn’t move from their place or even raise a voice, of course, all wide awake and witnessing the lawful ongoing. They just lie still and watch in horror. And their fear is very much justified, as those ‘Unholy Saints in Khaki’ are quite unbiased towards the ‘poor mango man’ in their quest to enlighten them with ‘their’ lawful wisdom on the activities that the Great Law of the so called Greatest Nation on earth Empowers them with.

And so that’s exactly what happened on that night in that train no: – 2101 – the Jnaneswari Delx – every passenger, who was ‘picked up’ ended up paying 100, 200 and 300 as ‘fine’ charged by the GRPF, because they were travelling ‘illegally’ with, of course, valid ticket. The ‘poor’ passengers who dared to argue with them were labelled as - ‘haraami, kutta, kamina and vagera – vagera (i.e. Bastard, Dog, Scoundrel and etc – etc).

The ‘Unholy Saints in Khaki’ got down at Tatanagar, of course, only after they had earned their ‘holiness’ of the night. The passengers who were looted by the man from the law went on grief mode and the passengers who weren’t, started abusing the poor, little GRPF and voicing out their personalised views on them.

Again certain few people from a certain society would say ‘they aren’t committing a crime, they are just doing their duty.’

So this means that the GRPF and other government officials who work as public servants are in the FORCE to ‘force’ the poor and innocent people pay for their low-paying 24x7x365 days job from whose salary they (the man from the system) daily drench themselves in alcohol but are unable to run their family so they go out and rob from the same people whose blood and sweat is being used to pay for their salary every month after month and month.

Then let those certain few people from a certain society decide – ‘if this is not crime than what is?’

This article is also published in a online newspaper YOUTH KI AWAAZ

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?

Nope!

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 -

‘Abdur Rehman Makki’

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

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.

How?

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