The Mango Man

Ab Lincoln said this once, “God must love the Common man, for he made so many of them”… True? Would you say?

Before your mind even begins to concoct any answers, allow me to stomp your chain your thought and tell me about my collection of ‘Alibis’... yes… ‘Alibis’… 

I have made them in abundance, and i love them, to the extent of fondly and secretly sulking in the admiration of the existence of my alibis… It is because they work for me in places I would positively loathe to find myself around.

Alibis are like incessant social artisans who rub their arses off so I could live in peace, so why wouldn’t I love them???... It’s like the love the honey bee has for her workers, like the love the king carries for his vassals… and thus very bluntly I say… the type of love ‘God’ bears for the Common man, for which I fervidly use an expression…

‘The Mango Man’… [‘Aam Aadmi’]

Answers the question, I believe, even explains the manner of love God holds for the Common Man.

This world, you see, is just too damn humongous to be run by a single all-powering, all-seeing, almighty ‘God’. So he made these puny errand-runners, these mute menial minions who would willingly grind their bones off in God’s name.

When the Common Man or should I say the ‘Mango man’ was being made, there was just one thing planned for him… To Suffer… and to suffer perpetually till the end of its miserable, pathetic little life… as simple as that… like hamsters in wheel the Mango man is dropped on this planet to keep on running endlessly.

The Mango Man is everywhere. The moment you step out your homely terrain… the first sad ugly fuck who glares at you rudely, as if questioning your individuality and showing an overt and abrupt concern towards your general cause of happiness, is the Mango Man.

The first appalling piece of filth that passes by your bike or your car… grunting and snorting and spitting all over the place visibly full of detest against the all forms of life, death and beyond is the Mango Man.

Then there is the face of the Mango man... a rugged canvas of sadness and misery painted by God’s most pathetic palette… a face as if of the torchbearer of all agony and anguish in the world… a face resembling an overused whipping post… a face depicting that of an underpaid prostitute… the Mango Man is a heinous hideous fuck and he knows it, he is proud of it and he simply adores the god-awful fuckness he is blessed with.

As your day progresses further, you see more of these vile creatures. The first guy you see bickering and hassling with a ‘rickshaw-puller’ over one buck is the Mango Man… yes you’ve guessed it right… he is apparently a mingy, miserly, sordid little SOB too.

You point, laugh, and move on… you don’t have time for these Mango Men. Mango Men are made in millions so they could be the stepping stones for other ‘Better’ Men to step on and do better things in life… no one has time for the Mango Man, everyone moves one… everyone… but the Mango Man…

You move on just to find more of them, they are like pestering insects, always humming and buzzing around your ears. The first guy you see standing for hours outside a tall corporate building staring at its pinnacle, with both hands on his head is another Mango Man. If by mere looking at things, one could own them; he would be the richest faggot on earth.

As the day draws to an end, you’re on your way back home, with images of these Mango Men in your head. You feel an extreme disgust towards each one of them, yet you cherish the fact that they exist… doing what they do… being what they are…

In the end you’re just glad you’re not one of them… one of them ‘Mango Men’…

Filled up till the throat with such pretension and bravado, you walk back home when you see a plush and luxurious Porsche speed by you… it had gotten dangerously close to you, but the opulent owner hadn't cared… he disappeared into thin air leaving behind a fiery trail on the asphalt.   

You gather yourself up, swear at the driver, kick the terrain, and curse humanity for all the rich fat fucks it contains. You squint at the affluent little rat at a distance, hands on your head and wondering over the horrendous amount of wealth he must possess.

And then… just then… reality hits you in the face, with a stupendous roundhouse kick. Alas, as the day falls to its demise… you meet the final and the most frequent type of Mango Man…

YOU…

You will never admit this fact... but its true... for the most common type of Mango Man is the one who sees the Mango Man in everyone else but himself.

And this is the type… who suffers the most…

knowing his fate... he suffers the hardest...

 “Apes are superior to The Common Man,

for when an Ape looks in a mirror,

 he sees an Ape...”