Ekach Pyala – Act 1, Scene 1
[Setting: A modest middle-class home. Morning light filters through the curtains. The sound of a bell rings thrice.]
Sindhu (startled): Who’s ringing the bell thrice? Who could it be?
Sudhakar (entering, calm): It’s Ramlal. He’s come to say goodbye.
Sindhu (anxiously): Already? Has he packed everything?
Sudhakar (nodding): Yes. He’s finished all the packing. He’ll be leaving soon.
Sindhu (voice trembling): I just can’t bring myself to do anything—my heart’s heavy with my brother leaving.
Sudhakar (gently): I know. But no one finds lasting happiness in this world. Even joy is born from sorrow.
Sindhu (softly): You speak like a poet today.
Sudhakar (reflective): Perhaps. But it’s true. Life has taught me that every smile carries a shadow.
Sindhu (curious): You’ve never told me much about your past. What was it like?
Sudhakar (pauses, then begins): We were seen as two orphaned souls. Wandering, uncertain. And then—Ramlal appeared before me like a divine savior. He gave me shelter, education, dignity. Everything I am today... is because of him.
Sindhu (moved): He’s more than a brother to you.
Sudhakar (quietly): Yes. And now he’s leaving. This might be our final meeting.
[A moment of silence. The bell rings again.]
Sindhu (wiping her eyes): Let me bring him in.
[She exits. Sudhakar stands still, lost in thought. A soft musical interlude begins.]
🎶 Musical Verse (translated) My thoughts scatter, Joy eludes me, I can’t hold focus. The world’s bitter truths— Can be made sweet through effort.
[Sindhu returns with Ramlal. He carries a small bag, his face calm but resolute.]
Ramlal (warmly): Sudhakar... I came to say goodbye.
Sudhakar (embracing him): You’ve given me everything. I’ll never forget.
Ramlal (smiling): Just live well. That’s all I ask.
[They hold hands. The light dims slightly, marking the emotional weight of parting.]
-----
Ekach Pyala – Act 1, Episode II
Setting: Taliram’s modest home. Afternoon light slants across a cluttered room—empty bottles, scattered papers, and a faded portrait on the wall. A sense of faded grandeur lingers.
Characters:
Taliram – A sharp-tongued, self-righteous drunkard with twisted logic.
Bhagirath – His drinking companion, more poetic and philosophical.
Gita – Taliram’s wife, dignified and emotionally worn.
Scene Opens
Taliram (raising a glass): A degree lasts a lifetime. A wife sticks around for life. So why is alcohol the only villain?
Bhagirath (laughing): Because love makes you sleepless. Alcohol lets you sleep—even in broad daylight.
Taliram (mocking): In love, a king becomes a beggar. In drink, a beggar feels like a king. (He downs the drink theatrically.) Tell me, Bhagirath—what’s more honest than liquor? It never lies. Never cheats. Never demands fidelity.
Bhagirath (pensively): True. Love is a drama. Alcohol is a confession.
Taliram (leaning in): And love marriages? Two words stitched together, waiting for a lawyer’s scissors.
Bhagirath (chuckling): You should write a book.
Taliram (gesturing to the mess): I did. It’s scattered across this room—chapter by bottle.
Gita Enters
Gita (firmly): Taliram! Enough. You’ve sold everything—our books, our furniture, even my father’s portrait.
Taliram (shrugging): So what? Shivaji’s picture sells for two annas. Was your father greater than him?
Gita (voice rising): You’ve turned our home into a tavern. Our respect into ridicule.
Taliram (mocking): Respect? That’s a luxury for sober fools.
Gita (pleading): At least leave my mangalsutra. It’s the last symbol of our marriage.
Taliram (coldly): Gold beads don’t make a marriage. A thread is enough.
Gita (clutching the necklace): This thread carries my dignity. My vows. My father’s blessings.
Taliram (stepping forward): Then give it to me. Let’s see how much your dignity fetches.
Bhagirath (intervening, softly): Taliram, don’t. Some things aren’t meant to be priced.
Taliram (pauses, then scoffs): Everything has a price. Even tears.
Scene Ends
Gita (turns away, silent tears falling) Taliram (refills his glass, unmoved) Bhagirath (looks on, troubled)
Lights dim slowly, leaving only the glint of the mangalsutra in Gita’s trembling hands.
----
Ekach Pyala – Act 1, Episode III
Setting: Sudhakar’s home. Morning light filters through the windows. A quiet melancholy lingers. The room is modest, orderly, and emotionally charged.
Characters:
Sudhakar – Thoughtful, emotionally restrained, but deeply affectionate.
Sindhu – Torn between duty and emotion, quietly expressive.
Padmakar – Practical, respectful, and slightly formal.
Sharad – Young, innocent, eager to accompany his cousin.
Scene Opens
Sindhu (softly, to herself): Why has my mind gone numb? It sees only sadness in the world. These bonds of home—they’ve tied me down. Even force can’t break them.
(She turns to Padmakar) Padmakardada, my heart isn’t ready to leave.
Padmakar (gently): Sindhutai, I wouldn’t insist if there were another way. Indirabai is going to her in-laws’ home—she’s young, and you’re her closest friend. She begged that you accompany her. Even gods must yield to the wishes of kings, children, and women. Here, all three have spoken. I promise to send you back soon.
Sharad (to Sudhakar): Dada, may I go with my cousin?
Sindhu (to Sudhakar): She can’t stay alone here. There’s no other woman in the house. You’ll be in court all day. And Bhai isn’t here anymore.
Sudhakar (quietly): Take her with you. But Bhausaheb, must you leave today?
Padmakar (firmly): We mill owners may look content, but we’re just one cog in the machinery. Duty doesn’t wait. Please allow me to say goodbye today.
Sudhakar (sighs): If you’d stayed, we could’ve shared a few days of conversation. Since Bhai left, I’ve had no one to speak freely with.
🎶 Musical Interlude O my heart has turned away from joy. Thoughts wander, peace never comes. If breath itself departs, How can the body remain alive?
Padmakar (with humility): We owe everything to Bhai’s grace. Sindhutai is lucky to have you. Honestly, speaking with you makes me feel unworthy. I sit before you like Birbal’s sheep before a tiger. Please, let us go today.
Sudhakar (to Sindhu): Is Gita home? Ask her to call Taliram—he’ll make arrangements.
Padmakar (surprised): Taliram? Is he your clerk?
Sudhakar (smiling): Yes. Clever, resourceful, and full of life.
Sindhu (teasing): And Gitabai is more than just a housemate.
Padmakar (laughing): Tai, we shouldn’t waste time in banter.
Sudhakar (playfully): I still need to take charge of the house from Ranisaheb here. Not for one or two, but at least four months of transfer duty!
Sindhu (mocking): Even if Bhai or Baba comes, your habit of teasing won’t change.
Sudhakar (gently): Yes, yes—go ahead.
Sindhu (pausing): But do you remember what Bhai told you? If not, I’ll be worried. You’ll be alone here—
Sudhakar (interrupting): Then put me in a boarding house? Ramlal is wise, but you’re wiser! Sindhu, there’s nothing in this world but you that could tempt this Sudhakar—
🎶 Musical Interlude I wait for you always. Your name lives on my lips. You are my whole world. Your sweet face dances before my eyes.
[All exit slowly. The room empties, leaving behind a quiet echo of parting.]
---
Ekach Pyala – Act 1, Episode IV
Setting: A smoky, dimly lit room. A banner reads “Arya Madira Mandal – Inaugural Meeting.” Empty glasses, scattered papers, and half-eaten snacks litter the table.
Characters:
Taliram – Self-appointed visionary, witty and manipulative.
Shastri – Pompous, ceremonial, loves grand declarations.
Khudabaksh – Blunt, sarcastic, always ready with a quip.
Bhagirath – The reluctant intellectual, morally conflicted.
Manyabapu, Janubhau, Sonyabapu, Yallappa, Magan, Raosaheb, Dadasaheb, Bhausaheb – A mix of skeptics, sycophants, and opportunists.
Scene Opens
Shastri (grandly): Well done, Taliram! You’ve arrived late—but today is historic. We’re forming our noble association. What held you up?
Taliram (grimly): Shastribuwa, don’t ask. Something terrible happened. Sudhakar—our Dadasaheb—had his charter suspended by the judge. Six months.
Khudabaksh (shocked): What? Sudhakar? He’s brilliant!
Taliram (nodding): Brilliant, yes. But passionate. He argued with the judge over a legal point. The crowd laughed. He lost his temper. The judge—thankfully old and wise—only suspended him. A harsher man would’ve crushed him.
Shastri (sighs): A tragedy. But we must proceed. What shall we name this noble gathering?
Khudabaksh (raising a glass): Let the drinking and the naming begin together!
Taliram (reading from notes): I propose: Arya Madira Mandal.
Bhagirath (frowning): “Arya”? Isn’t that a sacred word? You’re pairing it with alcohol?
Taliram (firmly): Exactly. We’re reclaiming dignity for drinkers. Why should alcohol be taboo? Tobacco is accepted. Tea is celebrated. But alcohol? We’re treated like criminals.
Bhagirath (dryly): You think noble words will cleanse the act?
Taliram: Not cleanse—normalize. If respected men drink openly, the stigma fades. Alcohol will become as common as afternoon chai.
Khudabaksh (applauding): Well said, Taliram. You’re a visionary.
The Constitution of the Mandal
Taliram (reading): Every member must drink daily. Publicly. We’ll host feasts—day and night. We encourage non-vegetarianism. We’ll petition the government to keep liquor shops open 24/7. We’ll abolish license restrictions. We’ll fund research into odorless alcohol. We’ll send scholars abroad to study elite drinking habits.
Sonyabapu (muttering): And what about the poor? Native liquor is all they can afford.
Khudabaksh (mocking): This Gujarati wants cheap booze!
Janubhau (defensive): Poverty prefers local options. Don’t shame it.
Magan (grumbling): And the prices—sky-high! Liquor costs more than train fare.
Taliram (smiling): That’s why we’ll lobby for reform. Liquor should be accessible, affordable, and respectable.
Final Vote
Shastri (ceremonially): All in favor, raise your hands.
Everyone (raising hands): All!
Taliram (beaming): Then it’s settled. The Arya Madira Mandal is born.
Shastri (quoting Tukaram): “Tuka says, here we need men of true caste!”
Khudabaksh (laughing): And true thirst!
[Curtain falls as laughter and clinking glasses echo.]
----
Ekach Pyala – Act 1, Episode V
Setting: Sudhakar’s study. Dim light. Papers scattered. A heavy silence hangs in the air.
Characters:
Sudhakar – A brilliant lawyer, emotionally shattered, wrestling with pride and despair.
Taliram – His friend, persuasive and opportunistic, offering comfort with a hidden cost.
Scene Opens
Sudhakar (slumped over his desk, voice hollow): Twenty-four hours have passed. My head feels like it’s being hammered. I can’t think. Nothing makes sense.
🎶 Musical Interlude My heart is heavy and numb, My mind confused and fearful. A fire burns within— Like a sea in storm, or the sun’s scorching blaze.
(He bends down, clutching his forehead.)
Taliram (entering gently): Dadasaheb...
Sudhakar (without looking up): Taliram, I can’t think anymore.
Taliram (softly): Such storms come in every life.
Sudhakar (rising, voice trembling): You think I fear misfortune? No—I can face poverty. I could throw away Kubera’s wealth and earn it back. But this... this insult— Mocked by scoundrels, criticized by the respected, laughed at by enemies— This I cannot bear.
Taliram (calmly): Tomorrow, you’ll forget all this.
Sudhakar (bitterly): Forget? This pain is a venomous bite—it will stay with me till death. I’m burning inside. Suicide? No. That’s cowardice. And it would separate me from Sindhu forever. I can’t bear her sorrow.
(Pauses, then quietly) Is there a poison that doesn’t destroy the body—but ends the pain?
Taliram (stepping closer): There’s no such poison. But there is a kind of nectar. That’s why I came.
Sudhakar (looks up): Speak plainly.
Taliram (gently): Take a little alcohol. Lie down. Rest.
Sudhakar (startled): Alcohol? Taliram—
Taliram (firmly): Yes. Just a sip. I know it’s dangerous. But not if taken as medicine. Just one glass. You won’t become addicted. You’re not weak-minded.
Sudhakar (thinking aloud): I don’t fear addiction. My conscience knows this isn’t indulgence—it’s survival. Sindhu... Ramlal... they’ll understand. Will it help?
Taliram (nods): It will ease the pain.
Sudhakar (resolute): Then bring it. I can convince everyone else. But I can’t calm myself. Just for a moment—let me forget.
Taliram (producing the bottle): Here. Just a little.
(He pours carefully.)
Sudhakar (watching): Don’t overfill.
Taliram (smiling): Just one glass. That’s all.
(Sudhakar takes the glass. Drinks slowly. The curtain falls.)
------------------------
Ekach Pyala – Act II, Episode I
Setting: Sudhakar’s home. Evening. A soft lamp glows. The air is heavy with silence and unspoken worry.
Characters:
Sindhu – Sensitive, intuitive, emotionally strained.
Sudhakar – Withdrawn, evasive, burdened by guilt.
Ramlal – Observant, protective, deeply concerned.
Sharad – Innocent, affectionate.
Gita – Honest, emotionally impulsive.
Scene Opens
Sindhu (quietly): Shard has gone to Bhai Saheb... and I feel so alone. Tell me—do you really have to go out tonight?
Sudhakar (brushing past): It’s urgent. I must go. Don’t wait for dinner.
Sindhu (gently): Since I came back, you’ve barely eaten at home. Just once or twice. Are you upset I stayed so long at my parents’ place? If so... I’m sorry. Truly. (She folds her hands.)
🎶 Musical Interlude Please, calm your heart. Don’t be angry. If I’ve made a mistake, Forgive me with love.
Sudhakar (defensive): It’s not that. I’ve been meeting people—trying to get my charter reinstated. Sometimes they insist I stay for dinner. Should I abandon work just to eat at home? I’m often out till 2 or 3 a.m. Don’t imagine I’m angry.
Sindhu (tears forming): Then why do you speak so coldly? You don’t even play with our child anymore.
Sudhakar (frustrated): Talking to you is exhausting. How many times must I say I love you? I adore our child—but must I prove it every moment? Enough. I’ll get my charter back tomorrow. Then this will all be over.
(He exits. Sindhu watches him go, heart heavy.)
Sindhu (to herself): Oh God... I leave all my worries with you.
🎶 Musical Interlude Protect my husband. Relieve him from sorrow. Whatever fate has planned— Let it end in peace.
Ramlal and Sharad Enter
Sindhu (rushing to them): Bhai! You just missed him. He left again—same excuse. Always rushing out, never staying for dinner.
Ramlal (gravely): I don’t know what’s happened. His charter was revoked. He’s struggling—but he won’t admit it.
Sharad: It’s not money. Since the charter was suspended, Sindhu’s father has been sending funds generously. Even though Sudhakar asked him not to.
Sindhu (worried): No, it’s not money. Something deeper... something strange. My heart tells me so. (She begins to cry.)
Ramlal (gently): Sindhutai, don’t lose yourself. You’re wise. You’re strong. Be patient.
🎶 Musical Interlude Patience brings peace. Even in calamity, it fulfills all needs. It’s like chanting God’s name— A shield against despair.
Ramlal (softly): I’ll find out what’s going on. Give me a couple of days. Now go—Sharad’s brought the baby. Put him to sleep. Wipe your tears. Stay joyful. Otherwise, I won’t interfere again.
Sindhu (hesitant): But Bhai...
🎶 Musical Interlude God has withdrawn his compassion. The one who was my life’s support— Why has he turned away?
Ramlal (to Sharad): Go inside. Calm her down. Don’t let her cry.
(Sharad exits. Ramlal turns to leave. Gita enters.)
Gita’s Revelation
Gita (nervously): Bhai Saheb...
Ramlal (surprised): Gita? Did you call me?
Gita (earnestly): Yes. Call me your daughter—like Sharadinibai. I overheard Baisaheb. My heart couldn’t stay still. I know what Dadasaheb does. Where he goes. With whom.
Ramlal (tense): Tell me.
Gita (hesitating): He’s started drinking. Alcohol.
Ramlal (shocked): Alcohol? Oh God... Gitabai, are you certain?
Gita (quietly): I saw it myself. Someone from my family led him into it.
Ramlal (urgently): Not here. If Sindhu hears even a word, it will destroy her. Come—tell me everything. (He leads her away, thinking aloud.)
🎶 Musical Interlude Sudhakar, so noble— How did you fall into this darkness? You were created with joy— Why must your end be sorrow?
(They exit. Curtain falls.)
----
Ekach Pyala – Act II, Episode II
Setting: A quiet road at dusk. The air is heavy with silence. Two men cross paths—one lost in sorrow, the other with quiet intent.
Characters:
Bhagirath – A young man, disillusioned by love and life, cloaking his pain in poetic reflection.
Ramlal – A thoughtful doctor, recently returned from abroad, probing gently beneath the surface.
Bhagirath (to himself, with quiet anguish): It’s true—alcohol brings no joy. But to a broken soul, it offers a fleeting dream of happiness. In this sinful world, sometimes sorrow must be swallowed whole. That’s the truth. That’s life. Oh God—don’t carve the bitterness of this world onto the forehead of another young man like me. And if you must, spare him a long life—don’t let him burn slowly in that misery.
Ramlal (thinking): If I speak too soon, and Gita’s words prove false... No—her instincts are rarely wrong. Among the few names she mentioned, Bhagirath stands out. I know him a little. He’s the one.
(He steps forward.)
Ramlal (gently): Hello, Bhagirath.
Bhagirath (startled, then smiling faintly): Doctor? You’re back? I heard you’d returned—but not why.
Ramlal: I’d planned to spend some time in England, then head to Germany for my final exams. But when the war broke out, I cancelled Germany. Spent a few months in England, then came home.
Bhagirath (sighing): Strange times we live in.
Ramlal: Let’s leave that aside. Bhagirath, I’ve come with a request. I’d rather speak plainly than waste time on small talk.
Bhagirath (nodding): Speak freely.
Ramlal: If I ask directly, you might dodge the truth. So I’ll say it straight— I want to join your group this evening.
Bhagirath (surprised): You? Doctor, I never imagined—
Ramlal (smiling): Don’t be shocked. I know everything. I don’t mind going alone, but it’s easier through someone on the inside. I have a few friends in the group, but no one admits it openly. Once they’re deep in drink, they’re easier to approach.
Bhagirath (hesitant): Doctor, are you really one of us? I didn’t think so.
Ramlal: Not before. But abroad, I picked up the habit. In those cold regions, it’s hard to manage without it. Back here, it’s difficult to drink freely—so I found this way. Will you help me?
Bhagirath: I don’t mind. But I wonder how you’ll take to the whole setup—
Ramlal (lightly): Why wouldn’t I? At least I won’t have to sneak around like a thief!
Bhagirath (smiling): All right. Let’s go.
Ramlal: Not right away. Let them get drunk first—then they’ll be relaxed, and we’ll be more comfortable.
Bhagirath: Fair enough. But Doctor, I had no idea. It’s... a bit strange.
Ramlal (teasing): Strange for me—or for you? You’re young, educated—a graduate. And yet—
Bhagirath (quietly): I was misled by misfortune. Love betrayed me early. The girl I loved married someone else. I gave up on normal life—became a wanderer. But let’s leave that story for another time. We’ll have plenty of chances to talk.
Ramlal: Come on, then.
(They walk off together. The curtain falls.)
---
Ekach Pyala – Act II, Episode III
Setting: Arya Madira Mandal. Night. The room pulses with drunken laughter, clinking glasses, and scattered plates. Hussain moves silently, refilling drinks.
Characters:
Sudhakar – Once principled, now broken and intoxicated.
Ramlal – Calm, purposeful, arrives to rescue Sudhakar.
Bhagirath – Emotionally torn, ultimately redeemed.
Taliram, Shastri, Khudabaksh, Janubhau, Manyabapu, Sonyabapu, Raosaheb, Bhausaheb, Bapusaheb – A mix of drunkards, reformers, and hypocrites.
Hussain – The silent server.
Sudhakar (pushing away a glass): No more, Hussain. I’ve had enough.
Shastri: Sudhakar, what’s this? You must drink!
Khudabaksh: You’re breaking the harmony of our gathering!
Bapusaheb: You’re getting your charter back tomorrow—and today you act like a coward?
Raosaheb: You’re our younger brother. Don’t insult our affection.
Sudhakar (reluctantly): Fine. One last glass. Just one. (Drinks.)
Shastri: We stood by you when others mocked you. They said you drank because you lost your charter—then slandered you for drinking.
Khudabaksh: Tomorrow, answer them with pride!
Sudhakar (furious): I’ll beat them with shoes! Let them laugh—I’ll show them!
Taliram: Go to court tomorrow after drinking. Show them your resolve!
Sudhakar (rising): Yes! I’ll go drunk and fearless! Let them see my courage!
Janubhau: Bravo! That’s the spirit!
Raosaheb: We’ll support you. Jobs, money—whatever you need. You have our word.
Shastri: Sudhakar, don’t back down now!
Sudhakar: I won’t. I’m ready to go to court right now!
Khudabaksh: Then let’s drink till morning and escort you there!
Taliram: Hussain, another glass for Dadasaheb!
Hussain: Yes, sir. (Hands it over.)
Sudhakar: No more. I’ll pass out.
Janubhau: We’ll pass out with you!
Sudhakar (wavers): I can handle it. I’m strong.
Taliram (insisting): This is the last one. Just one glass.
(Sudhakar drinks and collapses. The room grows louder. Ramlal and Bhagirath enter quietly.)
Ramlal (to Bhagirath): Let’s wait. Once they’re fully drunk, we’ll take Sudhakar away.
Bhagirath (hesitant): It’s already too late.
(Manyabapu starts crying.)
Janubhau: Why are you crying?
Manyabapu: I’ve had too much!
Janubhau: Then drink more!
Manyabapu (drinks, cries again): Now I feel nothing!
Janubhau: Then die!
(Ramlal watches in disgust.)
Ramlal (to Bhagirath): Forgive me. I lied to you. I’m not an alcoholic. I came to rescue my friend—Sudhakar. He’s the pride of this city. I needed your help.
Bhagirath (shaken): Alcohol is poison. It’s filth.
Janubhau (mocking): Alcohol is sacred! Fire and water live in harmony here!
Manyabapu: Alcohol causes quarrels!
Janubhau: It ends quarrels! It’s pure! It’s divine!
Shastri (confused): Tilak’s Geeta Rahasya... Shankaracharya... Sanatan Dharma...
Khudabaksh (passionately): Tilak insulted Shankaracharya! That’s why we oppose him!
Shastri (embracing him): Khudabaksh, today you’ve defended Sanatan Dharma! I’m a Muslim now! Someone braid my shendi and give me a beard!
(They exchange turbans in drunken joy.)
Ramlal (to Bhagirath): Even religious enmity seems noble compared to this beastly love of alcohol. Where is Geeta Rahasya, where is Shankaracharya—and where are these insects? Bhagirath, your country—plagued by poverty, caste, and ignorance—is calling you. You turned to alcohol after heartbreak. But that pain was a gift. It freed you from selfishness. Now serve your motherland. Help the helpless. Lift the fallen. That’s your true calling.
🎶 Musical Interlude (Raga: Adana | Tala: Trivat | Chaal: Sundari Mori Ka)
Give your hand to the poor,
Offer love like water to a dying fish.
Drink the honey of service—
Let it nourish your soul.
Bhagirath (falling to his knees): Ramlal, you’ve given me new life. From today, I am a servant of Mother India.
Shastri (confused): Bhagirath, what’s wrong?
Taliram (offering a glass): Just one glass—for the sake of the group!
Bhagirath (drops the glass): One glass? One glass? No more.
(Curtain falls.)
===
Ekach Pyala – Act IV, Episode IV
Setting: Taliram’s house. The mood is chaotic, comedic, and absurd. Taliram is ill. His friends—Shastri, Khudabaksh, Sonyabapu, Manyabapu, Janubhau—are scrambling to find a doctor who drinks alcohol.
Khudabaksh: So, Shastribuwa—did you find a doctor or a vaidya?
Shastri: After much effort, yes. Taliram refused to see anyone sober. He said, “Bring me a doctor who drinks!” So we searched the whole town. Plenty of doctors, plenty of vaidyas—but not one who drinks!
Khudabaksh: And in the end?
Shastri: Sonyabapu is still searching. But I found someone—he’s not a vaidya, just a man who once worked for one. Now he runs his own medicine factory. Better than nothing!
(Sonyabapu enters with the “doctor.”)
Sonyabapu: He’s not a doctor—just an alcoholic with some medical know-how. I insisted. I couldn’t stand those vaidyas and their ads!
Shastri: I still believe in Ayurveda. But these vaidyas—“Scientific medicine! Guaranteed cure in three days! Double refund!” And don’t forget the fine print—“Postage extra!”
Doctor: And a warning label like a train ticket!
Sonyabapu: It’s impossible to tell a real vaidya from a fake one. We don’t disrespect Ayurveda—we just want one genuine healer.
(Vaidya enters.)
Vaidya: Your wish is granted. I am the real vaidya. Scientific, accurate, effective. Cure in three days. Double refund. Postage extra. Special note—
Sonyabapu: There’s your warning label again!
Doctor (laughing): You’re a fool.
Vaidya: A man who calls others fools too quickly is a fool himself.
Doctor: And one who proves his foolishness instantly is even worse!
Shastri: Enough! Taliram, wake up! The doctor and vaidya are here.
(Taliram sits up groggily.)
Doctor: So, Sonyabapu, is this vaidya here to treat or to preach?
Vaidya: I should be asking that! Why bring two healers?
Manyabapu: Because your methods are so different. We thought—“More is better!”
Vaidya: What next? Two husbands for one bride?
Taliram: Shastribuwa, were you afraid one doctor wouldn’t kill me, so you brought two?
Doctor: That fear comes from his medicine. There’s no life in it!
Taliram: No life? At least it should have the power to take mine!
Vaidya: Our medicines don’t kill. Look at this eye tonic—I gave it to a blind man, now he sees in the dark!
Doctor: Our eye drops make you see even with your eyes closed!
Taliram (aside): I have sixteen diseases. Ascites is one. I thought it would kill me. But now they’re competing to see which one wins!
Vaidya: Shall I begin?
Doctor: Wait! Let me go first.
Taliram: If you two start killing each other, who’ll kill me? I’ll share credit for my death—half to each of you!
Vaidya: This dose will erase all doubts about Ayurveda.
Janubhau: So many powders! Even a novice poet wouldn’t use this many matras!
Vaidya: Suvarnabhasma! Moktikabhasma! Lohabhasma!
Taliram: So many ashes to turn me into ash!
Janubhau: If you can turn iron into ash, turning a patient into ash is easy!
Vaidya: Don’t mock these medicines—they’re more precious than life!
Janubhau: That’s why you take payment after taking the patient’s life!
Taliram: Take the medicine, close your eyes—and never open them again!
Janubhau: Doctors should take their own medicine first. Then they’d think twice before prescribing poison!
Taliram: Doctor, do you have a cure for vaidyas?
Vaidya: Don’t say that! Vaidyas are the patient’s best friend.
Taliram: Yes—best friend to his life!
Doctor: These medicines don’t cure. When the father takes them, the son benefits!
Vaidya: At least our medicines keep the child alive. Yours kill the father—and bankrupt the son!
Doctor: Foreign medicine works fast. Three days—and the patient’s condition changes drastically!
Vaidya: Yes—from earth to heaven!
Doctor: That’s an insult to medical science!
Vaidya: And you insult Ayurveda! You’re no doctor—just a compounder who collects bills!
Manyabapu: Enough! Don’t drag Ayurveda and Allopathy into your fight. The names are sacred—you are not. Just treat Taliram and go home in peace.
Doctor: Let’s check his pulse.
Vaidya: Our science says check the right hand. But the nerves are broken! If only the right hand were on the left side...
Doctor: Let’s check his tongue.
Vaidya: Whose tongue? Ours? The tongue is caught in the middle of your fight!
Taliram (aside): If I were healthy, I’d show you a hand gesture that would split your tongues!
Doctor: Pulse is slow.
Vaidya: Pulse is fast.
Doctor: Limbs are cold.
Vaidya: Fever is high.
Doctor: Can’t sleep.
Vaidya: Drowsy all the time.
Doctor: Blood pressure low.
Vaidya: Blood pressure high.
Doctor: Needs nutrients.
Vaidya: Needs bloodletting.
Doctor: Or it’ll turn into tuberculosis.
Vaidya: Or obesity.
Taliram: Is this a diagnosis or a circus? You brought both because one couldn’t kill me?
Doctor: The disease is curable.
Vaidya: It’s incurable.
Doctor: With strict diet, he’ll recover.
Vaidya: Even Dhanvantari couldn’t save him!
Doctor: He won’t die.
Vaidya: I’ll make sure he dies in three days!
Doctor: Fine. Send someone—I’ll send medicine. Three doses a day—with alcohol.
Vaidya: My medicine—once every three days. No alcohol. Not even a drop!
Taliram: No alcohol? Shastribuwa, get them out! Doctor, send your medicine. Vaidya, shove your Ayurveda down his throat! Let’s go!
(They exit. Alcohol is brought in. Everyone starts drinking.)
Sudhakar (entering): Wait! Don’t finish it all. I want every drop. (He sets up bottles and glasses.)
Shastri: Khudabaksh, was I wrong? Sudhakar, your promise failed.
Sudhakar (pouring a drink): Fools! You didn’t test my nature—you tested my misfortune. Forgive me for what I said or didn’t say. But don’t mock me now. Even a wounded lion roars. I want to laugh. Hurt me if you must—but step aside.
(Curtain falls.)
Setting: A dimly lit room. The others have exited. Sudhakar remains, alone with his drink. The air is heavy with finality.
Sudhakar (to himself, raising his glass): This road I walk now—no companions are needed. Come, wine. Come closer. Why must scholars debate whether you’re divine? Even the beast, bewitched by your cruel spell, knows you’re no god. You’re a monster. A deadly one. A cruel one. But you’re honest. You slit throats only when you say you will. You never pretend to spare the house after promising its ruin. You never flinch from escorting your victim to death’s doorstep.
Even when you disfigure a beautiful face, you never forget it. Even when you erase a name, it’s not out of ignorance. Come, wine—wrap your terrible power around Sudhakar’s neck. Let it choke him. That would be better.
(He drinks deeply. Ramlal enters and reaches for the glass.)
Sudhakar (furious): You fool! Stay back! If you dare step forward, be ready— First, put your hand into the tiger’s jaw to rescue a lamb. Then, reach for this glass.
Ramlal: Sudha... I came with hope. Sindhutai told me of your resolve. And this is what I find?
Sudhakar: I had resolved with even greater hope than hers. But—
Ramlal: But? What “but”? Sudha, it’s not too late. Give it up. Leave this poison.
Sudhakar (laughs bitterly): Leave it now? After drinking for so many days? Madness! Leave it after just one drink? Madness again! Alcohol isn’t something you hear about with one ear and discard with the other. It’s not a luxury you pick up today and toss aside tomorrow. It’s not a toy you play with until bored and then leave by the bedside.
You ignorant boy— Alcohol is a force. It’s the weapon of time. It’s the pin that breaks the wheel of the world. If it were so trivial, it wouldn’t have shaken the earth.
Thousands of noble souls built dams with their bodies— Yet the flood of liquor flows on, undeterred, across four continents. Even the sacred leaves of the Vedas float in its current. Even the mighty scepter of power is caught in its grip. No—liquor is no ordinary thing.
Sudhakar (rising, glass in hand, voice trembling with fury and despair): You don’t understand the destructive power of alcohol! A building that withstands storms will crumble under its spray. Towers that defy cannon fire collapse at its touch. Ancient sorcerers turned men into dogs and cats with spells— You laugh at that, Ramlal. But if you want to see real magic, bring me a virtuous, learned man. Pour four drops of alcohol into him— He’ll become a beast before he even blinks. That’s alcohol.
Ramlal (pleading): Sudha, with your strength, your mind— There’s nothing you can’t overcome. No matter how strong the grip of alcohol, Your resolve can break it. Remember your promise!
Sudhakar (bitterly): Promise? If a man lies drunk on a blanket, Facing death, blinking recognition— Would you trust that flicker of awareness? I did. But now I know—man cannot escape alcohol’s curse.
Ramlal, imagine limbs frozen in a flood, A drowning man gasping for life— Can he swim with numb limbs? Can a soul, burning in a village fire, Extinguish the flames with its final breath? No. So how can death be averted When alcohol grips you with the force of both flood and fire?
There’s only one moment to escape alcohol— Before the first drink. That first sip—taken out of curiosity, etiquette, or friendship— Is the beginning of slavery. Even a festive lamp can become a raging inferno. Listen, Ramlal. Let me breathe. Let me drink—just once more. (Drinks deeply.)
Now listen.
There are three stages in every alcoholic’s life: Hypnosis. Madness. Delirium. Each begins with a single peg. Whether a laborer or a poet, Even Shukracharya, master of resurrection— All begin with one peg.
At first, alcohol blurs the mind, Numbs pain, masks suffering. It feels like relief. But shame and fear haunt the novice— Fear of madness, fear of impurity. So he drinks just enough to feel the buzz, Never enough to lose control.
In this hypnotic state, alcohol seems seductive, even helpful. Friends warn him of future horrors— He laughs them off. He believes he’s in control. He mocks their caution, Thinking their warnings are exaggerated or meant to shame him.
But addiction grows quietly. To feel the same buzz tomorrow, He must drink more than today. And more the next day. Eventually, even sleep becomes dangerous— He stays alert, afraid to pass out drunk.
Then comes the turning point— One more peg, urged by friends, Tips him into madness. He talks loudly, stumbles, loses rhythm, falls.
Ramlal, don’t tire of this tale. In this second stage, alcohol takes over the body— And I take over the story.
Now, he drinks not for pleasure, But because he must. Alcohol becomes more vital than food. In this madness, he commits acts of shame— Incest, violence, cruelty.
He repents. He swears to quit—thousands of times. And breaks that vow just as often. Disgraced, impoverished, He drinks to escape his own weakness.
In the first stage, man refuses to leave alcohol. In the final stage, alcohol refuses to leave him.
Sudhakar (voice low, trembling with fatal resolve): If a man, in his first stage of drinking, sees the ruin ahead— And if he possesses iron will, relentless thought, and divine restraint— He might escape. But once he crosses into the second stage, To return from alcohol’s grip requires not just strength— It demands incarnation. A soul touched by gods.
The sins grow slowly. And the moments of repentance become unbearable. So he drinks again— Not for pleasure, but to silence remorse. One more peg, just to keep the pain at bay. He breaks his vow. And this time, he doesn’t even bother to make another.
That single glass— It’s the gateway to the third stage. The flood.
Brother, when I stood by Sindhu this morning, Making my vow, I didn’t know the third stage would begin today. Her joyful face, The tears in her eyes, The fading glimmer of hope in mine, The blush on our child’s cheek as we kissed— All of it, drowned in one peg. (Drinks.)
Madness! Why feel guilty now? I’ve spoken of theology for so long— But mine isn’t the theology of redemption. It’s the theology of toxic despair.
This is the third flood. In the first stage, man won’t leave alcohol. In the second, alcohol won’t leave him. And in the third— Neither lets go. They are bound together until death.
Whether through disease, trauma, or accident— This path leads only to the end. And to hasten that end, My duty is clear: Drink. Drink again. Just one more peg. (Drinks heavily.)
Ramlal (rushing forward): Sudha! What are you doing?
Sudhakar (turns slowly, eyes burning): What am I doing? Listen, Ramlal. You are my dearest friend, But I have a more faithful companion— Not just mine, but the world’s. A true benefactor. Death.
Even Dhanvantari, the divine healer, Could not save the suffering. Who comforts the starving mother and child? Death. Who ends the torment of the oppressed? Death.
That dark benefactor will come for you and me. And if I can ease his burden, If I can make his task simpler— Then let me do it. I pour alcohol into this frail body To make Yama’s work easier.
Ramlal, we call it murder when one kills another. But this—this is suicide. Alcohol is my assassin.
And you, good man— It is dangerous to stand in front of a murderer. (Drinks again.)
Ramlal (softly): But why torment such a soul, Sudha? Why this cruelty?
Sudhakar (with bitter finality): Why? There’s only one reason. And that reason... is this drink.
Ramlal (pleading): One cup—just one. But what’s in this one cup?
Sudhakar (laughs darkly, filling the glass): You ask what’s in this single cup? Brother, you’re mad. What do you think is not in this cup?
Look closely. It’s full of truth. In this one cup, I see the final day of despair— The moment when memory no longer lies, And death’s certainty grips the body like a confession.
Even the poetic heart begins to see cruelty in beauty. A child suckling peacefully at its mother’s breast— Suddenly, the thought: what if that child dies? A bride, glowing in turmeric— And the image flashes: what will she look like, hair shorn, as a widow?
Ramlal, I’m in that state now. My imagination burns in alcohol’s flame. And so I speak loudly.
Now look again— What fills this cup from my point of view?
The seven seas, stirred by Earth’s hunger for hidden gems, Once tried to drown the world. But the Earth survived—balanced on the back of a turtle.
The Sun, Aditya, opened twelve blazing eyes To scorch the universe. Yet in that fire, he withdrew— Becoming pure consciousness, floating on a banyan leaf, And recreated the cosmos.
Insulted, fire and water forgot their enmity— And conspired to destroy life.
Takshaka, the serpent of envy, Took the form of a worm in a sack— Just as the intellect of the raging seas Now sits in this tiny cup. And Aditya lends his fire to it.
To seduce the eyes of man, The widow’s forehead was stripped of vermilion— And that red light was poured into this burning drink.
This one cup holds all that bitterness. Have you seen this liquor?
(Drinks deeply.)
Now—look at this empty cup. You see nothing? Look again.
Even Yashoda, gazing into Krishna’s mouth during Vishwarupadarshan, May not have seen what you’ll see in this emptiness.
See the huts of drunken laborers, Hoping to escape exhaustion. See the mansions of the idle rich, Drinking to pass time.
See the educated fools, Who sip alcohol as a badge of prestige. And the cunning businessmen, Who drink just enough to manipulate others— To get what they want from those beneath them.
All of them— All of them live inside this one cup.
Sudhakar (raising the glass, voice trembling with fury and sorrow): Look at this one cup— It drowns the industrialist and the beggar, The idle and the ambitious, The literate and the illiterate alike.
See the wives of drunkards—foreheads pale, eyes hollow. Hear the cries of starving children, The agony of aging parents mourning their sons. In exchange for the fourteen divine gems, The seven seas—contained in this single cup— Have swallowed sages and scholars before their time.
Women have shed more tears than all the pearls Ever drawn from the ocean to adorn them.
See the harassment of helpless women, The violence of jobless thugs, The cruelty of kingdoms, The betrayal of friends, The riots, the murders.
Ramlal—look! Alexander, ruler of the world, Kills his closest friend under the spell of alcohol. And Shukracharya, the great guru who revives the dead, Drowns in this very cup—dying his own death.
(The glass fills again. Ramlal reaches for it.)
Sudhakar (snatching his hand away): You stubborn fool—still holding my hand? What good will that do now? Do you still think this cup is a joke?
Ramlal, ships have sunk in the sea for centuries. The ocean floor is littered with wreckage. Let this tiny cup in my hand grow vast in your imagination— So vast that the wreckage of this beautiful world Will rise and dance before your eyes.
Your eyes tremble. They begin to weep.
This is no ordinary cup. It is monstrous. Grotesque. Don’t try to take it from me.
Kind soul, I’ve spoken long— But this vision, this idol of the giant cup, Was not built for Sudhakar. Reformer—go! Take your voice to the world. Show them this terrifying image.
If a young man, tempted by friends, Raises his first glass to his lips— Show him this vision. If he shudders, If the glass slips from his hand and shatters, Spilling the poison— Then even if Sudhakar lies at the bottom of the seven seas, He will sigh in relief.
Ramlal, from now on—this is your task. And this is mine. (Drinks.)
Ramlal (quietly): Sudhakar, they say sin should not be seen with the eyes. But from now on—
Sudhakar (interrupting): No vows. Don’t make promises you’ll break. Breaking them won’t be a sin.
Brother, my addiction may fade for a while— But your obsession with curing me is harder to shake.
Ramlal, one cup, one experience— This isn’t just about alcohol. It’s about temptation.
Take women, for example. I’ve seen many—looked with kindness, with love— And let them go.
You’re wise. Sharad—she’s my sister. You’ve always seen her as pure, untouched. Even a scoundrel wouldn’t think of sin here.
You’ve looked at her innocently a thousand times. But go—just once, Touch her by accident while speaking.
One touch— And the mother of humanity becomes the beast of birth.
Ramlal (in his thoughts): One cup. One touch. I came to teach wisdom— And I’ve learned it instead.
One cup. One touch. One glance.
The first moment of temptation must be avoided— Because even cautious behavior Can birth the beast.
One touch of Sharad— And I am the animal.
(Openly): Sudha, let’s go home. (They exit.)
----
Ekach Pyala – Act IV, Episode V
Setting: Sudhakar’s home. Morning light filters through a broken window. Sindhu, in a tattered sari, grinds grain beside a cradle. Her child stirs.
Sindhu (singing softly): Moon in its fourth phase... A fresh champa blooms in Rama’s garden...
(The baby cries. She lifts him gently.)
Why did the crescent moon rise so early today? Is the baby hungry already? Wait, little one—Gitabai will come soon. She’ll bring milk. Why cry so stubbornly? The days of milk on demand are gone. Our Gokul pots are empty.
🎶 (Raga: Kalangada | Taal: Deepchandi | Chaal: Chhupnape Rang)
Don’t look at me with sorrow, my royal child.
Oh God, hear our plea—
Even the smallest soul in poverty deserves compassion.
(She comforts the baby, who smiles briefly.)
Such delicacy in your smile— But even praise can bring misfortune. Let me ward it off.
(The baby cries again.)
You cry because I cry? What else can I do but weep? I thought God had mercy— Sudhakar had sworn off alcohol. But fate intervened. He’s gone back to the club. Back to the bottle.
Grow up, my child. Wipe my tears with your tiny hands. Will you drink milk made from my tears?
(She sings again. The baby sleeps. She resumes grinding. Gitabai enters.)
Sindhu (cheerfully): Champa blooms in Rama’s garden... Gitabai! Why stand there? Sit. How is Taliram today?
Gita: No better. But Baisaheb, your grinding sounds sweeter than any song. I salute your spirit.
Sindhu: It’s habit. As a child, I’d hear our maid sing this every morning. Now, in this broken life, I’ve returned to that memory. It comforts me.
But Gitabai, how much will we earn for this flour?
Gita: Six paise.
Sindhu: Then why not now?
Gita: Payment comes after work.
Sindhu: Even if we beg?
Gita: They’re heartless. But Baisaheb, why do you need money now?
Sindhu (to herself): How can I tell her? There’s not even a grain of rice in the house. Oh Lord of wealth—Kubera is your treasurer, Yet we wander from door to door.
🎶 (Raga: Sawan | Taal: Rupak | Chaal: Pati Hoon Piyun)
How can I blame you, Lord?
I see no fault in you.
My suffering is born of my own sins.
Gita: You didn’t say why you need money?
Sindhu: There’s no food. Not even rice for God’s sake. I have only two paise—for the baby’s milk.
Gita (in thought): She won’t accept my money. (Openly) Let me ask them. Maybe we’ll get four paise.
Sindhu: Take these two paise. Bring milk. The baby’s starving.
Gita: Baisaheb, your house is in ruins, Yet you ask about my husband’s health? It was he who led Dadasaheb to drink— And destroyed your golden marriage.
Sindhu: Don’t speak like that. Take the pot. Hurry. The baby’s asleep—it’s hard to grind. Lay him on the bed.
(Gita takes the child. Sindhu resumes singing. The child wakes and cries.)
Sindhu: Bring him back, Gitabai. He’s hungry. Even Ashwatthama drank flour-water— But we don’t own even a pinch of this flour.
🎶 (Raga: Bhairavi | Taal: Punjabi | Chaal: Babul Mora)
O noble soul, don’t lose courage.
This is your test—
Don’t let despair win.
(She sees Gitabai returning—with Sudhakar.)
Sindhu (shocked): Sudhakar? What luck brings you here?
(Sudhakar limps in, wild-eyed.)
Sudhakar: Sindhu, I want more. Just one cup. Give me money!
Sindhu: I have nothing.
Sudhakar: Liar! Bring it—or I’ll kill you!
Sindhu: I swear—I gave the last two paise for the baby’s milk.
Sudhakar: Then I’ll strangle him! You gave money for him, not me? He’s not mine—he’s Ramlal’s!
Sindhu: Shiva, Shiva!
Sudhakar: No Shiva—Ramlal! I’ll kill him now!
(He raises a stick. Sindhu rushes between them. The stick strikes her head. She collapses.)
Sindhu (faintly): God... protect my child...
Sudhakar: You die. Now let the baby die!
(He strikes again. The child dies. Padmakar enters.)
Padmakar: You monster! What have you done?
Sudhakar: Nothing. I just want one more drink.
(Curtain falls.)
----
Ekach Pyala – Act V, Episode I
Setting: A quiet room. Sharad is weeping. Bhagirath stands nearby, torn between love and duty.
Bhagirath (in thought): Now I understand Bhaisaheb’s distant behavior. This is no ordinary coldness— It’s the burning jealousy of a soul defeated in love. Even the bitterness of misfortune feels sweet compared to this.
At this age, in such innocent affection, Even the wise Bhaisaheb has fallen prey. But this isn’t love—it’s compassion born of despair. Perhaps even he doesn’t realize it.
Ramlal knew of this from the beginning— Or did he? Bhaisaheb’s name was always spoken with restraint, His thoughts cloaked in silence.
Oh Lord, what a cruel twist of fate! Should I, Bhagirath—reborn by Bhaisaheb’s grace— Now judge his heart?
He saved me from the abyss of alcoholism. And I dare question his motives?
To doubt a father’s virtue, To question a mother’s purity, To argue the existence of God— These are sins beyond measure.
If Bhaisaheb had hinted at his feelings earlier, I would never have let Sharad’s affection deepen. But perhaps even he didn’t know his own heart.
No matter what happens to me, I will not stand in the way of his happiness. I must turn Sharad’s love toward Bhaisaheb.
Bhagirath (openly, gently): Sharad, forgive me. Even in your grief, I’ve spoken harshly. Don’t think it’s easy for me. My heart burns with this poison— But I must speak.
Sharad, are you willing to suffer anything— For Bhagirath’s happiness?
Don’t cry. Don’t look away. I know this question is cruel— More painful than death for someone like you. But the moment demands clarity. We must set aside tradition and speak plainly.
Tell me, Sharad— Will you endure anything for Bhagirath’s happiness?
Sharad (softly): Is there any need to ask? Will your joy ever be my sorrow?
Bhagirath: It’s hard to preserve the unity of love Even in the permanence of separation.
Sharad: Separation? You speak of parting?
Bhagirath (resolute): Yes. Sharad, for the sake of my happiness— Forgive me— But you must accept Bhaisaheb’s proposal. You must marry Ramlal.
Sharad (shocked): Bhagirath! What are you saying? Has your heart turned to ash?
You’ve poured poison into my soul!
Bhagirath: This poison is the only cure for my heart’s disease. Let your love die—so mine may live.
Sharad: How can this soul, surrendered at your feet, Belong to another?
Bhagirath: My life depends on Ramlal’s joy. Only your sacrifice can restore me. Forgive me for this selfish duty.
Sharad: Don’t say more. Your words strike like hammers on my heart.
Bhagirath: Think of all Bhaisaheb has done for us. Shouldn’t we repay his kindness?
When the gods churned the ocean, They found two opposing gems— Sura, the poison of alcohol, And Sudha, the nectar of life.
He saved me from one. Shouldn’t I surrender the other for his happiness?
Joy and sorrow are entwined. To escape one, we must sometimes abandon the other. This is the cruel justice of the divine.
🎶 Raga: Jagi | Taal: Trivat | Chaal: Dilbhar Januve
This act is dreadful—
None can compare.
It wounds the soul—
Don’t burn the tender heart of a woman.
Bhagirath: In my world, Ramlal is divine. Acharya Devo Bhava. Matru Devo Bhava. Pitru Devo Bhava. He is my father, mother, and guru.
He revived me, nurtured me, Guided me toward a meaningful life. Shouldn’t I sacrifice everything for him?
Mayuradhvaja gave half his body to Krishna. Let me sever half my soul for Ramlal’s joy.
(Aside) But I must not let Sharad feel bitterness toward him. Sacrifice must be pure.
Sharad: Enough! Even your heart rejects this cruelty. Don’t cast away the soul that surrendered to you. For your happiness, for mine— Don’t trample our love.
🎶 Raga: Bhairavi | Taal: Trivat | Chaal: Tum Jago Ha
Why torment me so, beloved?
Why destroy our love
And burn both our hearts?
Bhagirath: My only religion is Ramlal’s happiness. And you said Bhagirath’s joy is yours. Then this is the only path for all three of us.
If I marry you, I’ll always see Bhaisaheb’s sorrow in your eyes. That’s no happiness.
Sharad, think again. Your sacrifice brings him joy, Frees me from debt, And gives you the nobility of renunciation.
Even if you refuse, I cannot reunite with you. It would be unjust to betray my benefactor.
Sharad: I speak boldly, though I’m a child widow. Let the world call me shameless. But Bhagirath—if ingratitude is a sin, Is betrayal of love any less?
Bhagirath: Even sages cannot define eternal justice. Today’s virtue may be tomorrow’s sin. We live in a time of transition— East merging with West.
Our hopes collapse under shifting values. In such times, sacrifice must evolve.
Sharad, our love was our joy. Let’s honor it with grace.
I swear—if I must choose between two injustices, I’ll choose the one that doesn’t wound my conscience.
Come with me to Bhaisaheb. This is my final request. If he suffers because of me, I cannot live.
Are you still crying? Tears are no weapon against the world’s cruelty.
(Aside) Her tears make my sacrifice sweeter. She gives herself not by choice, But for me.
(Openly) Sharad, come. And if you cry again— I swear to you.
(They exit. Curtain falls.)
----
Ekach Pyala – Act V, Episode II
Setting: Taliram’s house. He lies dying on a cot. Around him gather the members of Arya Madira Mandal—Shastri, Khudabaksh, D’Souza, Dadisheth, Manyabapu, Janubhau, Sonyabapu, Yallappa, and others.
Sonyabapu: Last night was brutal. Taliram nearly froze to death. But today—thanks to more alcohol—he survived.
Khudabaksh: It felt endless. As if time itself was betting against Taliram’s life.
Manyabapu: No one dared to meditate. Even a moment of silence felt like inviting death.
Sonyabapu: The lamp flame kept watch— Waiting to see if Taliram’s light would go out.
Virupaksha: Even the flame fears death less than we do. But Taliram’s struggle—was it still burning?
Manyabapu: Not anymore. Last night, his body staged a silent protest against Yama. Even the Deccan Sabha should’ve taken note. His eyelids didn’t twitch. His cheeks sank like a monk in disgust. His tongue—under arrest. His nose—cordoned off. No one could tell if he was dead, asleep, or drunk.
Sonyabapu: Or poisoned by a vaidya’s medicine.
Manyabapu: It’s time. Taliram, wake up. Are you ready for medicine?
Taliram (weakly): Sit me up. No medicine. Death is near.
Janubhau: Don’t give up! Bring the bottle. If he sees liquor, he won’t die—even if life leaves him!
Manyabapu: Look—his eyes are turning white!
Virupaksha: Quick! Ganga water! Basil leaves!
Taliram: No Ganga. No basil. Just alcohol. Put a cork in my mouth—so even in death, it won’t spill.
Virupaksha: A true drunkard! You’ll be reborn as one! Even the Gita says: "Whatever one remembers at death, that becomes their next birth."
Taliram (drinks): More! I want to speak my last wish.
Manyabapu: You’ve had enough.
Janubhau: Let him drink. Don’t deny him now.
Taliram (gasping): I can’t even drink properly. Shastribuwa, Khudabaksh— Tell Bhagirath: Taliram died drinking. He never surrendered to love.
Virupaksha: We’ll tell him.
Taliram: After I die, open a liquor bar in my name— “Taliram Free Liquor.” Keep it open all night. Free drinks for the poor and Brahmins. Half-price for students. Give my bottles and glasses to a kind drunkard. On my death anniversary, serve drinks to a deserving Brahmin. Float corks in the river instead of cows— So I can ride them to heaven.
Will you fulfill my wish? If not, I’ll become a ghost—haunting you forever.
Manyabapu: We’ll do our best.
Janubhau: Even if you become a ghost, We’ll bottle you in whiskey!
Taliram: One last thing— Never quit drinking. Vows don’t last. Be proud of Arya Madira Mandal. Don’t let it drown.
Give me more. Drink with me—my final toast!
(They all raise glasses.)
Taliram: Will I get wine in heaven?
Sonyabapu: To your health, Taliram!
(All drink. Taliram dies.)
Sonyabapu: It’s over. Half past eight—and the bar has closed.
Shastri: Gone. The true hero of alcohol is gone.
Khudabaksh: The foundation of Arya Madira Mandal has crumbled.
Janubhau: Alcohol—your madness ends here. Your triumph ends here. Your blabbering ends here.
Shastri: A true Mahatma Drunkard. We’ll never see another like him.
Khudabaksh: He drank day and night. Twelve years—never missed a sip.
Janubhau: He sacrificed everything—wife, family—for alcohol.
Shastri: He made alcohol his only kin.
Maganbhai (weeping): Who will give me liquor now? Who will teach me how to mix it cheap?
Janubhau: We must honor him properly. Let’s hold a public meeting.
Manyabapu: No need for a crowd. Let’s form an executive board—right here.
Shastri: You be the secretary.
Manyabapu: Fine. First, elect a president.
Khudabaksh: Everyone’s equally qualified.
Janubhau: Let’s draw lots.
Yallappa: I nominate myself. I’m so drunk, I’ll lie still like a corpse—perfect for the role.
Khudabaksh: Then Taliram’s actual corpse is better.
Janubhau: Yes! A corpse is better than a portrait. Taliram’s body will be our president.
Khudabaksh: First resolution—drink all the liquor in the house. Passed!
Shastri: Second resolution—everyone must sit. My legs are shaking.
Maganbhai: Supported. Passed!
Janubhau: Third resolution—close all liquor shops today.
All: Shame! No!
Manyabapu: Rejected. Instead, keep them open all night—Taliram’s true wish.
Shastri: Funeral with music!
Maganbhai: No expense—play drums on his belly with sticks of his limbs.
Janubhau: No women. Bring radicals instead.
Manyabapu: Let’s not argue. This is a drunkard’s meeting—not a scholar’s debate.
Shastri: Burn him with straw bags from whiskey bottles.
Khudabaksh: No! Burn him in a distillery!
Janubhau: Let’s pull the cart ourselves—no horses.
Maganbhai: That’s insulting!
Manyabapu: Final resolution—erect a memorial. Start a fund. Everyone pledge thousands!
Shastri: Start with Maganbhai!
Maganbhai: I strongly support— But I won’t say it aloud!
Shastri: Now, let’s take the body.
(They mistakenly grab Yallappa.)
Yallappa: Who’s pulling me?
Shastri: Dead men don’t speak.
Yallappa: I’m not dead!
Khudabaksh: Then who is?
Manyabapu: Call an emergency meeting to decide!
Khudabaksh: Dead, raise your hand!
(Pause.)
No hands raised. Taliram isn’t dead!
Shastri: Send a congratulatory telegram to his soul!
Sonyabapu: The whole ceremony was a farce.
Khudabaksh: Let’s stay here until someone actually dies. Resolution passed.
(All collapse. Curtain falls.)
---
Ekach Pyala – Act V, Entrance III
Setting: Ramlal’s Ashram. Morning light. Ramlal enters, burdened by guilt and revelation.
Ramlal (in thought): Now I see the truth of my own mind— Its filth, its fall, its failure. I called my feelings for Sharad “fatherly,” But the youth in my eyes never faded. What I mistook for compassion Was the subtle lust of a weak-hearted man.
While teaching poor Geeta, I told myself I was guiding an orphan— But I was feeding my own hunger. Watching Sharad’s joy as Geeta learned, I felt excitement—not generosity.
🎶 Raga: Bhairav | Taal: Trivat | Chaal: Prabhu Data Re
My sinful mind deceives itself daily.
I tried to hide desire behind duty—
But in the end, truth shattered the illusion.
Bhagirath opened his heart to me— And I grew restless. I thought I was tired of his closeness, But it was jealousy. Jealousy that Sharad spoke of him with affection.
As their young souls drew near, My aging heart flared with envy. And now— I stand ready to betray Bhagirath, To wound Sharad, All for a fleeting taste of selfish joy.
We, the so-called wise, Use our borrowed power to dominate the weak. We’ve buried beauty beneath tradition. We lack the courage to desire it, And the conscience to renounce it.
Even our ancestors’ wisdom Is silenced by petty cravings. We soar like vultures— But dive at the first scent of flesh.
O ancient Bharat, Five thousand years of glory— Yet your fate is written by men like me. Lord, will my sins ever be forgiven?
How can I face Bhagirath and Sharad? Only death can silence this shame.
(Bhagirath and Sharad enter.)
Ramlal (to himself): Steel your heart, Ramlal. Prepare to beg forgiveness.
Bhagirath: Brother, if I speak boldly, Will you forgive your Bhagirath?
I’ve come to make a request.
Ramlal: Why such formality today?
Bhagirath: I came to learn public service from you. In ancient times, students gave Gurudakshina at the end. Today, we pay in advance.
So I’ve come to offer mine.
Ramlal: What kind of Gurudakshina?
Bhagirath: Sharad’s soul—once surrendered to me. I offer it to you. I’m ready to give up everything at your feet.
Ramlal (to Sharad): Is this true?
(Sharad lowers her eyes.)
Bhagirath: She’s silent from modesty.
Ramlal (in thought): Yes. What can a child widow say? We mocked Christianity for saying cows have no soul— Yet we treat our women worse than beasts.
(Openly): Bhagirath, is this truly your wish?
Bhagirath: A thousand times, yes. I must give up this temptation To fulfill the purpose you gave me. If I cling to Sharad, I betray your teachings.
I renounce love for the sake of service— For my country, For your guidance.
Ramlal: Bhagirath, giving advice is easy. But to follow it— That’s greatness.
You, who abandon temptation, Are greater than any teacher.
Forgive me for my moment of weakness. Sharad, forgive me for my sinful thoughts. Bhagirath, you’ve earned your Gurudakshina. Now let me honor you.
🎶 Raga: Deskar | Taal: Trivat | Chaal: Are Man Ram
Accept this radiant gift.
You deserve this reward.
A wise student,
Blessed by the teacher’s love.
(Ramlal places Sharad’s hand in Bhagirath’s.)
Bhagirath, in your journey of public service, You’ll face criticism. Let Sharad’s tears soothe your wounds.
(Gita enters, weeping.)
Ramlal: Come, child. My empty heart belongs to orphans like you.
Taliram’s death left you with nothing but grief. Let my old age serve your youth. I give you all my wealth— Use it well.
Our society still shuns widows like you. Bhagirath is rare. Most men are like me.
We speak of reform— But our hearts remain unchanged. We pity child widows— But only if they’re beautiful.
Our knowledge dances on our tongues. Cut that tongue— And even God won’t know who among us is truly wise.
I failed to love Sharad rightly. But if love is human, Then mercy is divine.
(Padmakar enters.)
Padmakar: Sudhakar has killed his son and injured Sindhu. I’m going to the police. Come with me.
Ramlal: What?
Padmakar: I’ll explain on the way. But don’t protect Sudhakar this time. If Sindhu escapes his grip, she might live.
Come!
Ramlal: Bring Bhagirath, Sharad, and Gita. We must go.
(All exit.)
(Curtain falls.)
---
Ekach Pyala – Act V, Episode IV
Setting: Sudhakar’s home. Evening. The room is dim, heavy with grief. Sindhu lies in a weakened state. Sudhakar sits nearby, silent. Padmakar, Ramlal, and a police officer stand close.
Police Officer (gently): Madam, please tell me—what happened? What did he do?
Sindhu (softly, with effort): He didn’t do anything. Who told you otherwise?
Police Officer: Then what happened to the child? And the wound on your forehead?
Sindhu (calmly): I hadn’t eaten for two days. I was dizzy. As I came down from the garden with the child, I fell. That’s how I got the wound. The baby crawled beneath me. He had nothing to do with it.
Padmakar (in disbelief): Sister... are you lying? Then how did the stick get blood on it?
Sindhu: I came here with blood on my hands. He had nothing to do with it.
Police Officer: Madam, is this all true?
Sindhu (firmly): True. Very true. Believe me.
Padmakar (pleading): No, Dadasaheb—this is a lie! Sister, swear to me. Swear to Baba. Swear to your husband. Tell the truth.
Sindhu (gently): Brother, why do you push me to the edge? I’ve told you exactly what happened.
Padmakar (to the officer): Dadasaheb, she’s lying! What do we do now?
Police Officer (quietly): Bhausaheb, there’s nothing we can do. No matter how angry we are— What can we do in the face of her goodness?
Even the sharpest blade of justice Is dulled when it meets the shield Of such sacred virtue.
Padmakar (desperate): So you’ll let this scoundrel go free Because she lied?
Police Officer (softly): Bhausaheb, what punishment can reach A man who swims in the river Ganga?
Padmakar (pleading, voice trembling): Dadasaheb, I beg you—don’t let him walk free. Send him to prison for his crimes, or to an asylum for his madness. Call him a cunning criminal or a mindless beast—but cage him! My sister is a goddess. And this man—her husband—is the stone she worships, Sacrificing her five souls at his altar. If this stone is cast into hell, She might still be saved.
Police Officer (calmly): Bhausaheb, please. Let’s proceed.
Padmakar (apologetic but firm): Forgive me, Dadasaheb. Even if I were a stone, I’d speak like this. I’m her brother by blood. There’s no flesh left on her body—this monster drained it. He mixed her blood with alcohol, tore her apart like a vampire. This learned drunkard made the daughter of a mill owner Grind grain to survive.
In our home, even puppies are fed milk. But not a drop was spared for her child. Even leftover food from servants never reached her plate.
If I were stone, I’d become a man. And if I’m a man, I must become stone—unyielding. Even if her mangalsutra breaks, I’ll tie a noose around his neck!
Sister Sindhutai, wake up! (Padmakar lifts her gently.)
💔 Sindhu’s Response
Sindhu (weakly, with a faint smile): Brother... when did you come? Bhai, you too? There’s rice on the stove. Give him a bath and feed him. He hasn’t eaten in days.
Padmakar (shocked): Instead of feeding him, I came to bury him! Sister, the police officer is here. Tell him everything this murderous drunkard did.
Police Officer (gently): Madam, please tell me—what happened?
Sindhu (softly): He didn’t do anything. Who told you otherwise?
Police Officer: Then what happened to the child? And the wound on your forehead?
Sindhu: I hadn’t eaten for two days. I was dizzy. As I came down from the garden with the child, I fell. That’s how I got the wound. The baby crawled under me. He had nothing to do with it.
Padmakar (in disbelief): Sister, are you lying? Then how did the stick get blood on it?
Sindhu: I came here with blood on my hands. He had nothing to do with it.
Police Officer: Madam, is this all true?
Sindhu (firmly): True. Very true. Believe me.
Padmakar (pleading): No, Dadasaheb—this is a lie! Sister, swear to me. Swear to Baba. Swear to your husband. Tell the truth.
Sindhu (gently): Brother, why do you push me to the edge? I’ve told you exactly what happened.
Padmakar (to the officer): Dadasaheb, she’s lying! What do we do now?
Police Officer (quietly): Bhausaheb, there’s nothing we can do. No matter how angry we are— What can we do in the face of her goodness?
Even the sharpest blade of justice is dulled When it meets the shield of such sacred virtue.
Padmakar (desperate): So you’ll let this scoundrel go free because she lied?
Police Officer (softly): Bhausaheb, what punishment can reach a man Who swims in the river Ganga?
Ekach Pyala – Act V, Episode IV
Setting: Sudhakar’s home. Evening. A storm brews outside. Inside, the air is heavy with grief and finality. Sindhu lies dying. Sudhakar sits beside her. Ramlal, Padmakar, and a police officer are present.
Characters:
Sudhakar – Broken, remorseful, spiritually awakened.
Sindhu – Dying, serene, devoted to the end.
Ramlal – Grieving, stunned, bearing witness.
Padmakar – Protective, emotionally shaken.
Police Officer – Silent observer.
Gita – Absent in this scene, but her earlier words echo.
Scene Opens
Ramlal (to Padmakar): Well done, Sindhutai. Bhausaheb, the presence of such a virtuous woman carries more divine power than the truth of Devbrahman. Let go of your anger toward Sudhakar. Sindhutai is blessed. As long as women like her exist, this land remains Aryavarta. Even if laws ban the ritual of sati, these goddesses still burn—inside—with sacred self-sacrifice.
Sindhu (weakly): Brother, come sit beside me. Will you stay angry with your own kin? My time is near. Who else will care for him now, if not you and Baba? I leave behind a gem—on your word. You must protect him now.
Remember how, as children, you’d bring butterflies in a little box to refresh my kunkum? Where is that love now? I leave my sacred kumkum in your care.
Padmakar (to Sudhakar): Listen, you fool. Listen to one word from your sister. Why won’t you open your eyes?
Ramlal (to the officer): Sir, you’re getting late.
Police Officer: Let’s go, Bhausaheb. But someday, withdraw this complaint.
(Ramlal and Padmakar escort the officer out.)
Sudhakar’s Collapse
Sudhakar (inwardly): My eyes are open now. And in their light, I see heaven—reflected in the living flame of this goddess.
(He opens a vial, pours alcohol and poison into a glass.)
Where is the enemy of seven lifetimes that’s gripped my soul?
Sindhu’s Final Plea
Sindhu (softly): Come closer. Put my head in your lap. Give me your hand.
Sudhakar (doing so): Sindhu... You, a goddess, bowed at the feet of this drunkard. I insulted you. You went hungry. I made you grind grain to survive. I tormented you. I killed our child. I made you walk in torn clothes.
Sindhu, burn me with one word. Why did you save me with your virtue and lies? Your goodness could decorate heaven. The merit of eighty-eight lakh births stood behind you— And fate carved my name on your torn forehead.
Forgive me. Forgive this eternal sinner.
Sindhu (smiling faintly): Why trouble yourself now? Why say I have a broken fate?
I die with turmeric and kunkum on my forehead, in your lap. What more could I ask?
Don’t worry. I swear on my life—your health is fragile. If you fall ill, who will care for you?
One last request: Now you’re alone. I swear by my blood—never touch alcohol again. Not a single drop.
Sudhakar’s Refusal
Sudhakar: No, Sindhu. I spent my life breaking your sacred vows. I’m not worthy of obeying your final command.
This last cup—I must drink. Don’t look at me, unfortunate soul. What hope remains in these frozen eyes?
Sindhu... Sindhu...
Ramlal, run!
Sindhu (fading): Nath... protect your soul... To my Sudhakar... God...
(Sindhu dies. Ramlal rushes in. Sudhakar drinks the poisoned glass.)
Sudhakar’s Final Monologue
Sudhakar (to Ramlal): Don’t stop me now.
Ramlal: Sudhakar, what did you drink?
Sudhakar: Alcohol. One cup.
Ramlal: More alcohol? After everything?
Sudhakar: Yes, Ramlal. The same alcohol that ruined my home. That turned Kubera into a beggar. That made Bhima’s body a storehouse of disease. That made sages curse like drunkards. That dragged sacred wives into the marketplace. That severed father from son.
It defiled Muslims, Brahmins, saints. It made Gayatri tremble on the tongues of the impure.
This cup—this one cup—is the root of all calamity.
Sudhakar’s Warning
Sudhakar: I told you once. Now I’ll say it one last time:
Stop alcohol before it starts. Hold the hand of the man before his first sip.
Once the first cup is taken, the last will follow. The drunkard must die in drink.
Even repentance needs poison to kill the fire of alcohol.
Ramlal (horrified): You drank Raskapur? Poison?
Sudhakar: What else was left after Sindhu?
Ramlal (rushing to Sindhu): She’s gone?
Sudhakar: Yes. My Sindhu is gone. The river of compassion has dried. She reached the ocean—not of time, but of liquor.
My world drowned in a single glass.
Musical Interlude 🎶
(Raga: Bhairavi | Tal: Dadra | Chaal: Piya Sone De)
ब्रह्मार्पण ब्रह्महविर्ब्रह्माग्ना ब्रह्मणा हुतम्। ब्रह्मैव तैन गन्तव्यं ब्रह्मकर्मसमाधिना॥
- श्रीगीतोपनिषत्सु श्रीभगवान्
Brahmarpan Brahmahavirbrahmagna Brahmana Hutam. Brahmaiv Tain Gantavya Brahmakarmasamadhina.
- श्रीगीतोपनिषत्सु श्रीभगवान्
(Curtain falls.)
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