blogs nandakumar jai

Dear Lalit

What is it about people with your surname that they (allegedly) HAVE to destroy everything they touch? First your brethren Narendra turned every Muslim near Irfan Pathan’s neighbourhood into a livingshawarma, an event so traumatising the memory of which has made him forget how to play even 5 years down. Then you graduated and became director of Philip Morris, selling millions of tobacco products everyday and slowly turning the lungs of citizens worldwide, hollower than the plot of a Karan Johar movie. Then your group started something called the Modi Apollo International Institute, a joint venture with a third grade American “Western International University” which destroyed the careers of millions of kids across India by stamping a Masters degree in Broad-ranging Asninity (MBA) on their foreheads. (And in the process becoming the second black skinned, glasses wearing creep pedalling degrees after Arindam Chaudhari)

Then if that was not enough, you created this monster called the IPL and completely killed the only thing that brought this country together - cricket. Just how sick do you have to be to pile on the misery by hiring people like Angad Bedi and destroying whatever grey cells our citizens had left? The shock of having to bear Baichung Bhutia Meiyang Chang’s commentary last season was still fresh, but you went ahead and pulled a Janet Jackson Superbowl titty anyway.

I’m almost beginning to think this is all a grand scheme to re-invigorate the dying brand of Modicare Hospitals throughout the country. We all know that the unfortunate souls who end up at that hospital have as much a chance of survival as “Prince – It’s Showtime” has of winning an Oscar. But making people mentally and physically sick on purpose is no way to increase your stock Mr. Modi. No way. That privilege lies only with Ekta Kapoor.

Seriously, just look at what you have done. Shah Rukh Khan cant turn up for matches against Chennai because the colour yellow makes him go insane (MNIK remember?), Harsha Bhogle has been forced into growing more hair on his head than his nuts ever had foliage and people are forced to look at monkey’s like Raj Kundra every second day. Andrew Symonds wasn’t enough?

I know your companies don’t manufacture mirrors. But take a good hard look at yourself Mr. Modi. You might think studying in Duke and prancing around with silicon-injected women makes you white, but the only time you will ever look white is in a photonegative. Owning Fashion TV India will not change that fact. And what the fuck is up with that lisp? I know you talk through your ass and there is possibility of data loss with your thoughts having to travel all the way from your Mcnugget to your lips, but can’t you ever pronounce anything clearly? All I hear is boastful adjectives mixed with a nonsensical variety of numbers. Sometimes its 200 million, sometimes it’s 670 million. Sometimes it’s more money than China has bonded labour.

Word of advice, stop hanging the fuck out with Sharad Pawar. Just because he looks like a :-/ emoticon does not give you an excuse to start lisping like him every goddamn time. I know you cant just suddenly stop hanging out with him – given his (alleged) control over the country’s sugar mills and your Gujarati need to put sugar in every bloody thing you eat, but atleast don’t start quoting numbers like he does India’s exports revenues. He is the Maratha strongman. You on the other hand keep getting bitch-slapped even in the Rajasthan Cricket Association elections. You are so lame infact, that you need three layers of security to protect yourself from Miss Bollywood IPL Gabriella Demetriades. What is she going to do? Choke your oxygen by shoving your face in her chest? Some fucking superman you are.

In addition, just when I thought you couldn’t get any worse, you ended up trying to screw over Shashi Tharoor. I can see the jealousy now Lalit. There you were, sitting pretty as India’s number one poster boy. Being featured in Time and Newsweek magazine. Having cocaine delivered to your hotel room instead of having to ferry it around like you did back in your University days. And suddenly Shashi comes along. Fairer, better accent, better international reputation, better-looking women friends. Heck, he even came in and got a better job and more Twitter followers. It’s like you didn’t even exist anymore! 

Then, your already bruised ultra competitive nature got an even bigger jolt when you learnt that Shashi was going to marry the third time. That was it wasn’t it Lalit? Being beaten by Shashi even in the marital department with you only having your second wife to comfort you by your side while your political friends lost all their elections. And here he comes in, prances around his third woman, takes your thunder and frequent flier miles away. That is when you decided there was no way you could give Kochi a team, having promised your murderous friends one in Ahmedabad already.

Sigh. I feel bad Lalit. I feel bad that the media made you out to be so much than what you really were. Bad that people will finally realise the vicious cycle of bullshit that you have created around them in the name of entrepreneurship and spirit. Bad that your bold proclamations circa Jesus on the mount are being debunked day after day. And bad, most of all, that with all that money and chemical factories you own in Ankleshwar, you couldn’t buy a cream of Fair and Lovely to look nicer sitting next to your European chuddy buddies.

For your sake and mine Lalit, I hope this ends faster than Karun Chandok’s F1 career.