cultural differences

 just finished reading Marc Maron’s Attempting Normal. I don’t want to get into book review mode because I’m not capable enough to extrapolate the layers and stories the book delves into for those who aren’t familiar with him. If you’re not a fan of his work, you probably won’t and don’t need to read it. If you’re a comic, even if you don’t like his work there’s an awful lot to learn from him. There are tonnes of stories and passages I want to tweet and talk about but I’ll choose just one – part of his keynote at the Just For Laughs Festival in 2011 – which somewhat fittingly ends this book. 

There are very few people who make me spend such an awful amount of time just thinking through my own life and the role of comedy – and he’s right up there. Even if I never get to see, meet or talk to him there already is a connection – like with millions of others – simply through his voice on the podcast. That, in itself is extremely gratifying. 25 years after being a stand-up comic and having been left with nothing - talking to a room full of his peers and other comics whose lives he in some ways was a part of - I found this keynote extremely, extremely touching.

“I love comedians. I respect anyone who goes all in to do what I consider a noble profession and art form. Despite whatever drives us towards this profession i.e. insecurity, need for attention, megalomania, poor parenting, anger, a mixture of all of the above. Whatever it is, we comics are out there on the front lines of our sanity.

We risk all sense of security and the possibility of living stable lives to do comedy. We are out there in B rooms, dive bars, coffee shops, bookstores and comedy clubs trying to find the funny, trying to connect, trying to interpret our problems and the world around us and make it into jokes. We are out there dragging our friends and co-workers to comedy clubs at odd hours so we can get on stage. We are out there desperately tweeting, updating statuses and shooting silly videos. We are out there driving ten hours straight to feature in fill in blank city here. We are out there acting excited on local morning radio programs with hosts whose malignant egos are as big as their regional popularity. We are out there pretending we like club owners and listening to their ‘input’. 

We are out there fighting the good fight against our own weaknesses: battling courageously with internet porn, booze, pills, weed, blow, hookers, hangers on, sad angry girls we can’t get out of our room, twitter trolls and broken relationships. We are out there on treadmills at Holiday Inn Expresses and Marriott suite hotels trying to balance out our self-destructive compulsions, sadness and fat. We are up making our own waffles at at 9:58 AM two minutes before the free buffet closes and thrilled about it. Do not underestimate the power of a lobby waffle to change your outlook.

All this for what? For the opportunity to be funny in front of as many people as possible and share our point of view, entertain, tell some jokes, crunch some truths, release some of the tension that builds up in people, in the culture and ourselves.

The amazing thing about being a comedian is that no one can tell us to stop even if we should. Delusion is necessary to do this. Some of you aren't that great. Some of you may get better. Some of you are great…now. Some of you may get opportunities even when you stink. Some of you will get them and they will go nowhere and then you have to figure out how to buffer that disappointment and because of that get funnier or fade away. Some of you may be perfectly happy with mediocrity. Some of you will get nothing but heartbreak. Some of you will he heralded as geniuses and become huge. Of course all of you think that one describes you….hence the delusion necessary to push on. Occasionally everything will synch up and you will find your place in this racket. There is a good chance it will be completely surprising and not anything like you expected.

I’m not sure if there is one point to this speech or any really. If you are a comic hang in there if you can because you never know what’s going to happen or how it is going to happen and there are a lot more ways and places for it to happen. I know my place in show business now. It’s in my garage. Who knows where yours is but there is truly nothing more important than comedy….well, that may be an overstatement. There are a few things more important than comedy but they aren’t funny……until we make them funny.”

Attempting Normal

 just finished reading Marc Maron’s Attempting Normal. I don’t want to get into book review mode because I’m not capable enough to extrapolate the layers and stories the book delves into for those who aren’t familiar with him. If you’re not a fan of his work, you probably won’t and don’t need to read it. If you’re a comic, even if you don’t like his work there’s an awful lot to learn from him. There are tonnes of stories and passages I want to tweet and talk about but I’ll choose just one – part of his keynote at the Just For Laughs Festival in 2011 – which somewhat fittingly ends this book. 

There are very few people who make me spend such an awful amount of time just thinking through my own life and the role of comedy – and he’s right up there. Even if I never get to see, meet or talk to him there already is a connection – like with millions of others – simply through his voice on the podcast. That, in itself is extremely gratifying. 25 years after being a stand-up comic and having been left with nothing - talking to a room full of his peers and other comics whose lives he in some ways was a part of - I found this keynote extremely, extremely touching.

nanda kumar jai

“I love comedians. I respect anyone who goes all in to do what I consider a noble profession and art form. Despite whatever drives us towards this profession i.e. insecurity, need for attention, megalomania, poor parenting, anger, a mixture of all of the above. Whatever it is, we comics are out there on the front lines of our sanity.

We risk all sense of security and the possibility of living stable lives to do comedy. We are out there in B rooms, dive bars, coffee shops, bookstores and comedy clubs trying to find the funny, trying to connect, trying to interpret our problems and the world around us and make it into jokes. We are out there dragging our friends and co-workers to comedy clubs at odd hours so we can get on stage. We are out there desperately tweeting, updating statuses and shooting silly videos. We are out there driving ten hours straight to feature in fill in blank city here. We are out there acting excited on local morning radio programs with hosts whose malignant egos are as big as their regional popularity. We are out there pretending we like club owners and listening to their ‘input’. 

We are out there fighting the good fight against our own weaknesses: battling courageously with internet porn, booze, pills, weed, blow, hookers, hangers on, sad angry girls we can’t get out of our room, twitter trolls and broken relationships. We are out there on treadmills at Holiday Inn Expresses and Marriott suite hotels trying to balance out our self-destructive compulsions, sadness and fat. We are up making our own waffles at at 9:58 AM two minutes before the free buffet closes and thrilled about it. Do not underestimate the power of a lobby waffle to change your outlook.

All this for what? For the opportunity to be funny in front of as many people as possible and share our point of view, entertain, tell some jokes, crunch some truths, release some of the tension that builds up in people, in the culture and ourselves.

The amazing thing about being a comedian is that no one can tell us to stop even if we should. Delusion is necessary to do this. Some of you aren't that great. Some of you may get better. Some of you are great…now. Some of you may get opportunities even when you stink. Some of you will get them and they will go nowhere and then you have to figure out how to buffer that disappointment and because of that get funnier or fade away. Some of you may be perfectly happy with mediocrity. Some of you will get nothing but heartbreak. Some of you will he heralded as geniuses and become huge. Of course all of you think that one describes you….hence the delusion necessary to push on. Occasionally everything will synch up and you will find your place in this racket. There is a good chance it will be completely surprising and not anything like you expected.

I’m not sure if there is one point to this speech or any really. If you are a comic hang in there if you can because you never know what’s going to happen or how it is going to happen and there are a lot more ways and places for it to happen. I know my place in show business now. It’s in my garage. Who knows where yours is but there is truly nothing more important than comedy….well, that may be an overstatement. There are a few things more important than comedy but they aren’t funny……until we make them funny.”

nanda kumar jai english

English stand-up is at an interesting cultural crossroads where it is still niche enough to be considered edgy and cool but without the mainstream acceptance, financial backing and familiarity of say music, or dance. After the year 2003, which saw the perfect storm of Indian television broadcasting, The Great Indian Laughter Challenge, with urban Indians finding an outlet of expression after watching Russell Peters explode on YouTube and bars opening up to accommodating newer art forms, English stand-up got on its first legs of cultural relevance. Ten years in, with comics having struggled to build and educate their own audiences, English stand-up has become a regular part of life in an Indian metropolis (Except Kolkata where the Usha Uthup lobby has prevented anything except Naxals from entering).

From a time when a handful of comedians had to beg bar owners and auditoriums for a stage, cities are now full of comedians, open mic-ers who have performed once and call themselves comedians, and people who are funny on Twitter and hence think they’re comedians. Everyone has identified stand-up as an opportunity to make money while few care about the passion that has gone behind building this industry. Through this post, I want to share with you the different kind of organisers and promoters an English stand-up comic meets in his day-to-day life.

1. The Hapless Bar Owner 

The hapless bar owner is perhaps the more pathetic of the organisers. Usually made familiar of English stand-up comedy after seeing a competitor organise a show, the bar owner thinks that all it really takes to organise a show is a mic, some lights and a guy who owns an Ahuja sound console to get people to automatically start streaming into that venue as if Mata Amritanandamayi were giving away free hugs. The phone call usually goes like this.

Hapless bar owner: Hi, is this comedian X? Actually, I got your number from someone and we were interested in doing some stand-up comedy at our venue.

Comic: Nice. So where is this place? Is it a restaurant or a bar? What dates are you looking at? How many comics? What’s the budget like?

Hapless bar owner: Errr… actually you know budgets are really tight so we don’t really have much to offer comics… but we can give you exposure… like we have connections in media and you’ll get exposure… (What are you a frickin’ nuclear power plant?)

Comic: No see, without budgets it will be tough because no one does it for free… what kind of promotion can you do to get people so we can organise some sort of gate-split?

Hapless bar owner: Actually, we were thinking you are on Twitter and Facebook so you can tweet…

At this stage, that bar is permanently black-listed while the comedian cries realising that his/her value is lower than that of an emcee in a mall shouting to people to get them enter a lucky draw contest. If the hapless bar owner does manage to con some open mic-ers who are desperate for stage time into performing, s/he does fantastic things like let the bar and food service be open through the performance so that the comic can’t hear himself over the chicken shaslik sizzler. The hapless bar owner then decides that stand-up isn’t worth it and goes back to generic events like “Bollywood Nightzzz with DJ Bunty”.

2. The Facebook Acquaintance

Given English stand-up’s novelty, being a relatively good comedian gets you at least one article in the press. That and constantly updating ones Facebook with show details also means most of your friends and acquaintances know that you do that thing where you humiliate yourself on stage for the entertainment of strangers. Thus, most people like to take advantage of this fact and invite you to perform at their weddings and birthday parties. These acquaintances are usually easier to deal with than bar owners and the conversation goes like this.

Acquaintance you barely remember: Hey man what’s up! Aur show vagera kaise chal rahe hain?

Comic: Nothing much man same old, same old..

Acquaintance you barely remember: Nice nice. Achha… I was saying… you know, I have this party coming up and I thought I’d invite you – everyone will be there and we haven’t caught up in ages!

Comic: Haan! Sure man that’d be great…

Acquaintance you barely remember: Accha also, you know I was thinking… we can have this stage where you can tell some jokes you know on everyone in the room just do like a quick three hours of jokes we don’t have a budget but this party will give you exposure…

(click)

As Raju Srivastava once said, even if you’re on a dance floor, you’re always afraid that any moment, DJ Bunty (who never got paid by the hapless bar owner and is now doing weddings) would announce your name and the whole room would clear expecting you to do a one-hour set.

3. Corporate Slaves

And finally, the corporate slaves. These are company employees on the lookout for “something funny” to be done at their annual award function, Diwali bash, or lets -just-suck-our-boss’-dick-for-no-reason party. The corporate slave is usually a mid-level executive who has been put in charge of the event and thus, needs it to go well for the sake of his/her career.

While a few slaves hire specific comics based on their preferences, most are not familiar with who the comics are till the first time they meet them “to touch base”. After “touching base” they like to discuss the “show flow” and see how the comic can help punch up a supposedly-witty, god-awful sketch that involves every junior employee of the company, in front of senior management.

Finally, the corporate slave who thinks he/she knows comedy much better than the comic drops the inevitable censorship bomb, i.e. please don’t talk about politics, religion or sex – leaving nothing else to talk about except stickers on fruits, dog shampoos and Roadies. The slave goes home with a feeling of having accomplished something major for their company while the comic hopes to one day reach a stage where selling ones soul isn’t part of the contract.

The fat wad of money made at the said event then feeds the comics’ alcohol binge because that’s the only way to get over a room full of suits that can’t laugh because images of the partition are fresh in their memories.

The worst part of being a comedian isn’t so much the writing material, honing it over months, getting over stage fright and not getting shot by hecklers in Gurgaon. It’s having to deal with people at the periphery of the industry that seem to have it all figured out. Luckily, comics have a lot more options in the form of television and Bollywood nowadays, and I hear they provide great exposure.

This post is a part of and originally appeared a new series called Bakchodspeak where we look at the stand-up industry in India on NH7

White People: Making Our Rules And Destroying Our Culture

I can tolerate a lot of things. It might not seem that way, but i can. I can live with young kids across the country suddenly wearing Manchester United jerseys and partying like puberty came early everytime "their" team wins a match. I can sort of appreciate women spending 35.7 minutes to get ready even if they have to goto the local market and buy a couple of vegetables. (Maybe they want to look attractive to other men while buying bananas, who knows). I can understand men wearing their jeans a little low showing their boxers to the whole world. I can even understand the medical reasoning behind air kissing people everytime you meet them.

Infact, there are some aspects of western culture that i am positively giddy about having permeated our culture. More people are starting to appreciate film, music and history from other parts of the world instead of constantly harping their "East or West, India is best" philosophy. Also, we are even starting to drink good wine finally instead of that Grover rubbish! (Everyone who goes wine tasting with pieces of Amul cheese in trays still deserves to be shot though) Last but not least, we have even started thinking of Formula 1 as a sport even though their stars would probably never find a good Indian bride. (At the end of the day, he is still a mere "driver")

However, there is one imported cultural aspect that has managed to foment in our young people's thick heads which is completely destroying the fabric of our society. I am, ofcourse, talking about the need to "stand on one's two feet". To these people i say say, where do you get off disrespecting our heritage and norms anyway? 

Since the dawn of time, Indian families have been built on mooching off their parents money. Parents become parents so that they can work for their kids well being. Generations have lived and thrived on their parents and building upon their reserves while continuing the same for their own kids. Thanks to globalisation however, this is starting to change. Americans and western europeans have a fucked up concept of self worth where if you use your parents money for anything, you are looked down upon and ostracised as if you committed the original sin. Ofcourse, this notion is not repeated when half these kids use their parents money to pay their house rent or take trips to exotic countries including India. So where do you get off starting to think otherwise of Indian kids?

Unfortunately, Indian kids are falling for this bait like a 4 year old South Indian boy in a manhole. Young people are starting to collect external debt and constantly feel bad about themselves and their self worth if they have to take their parents money. They even start talking down to others if they decide to "stay Indian". What the hell is up with that? You're not allowed to be comfortable anymore? What are your parents going to do with all that money anyway? What's the point of being so bloody hypocritical if you're secretly hoping that you get the money as inheritance when they die anyway? Why be disrespectful to them through your secret ambitions instead of being up front and saying - look, i want to do this this this and this - so if you have some lying around - please give me some. Where the hell is the problem? Where are the value judgements coming from?

I think secretly, westerners are just jealous that the Indian family system is a lot more robust than theirs. There is less pressure on us and less struggle than the average one. Frankly, if you live in India, it's the least that we deserve given general quality of life here. And who made these rules about self-worth anyway? Dont we have enough rules made by white people already that we want to live by another one? Arent the WTO and IMF enough?

What is the harm in being comfortable? Would you rather live a comfortable life or will the notion of "doing this on my own" guide you through your shitty life incase things don't work out? Frankly, i have no such notions. I believe family is meant to be there for you, and this whole "doing it on your own" thing is totally overrated. I know i'll probably do the same for my kids. If I'm broke - tough luck kiddo, we are poor. but if we're not, what's the big deal? While you struggle your ass off to get your feet on the ground, i'm going to do the same job that you do but come back home to a Nintendo Wii and 56 inch flat screen thank you very much. 

Also, given that the world is going to end soon thanks to ruthless human exploitation coupled with global dumb-fuckery over things like global warming, we are the last generation who even has money to spend. So get all the gadgets you can and take all the trips you ever wanted!

So kids - everytime someone tells you that you are useless just because you havent decided to live on your own limbs - tell them to shut the fuck up and mind their business. Then go on and flash your Iphone and call a friend to hook up at a party. 

Don't get brainwashed. Don't insult your parents by letting all their hard earned money sit doing nothing. You will not only be bigger contributors to the global economy, but also be a lot more comfortable. Not everyone is as lucky, so if you get it. take it.

Sh*t People Say To Sound Intelligent

The first thing people do to sound intelligent in a forum is insert abstract talking points when there is no need for the same. These people don’t have real answers or solutions to the questions being discussed, so instead they take the debate to a nonsensical level where they can pretend to share their outer worldly, semi-spiritual excuse for knowledge with the world. Lets take the example of a debate regarding a grading system being introduced for high school kids.

Semi-hot moderator: Sir, do you think the change from marks to a grading based system will be successful?

NCERT member: Yes, it will be very successful. Field trials are done, it is in the report right here.

Bullshitter: See, it all depends on how you define success. What is success? Is a child successful if they have 95 marks? Will an A grade give him success? I think our schools need to re-evaluate their need for…

Semi-hot presenter: But sir the quest…

Bullshitter: their need for determining who is a successful child. If you ask a child, one that can make an MMS in 12^th grade will be successful. While for someone else, become head boy will mean success. Therefore, I don’t really think the grading system or marks system matters at all. What matters is the success of the family, the school teachers, the child, the university, my failing marriage, my cream for genital warts and this make up which is clearly not hiding my acne.

The only way to issue a retort to such people is through even more abstract bullshit. For example, you can tell them that you are going to slap them. But what is a slap? Is it a slap on the back to congratulate them on their views? A slap on the face? Is a slap on the face an insult or just a more personalised form of a pat on the back? Is leaving imprints of your five fingers on their cheeks a sign of intimacy? Or are you talking about slapping them with a fine for being an insult to humankind's intelligence? Or slapping as in the technique used to play the guitar? Its best to keep them guessing.

the indian wives & marriages

1) Most of them are “Pure Veg.” If I want daal and paneer, I’ll stay at home, thanks.

2) The theory goes that women are hornier at weddings. That’s absolutely no use, since there is a line of uncles, brothers and wannabe husbands (who describe themselves as brothers) carrying out CCTV-esque surveillance of the cholied ones. 

3) Given that 90% of the men getting married were virgins dying to get it on without getting arrested, you would think the ceremony wouldn’t start at 2 a.m. after all the couple’s energy has been sapped.

4) Brides enter the hall/garden with their posse of friends and favourite theme music, ruining the DJ’s flow. At my wedding I’ve decided to walk in to Stone Cold Steve Austin’s theme showing everyone the finger and crushing some beer cans.

5) The initial gift exchanging ceremony – where even in peak summer, faux Chinese acrylic blankets seem to be the norm as reluctantly chosen family representatives on either side size each other up, lick each others tears, pose for pictures and make sheepish “why am I here?” expressions.

6) The distant relatives who crowd around in groups, annoyed at not being made a closer part of the preparations, cribbing about the snacks being oily while vetting the couple harder (and better) than John McCain’s Vice-Presidential candidate committee.

7) The serving staff - each trying to grab hold of a tray serving the most popular snack while looking down on their colleagues confined to serving technicolour drinks with twirly Hawaiian umbrellas (later used as toothpicks).

8) The single most ballsy and expensive repeat hijacking in the history of the planet – something that would make the Lashkar head honchos proud and responsible for 45% men turning into Rahul Mahajan - money being demanded for the grooms stolen shoes. You might as well leave your credit card at a go-go bar in Thailand.

                                                                                                      

Why would anyone go through such a ridiculous exercise steeped in useless tradition, obscene expenditure and self-flagellation? Two words: Facebook photos.


------------------

This piece appeared in the online edition of GQ India in August. You can check out more great stuff on the GQ India website here - it is perhaps the only lifestyle magazine you should be reading unless you're into nasty things like Greh Shobha. The illustration for this piece was done by Abhijeet Kini and can also be found on the aforementioned link. 


GQ India is a part of the Conde Nast group, the same group that owns Tatler - the British magazine that Bengalis have been jacking off to ever since the East India Company sailed in, also not to be confused with Tytler, who remains an alleged murderer or Tetley, the brand of tea no one could afford till it got bought over by the Tata's. 

dear shoaib

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

times of india

Dear ARNAB GOSWAMI

I WANT TO START BY CONGRATULATING YOU ON WINNING THE ASSAMESE OF THE YEAR AWARD FOR 2010. NOT ONLY DID IT RE-AFFIRM MY FAITH IN THE INDIAN AWARD SYSTEM (WHICH I LOST EVER SINCE ARINDAM CHAUDHARI GOT OVERLOOKED FOR EMPLOYER OF THE YEAR) , MY SOURCES TELL ME EVEN CHINA HAS AGREED TO BACK OFF FROM THE BORDER DISPUTE IN ASSAM AFTER SEEING THE KINDS OF SONS ITS SOIL PRODUCES. I ALSO HOPE YOU WILL ACCEPT AND APPRECIATE MY TRIBUTE TO YOUR SKILLS AS A TV ANCHOR AND MODERATOR THROUGH THIS LETTER – WHICH I HAVE TRIED TO EMULATE BY WRITING EVERYTHING IN CAPS WHETHER IT IS REQUIRED OR NOT.  I MIGHT NEVER BE ABLE TO SIT WITH YOU IN YOUR STUDIO AND APPRECIATE YOUR LOUD PROCLAMATIONS ABOUT “REAL” ISSUES, BUT HOPEFULLY THROUGH THIS CAPS FILLED LETTER, YOU WILL REALISE HOW MUCH I ENDEAR IT. I APOLOGISE FOR THE TEXT BEING BLUE – ITS JUST THAT THE COLOUR OF YOUR STUDIO GETS BURNED IN MY RETINA AFTER WATCHING YOUR HARD-HITTING AND SLICKLY PRODUCED SHOW EVERY NIGHT CALLED “THE NEWS HOUR”.

Your critics say a one horned Rhino gets poached in Kaziranga every time you open your mouth on television. I say they are all jealous of your success. I rebut them by saying the same thing you say – “Our news is popular, but not populist”. They say that’s like Michael Jackson saying “I love kids, and I love to love kids”. I tell them they’re jealous and secretly funded by Barkha Dutt. They say atleast she doesn’t interrupt her guests like a autistic child watching Avatar in 3D. I cry, but in 2D.

I don’t know how they can be so blind so as to not see your talent. In the last few months you’ve held debates on issues that have been sub-judice. No one else had the courage or skill to debate an issue which no one is allowed to comment on for an hour. You managed to bring 10 guests together in one studio during the election and give them each over 19 seconds to speak. You gave Navika Kumar, your political correspondent more than 37% of screen time, which is a lot more than what is mandated in the Women’s reservation bill. You could even predict that players such as Odafa Onyeka Okolie were drunk before the cops could do a sobriety test. I am damn sure they got someone else to take the breathalyser just so that they could defame you.

You are so compassionate in fact, that while you were running the campaign against the Australian government for not being able to protect Indian students in their universities and asking students to come back, you simultaneously ran a show called “The Foodie” every day “LIVE from Australia” where the anchor called viewers come down and try some Koala meat. I am humbled by your ability to forgive and your compassion towards giving people another chance. I am sure, Nalini would want you as Prime Minister.

Infact, you are the only one I know who could execute the epic trinity of making Karan Thapar shut up, make Vir Sanghvi look pleased outside of a 5 Star in South-East Asia where the waitress actually knew that there was infact no such thing as Chicken Manchurian, and make Satish Gujral say "that's fucked up". That is not something you can learn, its something you are born with.

Arnab, I also don’t want you to take offence to the politicians who come only to malign you on your show. We all know Abhishek Manu Singhvi is a mere mouthpiece who combines the acting skills of Anupam Kher and the legal know-how of Joe Pesci in My Cousin Vinny. We also know that Ravi Shankar Prasad is like an aroused clitoris that convolutes and goes ballistic at the mere mention of the word “Mr. Advani”. In effect, you are what Michael Lewis calls a “Big Swinging Dick” in his book “Liar’s Poker”. I’m sure you will love it. Just give it a go.

And finally, there are some who say you suffer from delusion. I checked the indicators of being delusional on Wikipedia, and this is what it showed me.

1. The patient expresses an idea or belief with unusual persistence or force. (Adrian James Honan)
2. That idea appears to exert an undue influence on his or her life, and the way of life is often altered to an inexplicable extent.
3. The individual tends to be humorless and over-sensitive, especially about the belief. (John Parsons)
4. An attempt to contradict the belief is likely to arouse an inappropriately strong emotional reaction, often with irritability and hostility. (Matthew Ludgate)(Adrian James Honan).
5. The patient is emotionally over-invested in the idea and it overwhelms other elements of his or her psyche.

I guess it proves they are all wrong.

I want you to keep on forging ahead and shining the beacon of your truth upon us Indians, Arnab. Without you, we will be nothing. Without you, our country will be Rajat Sharma and Vikram Chandra’s oyster.

blogs

Dear Sania

It took me a while to come to terms with the mental picture of your body being wrapped around Shoaib Mailk’s like a Roomali Rotiaround a Seekh Kebab, but I guess Allah ki yehi marzi thi. I will not lie and pretend I was alright. I tried drowning myself in the Yamuna but got washed ashore by a dead cow’s carcass and an illegal Commonwealth Games construction worker. I tried walking in front of a car but a BMW crashed into it before it could hit me. I tried overdosing on sleeping pills but they turned out to be counterfeit. I even tried stabbing myself with scissors, but their blades were already too blunt at years of having cut out your pictures from Sports star magazine. I guess we were never meant to be together, but I want you to know that I lull myself to sleep every night by listening to Mariah Carey’s “Always be my baby” and imagining being caressed by your oceans of bodily folds and ittar scented armpits while staring at your golf course like cheeks. In my dreams atleast, we will always be together, and you will win a match.

What did anger me was our cheap, publicity seeking media whores refusing to give you your space. Has-been excuses for women’s emancipation like Shobha De were trashing you and the only one who stood up for you was Talat Aziz. Talat Aziz! That man has not banged anything in his life except a tabla! And he was out trying to defend your raging hormones? I wish I could have been there, just to prove how much I love you. And after all that, I heard you were even losing all your endorsements. Cadburys (a company whose products you clearly love) Tata Indicom (a company whose phone you OBVIOUSLY use) Hyundai Getz (the only car your supple bubblewrapped globes can fit in) Atlas Cycles (the only thing you have perhaps not ridden) Sprite (which obviously didn’t bujhao your pyaas) Sahara India (who tricked you into thinking they manufactured bras) and TVS Scooty (whose seat you use when your ass gets itchy) all seem to be withdrawing their endorsements. And for what Sania? For following your dreams and wanting to marry the man you are rumoured to already having been married to? What kind of cruel world do we live in?

But I want you to know that as my final gesture to you, towards a love stronger than the friendship between China and Pakistan, I have already initiated contact with other companies that want you and your husband (sic) to be their brand ambassadors. Just my way of saying thanks for all the wallpapers and screensavers that satiated my teenage desires in an increasingly expensive world. Please tell your agent to contact the following:

Secondshaadi.com: I know you always loved seconds – be it biryani/ghee rice at a wedding or the round where you exited a grand slam. This site is a perfect fit for both your husband. Call them quickly though, I hear Rahul Mahajan’s agent was also trying to strike something.

IDP Australia: Sania, you and you alone can bridge the strained relations between the Indian and Australian government over attacks on our students there. IDP is the agency that promotes studies in Australia. And since Study@UK wont take you for having dumped your ex who was studying in Warwick, and met your new husband in Oz while he was doing some corporate re-structuring with the Akmal brothers, it is the perfect opportunity for you two to promote how Australia brings people together. Millions of Indian and Pakistani kids will have their faith re-instated and be able to relate to your story since they sell their land to goto that country to bang chics anyway.

Vodafone India: This one is easy. Have you noticed how Ayesha Siddiqui’s face looks like the Vodafone pug? All you need to do is convince the company to replace the pug with “Aapa”. Waise bhi she was following your husband since 2 years anyway. I doubt there is a better substitute for a network that never lets you go.

Ebay.in: Now that you will never wear any of your tennis clothes again, it’s the best time to sell them on eBay and make some money off it while you can. Even if fans can’t fit into your shirts, atleast they can cut it in half and use it as curtains. That way when the wind blows, their rooms will smell of your success.

Yash Raj Studios: Also easy since you both are the sports equivalents of role models as Uday Chopra is to Bollywood. And i'm guessing even if you both are launched as many times as him, you will have similar degrees of success. Maybe you can release a Collectors Edition Blu-Ray of Veer Zaraa. I would suggest Gadar, but I think the “hand pump” scene would mean different things to people if you two were involved.

With that, I wish you both a successful future full of happiness, relative success and liberal Muslim babies. My heart, I guess, will have to goto someone else.

Oooo. Gul Panag is on Twitter?