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.

Open Letter Chetan Bhagata

Dear Chetan

Actually, fuck that.

Chetan,

I could tolerate Five Point Someone like I could the occasional “Baarish ho rahi hai, it’s raining” by Anu Malik. However, just because people pat you on the back once does not mean you start doing it all the fucking time! It’s the same reason why Harbhajan Singh doesn’t open the batting, Mimoh Chakravarty doesn’t act anymore and Rakhi Sawant refuses to marry. But no! You think you’re Karan Thapar’s gift to the world of my-secret-fantasies-dressed-as-fiction. You think your “substitute for a BT Brinjal wearing glasses” like face is fit enough to be portrayed in a movie by Salman Khan. You think you are changing the world by getting people to start reading and learning new English words. Here are some words for you Chetan. “Derivative”. Or would you prefer “stereotype”?

But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you have changed the world. I guess if it weren’t for you, hundreds of kids wouldn’t be employed as child labour selling your books on traffic signals. If it weren’t for your books, the sanitation levels in our slums would still be 5 times worse and people would not have experienced what 4-ply paper feels like on a shit-smeared ass.

But maybe it’s not your fault. Maybe it’s just your name. Maybe you saw the hundreds of kids walking around with “Che” Guevara T-shirts and thought they were talking about you. Maybe it’s because your surname that is similar to that one badass Sikh freedom fighter who gave up his life for the country. If anything, your whole name should be a sign that you should 1) Get shot 2) Go and hang yourself. If you do, I promise you that your cause will live on a lot longer and more people will read your books. Your move.

Anyway, back to the books. What the fuck is up with those? I’ve only read one, that too from a pirated copy I bought from an 11-year boy, ironically called Krishna. Let me just say, I felt more fucked than Paris Hilton. The plot had more holes than all of Tiger Woods’s mistresses, 3 pounds of Swiss cheese and the Augusta National combined. Your vocabulary had the range of a Japanese tourist in Bihar. Your sentences were as solidly constructed as apartments in Faridabad. Your character development was as interesting as reading an obituary and the emotion! Oh the emotion. You conveyed so much emotion that both my arms automatically started rising in the air like Shah Rukh Khan at the end of every page. 

And you’re India’s highest published author? Just because your books sell for cheaper than a packet of Kurkure, does not mean you keep harping on this statistic. That’s like a man suffering from Irritable Bowel Syndrome claiming he is the largest producer of turd in a day. Which I guess, is also appropriate, given how your publisher (Rupa Co.) is the namesake of India’s most widely worn underwear brand. 

And if the books weren’t enough, you’ve started giving “Motivational” speeches. Let me just quote some of your brilliance from the “motivational” speech you gave at the HT leadership summit.  “The second mindset we need to change is that of elitism the moment any person becomes even moderately successful, educated, rich, famous, talented or even develops a fine taste, they consider themselves different from the rest”.

First, let me commend you on being brave enough to talk about yourself. Your presence on Twitter has given us great insight into how we really must change this mindset you have so vividly elucidated”

You also go ahead and say stuff like elitism creates “Naive people who elect stupid politicians”. So true sir. And given that the people who read your books are all English literate and do not live in small Hindi speaking towns, they also fall under the same category. Again, I am happy atleast that you recognise your celebrity-dom is based on naïve dumbfucks, which I have since many years been saying form the majority of our populace. Infact that is what prompted me to write this letter, to promote another point you made in your speech “If you are educated, educate others. If you have good taste, improve others taste rather than calling theirs bad.” That is exactly why every time I meet another fan of yours, I give him copies of George Orwell, Nick Hornby and Paul Collier etc instead. I guess the day India finally develops into a super-power and people realise the difference between coming and cumming, you can jet back to Singapore to a life of banking anonymity.

I also hear you are now a judge on Star News’s Anchor Hunt along with other talentless hacks major celebrities of our generation. I’m sure Deepak Chaurasia (who changed employers 3 times within 5 years for money / didn’t know Praveen was Pramod Mahajan’s brother and is considered to be as loyal as the village bicycle) and Tisca Chopra (whose biggest claim to fame is that she’s Khushwant Singh’s granddaughter – your website profile not mine) are happy that you managed to use your extensive network to form a support group for undeserving celebrities. Please let me know which number to call so I can give it to Gul Panag and Riteish Deshmukh.

And finally, I hear you like giving each of your books a number because the banker inside you is just dying to come out. So let me give you some numbers too. 14 minutes – how long it took to write this letter. And 3:16, based on my favourite wrestler Stone Cold Steve Austin, who just said he whooped your ass!”

blogs nanda kumar jai

My dear friend,

I realise I’m about to violate the first rule of minorities by criticizing a fellow member, but if the Maulana of Azamgarh can criticise Ajmal Kasab and Lindsay Lohan can bitch about Samantha Ronson, I guess I can too. I wanted to do this over the phone, but since you have the attention span of an armless man suffering from syphilis, I have resorted to a letter instead. I hope you can manage the time to read it in between your marathon “Quoting at the drop of a Turban” sessions disguised as GRE preparation.

Let me start by saying - ever since you have come on the scene, our people have had to suffer more pain, persecution and injustice than the Jews at the hands of the Germans. The wounds of 1984 had only recently started to heal before your commentator act ripped them harder than a hungry Taliban fighter seeing a goat after 3 years. The emotional damage you have caused has been so immense that there is perhaps no difference between you and Jagdish Tytler anymore. In my mind atleast, whenever I see you, there is always a riot.

And to think, you had so much promise at a time when our community had no real role models. Music was confined to Jat boy's woofering their time away to  Punjabi MC’s bass lines. Manmohan Singh was as visible in the public spotlight as Shivraj Patil during a terrorist attack. The movie Border had been a thing of the past and people had had enough of Sunny Deol trying to reinvigorate deaf's people's eardrums. Montek Singh Ahluwalia was a tongue twister, Khushwant Singh was continuing to jack off fantasising about Shobha De and Akshay Kumar was still harping about being a Khiladi instead of rapping with Snoop Dogg. Heck, even Harbhajan Singh looked like he would fall on the pitch because of the weight of his topknot instead of being the slaphappy MILF hunter that he is now. 

You would have been perfect! People still respected you for your ability to treat Shane Warne like Anand Jon did his models. They appreciated your improving attempts at fielding in the latter half of your career like they do Dev Anand's present day movies. Instead you came in and started vomiting the Websters dictionary as if you were 8 months pregnant and starting cutting people mid-sentence like the Chief ofSanjay Gandhi’s vasectomy campaign. And telling Geoff Boycott to fuck off on television? Didn’t you know what happens to people when they piss off people with twisted faces? Ask Lalit Modi. Sherry my ass, your nickname should be Crack diluted Absynth. 


But then again, maybe you are fearless. After all, you did (accidentally) kill a man. Still, you were still courageous enough to make sweeping statements about yourself however like “I have never thought about the future and have never bothered about the past.” I mean that's like George W. (accidentally) dropping a nuclear warhead on Mexico and saying "Ah well, atleast the burritos will cook faster".

As if that wasn't enough, you decided to be a judge on The Great Indian Laughter Challenge. Phew. You're going to have to give me a moment on this one. Let me describe what i felt while watching you during that show. So imagine me in my room right - having a drink,  chilling and shit. Then, i turn the TV on and you are in the middle of one of your sermons.


(Keep calm. Stay clam. Count to 10. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5...WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU YOU PERSONIFICATION OF LIZARD SHIT STUCK ON MY TUBELIGHT DRESSED IN A SUIT  PIECE OF EXCUSE FOR A HUMAN BEING ARGGGHHHHHH !!!!! SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT THE FRAKING HELL UP!!! LALALALALALA!!! IM NOT LISTENING TO YOU LALALALALALA!!! A paragraph does not comprise solely on quotes!!!! Quoting shit does not make you intelligent, it only makes you a rattebaaz!!!! Why can't you let other people talk? Did your mother never give you a nipple to suck on as a child?!!!! I SWEAR TO GOD if you do not shut up i will PERSONALLY come to your set and shove Shekhar Suman's dick in your mouth like i plug my jacuzzi. SHUT UPPPP!!!!!!!)


However, i know that reacting that way would probably not help the situation. So i'll respond to you by quoting another famous person you might have heard of. Fran Lebowitz once said "The opposite of talking isn't listening. The opposite of talking is waiting." I don't know what to wait for though - you to stop talking or for me to kill myself. (That said, I understand the next couple of seasons with Mandira Bedi, I would kill to grab a closer peek at those noodle strapped caressed knockers)

And then there's the politics. Oh dear lord the politics. I’m willing to bet Raghu Ram’s Roadies career that you joined the BJP because the saffron matched your grotesquely chic suits, ties and turbans. Who the fuck designed your wardrobe anyway? For once i'd like to see you wear something that has not been created by Stevie Wonder and Manish Arora's love child running amok in a nondescript Bombay textile mill. Your entire wardrobe is so loud that Jadoo from Koi Mil Gaya can still hear and see you on his planet. I have also sent an application to the Ministry of Civil Aviation to make you stand on the runway at DelhiAirport during the entire winter season as your wardrobe will be the only thing visible enough to help pilots land their aircraft. CAT III landing system can go take a bloody piss. 

Or who knows, maybe Capt. Amarinder Singh’s much more stunning and rambunctious moustache put you off joining the Congress. We all know how proud you are of yours. Either way, I hope you can spend a lot more time on governance issues connected to the formerly gorgeous city of Amritsar. Were it not for the Golden Temple, no one in his or her right minds would ever visit the city – now the only one in the world that can be seen through space. (Though I hear all you can see is Sukhbir Badal’s billboard and a Fuck You to Mayawati and Lucknow)

In the end, I would like to say that it is perhaps fitting that you were re-elected from Amritsar – the same city where the Jallianwalla Bagh massacre took place. I know thousands of people who would willingly choose to be in that crowd instead of having to listen to you. Or maybe someday you will get your “cake with a cherry on top” © and a man will punch you to (accidental) death too. If that day comes, we will base the lead character of the Indianised version of “Dead Poet’s Society” on you.

Your fellow Singh.

Gursimran Khamba

nanda kumar jai Open letter

Dear G.

Have you looked at a mirror recently? No? Didn’t think so. Not that your consequence of a ménage a trios between Steven Seagal, a porcupine and bubble wrap face is worth looking at more than a solar eclipse, but if you did, I’m sure you would have noticed your head having swollen more than an excited Hippo’s testicles oozing with the same cockiness Shoaib Akhtar bowls his deliveries with before getting creamed like a diabetic’s morning chai. So what the fuck happened? Weren’t you this hotshot 24 year old who had promised to never be politically correct no matter what the issue, reactions be damned? Weren’t you the one who got pissed off at all these bloggers who kept sucking up to each other for fear of alienating a community or reader base? Weren’t you the one that kept lecturing everyone about the bullshit that is our culture of celebrity worship? So what the fuck happened? Where is the real you and why are you suddenly acting like Shahid Kapoor at a spelling bee?

Was it the sudden popularity of your blog thanks to Faking News linking some of your stories to it’s website? Was it the ego the size of Sagarika Ghose that emerged from being recognized by fans while you were out watching a movie at a mall? Was it the random women adding you on your Gtalk, wanting to share their intimate secrets and making pseudo wedding proposals? Or was it the newspapers and websites that started getting in touch with you asking you to write for them? When did you flip the switch? Infact, if I were to use a World Wrestling Federation analogy, when was the exact moment you decided to switch from being Stone Cold Steve Austin into “The Narcissist” Lex Luger? From being a fearless foul-mouthed renegade into a clusterfucked wannabe celebrity who did shit on purpose only to get noticed? From a sharp socio-cultural observer to being a playa hater living on cheap analogies and scurrilous comments in the name of irreverence?

For someone who made a living making fun of Uday Chopra and Chetan Bhagat, you are now a mere localized wannabe clone of the exact same people – locally famous for being locally famous, and pandering to an audience by making third rate crap ass observations. You, sir, have mentally, creatively and artistically, sold out. Even a Pathan keeps his goat for longer than you have kept your word to yourself. And there ain’t no way in hell you’re getting a book deal anytime soon. Your name does NOT rhyme with Pigeon.

And what gave you the impression that you were the hottest dick in the world of blogger-dom since random Bengali’s and Tamilians living abroad started calling themselves socio-cultural commentators anyway? The fact that you 2000 followers on Twitter in 3 months? That Delhi Times (the world’s crappiest newspaper) decided to publish a tweet of yours on it’s front page once? That BlogAdda featured your joke as a perky tweet? BlogAdda? BlogAdda?!! The network that has lesser fans of Facebook than your own personal friends list? What the fuck is up with that? You couldn’t even win a goddamn Indiblogger contest, even after writing that Open letter to Sania Mirza – the one that got 3500 Likes on Facebook – supposedly your best piece of work - losing to a jackass who is the biggest grammar gandu since Shakeela tried speaking in Hindi. Who the fuck are you kidding?

What happened to that Facebook page of yours where you said you wanted to make a community of friends and readers to get insight into people’s minds? Where are the conversations? Why do you reply quicker to women but ignore men’s friends requests? Can’t you think of something remotely funny to quell your fans fake sense of entitlement instead of posting random unfunny Youtube links that people can find anyway?

And what’s with the constantly changing your display picture and tweeting like other people? Don’t you have any other original ideas? You keep taking about how other people use the same old jokes and you keep repeating the same shit about Arnab Goswami and Sania Mirza over and over? Really? And why do you think you’re the only intelligent fucker in the world anyway? Just because you got some full scholarships you couldn’t eventually utilize you think you’re the smartest chap since Aamir Khan? Just see the kind of stuff people are doing at your age, instead of sitting on your ass at home all day thinking you are some sort of Twitter celebrity whose opinion people give a shit about. There are enough pseudo wannabe hacks who are trying to be funny, and no one will give a shit even if you disappear tomorrow. Just look at what happened to Sunil Pal.

You know, I really liked you when you started out. You had all sorts of promise, volatility and just the right kind of crazy. But here you are now, just a couple of months in without any real success to show off, with a dick the size of Peter North and a world-view to boot. Get real, get a job, get your life in order and get back your development sector roots. And no, stop thinking about being a stand up comic. 

Internet trolls

Dear troll whose name I can’t decipher since it’s written purely with special characters,

Even though I know you’ll be busy spending your final 20 rupees in a basement cyber café playing “a/s/l a/s/l” with who you think is a real woman with a webcam right now, I want to draw your attention for a minute just to tell you one thing. Thank you.

Thank you for your miserable existence and lack of self-respect that makes you click on my website and bait people through your denigratory comments. I know it’s hard having a childhood where no one listens to you, but I hope my website proved that there are indeed people who care about your opinion, even if they don’t agree. Thanks to you and the constant flame wars you keep starting, my hit count has gone through the roof, and I now make enough Adsense money to live a comfortable life, LCD TV et all. And even though your reacting like a hamster in heat to every article I write can be disconcerting at times, I laud you for your persistence and effort in making sure your voice gets heard, something I’m sure even the staffers preparing dossiers for Pakistan at the MHA will be proud of.

I can only hope that someday you will become our country’s ambassador to the UN and educate the world on how every Pakistani is a terrorist, every Hindu drinks piss, every woman looks randy and the best baba is afterall, desi. I’m sure once people manage to look past your Rapidex English course inspired sentence construction skills, they will contact you through the e-mail and web address you always leave behind and submit themselves to your prescribed path.

So once again, with all my heart, thank you.

As appeared on Hindustan Times - Brunch dated July 18, 2010. I was told I should plug this, and it'll hold you guys off for another couple of days. Yes, I was limited to 300 words and no, you can't use the F word in mainstream publications.

times india

Dear Manmohan,

First of all let me just say that I’m thoroughly disappointed in you. As a fellow Sikh, or as Obama would say, a brotha from anotha motha, I have been brought up to believe that the mark of an intelligent, sophisticated and capable Sikh is through the quality of his turban. (Case and point, Navjot Singh Sidhu, Daler Mehndi, Milkha..umm etc) And while I was willing to forgive your Mexican wrap on account of old age, I notice even your closest Sikh advisor, Montek Singh Ahluwalia, ties his turban in the opposite direction. This is not only blasphemous, but also makes me think you have inherited Maharaja Ranjit’s Singh’s stone eye – for during your administration, other capable Sikhs like Harbhajan Singh never learnt how to tie one, J.J. Vallaya started keeping a pony tail and the other spin legend - Maninder Singh tried slitting his wrist. Hell, even Sant Chatwal lost the special place he had in Hillary Clinton’s heart to Shah Mahmood Qureshi. I feel your lack of turban tying skills has had an adverse impact on the Sikh community. You will do well to stop hanging out with Meghnad Desai and live upto the reputation Zail Singh managed to create for our people.

Second of all, for someone who single handedly ushered India’s economic revolution through reforms we had but no choice to make, your current predicament worries me. Infact, I was very proud of the fact that the Sikh community is perhaps the only one which has no beggars, and then Sonia Ji made you P.M. Infact, I think if my testicle grew some white hair (the wrinkle already makes it look like it’s smiling) and was used as a ping pong ball, it’d remind people of you going back and forth between managing the country and getting directions straight from the bofor’s mouth. It’s something I wish you don’t have to go through, and for that reason, I wanted to offer you my advice over some things that I wish you to accomplish by the end of your term. 

Tackling Terrorism: Now I know people have been knocking you about being soft on terror just because you don’t hang Afzal Guru but I can feel your pressure man. Being Sikh how can you hang anyone who’s got a Guru in their name? We have ten and they sacrificed their lives for the country already so how can we make another one a martyr? I totally get it. I also get that people just don’t have the vision to realise that you’re implementing a commonly used African model in Jammu and Kashmir of using sports to alleviate poverty. I know in another 20 years our boys from up north will be winning gold medals in short put the same way decades of khapping in Haryana has led to the emergence of our medal winning boxers. But still Mannu, for dossier’s sake, you need to do something.

Victor Hugo once said “No army is as strong as an idea whose time has come”. Manmohan, that army is terrorism, and that idea, is Zinda-Shaheed M.S. Bitta.

Bitta of the All India Anti Terrorism Front, an organization that organizes many conferences and seminars to talk about the threat of terrorism and terrorizes cities walls through it’s graffiti and posters is the only thing that can stop terrorism across India. You want to protect Indians across the country? Stock his semen in every sperm bank across the country and give it to every mother who comes in for IVF. Not only will it protect the future of the Sikh community, you can be rest assured that our next generation will be bunch of badasses who can survive 100s of bullet wounds like 50 cent and spin Sunny Deol around like a basketball after shoving their finger up his ass. Other initiatives that you must take at the earliest is fenceIndia’s entire border regions with his 30 foot cutouts. Not only will it (insert every Chuck Norris and Rajnikant you can find joke here), scare the fuck out of future Kasab’s trying to enter Mumbai etc but also provide employment to hundreds and thousands of artists across the country who are broke and poor because of multiplexes having taken away their livelihoods. Plus he’s an ex-youth congress president. Even Berlusconi Jr. shouldn’t have a problem with supporting this initiative.

Tackling Price Rise: Again, this worries me. First I thought people would be smart enough to realise that it is impossible for countries and PM’s to be able to do much about price given the global economic recession, Indian ODI team’s success mimicking crude oil prices and Yash Raj’d agricultural production patterns. But as a famous Lok Sabha speaker (allegedly) said, “Hell hath no fury like a woman ousted from Delhi’s Chief Ministership due to onions.” But I’m with you Mannu. I see how you’ve structured the Nuclear Liability Bill in such a way that when all new reactors are constructed across India, the impending disaster will greatly reduce the human population in that area, thus reducing the stress on agricultural and product based demand. I can see how these inadvertent mishaps will trigger a chain reaction and slump demand, thus reducing the price of goods (whichever are still available – perhaps some leftovers from the relief effort in Leh) for everyone.

I also realise what a genius you are by not giving the rotting leftover foodgrain to poor people for free. As I learnt at a recent Shiv Khera lecture, for an individual to be successful in life – the most important thing is having the hunger. With this epic plan of starving people even though it is within our means to feed them, you are actually empowering them and creating the desire in them to be successful. I don’t know about you, but I smell Social entrepreneurship and Venture Capital fund! I suggest you tell your detractors to ride a train through a Naxal area at night and stick with the programme. This sort of vision would make Stevie Wonder jealous.

Fixing the fiscal deficit: Even though we have a healthy forex reserve, I know the economist in you is dying to get cracking over fixing the fiscal deficit. My suggestion is -sell the states of Bihar and Jharkhand toJapan. (Seriously, those fucks will invest in anything, especially shit connected to the Buddha) First I thought we should sell Madhya Pradesh to the Italians, seeing as how they’re used to living with the Vatican being in the middle of the country and your party’s professional network with influential people there – but then I realised Bihar and Jharkhand to Japan makes a lot more sense. First, we already have an existing catchment of tourists who visit every year. Second, given that these states bring down our Human Development Index and GDP from Wasim Akram’s levels to that of Ravindra Jadeja, it will be a big boost for Rest of India’s image. Third, let’s just agree that it’s next to impossible for us to govern these states given the amount of crime, corruption and Naxal presence – and that it requires the kind of discipline and technology only Samurai who invented the Nintendo Wii have. Fifth, teen suicide rates in Japanese society are almost equal to farmer suicide rates in these states – thus making it an excellent socio-cultural fit and finally, what better way to create a new buffer against the sneaky Chinese now that we washed our hold over Nepal faster than Sanjeev Nanda washed his BMW?

I don’t know about you – but I smell first turbaned man since Osama to be Man of the Year.

Improving primary education: As a Cambridge educated elite, I am sure you’ve been looking at improving the quality of India’s primary education from a structural standpoint. Forget building schools in new areas, recruiting new teachers, mid-day meal schemes or building toilets so that girls can also get educated. The simple solution to improving primary education in India is this: White Women.

What you need to do is put Nandan Nilekani (or Hrithik Roshan) in charge of a national education mission whose sole role is to recruit white skinned women of any race (I recommend people from Central Asia. They come here in droves as part of the hooker business anyway plus are much cheaper than the European variety) to come and teach in select primary schools in every district of India. Indian kids, teenagers and men since the days of our first Prime Minister have long been fascinated by white women and will agree to building the dam at Narmada if they can get to look at a real live white chic every day for 4 hours. You will see enrolment numbers jump and stay consistent, the demand for mid day meals reduce and caste wars over who sits next to who forgotten.

I also suggest you teach kids Rhonda Byrne’s “The Secret” and “The Power”. I hear Suresh Kalmadi is using it to excellent effect while managing the Commonwealth Games.

Re-structure Indian sports federations: I don’t want to lecture you too much anymore, but I would like you to implement just ONE rule when it comes to Sports Federations in India. Just make it mandatory for the person who is the Chief of the Federation to be have had/or be able to actively play that sport. That is all. Doesn’t even have to be a champ, as long as he can play it. Like is Sukhdev Singh Dhindsa is the Chief of the cycling federation, he should be able to bend his knee on an exercycle. Or if V.K Malhotra is the Chief of the Archery Federation - he should be able to lift and hold a bow and arrow for 5 minutes. 5 minutes, that is all. And for the love of god, can you atleast remove Jagdish Tytler as Chief of Judo Federation? You realise he joined it to defend himself from – take a wild fucking guess!

Legalise gay marriage: Now that you’ve almost lost all your supporters, there is a section of the community whose lives you can change for the better while your are still Prime Minister. For the love of god make gay marriage legal. I know you’ve taken “some” steps already and it’s not your biggest priority – but if nothing else do it for our culture. Can you imagine how much more fun it will be to have so many more weddings and baraats in the city? The lights, the dancing, the traffic, the yummy food?! How can you not appreciate that as a Punjabi? Not only will it be even better for our people, it will bring more tourists toIndia than hosting three Commonwealth Games in a year. Shine your liberal democratic beacon in the world community even higher and show Sarah Palin who’s her daddy.

And last but not least Manmohan, I hope you become less reticent. I know you were a reluctant Prime Minister last term, but this is your time, your legacy. We haven’t had a cleaner and more ethical Prime Minister in our lives and we probably never will. We want to hear what you have to say and we want to know your human side instead of what your craptacular speech writers feed you every national holiday. So please, make an effort, loosen up and lead us.

If we wanted a dead turkey, we’d have made Shivaj Patil P.M.

Athlete NDTV media

Dear athlete!

Greetings from New Delhi, the capital of India. Or as the Chinese say, Southern Pakistan.

We are pleased to welcome you to the XIXth edition of the prestigious Commonwealth Games as long as you’re white. As you might have known already, our nation has a rich history of sporting tradition and excellence. Our ancientkushti (wrestling) gave birth to skin coloured lingerie and the procedure now commonly referred to as the bikini wax. Our political system has long personified the Olympic traditions of Citius, Altius, Fortius and displayed sportsman like behaviour whether it be towards Mr. Warren Anderson, Jagdish Tytler, Afzal Guru or even Mr. Narendra Modi and if it weren’t for our rural youth skillfully jumping nose clogged into filthy drains to take a dip, the sport of diving as we know it would not have reached where it has today. Needless to say, we look forward to having you at this event so that we can finally justify the production of those ridiculously expensive Incredible India commercials because of which we got these Games.

Before you embark on your visit however, we urge you to go through the materials provided in this envelope so that you can further supplement your knowledge of India. You will find a movie DVD about the ancient history of India called Jodhaa Akbar, Yoga can cure homosexuality booklet by ancient healer Baba Ramdev, doing the Kama Sutra like the Macarena guide for diabetics by Shri Shri Emraan Hashmi and Making sense of your miserable fuck existence by Deepak Chopra. All of these shall help you build perspective before you undertake your enchanting journey across Delhi and better understand why tourists expand INDIA as I’ll never do it again.

Besides these materials, you are also advised to go through the following points in order to make your stay in Delhi more comfortable:

At the airport: Unless you’re Somalian, we assume you will visit Delhi by plane. The first thing you will notice is how our airport is located next to a major slum cluster. While some people call it Vasant Kunj, it’s really just a slum cluster. While this might give you the impression that we are a poor country and these are meant to emotionally appeal to IMF and World Bank officials handing out loans, these are actually our primary disaster relief centres. Since the Delhi airport doesn’t have a functioning radar or CAT III landing system, these people are the only ones who might help you in the event of a plane crash. So don’t be alarmed.

Next, you are also advised to get a tan from a solarium before arriving. Freshly arrived sweaty white people who turn bright pink even if the temperature is only 20 degrees Celsius is what a stuffed turkey is to a Jew in a concentration camp. Getting a tan will also lead to a sharp drop in your cab fare – a 10% drop with every shade you grow darker. Unless Ofcourse you’re African, in which case if you didn’t get the hint in the first three words of this letter already, stay the fuck in your country.

Interesting people: Delhi also has an eclectic mix of people from across races and cultures. When you take a cab, you will notice a bearded man in a sweaty turban as your driver. He is not Osama. He is a Sikh (pronounced S:iKKh - not Seekh – that is a type of kebab) Yes he wears the turban all the time. Yes, sometimes also while having sex. No they aren’t allowed to cut their hair. Yes, not women either. No - no English.

You will also encounter another muscular species who you will always find in tight fake branded T-shirt, embroidered jeans, sneakers, religious paraphernalia dangling from the neck and with hair mildly smelling of Jasmine oil. He is what we call a “rapist”. You will encounter such rapists across the city all fitting a similar description, specifically in cars with an HR or UP number plate, auto rickshaws and every market you choose to visit. Sometimes you will even see two of them holding hands with your head going “Wow, what a free country!” while infact given the opportunity they will fuck you like a turn-based strategy video game.

Delhi also has a vast Muslim community; however it has been ghettoized much the same way it has been across all of Europe. So you don’t have to be afraid of terrorism. According to latest media reports there is a higher chance of Red, Saffron or Khap terror striking the Games anyway.

Crime and stray animals: Along with not being allowed to click their pictures, you are also not allowed to keep bitching about how stray dogs and cattle make Delhi look completely filthy. The way we see it, we treat our stray dogs and cattle much better than most European countries treat their minorities. Just think of these animals as our version of the Roma community in France. Or the Turks in Germany. Our stray animals have much better shelter, food and social security as compared to your minorities. Or if you want to flip the argument, as long as you allow skinheads to walk your streets, we allow stray dogs and cows to walk ours. Whose streets are safer and filthier? You decide.

This leads us to crime in Delhi (Not Noida/Gurgaon). You are advised not to go out alone at night and keep a look out for potential rapists on the streets. i.e. men. If you are walking around wearing a chain, be careful of biker gangs ripping it off your neck. That said these are only applicable if you’re white. However, we are confident that since most of you come from countries where getting mugged on the streets, knife crime and a gun culture is more prominent, you will be able to fully defend yourself in every situation. Also, unlike Europeans who prefer spiking your drink and making you unconscious first, Indian men like raping you while you’re awake and kicking. But what’s the point of being an athlete if you can’t even outrun some poor Indian men on the streets?

Thus, rest assured that your stay in Delhi will be completely safe.

Delicious food: There is no such thing as medium spicy. Get over it. Cheese means paneer, and Cheese Fingers means “WTF is this shit?!” The same way we don’t complain about how British food is absolutely tasteless, or how none of the African countries in the Commonwealth even seem to have any food at all – the same way we expect you to eat whatever shit we feed you. If you want European food, look under the “Continental” section in the menu since that is the continent we think we deserve to belong to. You can then eat whatever the hell you want, but don’t crib about how India isn’t as cheap as it was supposed to be cost wise.

Also avoid eating delicacies such as Cholle Bhature and Chicken Manchurian as they contain banned substances as stated under WADA guidelines.

Photographic opportunities: As per Commonwealth guidelines, all white people are forbidden from clicking pictures of the following subjects:

Cows on the streets, stray dogs on the streets, men holding each others hands, balloon sellers, beggars, beggars in Old Delhi, beggars in New Delhi, beggars at red lights, spelling mistakes on signboards, piles of clothes at Sarojini Nagar market, random Sikhs in multi-coloured turbans, children holding hands or candles at NGOs, kites stuck in overhead electric cables, in front of temples/gurudwaras of any kind, people shitting while squatting, homeless people on pavements, auto-rickshaws, people hanging out of auto-rickshaws, people on top of buses, people hanging out of buses, buses on fire, Chandini Chowk, samosas and tea, veiled Muslim woman, veiled Muslim woman looking with intense eyes, India Gate, bunch of random kids around India Gate, holding the Parliament from the top, bread pakoras and tea and vice versa.

These restrictions have been put in place to prevent a spurt in supply of the same old clusterfuck photo collection every foreigner seems to go away with from Delhi. If you don’t have the imagination, don’t take a fucking picture.

Blink! And you lose: Delhi has an interesting relationship with the female anatomy. Not only is it a boob city, it is a city full of boobs. Thus, all our men concentrate on boobs as if it’s an anagram from the Da Vinci Code. While some of you may find this disturbing, please realise that it is the same situation our countrymen and women face in most European countries – except that our face is the boob. This leads to many uncomfortable gropes and mishandlings by European security personnel - especially at airports and other critical locations, because of which a tit-for-that policy was implemented nation wide.

However if this situation makes you uncomfortable, traditional horse blinkers are available at the official CWG Merchandise Store at the CWG headquarters for 19.99 $ each

Thursday's are ladies nights: And finally, while we expect you to attend the various “cultural activities” we have in store for you at the Games village (such as Rajasthani Dance, Camel Ride, Snake charming, Bhangra Night with Jasbir Jassi and Kathak performances from some state down south) you can go clubbing if accompanied by atleast 5 more athletes. While we realise that it might be flattering to get offered drinks by every man in the club, please do not believe anyone who says they are a Bollywood actor or director. Other people to avoid include model casters for the show Emotional Atyachaar and touts who say they will offer to show you the Qutub Minar, which is code for their dick.

And finally, there is no language called “Hindu”. There is no Hindi word for Cheers. You don’t need to carry your entire fucking medicine cabinet with you when you’re here for two weeks. We are not all software engineers. Kashmir is ours. Shah Rukh Khan is not a great actor. No you cannot attend an Indian wedding no matter how much you want to. It’s not necessary that you will lose weight. We’re not a poor country, just our people are poor. No one gives a fuck about Netball and China sucks.

Warm Regards

The Commonwealth Games OC