Dear Obscure islamic Group,
I hear life’s been treating you swell, enabling you to successfully blow up pedestrians and stuff. 49 dead and 200 injured, as I write. Wow. But that’s just another day in Paradise for you guys, no doubt.
In the coming days several TV channels and newspapers will dissect and psychoanalyze your actions. Congratulations on getting their attention. Even Time is weighing in. You know how hard some people have had to work to get into that magazine? They had to, like, fly airplanes into buildings and stuff. For real. You are so made, dude! Maybe now those donations will pour in and you too will find yourself checked into one of those luxurious caves on the Pakistan-Afghanistan border, with internationally famous neighbors like Osama bin Laden. Hey, a man can hope. It’s like some people dream of living on Millionaire’s Row, huh? I agree, those things are so last year. Plus, I bet Lakshmi Mittal always misses trash collection day. Probably thinks himself too fancy, the bum.
So, hey, I got a chance to read your letter and it’s absolutely super. I mean, it’s a little flowery for my taste but anytime you use the phrase “terror of Death” (‘d’ capital), it’s bound to be a winner. However, a few notes:
One, if you’re looking for support within India, then the right way to go about it, isn’t by telling Muslim actors to stop working. See, you can screw with the railways, the roads, the hospitals, the airports, the odd prime minister – and chances are, once the immediacy fades away, people will shrug their shoulders and go back to their lives. Fuck with their movie stars, however, and you’re never going to hear the end of it. That is some major stuff and you don’t want to mess with it.
Two, I hate to tell you this, but you shouldn’t really count on people feeling the terror of Death or death or DeAtH or any combination thereof. Not only have they been blowing people up all over the world for a really long time now, but they’ve been doing this in India for nearly as long and while it’s certainly unpleasant, we’ve all kind of gotten used to it as much as you can get used to being blown up. Hey, I’m just the messenger – you wanna get mad at somebody, try the Indian government and those who came before you.
Three, Gujarat riots? Really? Lame! Not only is it years too late to be made into a plausible excuse (really, didn’t you learn anything from the Bombay serial blasts? Now that was timely), Tehelka went at it armed with just a couple of hidden cameras and they kicked that cabal’s ass about a billion times better. Of course, that came to nothing, just as this will come to nothing. In fact, if you ever run into Narendra Modi, be sure you introduce yourselves coz I bet he’ll want to shake you by the hand and plant a big wet one on you for doing him this favor.
Four, if you’ve any cricket-loving friends in Pakistan these days, then you better hide out for a few days because you apparently just played into the Australians’ skittish hands. Yeah, something about South Asia being so unstable and full of bombs and things and how all those bad people will bombs will want to blow them up if they come here. I wasn’t really paying attention. But I can’t entirely fault them for feeling that way given some of the comments they were drawing last year all over the Indian blogosphere. Maybe they think all of those angry people are terrorists.
Which brings me to Five, the blogs. You have it? Please don’t post. I’m asking nicely. A couple of years ago, some idiot in the government decided blogs were how you happy Death-dealers were communicating with each other and they started blocking access. Maybe I’m making this up and it was the ramblings of some paranoid blogger who couldn’t log into his account some day and played it up into a full on assault on civil liberties. Well, whatever. Point is, please try not to blog. You probably won’t like it anyway. For all you know, some 14 year old will find it when he’s supposed to be studying for his exams instead and then he’ll spend all his time trying to get under your skin. The commenters these days are very mean, you know.
Well, that’s it for me. As one of those immoral Hindus, I’ve got my reputation to think about. Time’s a-wastin’ and I’ve yet to put on my slinky sexy instrument-of-Satan saree, grab a bottle of vodka, slap on some bright red lipstick, and head out the door to meet my greasy haired, sambar snorting boytoy of the moment so we can find some random Muslims to persecute while we sing a medley of Salman Khan, Shahrukh Khan and Aamir Khan songs and dance the Bharatnatyam. Busy, busy bee, that’s me!