Musings of a perverted mind - season 2
Note that this is a work of fiction and any resemblance to a real life curly-haired woman is purely attributed to the fascism of your mind.
Dearest घुंघराले बालों वाली aunty,
Laal salaam! I am sorry, we have not been in touch lately, 9 years to be precise. Don’t be disheartened by the fact that I addressed you as aunty. Trust me, my heart aches to do this but I cannot help. We live in a terrible era, a time when the patriarchal society can accept Milind Soman’s much younger love interest but get enraged by the fact that I am more than 20 years younger than you. Just imagine their wrath when they will come to know that I have special feelings for you. Their Hindu Brahminical pea-sized minds can never comprehend my “love-you-like-I-hate-you” feelings for you. Aunty, we will have to accept this harsh reality, but let me assure you that the intellectual libido is not lost. The lust for your intellect is as lively as ever. I still listen and read your random musings on myriad political subjects and satisfy myself.
Aunty, I want to confess that I have still not read “The gaud of trivial things”. The book was bought by my brother in the early 2000s. I am sure he has himself not read it otherwise, he would have not joined the organisation that you despise so much. Rightly so. After all, it is an organisation full of Hindu fascist warmongers gun-bearing patriarchal Brahminical males, hellbent on giving one-way tickets to virgins aspiring peace loving freedom fighters. I think with my last sentence, I would have made you proud. I can imagine you smiling mischievously. Let me relish this thought for a moment. That smile and that blink. Its deadly. I want to go back in time when you were much younger and dive into your eyes filled with intellect. I want to swim inside them till I have crossed all the oceans of badassery. Anyways, coming back to your book, I had pledged to read it only after finishing the Oxford dictionary, which I have not done yet. Thankfully, I have placed an order on Ali express. Don’t worry, I don’t and won’t use the services of any American company; except for this letter typed on MS word. You will be proud that I left the American company that I was working for, in 2012. This was one year after that first love-you-like-I-hate-you letter. It was a good decision after all. Thank you, Aunty.
Before you frown at this, let me share with you that I have read few of your non-fictions. You fictionalize non-fiction so much that I can only imagine how much fiction you put into your fictional books. I am looking forward to reading your latest autobiographical sounding book, “The mistress of utmost crappiness”. So sad it did not win you another award. Does it lack profanity like the first one? By the way, I have read fewer Chetan Bhagat books. There is no way Chetan Bhagat can become my most read author when I have you in my reading list.
Coming back to this letter, if you are wondering why I suddenly remembered you, then let me tell you, it is not sudden. You are always in my mind. Every “red” blood cell in my body is filled with feelings for you. Every thing I feel or experience, I try to get into your mind and think, Aunty होती तो क्या सोचती, इसे कैसे हिन्दू राष्ट्रवाद के साथ जोड़ती |
I wrote this after I saw your recent interview where you have provided insights into a Hindu Nationalist government’s handling of COVID-19 crisis. Trust me, this time I was not interested in your thoughts. I got worried looking at you. When did you age so quickly? Why do people like you even age? The curly hair has all turned grey. It saddens me, but I know that the thick bush that you carry on your head is symptomatic of accumulated wisdom. Birds of communism must have made nests for themselves in that bush and laid their eggs. When they hatch, do share some of the chicks with me.
My heart still skips a beat when I see you on foreign news channels where you educate the global ignoramus about the impending holocaust. You have so rightly equated the current regime to the Nazis. Thanks for your forewarning. I have left that wretched country. It feels so safe down here. Feel sad for people back in India. The poor children are taught that Gandhi was a great soul. Sighs. They should be taught about the heroic tales of maoists, the Gandhians with guns. The other day, I was drinking tea in my alfresco when a stone caught my eye. It was in the shape of Ganesha. I got so worried I tell you. I immediately threw it to my neighbour’s house. They are from China. I am sure they will show the religious figure its true place. Damn, this Hinduism is not leaving me no matter how hard I try. I have given up beef in the fear that the fascists will kill me if they find about it. No, climate change is just a ruse. I blame RSS for everything bad happening in my life. It makes me feel so intelligent. Thanks for giving me this feeling. I can go on and on, but I know you have such a busy schedule. Must be difficult travelling around the world and talking about Hindu fascism to like-minded students. Keep exposing them. I am sure someone will come to rescue Indians from fellow Indians. If that does not happen, at least you can win the Nobel peace prize. If Malala can win a Nobel for dodging a bullet, I think you are more deserving for your intellectual beauty. I can never have enough of it.
Take care of yourself. The world needs you. India needs you. Most importantly, I need you. Statistics says that women live longer than men. I am so glad at the prospect that we will be together in old age. I mean, far apart, but together in heart and mind. I am sure you will age gracefully for me and ungratefully towards India.
Red salute,
The perverted comrade
