[Reader-list] Neither Hindu, nor Zindu. Only Bindu - PM

[pratap pandey]

To,
(messrs) Mr R Vania, esq, Mr S Sengupta. Esq

From,
PM (Prime Time Minister, Dis Union Of India)

Re: not withstanding

Sir/Madam,

Your urgent missives have been duly received. Like my
dear colleague Lalji,, and my equally dear colleague
Murli ji, you have kicked me on my knees. Wherefore
they are weak. I have no knees anymore, for Rum’s
sake!

I am past my Prime. I am biding my Time. I had this
this overpowering ambition I would be a great
statesman, the last of the great statesmen that Ahkand
Bharat produced. They are all dead. I am alive. I was
the Nawab of statesmen. I thought I would I show the
right path.

Then Lalji (very colourless person, let me tell you)
began kicking me on one knee. Murli ji (very
instrumental) began kicking me on the other. They keep
kicking me, among other things, out of my alcoholic
daze. 

So much indignity I have suffered! When Bill Clinton
came, all I wanted to do was kiss this gora-chitta
lamba-chaura smooth boy, and they wouldn’t let me.
Musharraf, oooo meri to! Hard backside. Hard, all
muscle moving under pant. But they wouldn’t let me
 .
I told them, “Yaar, apna hi banda hai!” They pulled
the flab my dhoti hides this way and that, and said:
“Though he may be willing, he will not understand”. I
was very angry. I had sent a bus to seduce him. I
wanted to bebuss him. They didn’t let me. Instead,
they kicked me on my knees.  

And now you two. 

You boys, you.

What do you know about what I have done, and still can
do? Of girls I have had a flood, there has been much
blood. I am a poet. I have penetrated. Deep. Karuna,
and Deepa. 

And now, especially after Lalji’s steroid shots, I can
still do it. This lulli maange more. Lalji et al give
me steroids so that I can stand and justify them. I
can do that, Jai shri Rum. I can also do mrignayani,
chandramukhi, Madonna behn. I will spear Miss Britney,
saali kamsin kali. I can do.    

You boys, you.

Your English is very good. Why don’t you come home? We
will have a coo-coo. I will show you my poo-poo, and
then we will doo-doo. Also, bring that Sardesai boy. I
like his eyes.

Come to me, dear. Have no fear. Don’t talk about
Zindu. Talk about Bindu. What is this Hindu? What
matters is Bindu. She came to me yesterday, made me a
drink. Thighs, mere bhai. Thirko-ing. Harami flesh.

What is Hindu? What is Zindu? I want Bindu!

Can you help me? Dear boys, you?

I remain,

Yours truly,

At all Be Hairy V.

P S: Hairy? Me? Laljee! Muralee! And, oh!, SHE.   




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