Dear Mr. Terrorist,

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My name is not Hades. Some of the more intelligent readers of The Times of Bullshit, no doubt, suspect that.

My name is Shoaib Daniyal. No, that won’t do. My name is Shoaib Mohammed Daniyal.

You say that you killed 195 people in Mumbai to avenge the maltreatment that people like me with names like Mohammed have faced in India.

Let me tell you something about my self. I did my schooling in Calcutta in one of the city’s finest schools—La Martiniere for Boys. I completed my graduation in Electrical Engineering from the Birla Institute of Technology, Mesra and am now employed with a premier business research firm in Gurgaon.
Maltreated? How?

If there was wide spread discrimination against Muslims, as you claim, how did these institutions take me in? A cursory look at my name is all it takes, if you want to discriminate.

That’s not to say that India is perfect. To get a house in Gurgaon I had to lie about my religion. I claimed I was Christian, playing up the similarity between ‘Daniel’ and ‘Daniyal’. People would not let out their house to a person named Shoaib Mohammed Daniyal.

But for that will you kill 195 people? For that will you hold hundreds more hostage? For that will you destroy a city?

And even if you do, how will that help the India Muslim? Will people now let out their flats to me? Will future landlords now say, “Bravo! Terroristsdestroyed Mumbai for you. Here are the keys to my flat. If you need anything, I’m at your beck and call.”

I don’t need retarded scum like you to make my life better. If anything, your barbaric actions will make my life worse. Much worse.

The Indian Muslim doesn’t need people killing in his name. He needs reform. The community is one of the most backward communities in India, a large part of the blame for which it will have to shoulder itself. Partition had already crippled the community, giving the Indian Muslim the easy tag of a ‘foreigner’ in his very land of birth. Do you think the he now needs Pakistani terrorists to come in and create mayhem and anarchy in India?

People across India are angry, and justifiably so. And people who are angry often act irrationally. There are calls for tougher anti-terror laws—a demand that the Congress could stave off. Till now. Our PM has already announced that his government will tighten existing laws. By carrying out this attack you have provided just the opening fundamentalists in our country needed. Who will stop the Right Wing now? The BJP has already taken out ads in Delhi which read “Fight Terror. Vote BJP” written on a background of blood. Rediff boards ring with calls for Modi as PM. And in a perverse sort of way, I agree. This government has totally failed to protect us from you.

So thanks for your concern, but no, thanks. If you want to blow yourself up and ascend to heaven, please go and do it while destroying your own country.

JUST GET THE FUCK OUT OF MINE.

Yours,

Shoaib Mohammed Daniyal

Men of the World Unite! (err, figuratively speaking only)

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It was supposed to be an evening of good clean fun. A movie, dinner and inappropriate body searches at malls. You know, the usual.

We chose Dostana. Seemed like a nice movie. Priyanka Chopra, who last played a bold racist character in Fashion, seemed nice. Plus a movie named Dostana can’t go wrong now can it? Good clean wholesome fun about friendship, family and maybe even kheer. “They might even have a song or two on a motorbike with a sidecar”, I thought as I went into the theatre.

Twenty minutes into the movie I felt as a child would on being touched inappropriately by the very Catholic Priests who were supposed to teach him about God—betrayed, hurt and eventually angry.

I can recall the exact scene when my naiveté turned to outrage: John Abraham gets out of bed with one buttock clearly on display, his grey-coloured underpants askew.

The camera follows his behind for what seemed to be like an eternity.

It was horrible. Horrible.

I felt unclean, impure and violated. The girls in the audience—pigs all of them, pigs—cheered lustily. I bowed my head down in shame and prayed silently for my country.

What about the dignity of men? Does John have no shame? Ain't he sweet, making profits off his meat?

And what about the censors? Where the fuck are they? Would they have allowed Priyanka’s, admittedly exquisitely shaped, butt to be displayed to the world? Why do we have these double standards for men and women?

When Fire, a movie about two lesbians, was released look at the furore that was created. People wailed, “It’ll destroy India’s culture.” This, for a film where, if you ask me, the casting was all wrong. Who wants to watch girl-on-girl when one of the "girls" is Shabana Azmi?

Err, but that’s not the point. A film about two men who pretend to be gay, is released without a hitch. No protests. Nothing.

I mean where’s the Shiv Sena when you bloody need it?

Fair and Lovely Dissapointed with Obama Win

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In a shocking revelation The Times of Bullshit has learnt that Fair and Lovely, India was a major campaign contributor to the McCain Presidential campaign.

Says, the CEO of Fair and Lovely, who, intriguingly, did not want to be named:” A Bla, er…man with a wheatish complexion becoming the most powerful man in the world is disastrous for our brand.”

The amount is still undisclosed but the contribution came to light after a thorough reading the of the company’s quarterly report.

A spokesman (well, of all the people you can’t expect Fair and Lovely chaps to call it spokesperson) for the brand denied all wrong doing, though. “It was our democratic right as citizens of India, to support the US Presidential campaign,” says the spokesman, who says he is greatly inspired by Martin Luther King in his daily life.

The Times of Bullshit has also learnt that the brand is planning to overhaul its marketing strategy. Its next catch line will be: “Fairnes which allows you to achieve your dreams, unless you want to be President of America”

Hindusthan Unilever, makers of Fair and Lovely, is also planning to introduce a skin darkening cream in the US to capitalize on the Obama win.

The marketing of the campaign will follow a similar theme to its previous ads: man runs for president; is rejected ‘cause he is too white (not too mention old, very old); he then uses the cream along with the revolutionary campaign theme “Yes, we most probably can” and wins this time around.

In other related news, Michael Jackson has attempted to kill his plastic surgeon after the Obama win.

Health is, er, Wealth

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The Knowledgeable People say greed caused the Great Financial Crisis. Greed which made them ignore common sense.

Well, as I learnt, this isn’t a phenomenon limited to Wall Street.

I got a flyer—an advertisement for a newly opened health club in Gurgaon—with my morning newspaper yesterday. Here’s a part of it which shows the benefits they offer:

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Free soft drinks? Offered by a health club? Wah!

Path Breaking Movie Exposes Fashion Industry

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The Indian people caught up as they are in the humdrum of life—bomb blasts, sons-of the-soil protests, legalising homosexuality—often miss the finer points of life. I am, of course, talking about fashion.

People have made sincere attempts though to educate us, though; FTV, for example. Educational shows such as Midnight Hot and my personal favourite: The Making of the Pirelli Calendar, have no doubt taught many a young man the importance of the right clothes—or the lack thereof, at any rate.

And in spite of the hostile reactions that these noble attempt at fashion education have received, Madhur Bhandarkar (a.k.a. Caricature Man) has bravely gone ahead and made his own film in order to educate us on the inner workings of the fashion world.

“The name of the movie, I knew, had to set the tone of the movie. It had to be classy like fashion itself. Fashion was therefore an obvious choice. It’s subtle too, just like the actual movie” says a beaming Bhandarkar.

Fashion goes on to teach the Indian public each and everything there is to know about the fashion world. Bhandarakar exposes the underlying homosexuality of ALL male fashion designers (sadly, all the women are straight, saala); ridicules the morality of small town girls who refuse to drink, smoke or have casual sex and then goes on to ridicules the morality of the rich and famous who drink, smoke and have casual sex.

No topic is taboo for Caricature Man who claims to be an “iconoclast”. Drugs for example: Models are shown to be snorting Coke with impunity—I guess snorting coke in public, unlike smoking cigarettes, is legal. Kangana Raunat’s character, when on screen, is either snorting cocaine or, in her more sober moods, is drinking.

Bhandarkar also takes on the subject of race and, as is his wont, swims against the tide. In these Obama-times, Priyanka’s character is an unabashed racist. She realises that she has reached her nadir only after waking up from an alcohol-induced one-night stand with a Black man.

Fashion shows us the sheer stress that these models go through and how tough their job actually is. Priyanka Chopra has a panic attack as she tries to attempt the extremely difficult and nerve-wracking task of walking 50 meters from one end of the ramp to the other. It’s a heart-wrenching scene.

The story ends with hope, though. Priyanka, by sheer force of will and support from her friends and family, does manage to walk 54 meters on the ramp this time.

Via Agra

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Mumtaz Mahal gave birth to thirteen of Shah Jahan’s children in nineteen years of marriage to him. Undoubtedly worn out, she passed way after giving birth to his fourteenth child.

The Taj Mahal—a monument to love? More like a monument to excessive love. Maybe the Buddha chap was right with his Middle Way gobbledygook—even with love.

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Fairness, unlike in the Fair and Lovely ads, isn’t a virtue in Agra. Foreigners, which in this case largely mean Americans and Europeans—didn’t really see people from other parts of the world there—have to pay Rs. 250 to see the Taj Mahal while we only have to pay Rs. 20.

The complex is inundated with them, though.

The guides have a merry time too, taking them for a ride and I just don’t mean financially; I over heard one guide telling a group,” …and then he bought her (Mumtaz Mahal's) ashes here and had them buried.”

Even the chap who looks after the shoes—you have to too take off your shoes when you enter the debauched king’s tomb—fleeces them, selling them a sort of “shoe covering” which allows them to walk into the tomb without taking their shoes off.

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Some people say that the beauty of the Taj Mahal is “indescribable”.

Those people are right.

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The Agra Fort, built by Akbar, is grand, if unkept. Most parts of the fort though, are occupied by the Army and are out of bounds to visitors which I find rather absurd. Apparently the Army recruiters weren’t joking when they promised a King’s life in the Army.

The largest crowd puller in the Fort was the diwan-e-aam. A look at it should explain why:






By the way, the set designers of the movie did do a good job, I'd say. It's pretty much identical to the real thing.

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The Akshardham temple in Delhi, on the other hand, scrupulously follows the instructions laid down by its co-dharmic cousin.

The temple, apparently the largest Hindu temple in the world, built by the numerically minuscule Swaminarayan Sect, had this board at its entrance:

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Now that’s what I call a middle path—short skirts and burkhas banned.