Hello, AAPsters/AAPians/AAPtors, or whatever sincere but crappy name you’re calling yourselves these days!
Congratulations on your victory! I, for one, was quite taken aback by it. It literally came out of nowhere. I have always prided myself on having my ear to the ground, but you guys totally escaped my powerful systems of detection. Makes me think that I should base my “man on the street” columns on something other than my conversations with a couple of waiters at Sodabottleopenerwala and that Easycabs guy outside Ambience mall I was forced to make conversation with because the damn cab driver was late. I knew I should’ve Uber’d.
Anyway, this isn’t about me! This is about you. Unlike Marc Anthony, I come to praise you, not bury you. (That’s a Shakespearian reference. I know you wouldn’t get it because it does not seem like your cup of tea. I’m not judging you! Shakespeare’s works don’t exactly inhabit the same moral universe you do. He isn’t the stuff middle class dreams are made of. He might be one of the greatest writers in the English language, but he’s no Prakash Jha.)
But I’m not here to discuss whatever passes for art in your circles. I’m here to tell you that I’m finally ready to lend you my support. I know, I know. I may have spent every minute since your inception scoffing at you and your stated goals, but I’m here now. I can read the writing on the wall. So what if the wall is in a one bedroom “flat” in Ghaziabad? I can slum it. I once visited East Delhi! That should count for something, right?
The good news is that along with my unfettered support, you also get my expertise. That’s right. Pick up your jaw from the floor and stop jumping with joy. I’m here to help you turn your little Mom ’n Pop outfit into a professional organisation and help you go national. You must be getting support from all corners right now. But none of those Johnnies-come-lately will have as many skills or contacts as I do. Consider this my application to be your premier consultant.
The first thing that I would do is close your office in Patel Nagar. That claustrophobic locality is dead to me ever since one of my former friends took me there under the pretext of feeding me the best butter chicken in the city and we ended up in a horrid establishment that made it look like the last two and a half decades never happened. I mean, seriously? What were you thinking? That part of the city contains concrete dwellings that cram a five-hundred member family into half the space of my master bathroom. My reading room is larger than most colonies in that godforsaken neighbourhood.
I just want to shine on you
If you want me to help you, and believe me you do, you will have to shift your headquarters somewhere more civilized. Khan Market would be the most convenient, but I don’t think you can quite afford the rent there. No need to be embarrassed. We’re all friends here. I’m sure you’re great at fundraising. Call me crazy, but I just don’t think a party whose donor list is mostly made of people barely making minimum wage can set up shop in a district with some of the most expensive real estate in the world. Try somewhere cheaper. Hell, I’m so into you right now that I’d even climb down from my high horse and make the effort to trek all the way down to the cluster of poor expats we refer to as “Jungpura”.
Secondly, from the pictures I saw of your celebrations, you’ll have to serve something better than Marie biscuits and masala tea at your party gatherings. C’mon, people. What are you? A Sunday afternoon senior citizen gathering at an old apartment complex in Rohini? You’re going to be running one of the biggest cities in the world, not playing tombola. Show some respect!
I’ll give you the number of the caterer I use for my parties. He makes this great bruschetta that has a hint of Eel tongue that is simply to die for. He’s such a perfectionist. Before the party, he interviews each guest and tailors everything he serves according to their individual taste, including the bread that he bakes right there in your kitchen. I also know a guy who can supply you with the best green teas. If you need your volunteers to be strong, you need to serve them a healthy beverage instead of the milk sludge currently being made in your makeshift kitchen. The mere thought clogs up my arteries. My guy has this bare, scented tea made from a rare Tibetan herb that is the closest thing we have to the mythical Elixir of Youth.
Gangs of Wazirpur
Another thing you will need to do is dump this whole “I’m living inside an Indie documentary” thing you have going on. Street plays. Impromptu concerts at Jantar Mantar. Vishal Dadlani. Do you want to win national elections or premier at Sundance? That may work with the hipsters of Hauz Khaz, but to get the owner of a seedy bar in Kanpur on your side, you need to change your tactics.
You need to ask your leader to tone down his whole “common man” schtick. We get it. He’s the everyman! Bully for him. But that’s not what sells in this country. People may voice support for him or invite him for dinner, but no one really likes the common man. He is the worst. Admitting that you’re a common man is an admission of failure. Being common is not what the youth of today aspire to. At least not the youth that are friends with my nephew on Facebook whose profiles I casually looked at before writing this piece.
The youth want plush apartments and BMWs. All the common man is offering them is “five hour water supply” and “a bus route between your home and office”. That is not aspirational! Not being bothered by a huge electricity bill because you can afford to pay ten times that amount, that is aspirational. Not having to worry about the traffic on your city streets because you can simply helicopter to your place of work is a goal most people aim for.
Your leader also needs to stop being so happy and approachable all the time. People of this country don’t want their leaders to be friendly or affable. You’re a politician, not the father of the bride at an NRI wedding. Leaders should be angry, distant and uncommunicative. I gave the same advice to Narendra Modi and look where that got him.
And what sort of title is “convener”. That sounds like someone who cares for other people’s opinion. What are you doing? Running a political party that aims to go national or “convening” a meeting of the Rajendra Nagar Residents Welfare Association to deliberate on what to do about the overflowing sewage situation?
The country needs our help
Look, we can do this. We have the same goals. Okay, they differ a bit. I don’t really care about eradicating corruption. Sometimes, especially when you’ve got a number of boxes of “cough syrup” made from the finest grapes in Europe stuck at the customs office and you want to free them without paying all that duty, it really helps speed things a little. Why would I want to get rid of that? The system works... for some of us at least.
But both of us see eye to eye when it comes to the ruling dispensation at the Centre. Your huge victory in the Delhi elections has finally given me some hope that this country can be saved. Thanks to you, I can stop my wink-wink-nudge-nudge evolution towards the eventual acceptance of their point of view. I don’t have to pretend that wearing a suit with your own name woven on it isn’t garish and unbecoming. And I can finally go back to writing strongly worded articles defending the “idea of India”. (That feels so good! I haven’t uttered that phrase in public once since May 2014).
So let’s do lunch sometime and come up with a plan. We’re going places together! I’m in it to win it.
Just think of this as a reverse ghar wapsi.
We welcome your comments at
letters@scroll.in.
Congratulations on your victory! I, for one, was quite taken aback by it. It literally came out of nowhere. I have always prided myself on having my ear to the ground, but you guys totally escaped my powerful systems of detection. Makes me think that I should base my “man on the street” columns on something other than my conversations with a couple of waiters at Sodabottleopenerwala and that Easycabs guy outside Ambience mall I was forced to make conversation with because the damn cab driver was late. I knew I should’ve Uber’d.
Anyway, this isn’t about me! This is about you. Unlike Marc Anthony, I come to praise you, not bury you. (That’s a Shakespearian reference. I know you wouldn’t get it because it does not seem like your cup of tea. I’m not judging you! Shakespeare’s works don’t exactly inhabit the same moral universe you do. He isn’t the stuff middle class dreams are made of. He might be one of the greatest writers in the English language, but he’s no Prakash Jha.)
But I’m not here to discuss whatever passes for art in your circles. I’m here to tell you that I’m finally ready to lend you my support. I know, I know. I may have spent every minute since your inception scoffing at you and your stated goals, but I’m here now. I can read the writing on the wall. So what if the wall is in a one bedroom “flat” in Ghaziabad? I can slum it. I once visited East Delhi! That should count for something, right?
The good news is that along with my unfettered support, you also get my expertise. That’s right. Pick up your jaw from the floor and stop jumping with joy. I’m here to help you turn your little Mom ’n Pop outfit into a professional organisation and help you go national. You must be getting support from all corners right now. But none of those Johnnies-come-lately will have as many skills or contacts as I do. Consider this my application to be your premier consultant.
The first thing that I would do is close your office in Patel Nagar. That claustrophobic locality is dead to me ever since one of my former friends took me there under the pretext of feeding me the best butter chicken in the city and we ended up in a horrid establishment that made it look like the last two and a half decades never happened. I mean, seriously? What were you thinking? That part of the city contains concrete dwellings that cram a five-hundred member family into half the space of my master bathroom. My reading room is larger than most colonies in that godforsaken neighbourhood.
I just want to shine on you
If you want me to help you, and believe me you do, you will have to shift your headquarters somewhere more civilized. Khan Market would be the most convenient, but I don’t think you can quite afford the rent there. No need to be embarrassed. We’re all friends here. I’m sure you’re great at fundraising. Call me crazy, but I just don’t think a party whose donor list is mostly made of people barely making minimum wage can set up shop in a district with some of the most expensive real estate in the world. Try somewhere cheaper. Hell, I’m so into you right now that I’d even climb down from my high horse and make the effort to trek all the way down to the cluster of poor expats we refer to as “Jungpura”.
Secondly, from the pictures I saw of your celebrations, you’ll have to serve something better than Marie biscuits and masala tea at your party gatherings. C’mon, people. What are you? A Sunday afternoon senior citizen gathering at an old apartment complex in Rohini? You’re going to be running one of the biggest cities in the world, not playing tombola. Show some respect!
I’ll give you the number of the caterer I use for my parties. He makes this great bruschetta that has a hint of Eel tongue that is simply to die for. He’s such a perfectionist. Before the party, he interviews each guest and tailors everything he serves according to their individual taste, including the bread that he bakes right there in your kitchen. I also know a guy who can supply you with the best green teas. If you need your volunteers to be strong, you need to serve them a healthy beverage instead of the milk sludge currently being made in your makeshift kitchen. The mere thought clogs up my arteries. My guy has this bare, scented tea made from a rare Tibetan herb that is the closest thing we have to the mythical Elixir of Youth.
Gangs of Wazirpur
Another thing you will need to do is dump this whole “I’m living inside an Indie documentary” thing you have going on. Street plays. Impromptu concerts at Jantar Mantar. Vishal Dadlani. Do you want to win national elections or premier at Sundance? That may work with the hipsters of Hauz Khaz, but to get the owner of a seedy bar in Kanpur on your side, you need to change your tactics.
You need to ask your leader to tone down his whole “common man” schtick. We get it. He’s the everyman! Bully for him. But that’s not what sells in this country. People may voice support for him or invite him for dinner, but no one really likes the common man. He is the worst. Admitting that you’re a common man is an admission of failure. Being common is not what the youth of today aspire to. At least not the youth that are friends with my nephew on Facebook whose profiles I casually looked at before writing this piece.
The youth want plush apartments and BMWs. All the common man is offering them is “five hour water supply” and “a bus route between your home and office”. That is not aspirational! Not being bothered by a huge electricity bill because you can afford to pay ten times that amount, that is aspirational. Not having to worry about the traffic on your city streets because you can simply helicopter to your place of work is a goal most people aim for.
Your leader also needs to stop being so happy and approachable all the time. People of this country don’t want their leaders to be friendly or affable. You’re a politician, not the father of the bride at an NRI wedding. Leaders should be angry, distant and uncommunicative. I gave the same advice to Narendra Modi and look where that got him.
And what sort of title is “convener”. That sounds like someone who cares for other people’s opinion. What are you doing? Running a political party that aims to go national or “convening” a meeting of the Rajendra Nagar Residents Welfare Association to deliberate on what to do about the overflowing sewage situation?
The country needs our help
Look, we can do this. We have the same goals. Okay, they differ a bit. I don’t really care about eradicating corruption. Sometimes, especially when you’ve got a number of boxes of “cough syrup” made from the finest grapes in Europe stuck at the customs office and you want to free them without paying all that duty, it really helps speed things a little. Why would I want to get rid of that? The system works... for some of us at least.
But both of us see eye to eye when it comes to the ruling dispensation at the Centre. Your huge victory in the Delhi elections has finally given me some hope that this country can be saved. Thanks to you, I can stop my wink-wink-nudge-nudge evolution towards the eventual acceptance of their point of view. I don’t have to pretend that wearing a suit with your own name woven on it isn’t garish and unbecoming. And I can finally go back to writing strongly worded articles defending the “idea of India”. (That feels so good! I haven’t uttered that phrase in public once since May 2014).
So let’s do lunch sometime and come up with a plan. We’re going places together! I’m in it to win it.
Just think of this as a reverse ghar wapsi.