Open Letter to President Obama
Dear President Obama,
Thanks for a wonderful gift you have given the entire world. Osama is DEAD. Long live Obama. [Nearly got that mixed up...phew!]
Wth the threat of terror gone forever, the world seems such a nicer place already. Today morning when i woke up, the air seemed fresher, the birds chirpier, and the sun a tad bigger. Even the usually grumpy bai didnt burn my morning toast.
It’s all going to be good now. Indian diplomats will not have to undergo pat-downs at your airports. Jeev Milkha Singh’s coach will be able to travel to Italy with his turban on. At the mall, the guards will not try to squeeze out RDX from my balls every time i go to watch a movie.
Even though they are saying that Satya Sai Baba’s next reincarnation will be born in Karnataka, its now becoming quite obvious that he has already taken birth in Honolulu back in 1961.
After a lot of thought, we (and i talk of behalf of the 56 people in my extended family, including my little boy whose first word is definitely going to be Obama) have come to a very important realization.
We think you should become our President.
The way you went about hunting down that dreadful scoundrel Osama Bin Laden, the ruthless devotion to the cause with which you ordered operation IKEA, the mind numbing efficiency with which the entire plan was implemented, it all has captured our imagination.
Only Sunny Deol has ever come close to the awesomeness that you so clearly are.
Please become our president, no? Of course, you should continue to run America as well.
Just imagine, the world’s two biggest democracies coming together will create an absolutely unstoppable force. It will be like Coke and Pepsi coming together to form a behemoth named Copsi that doesn’t need to spend a dime on marketing ever again.
We already speak English. You must have talked to one of us when you called up the technical helpdesk to fix your laptop, or to question the incorrect charges on your credit card.
We are told you recently met the wonderful Mallika Sherawat, so now you know that not only do we speak English, we speak it in your accent.
Give us a few more years of Fair & Lovely/Handsome and we will even start looking like you. Maybe not you, but like most of your people.
Our news channels already call you President Obama. Like the dedicated-to-their-soon-to-be-husband ladies from our movies and soap operas, in our hearts we have already accepted you as our savior leader.
We are ready for you, President Obama.
We wont even care if eventually you do turn out to be a Muslim. We are a diverse nation, with a Sikh PM, an Italian super PM, a woman president, a Muslim vice president, and so on.
It’s not all about us. The deal will work both ways.
India is the world’s biggest market. Or second biggest, but whatever. There’s a billion people who need food, Banana Republic and iPads. You make them, we buy it all. Everybody happy.
We all know how disappointed you guys were that we rejected your fighter jets. With you at the helm, we could buy all fancy toys that America can make. It will be a wonderful setup. Employment to middle class Americans and security to hungry Indians. Indians who may sleep empty stomach, but would be content in the knowledge that our air force has a hundred squadrons of fly-by-wire F-18 Hornets ready to kick enemy ass.
And with China, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, Pakistan all willing hostile neighbors, all weapons will get utilized. With your immeasurable courage, you would have ample options for distracting the cattle-like Indian populace every time your popularity ratings dip.
Most importantly, there’s no qualifications required to run India; neither is there any age limit. You could easily outrun Hosni Mubarak’s 30 years at Egyptian helm. You’re still young; a 50 year reign is totally plausible. Not to suggest that there’s anything wrong with your qualifications. We Indians totally dig Harvard graduates.
You could even come up with a new scheme of prepaid green cards. Young men from Andhra will happily mortgage their dowries to pay for that elusive piece of paper. The resulting collection could bail out Wall Street twenty times over.
You’ve already talked of comparisons between Boston and Bangalore. Let’s make it happen now. The kids from Boston could get beer and french fries, and we will get the math.
Because Mr President, We Can Change. We just need you to show us how.