I ‘HEART’ MODI
Taking a tip from some very, very senior and highly respected journalists and some very, very senior but not as highly respected news anchors, I have decided to write nice things about NarendraModi from now onwards — just in case he does become Prime Minister of India (gulp). I still have Amitbhai Shah’s Muzaffarnagar speech about revenge being the only answer ringing in my ears — I can’t ever forget that Amitbhai is Modi’s hatchet-wielding right-hand man. I also haven’t forgotten about a certain person who had the temerity to criticize Modi and was killed while sipping a restorative amla or karela juice on his morning walk.
MadhuKishwar, Tavleen Singh, KiranBedi and other aunties had better watch out — I am determined to praise Modi much more than those senile fan girls do! I will sing bhajansto him, make tacky documentaries on him, write open love letters to him in national dailies, fight for him during idiotic television debates, savagely troll his critics on Twitter, et cetera. Be warned, I will do it much, much better than them — heck, I have so much more at stake. The poor old aunties are just trying to make themselves relevant again, while I am trying to save my life.
If Modi uses the national anti-terror squad, RAW and Amitbhai to stalk another adult working woman, I will insist that he did it only because he was protecting her from rude auto-rickshaw wallahs with rigged meters. Sounds more credible than that Stone Age her-daddy-made-me-do-it rubbish, right?
If he continues to misuse his powers by tapping phones, I will fiercely insist that he’s only doing it to hear what citizens are really worried about so he can help us out. The man loves us dearly, see?
If Modi fails to control another State-sponsored riot, I will stand up for him and say that the poor man is terribly busy — he’s got so much on his plate already (dhoklas, khandviand other protein-rich veggies), trying to maintain his 56-inch chest. I will spread rumours that the tailor who informed the nation that Modi’s chest is merely 44 inches is a dirty sickular leftie Congilibtard and AAPtard to boot.
If Modi continues to make insensitive statements about riot victims being like puppies, I will soothingly tell everyone he loves puppies more than cows, and that he has plans to convert 50 per cent of India’s goshalas into puppy care centres. So what if this will set off wicked jokes on Twitter that he has also instructed his cook to knead his chapatti dough with poomutra instead of gomutra? My fellow bhakts will deal with those sickular leftie Congilibtards and AAPtards in their usual charming manner, i.e. threaten to rape their mothers and sisters.
If people criticize Modi for giving land to industrialists for the price of a few toffees, I will even stop playing Spider Solitaire for a few weeks and write passionate articles about how Modi is a true visionary as landless farmers will be sent to Mars on Mangalyaan 2 to grow veggies and cereals for not just India but the world! The US, Russia and China will worship us.
I will write glowing reviews of all his poems and compare him to William Shakespeare, TS Eliot and AtalBihari Vajpayee. It goes without saying that I will have to trash KapilSibal’s poetry in the process, even if he is a better poet. And if MamataBanerjee decides not to be part of the NDA, I’m afraid I may have to trash her poetry too and risk the chance of being assaulted by TMC goons.
Meanwhile, in keeping with those orange-coloured ads that we’re bombarded with every single day, I have started wearing orange lipstick and orange clothes too. It’s better to be safe than sorry — and I’m sure people with integrity would agree.