Disclaimer- This letter is a work of fiction. It’s been written for comic purposes only.

Dear Shyamlo,                                                        .           02^nd Jan, 1948

Anae Baapu Happie New Year 1948 hau.

Not so happy new year for me.

I’m burning up. Mane aag laawi gayi. I was with you when you lost your wife 4 years ago, when the Britishers arrested you. I’ve washed and worshipped you. I’ve cleaned your streaked langot – only to be dismantled by this sukki bombil, Abhaben?

What does he have that I don’t. She’s taller but I’m so much prettier and some would even say Hote- like Betti Paige. Ane bapu, not beti like maa-beti; Beti like Beti Boop. So hot she is with her red polka dot underwear.

I’m so much better than Abhaben. That chaudail was telling me that Bapu will soon replace her with me as the woman on his right hand and I’ll be relegated to the hand that Bapu uses to wash his paacha? How dare she talk so blasphemously!

I understand how important you are, the intricate problems you’re having with Jinnah and Nehru and Mountbatten and the Raja’s. You’re getting it from all sides. Everybody loves you but nobody is happy with you… except me of course. I love everything about you. From the shape of your melon like head, to your long elephantine ears, your funny glasses and the tape you use to hold them together. I love your toothless grin to your dirty nails, from your bow-legs to your zenith pocket-watch.

Tell Abhaben that I will always be the one for you. That I’ll be with you even on the day you die.

Tameri Radha,

ManuBen