Dear Modi ji,
It all started with a smile. The smile of a woman. A pretty woman.
Fair to say, it started dangerously.
After all, the only thing more dangerous than a smiling woman is another smiling woman.
It was a ‘red eye’ flight to Madurai. We were leaving Delhi’s polluted air behind and going to pollute the air of Madurai.
Diwali, you see.
My wife and kids were sitting in one row, while I was in the next.
A tall, handsome man sat to my right, and I had decided not to initiate a conversation with him.
I usually prefer conversing with strangers I look down upon – this tactic makes me a confident conversationalist.
Since this guy was tall, I was looking up to him.
Getting back to the smile – it was that of a pretty air hostess walking towards me.
As she walked towards me, she seemed innocent. The harmful influence of a boyfriend hadn’t yet corrupted her.
I tried to fill the small airline seat, and look formidable, but she saw through my plan.
She turned towards the tall, handsome man sitting next to me and asked, “Sir, would you mind sitting next to the emergency door?”
I saw her innocence fly out through the closed airplane windows. “What a vamp!” I remember muttering under my breath.
“Of course, darling!” He replied. He then held her hand and walked towards the emergency door.
Dear Modi ji, I may be imagining the word ‘darling’ and the fact that they held hands as she walked him to the seat next to the emergency door, but you must know that I am the victim here.
Being only 165 cms (5 feet 4 inch) tall, I have been a victim all my life.
Indian women prefer ‘tall, dark, and handsome’ men, and all my life, I have been scoring 33.33% – for I only cross one of the above three requirements.
At 44 years, I am now done being a victim.
I want to be the man that I never thought I could be till I saw you at the end of the proverbial tunnel – as my only ray of hope.
This open letter is directed towards you for two reasons –
- I know that UNESCO has selected you as the best Prime Minister in the World, and I always go for the best that’s available
- Some of my friends are your ardent fans, and they tell me that you are the answer to all of the World’s problems
Dear Modi Ji, now that I have your attention, let me explain my life’s problems in a little more detail.
When the air hostess didn’t invite me to sit at the seat next to the Emergency door, she was only playing out the script written for me from the beginning.
It had all started when I joined a school where I had to be the first in the assembly line.
My school days started with 20 minutes of the nerve-wracking assembly session, where the Principal stared down my throat and saw what I had had for breakfast.
Unlike you, exposure hasn’t been my forte. I don’t flourish under watchful eyes.
My pride took a running plunge from the bridge on Vaigai river the day I figured that I would never be able to sit on my BSA SLR cycle and keep my feet on the ground.
When in college, while traveling by Pallavan Transport Corporation’s public buses, I had to hold the chrome-finished poles instead of grips hanging from the top.
The worst part was when a child sharing the pole with me would look up and give me a smirk. I almost always heard them say, “I am definitely going to be taller than that!”
This awareness about my body’s limitations would later force me to buy a Yamaha RX100 when all I ever wanted in my life was a Royal Enfield.
Nothing changed when I bought a car. I had to slide the driver’s seat as close to the steering wheel as possible, and even then, I had trouble reaching for the pedals.
Even with a car, it was difficult to land girlfriends.
Even though at 165 cms (5 feet 4 inches), I am as tall as an average Indian, I haven’t been able to live the life of a tall Indian.
I want to understand from you how, despite having a 50-inch chest, you have been living the life of a man with a 56-inch chest?
– A 165 cms short gentleman who wants to lead the life of a 180 cms tall dude