Dear Mr Modi,
Of late, the angles of heaven have been telling me interesting stories about my beloved India. The politics had never been so political, I am told. In a classically hysterical way, much like the mass media of our times, I have been warned about the fact that another lad from the holy land of Gujarat is hell bent upon rendering my ideals redundant. The other day, during our daily evening walk with Mr. Nehru in the alleys of Indra Palace, I found him deeply distressed about the current political undertones of his beloved India, something which he feels he had invented in 1947, I was told that you have unleashed another wave of communal hatred in the country. Let alone the planet earth, your political gimmicks have caused enough ripples to unsettle the settled political souls of the departed. Mr Modi, I am not too sure whether you are still into reading this letter or have just gone about tweeting me on social media, but let’s get this clear at the outset that despite the venomous anti- Modi campaign, those sikulars( I have also been told that the new wave social media pundits schooled by you have re phrased the word secular) have unleashed worldwide and here in the heaven, I am pleasantly appalled by you. You see, just like you, I could never come to terms with these heavy, west imported slang like Secularism and democracy. Just like you, I wish we could never have to be a secular democracy. This is India, and we have got the right to imagine our polity on the ancient Hindu lines, a polity which is dictated by our reverend mothers – Bharat and Cow; a polity based on the great Hindu idea of purity and caste hierarchies; a polity based not on the foreign idea of constitutionalism but on the very Indian idea of Sanskaar – the ancient Hindu culture. What if the whole potpourri would have been a slightly confused one, at least that way we could have been more Indian as a nation. You see, this is all I had fought for throughout my life; but blame it on the Oxford educated, scotch gurgling brigade of anti-national intellectuals disguised as Nehru and Co, our country was soon made captive to the colonial construct of polity. Independent India, my friend, was nothing but the biggest colonial mirage of 20th century, whose world view and imagination were kept captive at the doors of Mountbatten, errr, Edvina. I could have resisted, I should have done another satyagrah, but kid, by the time 1947 happened I was too old and jaded to take on the blabbering Nehru.
You sir, you have bewitched me for quite some time. It is now when I look at you, I feel that the dawn has come. You have single handedly taken upon your shoulders– the responsibility to rip this nation out of the colonial hangover. A look at you and I can’t help myself marvel over the divine similarities we both share. A look at you, and I feel that you are the one who will one day realize my long smoldering dream of creating a Bharat in an India. Sometimes, I see my redemption in you. I had long harbored similar dreams in my head and heart; but I could never articulate it in front of Nehru. For he was close with Mr. Ghanshyam Birla, and they together fashioned the myth of Mahatma I enjoy today. You my friend Modi, have gone a step beyond and have the tamed all the Birlas and Adanis of the nation. And this is one achievement I wish I could ever do in my lifetime. It is one thing to be revered, it is just another to rule. And for the latter, you need to enjoy financial autonomy. This is where we differ, and oh how!
Kid, when I look at you, I can’t help but marvel about all these similar political vision we share. It feels that we are two prodigies from the same school of politics, just that I am your old guy who is selectively and conveniently remembered. First of all, let’s get the Gujarat connection out of the way. By now, the nation must have realized that Gujarat is the official kinder-garden of Indian politics. While the other provinces of the nation produce political leaders, Gujarat is from where legends come. Let’s count LK Advani as an aberration. See kid, you always had in you. You have mastered the art of being a news maker long ago, since way back in 2002, if my memory serves me right. While there are many who go berserk about this, but I find nothing wrong with it – that’s what all great leaders do. They learn how to be the news. Look at me; this is something what I did so brilliantly throughout the national movement. I am not easily impressed by the smear campaign they have unleashed against you. I know what it takes to be the king of the pack. Ask me, I have been dealing with all kinds of verbal pleasantries throughout my life; even when I am dead. That’s the side effect of being great. That’s the side effect of being political. You see when you are there in this game for a long haul; there are choices you have to make, there are silences you have to choose. They would criticize you heavily for your selective diatribe and convenient silences against poverty, unemployment and so and so on. Poverty, my friend, as you might have known by now, is a historic construct just like communal ism. No sane political power ever interferes to do anything with it. I have seen many bright European minds dealing about it and trust me, maintaining status quo is the ultimate political success. Those who succeed in this race of power don not provide a solution to these social ils, they learn how to play along. Political criticism, my friend is a funny business. It is often taken up by those who don’t know an inch about politics. And trust me; this country would ever be brimming with such people, often found wanting in historical sensibilities and replete with a myopic sense of social commentary.
By the time India was free, I had lost my appetite for politics, and thanks to Mr Godse, who in his uniquely Hindu way, ensured that I attain ‘Moksha’ at the most suitable juncture of time, I find myself unable to comment about post independent India. Now, because I have practiced enough of politics in my sojourn through Indian political struggle, I know very well that you need to be selfish in order to rule. Those who haven’t and will never taste the political waters of this nation will never know about the art of ruling. And going by the limited knack of legality and political acumen I possess, I feel there is nothing wrong with you. If at all anywhere, this is where you seemed to have excelled. My heart fills with pleasure unbound when I find you taking cues from my book. People have tried hard enough to tear us apart ideologically – but let me clear the air once and for all. I have never seen a PM going back in time and taking cues from my book. It is when I see you approaching the historical social malaise of cleanliness through my lenses in your brilliantly designed Swacch Bharat campaign; it is when I see your satyagrah against the black money hoarders; it is when I see you clashing swords with an entire army of intellectuals beating around the bushes of JNU, my heart resonates with tour vision. Those who don’t know me have tried to pitch us together as enemies, as two antithetical political characters sitting on the opposite fences of ideology. And this is where; I would have loved to share a loud laughter with you for both of us, being the foxy Gujju bhai we are, and very well know that ideology is just another cloak to enjoy brute power. And talking about ideology, no matter how many PHDs, they would keep distributing across the length and breadth of the nation, they would never get hold of my idea of India. For they Dear Mr Modi, don’t know that just like you I harbored a deep distrust towards things and ideas imported from the west. West is waste. In the last few years, people on the other side of the fence, have ridiculed you with the epithets of dictator, communal, divisive, pompous and what not. You have been accused of trying to belittle the constitutional institutions. Mr Nehru sends his deepest anguishes in the strongest of anglicized words, for dismantling his baby – the planning commission. No matter how many times I told him that Neeti sounds more Bhartiya, he won’t budge but let’s not get into his petty childishness. You see, the NEHRUS have always been childish. You have Rahul to vouch for this, right? Back to your intelligent fondling with the so called idea of constitutionalism, I think it’s quite prudent of you to take such decisions. Legally speaking, you have always been around the best of judges. And ideally, I would have wanted to dislodge the entire constitution itself to make way for a more suitable version of Ram Rajya based on the teachings of Tulsi and Geeta. Those who don’t know me personally are bound to make mistake us as political enemies. You, Mr Modi, are a numb version of my prime. Those who wish to project me as an epitome of tolerance, and you as one destructive fellow, fail to realize that Gandhi would have ideally wanted to get rid of the police, the judiciary and ideally even the constitution. For they are nothing but figments of western imagery, coming straight out of the womb of a western enlightenment, suited to their colonial apparatus with little but no significance to the poor Indians. I am glad that you have taken the onus upon yourself to scratch their underbellies.
The queer thing with legends is that they stick in the public imagery, for reasons weird enough to be known even to them. Take me for example, 100 years after the Champaran revolt, for which people have kindly held me responsible, I am yet to fathom my role in it. All I remember doing there was making those poor filthy Biharis dig latrines and ensure that they don’t die of malaria. Trace the legal status of the Champaran case, and you would be in for the surprise of your life. Law, it takes its own strides. But the thing with India is people here are more interested in lapping up the legends and myths more than the minutes of law. And this is precisely what you are enjoying today. My eyes fill with the purest of tears, when I see Indians rallying behind another Mota Bhai from my mother land. And till the time, you are making the news; they are going to love you.
I can see the spark in your eyes; the hunger to be the shepherd of the herd called Indians, something which I had long tried my hands at. And it is where I would like to shake you out of the political orgasm you are enjoying of late. Power, just like the body, is mundane. And given how spiritual we all are, I know that you know that all of this is Maya. The traditional schools of philosophy confirm this that every flower that blossoms one day has to become mere dust. And such is the case with legends too. We are all bound to be forgotten. We are all bound to be tucked into neat museums and statues and streets named after us. Nobody remembers the legacy, nobody remembers the deeds, – everything about a legend – his ideas, his ideology, his vision, his dreams – all of that is bound to be flushed through the annals of history and history, my friend, is a very cruel and unforgiving dungeon. It treats you the way you just can’t imagine in your lifetime. Ask Nehru, he would swear by what I say. Therefore there is this unsolicited piece of advice, which I would like to give you. I know you have got another Mota bhai from Gujarat, Mr Shah for your daily dose of advises and you don’t quite believe in being advised, but take it as a token of appreciation from this grand old man. Kid, the road to power might be a political journey, but clutching on to it is quite a lonesome one. And it is where you need to listen to your soul. As and when your schedule permits it, please do listen to that voice of the soul. It never lies and once in a while it is better to hear the truth, however unpleasant it might be. Life often appears to be one long orgasmic session when you are in your prime, and once that happens, it is when in a democracy the people fuck you. I pray that this doesn’t happen with you for Bharat, more than India needs you to steer its way out of the abyss of colonial hangover towards an independent imagination of itself. I wish you all the luck in your mission. I would be following you closely around, not on twitter though but in those oft repeated bouts of political comparisons.
Signing off from heaven,