Tuesday, December 06, 2005
Purity in Randomness: Cyrus Broacha in Mid-day
Hi all,
Stumbled upon this article written by Cyrus Broacha for the Mid Day online edition. Hes epitomizes randomness - as you can see in the article :), Probably one of the funniest pieces of text I have seen in my life:
http://www.mid-day.com/columns/cyrus/2002/August/29082.htm
Saddam Bombay! By: Cyrus Broacha August 16, 2002
We all know Saddam Hussein, a man hated by the Kurds, the Shias, may be even the Iraqi people. A man who hates everything western and American, except I believe the odd cheeseburger with extra fries, low in burger, heavy in cheese.
However, very few know that Saddam has a paramour in India who heÂs constantly in touch with, figuratively of course.
This 62-year-old lady who lives near the writer and doesn't read a word of Arabic has been unwittingly a part of this one way correspondence for 17 years. Recently, through a quirk of fate, Saddam's latest letter landed in my hands. Although it was written in Arabic I knew it was from him as photographs accompanied the letter.
One photo was of Saddam reading to the blind, a second was the blind reading to Saddam, a third had Saddam in a leotards doing aerobics, another was supposed to be a picture of his latest oil painting Night Watch with Rembrandt's signature badly scribbled over, then there were Saddam at the beach, Saddam playing cricket wearing only his pads, Saddam looking contemplative at a Saturday night execution.
Captivated by the visuals I got the letter translated 'a long process' Arabic to French, French to Bhojpuri, Bhojpuri to Hindi via Urdu and finally Hindi to English. This is basically how it translates.
To my Jewel of the desert, my eye of the camel, my Arabian pony's behind, I Saddam, Supreme leader of the only truly democratic country in the world, the people's choice, the voice of hope, the personification of compassion and humanity, salute you.
Lajwantiben, as I'm writing to you, I am both excited and perplexed. Let me tell you, O spice loaded on a camel's hump, why. After 27 years of flying, and this includes a 10-year war with Iran, as well as skirmishes all over Iraq including a holiday to Kuwait, I can proudly tell you I've obtained enough frequent flier points to allow me to finally visit you and fly almost all the way back. (I have enough points to reach Cairo, after which I can walk home, which is good for me, too many cheeseburgers you know).
Imagine my excitement when I got my last frequent flier points update. I mean, I've been thinking about you night and day, twice a week, for quite a few years now. Immediately I dashed off a letter to my friend Jaswant in your foreign affairs department, hoping he would help me with all the formalities as well as get me a tourist discount at what was once called the Prince of Wales Museum. So named I believe because whales used to swim all the way to your gateway in the early days though now I believe they have been driven off by very large women.
However imagine my puzzlement, when Jaswant wrote curtly back asking me to re-write to Yashwant. What does he mean? Did I misspell his name? Is Hindi like Swedish, a language where J actually means Y and Y actually means J? Anyhow, I did as I was bid and rewrote my request to Yashwant, addressed once again to the foreign affairs department. Once again I got a curt reply saying Yashwant no longer works here.
What is all this? How could Yashwant whose alias is Jaswant, a thing only known to Indians and Swedes, lose his job overnight?
I then wrote to the most powerful man in India, my darling cactus with one less thorn, Mr Jagmohan Dalmia, head of the BCCI. His reply was even more perplexing. He kept referring to me as a whining English Captain, who complains about everything and who unnecessarily hits Parthiv Patel on the back of his head and, worst of all, he addressed his reply to Mr Hussein, not giving me my full title which takes a good half page of paper in any language.
Oh date of my palm, who is Parthiv Patel, why would I hit him on the head and imagine thinking I'm English? In fact the only English word I know is 'cheeseburger'. To be completely honest I know two English words - 'two' and 'cheeseburger'.
Finally I was advised to write to a leading Indian actor. His reply made me double my medication - he wanted a signing amount for reading my letter.
Exasperated, I called up your tourist board but the answering machine kept saying I'm in 'Qatar'. When I screamed I was in Iraq, it just repeated it's earlier message about me being in Qatar. What the hell is happening, surely if I call up I know where I'm calling from. In fact I'm so pained by this harassment, that IÂm contemplating taking my case to the UN.
In the meantime, my droppings from a dove, I clutch the frequent flier points close to what's left of my heart, order two cheeseburgers and think of you.
Your leading paramour,Hussein His Excellency, King of the desert, Father of my nation, leader of the free world, Supremest Commandante, Shree Saddam Hussein.
I still can't figure out if this is an authentic letter, but as for Lajwanti, last heard she's been on indefinite vacation. ¶ 8:12 PM
Stumbled upon this article written by Cyrus Broacha for the Mid Day online edition. Hes epitomizes randomness - as you can see in the article :), Probably one of the funniest pieces of text I have seen in my life:
http://www.mid-day.com/columns/cyrus/2002/August/29082.htm
Saddam Bombay! By: Cyrus Broacha August 16, 2002
We all know Saddam Hussein, a man hated by the Kurds, the Shias, may be even the Iraqi people. A man who hates everything western and American, except I believe the odd cheeseburger with extra fries, low in burger, heavy in cheese.
However, very few know that Saddam has a paramour in India who heÂs constantly in touch with, figuratively of course.
This 62-year-old lady who lives near the writer and doesn't read a word of Arabic has been unwittingly a part of this one way correspondence for 17 years. Recently, through a quirk of fate, Saddam's latest letter landed in my hands. Although it was written in Arabic I knew it was from him as photographs accompanied the letter.
One photo was of Saddam reading to the blind, a second was the blind reading to Saddam, a third had Saddam in a leotards doing aerobics, another was supposed to be a picture of his latest oil painting Night Watch with Rembrandt's signature badly scribbled over, then there were Saddam at the beach, Saddam playing cricket wearing only his pads, Saddam looking contemplative at a Saturday night execution.
Captivated by the visuals I got the letter translated 'a long process' Arabic to French, French to Bhojpuri, Bhojpuri to Hindi via Urdu and finally Hindi to English. This is basically how it translates.
To my Jewel of the desert, my eye of the camel, my Arabian pony's behind, I Saddam, Supreme leader of the only truly democratic country in the world, the people's choice, the voice of hope, the personification of compassion and humanity, salute you.
Lajwantiben, as I'm writing to you, I am both excited and perplexed. Let me tell you, O spice loaded on a camel's hump, why. After 27 years of flying, and this includes a 10-year war with Iran, as well as skirmishes all over Iraq including a holiday to Kuwait, I can proudly tell you I've obtained enough frequent flier points to allow me to finally visit you and fly almost all the way back. (I have enough points to reach Cairo, after which I can walk home, which is good for me, too many cheeseburgers you know).
Imagine my excitement when I got my last frequent flier points update. I mean, I've been thinking about you night and day, twice a week, for quite a few years now. Immediately I dashed off a letter to my friend Jaswant in your foreign affairs department, hoping he would help me with all the formalities as well as get me a tourist discount at what was once called the Prince of Wales Museum. So named I believe because whales used to swim all the way to your gateway in the early days though now I believe they have been driven off by very large women.
However imagine my puzzlement, when Jaswant wrote curtly back asking me to re-write to Yashwant. What does he mean? Did I misspell his name? Is Hindi like Swedish, a language where J actually means Y and Y actually means J? Anyhow, I did as I was bid and rewrote my request to Yashwant, addressed once again to the foreign affairs department. Once again I got a curt reply saying Yashwant no longer works here.
What is all this? How could Yashwant whose alias is Jaswant, a thing only known to Indians and Swedes, lose his job overnight?
I then wrote to the most powerful man in India, my darling cactus with one less thorn, Mr Jagmohan Dalmia, head of the BCCI. His reply was even more perplexing. He kept referring to me as a whining English Captain, who complains about everything and who unnecessarily hits Parthiv Patel on the back of his head and, worst of all, he addressed his reply to Mr Hussein, not giving me my full title which takes a good half page of paper in any language.
Oh date of my palm, who is Parthiv Patel, why would I hit him on the head and imagine thinking I'm English? In fact the only English word I know is 'cheeseburger'. To be completely honest I know two English words - 'two' and 'cheeseburger'.
Finally I was advised to write to a leading Indian actor. His reply made me double my medication - he wanted a signing amount for reading my letter.
Exasperated, I called up your tourist board but the answering machine kept saying I'm in 'Qatar'. When I screamed I was in Iraq, it just repeated it's earlier message about me being in Qatar. What the hell is happening, surely if I call up I know where I'm calling from. In fact I'm so pained by this harassment, that IÂm contemplating taking my case to the UN.
In the meantime, my droppings from a dove, I clutch the frequent flier points close to what's left of my heart, order two cheeseburgers and think of you.
Your leading paramour,Hussein His Excellency, King of the desert, Father of my nation, leader of the free world, Supremest Commandante, Shree Saddam Hussein.
I still can't figure out if this is an authentic letter, but as for Lajwanti, last heard she's been on indefinite vacation. ¶ 8:12 PM
