Our Dear Kamala,
As you know it’s been a week of mixed fortunes for us. On one hand, while Chennai was declared third most asingam city in India, you, dear girl, have been selected to be Joe Biden’s running mate. It is a huge victory for all of us Madras-vasis and an even bigger one for us elite Besant Nagar nivasis (even though, personally, I’m not in favour of the word ‘mate’ or that it is preceded by the word ‘running’).
Just the other day, as I was reading Tangy Tart Hot & Sweet (not an autobiography, I caution readers), I realised that its author, Padma Lakshmi, is a Besant Nagar ponnu, too. While she is currently ruling the culinary world dressed in fetching gear, with her recipes of curd rice with manga thokku, you, precious child, will be ruling, well, the world. What a double coincidence that your names, Padma and Kamala, both mean lotus. You can’t imagine how proud that makes us feel.
First things first. What are you going to do for Us? That’s how you should see the post of VP of US. I have a few ideas.
Your hometown’s reputation, as you know, has taken a blow. Please direct NASA to shoot some purifying lasers every day at us to vaporise the morning asingam along our beautiful coastline. It is all that rampant Number One and Number Two which has put our city at Number Three.
Secondly, and this is important, could you reduce the onslaught of classical danseuses who arrive in droves here every December? It is becoming difficult for us, dear. The arangetram upon arangetram of hapless US-born Indian children at various sabhas has taken a serious toll on our collective health. Tell the Bay Area Akkas to slow down, no? Would be eternally grateful if you could put an embargo of some sort.
Now that we have got what you can do for Us in your janmabhoomi out of the way, let us come to the equally important matter of what you can do for Us in your karmabhoomi.
As prescribed by the Vedas, all Besant Nagar residents have a minimum of one sibling in America. And despite our best efforts, we have to visit during kolus, graduations and proms from time to time. Whenever I visit my brother-in-law, and he takes us to the neighbourhood temple or the microbrewery depending on what day of the week it is, I find it hard to be neatly attired. It is impossible to have properly ironed clothes in the US. My suggestion is that you give Marimuthu, our local istriwallah, a visa on a war footing. The gated community in Seattle I frequent sure could do with one. It will be only a matter of time before Marimuthu, resourceful fellow that he is, sets up istri vandis all across the US with his many cousins who run a sort of an istri mafia in Besant Nagar, and ensures Americans finally have pants that have a respectable crease.
Similarly, I think the US needs potti kadais, too. Whenever I go on my evening stroll, I kind of miss my ritual of lighting up a Gold Flake Kings, sucking on a kadalai muttai, and greeting everyone who passes by with a cheery ‘Wassup, thambi’.
Next step, auto-rickshaws, and Kamala ponnu, you chaps can call yourselves a truly developed nation. Also, if possible, alter spelling to Harish. Trust me, you’ll defeat Biden and become Prez. Then nobody can stop Us.
With blessings,
Kittu Chittappa
Krishna Shastri Devulapalli is a satirist. He has written four books and edited an anthology.
