GOPAL WRITES FUNNY LETTER

REVIEWS OF "The Inscrutable Americans" by Anurag Mathur 

"Anurag Mathur ... is the toast of India's capital ... (His) tale of a subcontinental bumpkin at sea in the American heartland has struck a chord with Indian intellectuals...." - International Herald Tribune 

"Anurag Mathur's book brings us face to face with the US from a delightfully new angle... A highly readable book, 'The Inscrutable Americans" is, like (its) protagonist, funny, thoughtful and astute in equal measure." - Business India 

"Leafing through Anurag Mathur's 'The Inscrutable Americans', (one) can see that this book must be a very popular read...." - The Telegraph 

"There is no self-contempt or post-colonial anguish in 'The Inscrutable Americans', instead there is a boisterous, if comical celebration of both India and America." - The Times of India 

"Through his disastrous English and pious judgements (his ears ringing with predictions of doom from mother and grandmother if he so much as looked at beef or girls), Gopal retains a gentle dignity and a startling shrewdness... In the process he arouses an exasperated affection from friends, colleagues, teachers and most of all the readers...." - Indian Express 

Anurag Mathur: THE INSCRUTABLE AMERICANS (RUPA PAPERBACK) 

The title of this novel reminds Me that God is Frustratingly Inscrutable.

Kishalay Sinha [G] 

NAZIS BEFORE HANGING 

When I hear frighrened Nazis on TV, they sound like they are saying their last words before getting hanged.

Kishalay Sinha [G]

Dr. Harsh Vardhan, Health Minister of India 

Dr. Harsh Vardhan, Health Minister of India, has a fake medical degree, and did not practise for a single day, but despite his fake medical degree, he became a prominent member of Indian Medical Association. (Google source)

WHO?

Reminds Me of f. Emperor of India f. Harsh Vardhan - f. reincarnation...

Kishalay Sinha [G] April 12, 2020 

GOPAL WRITES FUNNY LETTER 

Beloved Younger Brother,

Greetings to Respectful Parents. I am hoping all is well with health and wealth. I am fine at my end. Hoping your end is fine too. With God's grace and Parents' Blessings I am arriving safely in America and finding good apartment near University. Kindly assure Mother that I am strictly consuming vegetarian food only in restaurants though I am not knowing if cooks are Brahmins. I am also constantly remembering Dr. Verma's advice and strictly avoiding American women and other unhealthy habits. I hope Parents' Prayers are residing with me. 

Younger Brother, I am having so many things to tell you I am not knowing where to start. The flight from New Delhi to New York is arriving safely thanks to God's Grace and Parents' Prayers and mine too. I am not able to go to bathroom whole time because I am sitting in corner seat as per Revered Grandmother's wish. Father is rightly scolding that airplane is flying too high to have good view. Still please tell her I have done needful. 

But, brother, in next two seats are sitting two old gentle ladies and if I am getting up then they are put in lot of botheration so I am not getting up for bathroom except when plane is stopping for one hour at London. Many foods are being served in carts but I am only eating cashewnuts and bread because I am not knowing what is food and what is meat. I am having good time drinking 37 glasses of Coca-Cola.

They are rolling down a screen and showing film but I am not listening because air hostess ladies are selling head phones for 2 dollars which is Rs. 26 and in our beloved Jajau town we can sit in balcony seats in Regal Talkies for only Rs. 3. I am asking lady if they are giving student discount but she is too busy. I am also asking her for more Coca-Cola but she is looking like she is weeping and walking away. I think perhaps she is not understanding proper English.

Then I am sleeping long time after London and when I am waking it is like we are flying over sea of lights. Everywhere, brother, as far as I am seeing there are lights lights. It is like God has made carpet of lights.Then we are landing in New York and plane is going right up to door so that we are not having to walk in cold. I must say Americans are very advanced. And as I am leaving airplane, air hostess is giving me one more can of Coca-Cola. Her two friends are also with her but why they are laughing so much I do not know. I think these Americans are strange but friendly people in their hearts. I hope she was not laughing for racial. Perhaps she was feeling shy earlier.

Then I am going to long bathroom. As I am leaving I am making first friend in America. This is negro [taboo word, "black" is used now] gentleman named Joe [Joseph] who is standing at door and as I am opening it he is holding out hand so I am shaking it and telling him my name and he is telling me his. I am telling him if he is ever coming to Jajau he can ask for National Hair Oil Factory. If I have not returned from Higher Studies please tell Father that if negro gentleman named Joe is visiting he may kindly do needful.

Joe is doubtful I feel because he says "Far out, man, far out," but I am reassuring him that India is only 16 hours away by plane and that is not very far.

Next I go to place marked "Baggage" as Father has advised and suddenly place I am sitting starts to move throwing me. It is like python we once saw in forest, only rattling and with luggage bouncing on its back and sometimes leaping to attack passengers. I am also throwing myself on bag before it is escaping. I think if I am not wrestling it down it would revert to plane and back home to India. I am only joking of course.

Before this I am meeting very friendly gentleman at Immigration desk. I do not know why all relatives had warned against this man, because he is so friendly. He is talking English strangely but is having kind heart because he is asking me about nuts and I am saying that I am liking very much and eating many on plane. "Totally, totally nuts," he is saying, which is I feel American expression for someone fond of cashewnuts.

Before this he is showing friendliness by asking "How is it going?" I am telling him fully and frankly about all problems and hopes, even though you may feel that as American he may be too selfish to bother about decline in price of hair oil in Jajau town. But, brother, he is listening very quietly with eyes on me for ten minutes and then we are having friendly talk about nuts and he is wanting me to go.

At Customs, brother, I am getting big shock. One fat man is grunting at me and looking cleverly from small eyes. "First visit?" he is asking. "Yes," I am agreeing. "Move on," he is saying making chalk marks on bags. As I am picking up bags he is looking directly at me and saying "Watch your ass."

Now, brother, this is wonderful. How he is knowing we are purchasing donkey? I think they are knowing everything about everybody who is coming to America. They are not allowing anybody without knowing his family and financial status and other things. And we are only buying donkey two days before my departure. I think they are keeping all information in computers. Really these Americans are too advanced.

But, brother, now I am worrying. Supposing this is CIA keeping watch or else how they can know about our donkey? Anyway please do not tell Mother and Father or they are worrying, but lock all doors and windows. If CIA wants to recruit me to be spy in Jajau, I will gladly take poison before betraying our Motherland.

Then I am going out and cousins are waiting and receiving me warmly. I will write soon after settling down.

Your brother,

Gopal 

(pages 9-12)

"What are Indian girls like?"

"I am not knowing much," confessed Gopal, "but why you are called Randy?"

"Because I am. That's why, I guess. And I am because that's my name, know what I mean?"

"No."

"Well hell, aren't Indian guys Randy?"

"Yes, some boys, but ..."

"You mean you don't go out on dates and stuff?"

"Well in the cities every one is doing, but ours is small town, so..."

"You mean you've never been on a date?"

"Well..."

"Aw come on, you must've laid a couple of girls by now, huh?"

"No, actually..."

"You mean you're actually a virgin?"

Gopal nodded shamefacedly.

"Well, holy shit, I don't think I've ever met one before. It's not infectious, is it? Stay away from me. Can I get it just by looking at you? Hot damn boy, thank you, you've given my life meaning and a direction and a goal."

"What?" stuttered Gopal.

"I'm going to get you laid. Yes sir, you heard me right. I do hereby swear as a red-blooded American, that before you go back to India, I'm going to get you right royally laid from sea to shining sea so help me God."

"Hey, heh," simpered Gopal. "No, no," he protested with a noticeable lack of vigour. "I cannot do all that and all that and things like that."

"Oh yes, you can do all that and all that and believe it or not, even things like that. Do you have a phone here [with you]? I'm going to call Hot Pants Holly* and get this over with right away."

Gopal shied away in alarm. "No, no, no phone yet," he said in relief. This was moving a little too fast for him. 

(p. 44-45)

***

Gopal preoccupied himself with exams and term papers. He was leaving before the results were declared, because, another sign of the tentacles of India reaching out to reclaim him, he had to reach in time for a wedding in the family.

It all passed in a blur. Exams, packing, the farewell to the staff that he rushed through. Randy brought Ann to his apartment and she gave him a long, lingering, regretful kiss. 

"You don't know what you've missed, honey," she told an amazed Gopal. 

As he packed the last of his toilet gear in the handbag, he felt like he was putting in the final moments of his life in Eversville. 

Gopal presented the last of his hair oil to Randy, who accepted it with apparent gratitude.

As they loaded the bag in the car, Gloria came rushing.

"Here," she thrust an envelope into Gopal's hand.

She gave him a tight hug. "Go now." She turned and ran back.

Gopal shoved the envelope into his pocket and they drove away.

"We're late, I just know we're late," chanted Randy.

They pulled up outside the airport entrance and Randy helped Gopal lug the bags and check in.

"You better hurry, sir," the lady said. 

She had red hair and something about that stirred in Gopal's memory. But he was busy saying goodbye.

"Well, brother," he shook Randy's hand, "thank you for everything."

Randy grinned awkwardly. "I hope you had a good time. Stay in touch now."

They shook hands formally again.

"I hope I am seeing you soon in India?"

"Absolutely. I'll write you first."

Gopal thought, he hasn't mentioned a harem.

They shook hands some more.

"Right," said Randy increasingly ill at ease. "Be seeing you. Take care." He waved, walking backward.

Suddenly Gopal remembered. "Randy," his voice was loud.

Randy stopped.

"Are red-headed girls," Gopal's voice was a loud whisper, "red all over?" 

Randy appeared to buckle. He hugged himself, waved a last time and turned and ran. Gopal thought his eyes had looked wet.

Gopal walked to the passage leading to the aircraft. His own throat felt craggy. Nice boy, he thought to himself as he buckled himself in, but a bit strange. He tasted the salt in his mouth and wept a little.

At New York he got off and was met by Sunil with great warmth. 

"So, you're going back home, eh? How was Eversville?"

Gopal struggled with himself, but he stayed cool. "It is being kind of neat."

"Great. Glad you liked it."

Gopal's flight left late at night so they drove to Manhattan. Gopal had been drinking throughout the flight from Eversville.

"So where d'you want to go to Gopal?"

"Any bar."

"Right."

They parked and walked into a bar.

Gopal drank steadily, answering Sunil in monosyllables 

Finally Sunil asked, "So tell me, Gopal, what were the girls like? You have a lot of girlfriends?" 

"No."

"None?"

"No."

"Shit. What happened? You mean you're going back after a year in America without getting laid?"

"Yes."

"Jesus, I hope the Tourist Office doesn't hear of this. It'll ruin business. I mean we can't let that happen, can we?"

"Gods," Gopal said thickly, "against it."

"Oh nonsense," encouraged Sunil. "This is America. American gods love it."

Gopal shook his head groggily. "No use."

"Wait and watch. We can't let this happen. America would close down."

Sunil got up and walked away. He returned in a while.

"There's a blonde sitting in that corner table. The bartender says 50 bucks is what it takes. I've paid him. It's my farewell present to you. Go get'em boy."

"No use," intoned Gopal. "Gods."

"Go try it," urged Sunil. "It's all bought and paid for."

Gopal staggered forward and saw the blonde. She stepped out and Gopal followed her uneasily down into a basement. Gopal unzipped himself. Gods, he thought to himself sadly, but he was starting to get interested. Excitement began to stir in him. The girl was half-lying on the bed. She had taken off her shoes, her blonde wig, her clothes and she was quite obviously a man. 

"C'mon honey," the harsh masculine voice grated, "I ain't got all night."

"Gods," he said aloud. He walked to the door and opened it. "Hey," said the rough voice, "you paid for it. You want it or not?" 

Gopal noticed he had black hair all over. Dispiritedly he closed the door behind him and walked up. 

Sunil looked at him in surprise. "That was quick."

Gopal smiled sadly.

"Well let's go." Sunil put his glass down with a thud.

On the drive he asked, "Everything okay?"

"Yes."

"Did you like the girl?"

"Very nice girl."

"Great." Sunil was relieved. "At least you haven't made history."

(p. 241-245)

***

Gopal sleepwalked through check in and walked up to the first class lounge. He sat down heavily and began to drink again. After a while he noticed a woman in a sari sitting opposite, matching him drink for drink. She smiled at him and got up and walked around a bit before sitting next to him. She was in her early forties, had fashionably short hair, expensive ear-rings, but a pleasant rather than beautiful face.

Gopal warmed to her and almost as though he couldn't stop, related his sorrow at his leaving America. He found from her that she was married, had a son studying in America in college who she had come to visit. As they drifted in their mutual alcoholic cloud into the aircraft, they sat on adjacent seats in the first class section. As the great craft rose towards the dew drop stars, they whispered their secrets.

Gopal told her of his disasters with women. She told him of how her husband ignored her and tried to seduce every girl he met. They drank more. Dinner was offered and refused, and now the lights were lowered. They burrowed in the softness of the cushions they had been given. They clung to one another, afraid of the morrow but able to ignore it in their contentment with each other.

At some point they had begun to kiss while talking. And then they stopped talking. Gopal forgot this was a woman so much older. He felt absorbed by her. He felt his cheeks wet with tears, his and theirs, and when he lurched into the bathroom, she went with him. And there, 30,000 feet above the ocean, Gopal at last felt he had truly become a man.

He went back to his seat and felt instantly asleep. When he woke up, the plane was taking off from London and the woman was gone, obviously having disembarked there. Awake yet disoriented, refreshed yet disbelieving, Gopal wondered if he had imagined it all. He stretched and felt something crinkle in his pocket. He fished it out and it was Gloria's envelope. It had his recent companion's name and address on it too. He opened the envelope and took out the letter. He carefully put the envelope with its address in his wallet. He was determined to see her again. He read Gloria's poem.

I wish we had got some time,

so I could make you mine.

I know you'll find a love as fine,

In some unexpected time.

Gopal laughed. He laughed all the way home.

(p. 245-247)

- Anurag Mathur: "The Inscrutable Americans" (RUPA & Co.)

Kishalay Sinha [G] 

GETTING LAID 

"What are Indian girls like?"

"I am not knowing much," confessed Gopal, "but why you are called Randy?"

"Because I am. That's why, I guess. And I am because that's my name, know what I mean?"

"No."

"Well hell, aren't Indian guys Randy?"

"Yes, some boys, but ..."

"You mean you don't go out on dates and stuff?"

"Well in the cities every one is doing, but ours is small town, so..."

"You mean you've never been on a date?"

"Well..."

"Aw come on, you must've laid a couple of girls by now, huh?"

"No, actually..."

"You mean you're actually a virgin?"

Gopal nodded shamefacedly.

"Well, holy shit, I don't think I've ever met one before. It's not infectious, is it? Stay away from me. Can I get it just by looking at you? Hot damn boy, thank you, you've given my life meaning and a direction and a goal."

"What?" stuttered Gopal.

"I'm going to get you laid. Yes sir, you heard me right. I do hereby swear as a red-blooded American, that before you go back to India, I'm going to get you right royally laid from sea to shining sea so help me God."

"Hey, heh," simpered Gopal. "No, no," he protested with a noticeable lack of vigour. "I cannot do all that and all that and things like that."

"Oh yes, you can do all that and all that and believe it or not, even things like that. Do you have a phone here [with you]? I'm going to call Hot Pants Holly* and get this over with right away."

Gopal shied away in alarm. "No, no, no phone yet," he said in relief. This was moving a little too fast for him. 

(p. 44-45)

*[Compare Captain Ms. Holly, female leader of underground Nazi "fairies", who was "kidnapped" by the young "criminal mastermind" Artemis Fowl, Hero of the Artemis Fowl young adult fiction series. - G]

(From Anurag Mathur: "THE INSCRUTABLE AMERICANS", Rupa.)

I have successfully eluded top Nazi honeytraps* in Guwahati, Mumbai, UIUC, UIC, vicious Nazi honey traps let loose by panic-stricken Nazis who desperately wanted to prevent My bringing immortality to the human race, denied immortality for billions of years by Satan and his evil gang of humanoid male and female Nazis on and inside earth, living in extreme panic, scared of God and invisible psycho-technologists.

*thousands of vicious Nazi clones worldwide e.g. mass murderer Nazi bitch "Dr." Margaret Chan, W.H.O. 

Kishalay Sinha [G]

BLACK MONEY IN SWISS BANKS 

Not a single paisa has been brought back from the vast amount of Indian cheats' black money hidden in Swiss banks. 

Kishalay Sinha [G]  

POWERFUL COMIC THRILLER 

"THE COUNTRY IS GOING TO THE DOGS", by Anurag Mathur, published by RUPA (168 pages, in paperback, ₹195), is a powerful comical mystery thriller involving Radhey Radhey/RR and John, Kristoff, Miss Fifoo, who run an international sex and drugs racket, written in a hilarious style. It is a terrific thriller, stylishly written. I regard Anurag Mathur as the equal of great humorists Charles Dickens, Stephen Leacock, James Thurber, P.G. Wodehouse. (I wonder if it is a ghost-written novel attributed to a real or fictional male author.)

I have all the three humorous novels by Anurag Mathur published so far: "THE INSCRUTABLE AMERICANS" (the naive hero of the novel, Gopal, who has gone to America to study at an American university, seems to be a parody of Me), published by RUPA, I think (it must be on a bookshelf in My personal library, and I will have to check the name of the publisher); "THE COUNTRY IS GOING TO THE DOGS", published by RUPA (₹195); MAKING THE MINISTER SMILE, published by PENGUIN BOOKS (₹250); "उफ़फ़ ! ये अमरीकी" (Hindi translation of "THE INSCRUTABLE AMERICANS" translated by शिवानी खरे), published by PENGUIN BOOKS (price not given or legible; I got it from Flipkart).

 

Description of the novel on the cover of "THE COUNTRY IS GOING TO THE DOGS":

'YOU ARE SURELY AWARE THAT THE FAMOUS FILM STAR, MISS FIFOO, IS ONE OF OUR MOST FAMOUS OLD STUDENTS.' [...] 'OF COURSE, OF COURSE,' RR REASSURED HER. [...] THE PRINCIPAL NODDED. 'WELL,' SHE THEN SAID GRIMLY, 'SHE'S DISAPPEARED.'

Sitting by the window, watching the girls of All Saints College walk past, Radhey Radhey has nothing much to look forward to in his boring retiree's life until Miss Fifoo, 'the sizzling sex siren of sin city', goes missing.

With the help of his very resourceful friend Anwar, ageing RR turns into an enthusiastic amateur detective and plunges headlong into the murky underworld of Delhi. On this dangerously exciting mission, which takes him to gay bashes and wife-swapping parties, he encounters shady characters such as the Poetic Pimp, who is fond of quoting English poetry; and the malicious Don, who owns every badass in town; as well as the Guru of the Hijras.

In this boisterous thriller, The Country Is Going to the Dogs, join the over-sexed retired accountant, RR, on a wild ride as he dives into the sexual underbelly of Delhi.

Excerpt: 

'Chee, chee, chee,' lamented Radhey Radhey Kumar, seventy-four years old. 'The nation has gone to the dogs.' He was critical once again, as he was nearly every day, of the younger specimen of the female species his eyes fell on, as he gazed out of his office window at the All Saints Women's College, just across the road.

'Such tight, tight jeans,' he criticized. So tight, that if he looked hard enough, he could see the outline of their underwear. 'Not that I would ever look so hard,' he assured himself. 'And such tight T-shirts. Goodness me, they may as well not even wear them. But in my days... ah in my days, women knew how to dress, how to walk, how to talk. But now, it was all sex, sex and nothing else.' Or so he had heard. 'How times have changed,' he sighed.

(From ANURAG MATHUR: "THE COUNTRY IS GOING TO THE DOGS", RUPA, ₹ 195)

Nazi males and females pretend to "die", secretly get revived by other Nazis, and transform their bodies into many other forms and many clones as reincarnations.

Kishalay Sinha [G]

UNREAL ALIENS (PENGUIN BOOKS)

Unreal Aliens - Official Trailer (1:26)/ Unreal Mama (YouTube)

Unreal Aliens (41:31)/The Carvaka Podcast (YouTube)

Karthik Laxman: UNREAL ALIENS, Penguin Books/Penguin Random House India; ISBN 978-0-143-42310-2; paperback; 226 pages; ₹199

Hilarious and highly entertaining. I am sure that this brilliant sarcastic novel is a ghost-written work by a powerful anonymous ghost writer who has very high level international connections and knows that God is crushing Nazis to smithereens.

From the cover of UNREAL ALIENS:

A brilliantly funny political satire from the founder of UnReal Times 

For the first time in human history, a nation is playing host to an alien delegation. And it is Narendra Modi-led India that has this high honour. Prime Minister Modi rolls out the red carpet for the aliens. He receives them at the airport, shows them the sights of Delhi and convinces them to invest in the Make in India campaign. The leader of the alien delegation even holds a broom to promote Swachh Bharat. But what is the real reason the aliens have come to India? Are they friends? Or will they turn foes? Read this hilarious, rib-tickling novel to find out.

Kishalay Sinha [G] 

ALIENS HAVE COME FOR MODI 

I think aliens have come to India in search of Modi in UNREAL ALIENS (Penguin Books).

Kishalay Sinha [G]