Hello Obamaji?
Excuse me!
I am Khushi Kumari Gupta calling from India.
What? It is 2 am.
Nope. It is 11:30 am. What is wrong with you Obamaji?
Earth rotation, etc. Heard about that? I thought you Indians were good at this science stuff.
Oh, yes. Sorry. But Obamaji, kya aap humaari madad karenge?
Sorry, I didn't quite get that.
Obamaji, will you help me?
Call me Barack. What kind of help?
Oh Barackji, I have done something which might be wrong. I mean it is wrong. Though it was not meant to be wrong.
Huh!
Yes, there is this guy.
Ah, man trouble? Maybe you should speak to Candace Bushnell or better still, Oprah.
Who are these people? Anyway Obamaji, I am convinced that only you can help me.
And why is that? By the way, it is Barack.
Sorry, Barackji. I forgot. Barackji sounds better. Obama sounds too much like Upma, a South Indian breakfast.
What? You know what, write an email and send it off to my office and I promise to consider it with utmost urgency and respond. I have a long day ahead tomorrow. I am campaigning you see.
Yes, I know. I read about it all in the newspapers. Which is why I decided to call you and ask for help.
Really? So what does the Indian press say about me.
They called you an under-achiever. But don't let that bother you, I am sure your voters don't read our newspapers and magazines. But you must help me with this guy, his name is Shyamji.
What about Shyamji? And why is the Indian press being mean?
Because the American press called our Prime Minister an underachiever. So an eye for an eye etc. Shyamji used to be my fiance. But then turned out he was already married to the sister of the dude I kind of had a thing for, who was engaged to this chick I used to tutor.
That sounds like American TV.
Without any kissing though.
For a race that came up the Kama Sutra, that is mighty prissy I must say.
Maybe. But my husband is always trying to kiss me.
Ah. So you are married to someone other than Shyamji.
Yes, that is my problem. I mean, it is obviously not a problem that I didn't marry Shyamji. I mean, my husband is not my problem. I mean, he is not even my husband. Which is somewhat the problem.
Woah! You know my country has a national debt of $16 million. But your problems seem bigger than mine. So why is this dude not your husband? Does he refuse to marry you because of that other dude.. what was his name... ah, yes... Shyamji.
No. We did get married. He blackmailed me into marrying him, in fact.
So, you are separated now. Hmm. I can arrange for some interlocutors for the pair of you. You and your... umm... guy not your husband.
We are not separated. I thought we were married and then realised that we actually were not.
How is that even possible?
It is. Indian culture is complicated.
So this Guy Whom You Formerly Thought Was Your Husband (GWYFTWYH), is he a good guy or bad like that other dude?
GWYFTWYH is amezing.
You mean, amazing, right?
Nope. Amezing.
Do I want to know?
Nope. By the way, GWYFTWYH went to Harvard too. Just like you.
Ah! He must be amezing then. So what is the problem with GWYFTWYH?
He won't talk to me. I pissed him off. I broke his bharosa.
Wait. Is that too much information? Or should I know more.
No, no. I broke his trust.
Ah! As a politician I can tell you this, there is nothing worse than that. Hang up now and call him instead.
Well! He called me, but I didn't speak with him.
What did you do?
I hid my phone under some veggies.
You know what? It was fun talking to you, Khushi, can I call you that? But I must hang up.
Now that we are friends, you can call me anything. You still haven't told me how to fix this Barackji.
So why is GWYFTWYH pissed with you.
Because I did something very...ummm.. noble.
Umm.
Barackji, didn't you get a Nobel Peace Prize some years ago and everyone thought it was completely undeserved. I am afraid, I might get one too. For greatness. And whether I deserve it or not, the jury is still out on that one.
Huh! Are you insulting me? You know CIA and the Intelligence Agencies in your country are probably listening in on this conversation. There might be consequences.
I am used to people misunderstanding me.
I see. So what noble thing did you do that annoyed GWYFTWYH?
I brought back Shyamji to his house even though he had attempted to kill me and GWYFTWYH and made several inappropriate sexual advances on me.
In my country we had a President who waged a war that we shouldn't have. But we gave him a second chance too.
Exactly. I knew you would understand, Barackji. But my ratings with him has taken a hit. In fact, my ratings in general have taken a hit. It is now at 2.3.
Moody's is forever downgrading my credit ratings. Buggers!
So what do you do then, Barackji?
Well, I give clever speeches. You seem like a talker, yourself.
Yes, I am.
I take my beautiful wife and lovely daughters and show them off to the world as we cuddle and kiss. America loves happy families. I don't know what works in India.
Hmm. I guess happy families are all alike.
Yes, that is what Tolstoy said.
Who is Tolstoyji?
A Russian dude. But that is not important. By the way Khushi, why didn't you speak with the President of your country.
Have you ever met Indian bureaucracy?
Hmm. Well it has been nice talking to you. I hope you give GWYFTWYH a nice big kiss and patch up things with him.
But I worry that my kissyface is not my best face. What if I fail miserably? And can one kiss poor ratings away?
Yes, we can!
Where have I heard that before?! Thanks, Mr Presidentji. I hope you get re-elected too.
Thanks, Khushi. It has been nice talking to you. Hang up now and go meet GWYFTWYH.
No, No. I am from Lucknow. You hang up first.
*click*
Edited by Rag1ni - 12 September 2012 at 5:03am
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