Cupid Strikes

(With several hate-mails doing the North-South rounds, it’s time for some fictional love across the borders.)

Hello,

When two fearless and single souls engage in an endearing war of words, then surely it is destiny playing cupid behind the scenes. Please don’t trample my tender outpourings with heavy boots…err sandals of reason, for this letter comes straight from my heart.

Living under house arrest here in UK, I have been watching many Hindi films with English subtitles. Sorry, but it took a Hindi movie for me to recognize your feelers veiled in threats. You see, while watching, ‘Pagla kahin ka’ I realized that an archetype of a Bollywood coy heroine, before falling head over heels (that reminds me of your sandals) in love for the hero fondly calls him awaara , paglaa, or deewana. Ahh...so you called me mad out of love.

So far my exposes have evoked either a silence or a denial, but not a single soul organized a press conference to label me a mad man. Thank God you did! For that’s when I saw you on TV.
The smoldering eyes, the enviable duskiness, the olive skin, the cropped hair and the pink dress have resulted in many a sleepless nights. I toss and turn as I imagine myself slipping sandals on your dainty feet. People call me a whistle blower but honestly for you, I am ready to blow the whistle until my last breath.

I have missed much in life as I did not have a companion but now I am smitten by your adorable anger. I promise to taste food, water and air before every morsel you eat, every sip you take and every breath you inhale. I sense a fire burning on both sides. Why else would you want me in Agra mental asylum, in Mayaland?

Together we will expose your opponents, strip them and make sure that they are writhing on a mat. Together we will create a proud Aussie Dalit legacy, one sandstone elephant at a time. Together we shall travel in your private jet and collect exotic footwear from around the world.
Quite coincidentally, as I write this letter the music wafting from my TV has a baritone voice reciting, “Kabhie kabhie mere dil mein khayal aata hai, ki jaise….”

Longing for the next opportunity to meet and hoping for an asylum. Even the mental one will do for I am in love over your celebrated heels.

Ever yours,

Mayasmitten
Julian Assange