Bin Laden In Love

(I have been in introspection mode for the past few days. What is life, but a series of complicated relationships? The one I’m in love with is in love with someone else. And see the irony, he wants me to convey his message to his inamorata. Here I have been singing love songs for Awesome bin Laden for so many years, and he seems to have fallen for someone who might not even care for his feelings. What follows is a letter he wanted me to publish.)

Arundhati Rao amid Maoist

Praise be to Allah who created the creation for His worship and commanded them to be just and permitted the wronged ones to retaliate against the oppressor in kind. Peace be upon he who follows the guidance.

Arundhati Roy, oh the glorious one! The erudite, the intellectual, the courageous one, you are like a clear stream flowing through a pristine jungle, like a piece of divine music played on an oud, like a jannat ki hoor on a mission on this earth. I like, I like. All praise is due to Allah.

Together we can crush imperialism and make keema and kebab from it to feed our lovely monsters. I want you to visit our hideouts in Pakistan and Afghanistan and write about our beautiful way of living, which is under attack from the capitalists. Death to America.

By the grace of Allah, you have captured my heart as no one else has ever before. I fantasize running around the rocks with you, singing, “Tu mujhe kabool, main tujhe kabool.”

It wasn’t always like this. When I first read your book, The God of Small Things, in 1997, thinking it was a holy book, and would do me some good in afterlife, I suffered bouts of vomiting and intense disgust. I wanted to fly an airplane into the Harper Flamingo office building in New York.

However, just as in the story, The Pearl of Love, a king builds a magnificent monument in the memory of his beloved, but in the end gets her old-fashioned coffin removed, I too got involved in a bigger cause and forgot about the ordeal of reading your book. The plan later materialized with astounding results and made a legend out of me, but believe me your book had started it all. Death to America.

Now, by the grace of Allah, I came across your essay, Walking With The Comrades, on outlookindia.com. Barely had I been a few lines into it that I was smitten by your charms. I felt as if you were describing our struggle. Just change the names of people and places and it becomes our story. I don’t want to confess this, but you made me cry, Arundhati, yes you did. No one else had ever moved me in such a way. I keep on gazing at your pictures on my iPad. Can’t put it under my pillow for fear of crushing it. I had ordered a copy of Outlook magazine for that purpose.

You have occupied my heart and captured my soul. Oh beauty, come and live with us. Wave your magic pen on our struggle. I promise to provide you with the most beautiful room you have ever slept in. It will be your private suite in a thousand-star hotel. You will be surrounded by strange, beautiful children with their curious arsenal. All jihadists for sure. You will be surprised by how much you will love being at the star-spangled dormitory. There will be nowhere else in the world that you would rather like to be. Umm…I’m thinking who would you be during the nights. Mujahid Rahel under the stars? Allah is our guardian and helper. All peace be upon he who follows the guidance.

If you suffered from folic acid deficiency, I would certainly order my cook to make your favorite red ant’s chutney, chapoli. Otherwise, scorpion chutney and snake pickles are no less delicious. Death to America.

These days, I spend my time either browsing your essay, or listening to 'Daghe-e-dil humko yaad ane lage' by Iqbal Bano—I know it’s on your iPod—or watching Umm Kulthum.


(Awesome, may you find happiness with your sweetheart in your safe house, or in the Tora Bora cave, or wherever you live. Do you think you are too good for me, or what? You are so cruel. ‘Mujhko to qatil ki itni pehchan hai, dadhi wala chehra hai dil beiman hai.’ You are a ruthless killer indeed. How could you be so heartless? Oh…how could you be so heartless?)

(Picture courtesy outlookindia.com)