Dear Hrithik,

For someone who has been shown to start khaping women while baking biscuits, you have some nerve saying your face between Barbara Mori’s choco chips didn’t affect your marriage. I might even have believed it two years ago, but the way you say it - chewing your gum, wearing your khaping Mariachi Band hat and leaving your top four shirt buttons open – ticks me off more than the release of every Uday Chopra re-launch. I mean seriously, just because something has a Mori doesn't mean you khap it.

Do you have any bloody idea how much you have damaged the Indian psyche? Ever since you burst on the scene with Kaho Na Pyaar Hai, men started working on their upper bodies as if it were inflatable bubble wrap. Millions of kids started looking like a cross between Bobby Deol and Ozzy Ozzbourne with tits and chicken legs. But noooo… that wasn’t enough! You had to talk with a fake bloody accent and make every call centre worker in the country imitate your bullshit! Do you know how much business an inbound call centre loses when every employee starts sounding like Sharad Pawar with a salivary gland problem undergoing a root canal? 

But how could you! You were probably busy finger khaping everything that moved. I guess I would too if I had so many thumbs. Emperor Akbar my ass. If I had 12 goddamn fingers even I’d never drop the sword in a fight either. Here’s an idea, why don’t you try for the Indian Olympic fencing team? You’re already used to wearing a mask and dressing like a homosexual on Dominatrix in Spandex night. Or is Krissh worried that his ego might deflate along with the etch a sketch ab? Yeah, I thought so.

And what’s up with your adverts? I know you can dance and have the flexibility of an underage Chinese gymnast, but does that mean every product you endorse include a 2 minute dance performance like someone stuck a live electric wire to your nuts? Or are you generally retarded? I’m thinking the latter – that’s probably why you looked so bloody natural in your performance in Koi Mil Gaya. I doubt anyone sane would submit to being called “Duggu” for the duration of their existence. Or maybe everyone in your family is dyslexic and unable to say Guddu. Oh, wait, that was Darsheel. My bad.

I’m sick and tired of everyone crooning about how you are a Greek god who rocks every movie with his presence. What the khap was Dhoom 2? Did the scriptwriters use your nipples like an ink pen to come up with a plot or were they generally sore because of Abhishek’s Dostana? Let me also remind you of the year 2002 where you gave our industry brilliant hits like “Mujhse Dosti Karoge (which suckered the audience into liking you) “Na Tum Jaano Na Hum” (mimicking the audience reaction at the movie and their entire relationship with you) and Aap Mujhe Acche C#$^&%e Lagne Lage (to complete the trinity) Take my word for it, don’t trust Taran Adarsh – he sells out faster than Danish Kaneria.

And finally, khap you for reducing my career into the leftover dhaniya at the bottom of a tray of masala peanuts. You might think your goldilocks and orange bar like tan, ripping muscles and two cent Latino actresses propels you into the big leagues – but you will always remain Aamir Khan’s ass monkey. Your pop isn’t the only one in the industry with friends and someday, even if its in 2050, “Victory” shall be mine.

P.S. Khap you bitches who think he is hot and ruined a decent intelligent man’s chances.

Regards

Harman Baweja


Image courtesy www.parinda.com