Dear Moti Chooor Kay Laddoo!

And so you’d understand why I’m practically itching to take you out of your mithai ka dabba and put you in my juicer-blender and give you a good shake. For all we know, guys like you and their 'secret glances' is probably what keeps cautious mums and dads from sending their daughters to good colleges. I won’t debate on the absolute necessity of having a girl-friend. There's no use going there. You kids are like my two-year old grandson who loves tarbooz. Give it to him on a hot summer afternoon and he could eat a bucket-full. He would also pass it all out unchanged in his pampers (seeds and all) and cry his nostrils out because it gives him diarrhea but he never stops loving it! You see a pattern? You’d continue with your miserable perversions with your sick cell-phone and your dream girl would twist you around her little finger like the ulloo that you are, and your pathetic problems would just about  give Aunty ji a headache and a heart attack, but you’d still want a girlfriend. Kia karein bhayya, khotyan de sir uttay seeng honday te hor ki chyda si!

Mairey bachay, your problem isn’t even a problem! But it’s certainly being blown up into a full-fledged disease by that love-guru of yours. Gurus like him give love a bad name. Teach him a lesson he’d never forget. I’m sure you’d be able to pull off something sufficietly bad-assed to get back at him for messing up your life. But if you have trouble, you’re welcome to borrow the supplies from the ‘Revenge Resources’ pantry I’ve built in my backyard. I could lend you sugar for his gas tank and pointy nails for his car tyres. Maggots for his mattress and lice-infested combs for his hair. A cell-phone and free credit to make anonymous ‘I-know-what-you-did-last-summer’ crank calls from. Jamaal gota for his milk. You name it, I’ve got it!

And when you’re done with that, go home, throw away your contact lenses, put on your glasses and open a book. (A TEXTBOOK! And no, Playboy doesn’t count as one!) Your Aunty ji may be a tired, old lady with painful joints and a waning eye-sight, but if there’s one thing she knows it’s this: The chicks always fall for the nerds. It’s a match made in heaven. Jagger kay bachay, insaan ban! The guitars and the muscles beneath the cool tees and fake accents are just the shoda-pan of youth speaking. They’re fireworks that put on a roaring show at first and then fade, fade, fade from the night-skies forever. Be the ugly nerd that you are instead of the hot hunk that you can nevah evah evah be. If the chick falls for you, good! If she doesn’t, well then there’s no place like Facebook for desperate perverts like you.

P.S. Chura Lya Hai gaanay k lyey shakal bhe tou Vijay Arora jaisi honi chyey, haina baita jee? Is lyey songs pe matt jyey, apni aqal larayey. And jab tak asli wali nahi phansti, Siri se he kaam chalayey!
Good luck!

Aunty ji.