Letter to the Delhi Hooligan

Dear Delhi Hooligan,

Congratulations on your new hooliganism.

Just when we think we have seen the worst of your atrocities, there you are with another unimaginable one to shock us. You never seem to limit yourself. You have managed to stretch way beyond the limits of the most heinous evil that could put even Satan to shame. Three cheers to you for your fearlessness. Leave alone the fear of law or the police; you are not even fearful of challenging the very basis of humanity. As I along with every other Indian pray and wish, that from now on you just have the most abominable 'what you can no longer even call life'. I can’t start to imagine how aggravated or frustrated you must be and what a liability your life must be on this planet to even start thinking of something which you have done. Any person who knows you even remotely must be so disgraced and embarrassed. How suicidal your parents or spouse must feel. Hope you did not beget any monsters as yourself; we are struggling to eradicate you and your likes in the first place.

Though I still fail to understand what you seek. If it is only about your carnal needs, we could give you some alms. In fact, we could have a hooligan fund where you could draw from, whenever you have the 'urge' rather than running around like a maniac. Go ahead, take some charity and find somebody willing, go, shoo....

Dear Delhi hooligan, your nuisance on the roads and at public places was enough for me to despise Delhi. Sometimes you were in the guise of the rich Delhi brat who shot me for not serving liquor or you shot me because I asked you to pay the toll. At other times, speeding in your drunken state, you decided to slaughter my life which you thought cheap. You robbed me outside the malls, you pinched me on the bus, you winked at me while I was in the market or you passed a lewd remark when I was simply walking on the street. I fail to understand what pleasure you get from doing any of that when I don’t even show any remote sign of appreciation for any of your action. Wouldn't your efforts be better spent at someplace where they would be better admired? I don't know if you are the person standing next to me in the metro or the auto driver. I don't know if you are the vegetable vendor or the person at the ticket counter. How many people can I mistrust?  

All thanks to you and the lack of justice to the growing numbers like yours, I hate to be called a Delhiite, an Indian.