MARD: Mustache Against Rabri & Dahi-Chaat

To

Ms. J. Tongue

Behind The Incisor Club

Male Oral Cavity

Obese Male Body – 44”46”42”

Dear Ms. Tongue,

I write this letter to you as a disgruntled neighbor. I have never expressed my unhappiness at your uncouth behavior, reflected not just in the way you talk, but also in the way you express your desire to exchange saliva with every ingestible on this planet. I thought your brothers, the incisors, had enough sense to punish you for your loose character by giving you a hard bite sometime, but it pains me to see that they are themselves into chewing hard sugar boiled candies. It’s sad how they’re not just spoiling you, but also constantly wasting the enamel that they had inherited. But, who am I to complain when the whole family survives on such acts of indecency!

I do not care for how your family goes about doing its personal business, but it is beyond my tolerability to see you create filth around my property. I know you’re used to having the whole compound to yourself. I wasn’t there for fourteen years, when you fro-licked around on this piece of land, but I believe it is about time that you accept the fact that the land was given to you only on lease and is now part of my personal property.

I let you use my space for a long time, when I was young, even after I got my occupancy rights. Your guests, the milk shake, the cotton candy and the chewing gum would keep coming on to my space, and I did not have a problem because I thought it was harmless fun. I used to love it when the slender fingers would come, touch me and police your visitors away to your abode. But I did not know that my silence would lead to acts that would compel me to write this letter.

I believe you have a plethora of lovers, all of them visiting you time and again. I remember the backward, southern parts complain about your dirty habits and how they were suffering because of your indulgent behavior, which you so inconsiderately term as “hot and spicy”. I never paid much heed to all of that, thinking that who gives a poop to them anyway. But now, you have crossed the upper lip and I will not stay silent.

I almost died of embarrassment when I noticed your lover, the Rabri, hanging on to me like a shameless suicide case, when I got back home from my cousin’s wedding and looked into the mirror. I figured that all the bridesmaids were not smiling at me because they were impressed, but because your diabetic, chape of a boyfriend was making me look like a buffoon throughout the wedding ceremonies. I remained calm, only to see that the following day, another of your lovers, the Dahi-Chaat was trying to escape when he saw your third lover entering. I mean, this is the height! Your local road-pati boyfriends create a mess around my house and publicly embarrass me to no extent! On top of it, when I asked you to clean the mess, you complain that I am prickly? I’ve had enough!

It was a different scenario when I was young. I’m a full grown handlebar mustache now. It is my sincere request, and a serious warning, that you may not indulge in any more loose behavior. It is causing immense trouble to our conservative and purdah-nasheen brothers from the backward southern states; creating massive amount of difficulty for the legs due to the increase in the digits on your pincode; and bringing shame to the shaan of my good self.

“Mard jeebh katwa sakte hain par moonchh mundva nahi sakte”.

Yours masculinely,

The Moonchh

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I would like to give credit for the title to Pranav Karnad, a person who I do not personally know, but who wrote an unrelated article by the same title here: MARD- Moustaches against Rabri chaat and Dahi puri.