The mail that I wrote to some “editors” of the Business Standard has an interesting afterword. I had a kidney failure in October. When I came back, the editor Ashok Bhattacharya came near the bureau and asked the girl near me, “Madam, Can I have fine minutes of yours, please?” He then said to me, “After she comes back, I want to see you.” He talked to her for the next forty fine minutes. When I went in, he asked, “What happened?” and made a cheap, funny noise like a senile man, “Oh, Oh”. He then said, “We will help you with the work you do.”, ending the discussion in a minute. I thought, “I will see you on Christmas, uncle.” On Christmas, I wrote this email, saying that I will help the editors, that I will teach the semi-literates how to write a decent sentence.I forwarded the mail to Ruchika Chitravanshi, the girl near me. She shared it with everyone.

Ashok later asked me, “Do you talk to people? I know that you talk to your nearest neighbor, the little girl who sits near you.” I said smiling shyly, “It is my nature.” and he said, “I know that it is your nature.” I thought, “You know that I did it to kick your ass, you effete moron!” Then he asked the shameless lady editor to cut my favorite passage. After I told her that I do not even read my pieces after she had touched it, she would not even go to the washroom when I was around. What humiliated him the most was that in the mail, I said that book reviews should be handled by writers with the widest range of knowledge. I was alluding to a book review he had once written. Even the author of the book he reviewed said, not without some sadness, that it seems that he is reading books for the first time in his life. Dirty old man. I should have spitted in his face in front of everyone. I do not know whether he will send his rotten mother to give his bosses a good blowjob, if they asked him to.

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