Aaj kal na roads pe chalna, tehelna really mushkil ho gaya hai. I’m always scared that those two gori-gori chicks, Trinny and Susannah, will pounce on me.

You see, after lifting spirits and sagging boobies in the UK, they have now arrived in India and can be found policing the streets of Mumbai and Delhi, looking for losers like me — out of shape bodies that are covered to be invisible to the world.
I, for example, have days when I only wear dirty-white rajaicovers because either nothing fits me, or when something does fit me, it’s from the days when men and women sat on tree branches and sang nasal songs to each other, which, loosely translated, went: “Dear, I would like to a turn into a forest chirpy, and go chirpy-chirpy in the forest...”
What’s worse is that Trinny & Susannah (TLC) have no laaj, no sharam. They ambush women while they are doing every day, mundane things in public places, like walking around markets aimlessly, and start insulting them bhare-bazaar. “You are hiding from the world! Surely you don’t go to parties, surely you don’t like hanging with friends! Surely your life is one long chore!”
Safed chudails.
Yeh bhi koi baat hui? Kissiyan-vissiyan kar ke they dump on you. Like they did to Leena Bhasin, 32, whom they caught in Khan Market and asked, “Why do you think you dress like this, darling? You look old.” They did the same to this adorable wrestler Deepika. And this mother-daughter team — glamour-babe mommy, dumpy daughter. Most of the women Tri & Su corner have grown up with families and friends telling them that their legs are manly, that they have big-big dole-shole, and it’s best that they not be seen. That is why, after T&S piss on you and give you low self-esteem, you quietly follow them to their studios, to do their bidding. There they squeeze your stuff and make you try on one ugly ensemble after another: “Change your bra. Your body shape is that of a skittle. You have nice boobies.” And because they want you to wear stuff that would be considered a public offence, they utter big-big jhoots. They wanted to get this motu mummyji into a figure-hugging Size 800 orange dress. So they told her, “Oh, your shape is like Marilyn Monroe’s.” Hain?!? Mummyji was more like a team of Marilyn Monroes, all 11 of them.
After the women are brainwashed and made to love themselves, they arrive all groomed and nahai-dhoi to walk the ramp in front of their gaping families who are mostly thinking, “Mummyji, where’s your salwar?”, or, “Baby, where is your dimag?”
Kuch toh agenda hai, yeh Trinny and Susannah ka, that they are getting all our bharatiya naris into western dresses. Mujhe toh lagta hai that it’s to help all the fira-ngi clothing brands that have come to India. Because, you see, young-young girls happily wear dresses, but the older lot only stares longingly at dresses in shop windows, not daring to even touch one lest the annoying sales girls and their gay brethren fall on the floor laughing.
Whatever their business plan, and despite their limited and rather boring fashion sense, what Tri & Su manage to do for some women is quite amazing. Because, you see, burqa is not the only cloak of invisibility. Most Indian women are trained to hate their bodies and so as soon as they are married and have bachchas, they slip into sacks and rajaicovers and become dead to the world.
So, madam, the next time you put on something, ask yourself, “Are my clothes a wall between me and the world?”
If the answer is yes, then take off your clothes and stand in front of a mirror. If you don’t like what you see, immediately get back into your sack. It’s best, I think, for you and us, that you choose to stay adrishya.
But if you like what you see, then rush to the two white women loitering on the streets and lure them with your baggy track pants and two-size-too-large sweat-shirt. They just can’t get past that.