Oh How I wish I was Pakistani

I grew up being a fairly patriotic chap. As I read my history books I got to know that sveral summers ago, when the British managed to dismember India and make something called Pakistan out of it, our founding fathers gave Pakistan a princely sum of Rs 55 crores to wipe the muck off its umblical cord. I felt very good.
Then I learnt that it sent raiders- tribals idiots who knew nothing but the mosque, the gun and marrying younger woman every five years- to take back Kashmir in 1947. Our soldiers beat the shit out of most these tribals raiders, saved the better part of Kashmir till Nehru- ever working towards building huimself up towards probably the Nobel Peace Prize- took our case to the United Nations and helped India lose forver what we could have won with few more weeks of fighting. But believe me I still felt good.
Then they tried the stunt in 1965, we managed just fine. And when they tried it again in 1971, we cut the whole mess into two and created two messes in the place- one we always called Pakistan and now one we call Bangladesh. But I still felt pretty good.

Then Pakistan wisened up and instead of sending its forces once in a while started sending more of its and ours misguided youth more than once in a while. Our security forces fought some brave battles and repulsed more often than than not these- let me use a very government word- nefarious designs of the neighbour.
But on Thursday--December 18, 2008 to be precise--all the history, in which I saw myself and my nation as the winner with the patriotism-skewed lenses that I wore, vanishd in thin air.
A fortnight after ten bastards came in and held our city and our nation to ransom, Pakistan played the masterstroke.
After declaring to all and sundry that it had arrested most of the people India had demanded and after taking the kudos from the United States and after giving a bloody nose to the statesmanly aspirations of British PM Gordon Brown, it calmly turned around and told India oh so sorry, we do not have Masood Azhar, we really don't know where that son of a bitch vermin is.? We will catch him for sure- the general told the press before probably braking out into fits of laughter.
What my great nation is left with- is a fumbling AK Antony and a bumbling Pranab Mukherjee. Chidambaram I have not seen a in a while but I think he might be somewhere inside the RBI office hokling talks with senior economists on how the next time terrorists attcak, we should calls Standar and Poor or Dow Jones and not the bloody NSG. Shivraj Patil i hear has gone to beat up his tailor as the tailor did not get the round of his bandh gala to the exact specification.
I can almost hear Zardari and his ISI minions guffaw as they see these jokers on Indian TV channels.
I can see the Pakistani on the street laughing over his morning cup of tea. I can almost see Pakistan's elite sipping the choicest of wines in some exquisite bungalow in Lahore and placing bets on when Pakistan was sending the next ten raiders who'd have us by the balls once again.
Yup my friend, as I write this, as I see Antulay and Paswan play politics with the death of Karkare, as I see my ministers mumble and fumble, as I see my lawyers fight over their black coats to defend Qasab to get their two minutes of fame, for once I really feel 'oh how I wish I was Pakistani'
Then I could have been born in the most wretched nation on earth but I'd still feel good about having a country like India by its balls every time my country felt like giving some Afghanistan war decommissioned AK-47s to ten idiots....