I wear a burqa these days whenever I go near the post office. With anthrax lurking about in Osama bin Laden's company, I have been told it is much safer this way. But even thus protected I don't look forward to receiving mail. Not even if I am assured it is a million-dollar cheque from Bill Gates. What I look forward to, instead, is getting home to India -- or rather, getting out of the United States. For that, I need an escape route. I tried the sea. The answer was, if I classify as dead meat or poultry or some form of cargo, then I could board a ship. Air? No way! I am not crazy. I might end up in the rubble of some skyscraper or someone will throw me in jail because I look like Osama's cousin. Trekking to India? Yes, I considered that too. But Yahoo! tells me I would have to pass through Afghanistan and Pakistan, and I don't fancy that very much. So, the only option left to me is to contact my mom and tell her I am just fine. But will I be safe doing that? What if all those sophisticated CIA intercepting devices find something 'suspicious' in my conversation? I could be arrested and locked up indefinitely! The brighter side to all this is that, finally, my folks are contemplating buying a computer. Maybe, just maybe, I will be able to talk to them on an instant messenger before we all perish in World War III, which everyone, including Nostradamus, predicts. Now don't call me jumpy. I am just following the congressmen who closed the Capitol for two days when someone sneezed five miles away. I don't know how on earth I am going to trust them when they come on television and try to coax us into buying shares and jumping into planes because they don't want the terrorists to think the American janta is running scared. To ease the tension, I thought I would go for a movie or opera where I could sleep peacefully. Well, looks like that option is out too, what with public places all now considered dangerous. That leaves me just my apartment. But my neighbours already suspect me of being up to some 'chemical weapon thing' thanks to the 'stench' of the spicy dishes I prepare. If I do not come out of the house for even one day or try to vacate my apartment, I am sure my name will be splashed all over America (which I wouldn't mind, but for the captions that would go along with them). The office is a good place, but then who wants to go there except on payday? Meanwhile, I am told the American government will bail out its airlines and other multinational corporations because they have lost some millions from their billion-dollar piles. My name is Lebi Tom, Mr President. If you would be kind enough to throw some money this way too, I would be glad to spend it and thus revive the economy! Question is, will Lebi Tom open her mail if President Bush sends her a cheque? Illustration: Uttam Ghosh Tell us what you think of this diary Be part of an exciting venture! Write a Diary!
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