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A New Yearís Greeting from Mohammed Ajmal Kasab Iman
Happy new year to all my homies in the USA! Itís me, the alleged sole surviving Mumbai terrorist. I wish I could have been with you to enjoy your Christmas gift giving and eating and partying this holiday season. I was so hoping to get an iPod Touch this year but since I am slowly bleeding to death in a dank dungeon Indian torture cell it is not looking so good for me. Donít let that bum you out though,† because I can deal, no problemo. I got my shot and I took it. Well I actually took lots of shots and tossed a bunch of grenades too! Me and my bro got 58 confirmed kills including three cops. We even killed the chief of anti-terrorism! It was awesome.
I am a famous man now. What I did is now in the record books. I think about how all the little Punjabi kids will be looking up to me and it makes me so proud. So my Christmas gift to you is the hope that you can recognize that even a poor kid from the country can do well for himself if he puts his mind to it. I might have started out as a dirty peasant from Punjab with a fourth grade education but I didnít let that hold me back. I could have been like my father and worked in a shop and scratched out a living, but that wasnít anything like in the movies. Even if we had enough food and could go to school, the problem was that there was just nothing cool to do. We didnít have any chance to become rich and famous like in America. So why bother to go to school? So I could become a shopkeeper and get a fat wife and have a bunch of kids and work all the time? I thought there must be more for me. So when I was 13, I went to the big city of Lahore to live with my brother.†
I thought that living in the city would give me a chance to be somebody, but it didnít. I was treated like a peasant. I thought if I finished school that I could get a good job at a call center teaching Americans how to plug in their routers. Then I could at least get my own apartment and buy some nice clothes, and maybe even a car. But by the time I reached 18, I realized that I was never going to get one of those jobs, so I quit trying.
I hung around Lahore and eventually got a crappy job busting my ass for a few hundred rupees a day, which is like two U.S. dollars. It sucked royally. The only thing that I liked was hanging out after work with my bros, getting in fights, rippin off stiffs and partying with chicks. It was pretty cool but we still felt like peasants because without any real money we didnít get any respect.
Another thing we liked to do was watch the movie Fight Club. We watched it hundreds of times and of course the end was the best. We loved it when Tyler Durden shot himself and didnít die and there he was with his hot chick watching the buildings blow up and collapse to the sound of The Pixiesí ďWhere is My MindĒ. We would all dance around and holler and sing along with Frank Black. We knew that if we could only be like Tyler then weíd get respect.
The problem was we lived in a stinking pig shit smelling part of the world and that would never happen unless we made it happen. We needed to up our game and get some real gear like some AK-47ís or RPGís or something. Thatís instant respect. So we went looking for some but unfortunately didnít have enough money to buy anything decent. We did, however, run into some religious nuts that said they could hook us up if we were willing to join their organization. We didnít want anything to do with their religious crap but if we were able to get some training and some gear then we could break
out on our own and do some serious business for ourselves. We might even have a movie made about us like Jesse James or Al Capone.†
So we went with the dudes to their camp to train. There they showed us movies about how screwed up things were for our people and it made us really pissed off. So we hung around and got more into it. The religious thing wasnít a big deal. What we liked was that there was a feeling of being somebody and being a group. We were bros and we knew that this was the way to get respect. It worked, too. When we would go to where we grew up or where we used to hang out people would recognize and give us mad props. We never got that before.
We knew that if we continued along the path we were on that we might get killed but that seemed a lot better than going back to living like we did before. After all, we had seen what happened after 9/11 and the respect those dudes got. We thought that maybe trying to do what needs to be done to free our people was a lot like you do in your fight clubs in the West, which I know it is customary not to talk about.
Now that itís over I have no regrets. My record is there for all to see and there will be those that will want to do better than me and for that I am grateful. Iíll see who can top my best and who canít. This is not a time for gloating. I just want to let you in America know that all I ever really wanted was to be just like you. Then I realized, just like Tyler in Fight Club, that I never could be. So I figured if you werenít going to let me become rich and happy like you then there are other ways for a poor peasant boy like me to be a person that means something.†
So in the spirit of the recent holiday season, I wish to leave you with my favorite quote from Charles Dickensí A Christmas Carol:†
A very happy new year to you and yours.
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