Happy new year, keep the TV switched off please

​This time I really mean it. HAPPY NEW YEAR.

May 2016 never return. In any form. May its impact also vanish miraculously. 

I pray for a 2017 where the Judiciary rules and rules fast, where the Executive governs and governs fast, where the legislature vanishes and vanishes fast. 

I pray that the fourth estate doesn’t become like real estate. And real estate like fourth estate. 

I am not so visionary as to pray for ANY growth in GDP. I am practical. I only want my money back. From the ATM. Only what I earned in the past.  

I don’t want any endearments. Don’t call us Mitron. Call us by that word that rhymes with it, which we confirmed while voting in 2014 – at least 31℅ of us. 

In 2017, I don’t want to equate Bharat with my Mata. Because my Mata either gave me pocket money or didn’t. But never did she snatch my pocket money and give it to her wealthy friend. Who certainly neither needed it nor deserved it.

I don’t mind singing the national anthem before during and after a movie, especially if the movie is about third rate rulers, but in 2017, I pray the words of the anthem come at least somewhere close to the truth.

I am so backward that I am still praying for a 2017 modelled on Gandhi and Nehru’s India, not digital India. 

And I am so backward that this little piece is not a forward. It’s from me. Genuinely. 

Happy new year to you and your loved ones. Be good and don’t switch on the TV at 7.30pm tonight. 

Lots of love.

Who gives a F to Tarek F? – My letter to @TarekFatah on the dissolution of India and more

Dear Tarek Fatah:

There are many reasons why you interest me enough to make me want to wordily roast your fleshy twosome.

First, you seem like a separated muslim brother of the fabulist hustler of outre Hindus Chetan Bhagat (@Chetan_Bhagat in case you haven’t ‘handled’ his handle yet) in a few bollywoodian ways. He publishes fiction in a narrow geography for English abashed readers and tweets to a gallery of scummy sanghis and you publish narrow minded fictional dregs purporting to be fact, for right wing cretins. You infact show great promise to join this club being as you are, an outre muslim and an unambigous Namard. Believe me, by gushing asslicking blandishments to Namo, you too will be queuing up like Bhagat for a Padma Bhushan or Padma Vibhushan or a Rajya Sabha seat (hopefully) vacated by Vijay Mallya or even a directorship of a film institute, your only competition being Pam Pam Kher. Kiran Bedi is a good example of how Modi, for a little drool on his rump can even sacrifice an election. Be that as it may, regardless, that day, yes that very day, you will be promoted from Namard to Namo-mard and given your grudging reality, will proceed to join the likes of Mukhtar Abbas Naqvi and Shahnawaz Hussain, who like you, love being the fluky fucks of kinky and opposite ideologies. And like them, you may never be bestowed a meaningful portfolio unless of course the current cabinet (which is less alive than the wooden one in my study) succeeds in its ongoing efforts of hitting hit-wicket so tellingly that the judiciary which now governs on a daily basis, puts one half of them in jail and the other half on bail when the PM is travelling, because the more he travels, the lesser his own chances of going to jail. But when he returns, like he has been doing so far (vegetarians tend to return), you may be the only left-over he sights (Bhagat would have hit wicket with his powerful tweets by then). And lo and behold, you may well anoint to the tainted though still coveted portfolio of Finance Minister without even the valuable experience of dealing with identically murky economies like cricket.

Finance Minister of the world’s largest economy! Can you believe it, you patrilineal ballock?

Now this was to get you all excited because don’t we all know the one word at which you smack your vulvan lips. Opportunity.

But unlike the Bombay rooted Bhagat, you don’t need a scatter of dance shows, a set of offal novels and a string of squirrely columns to prove that you too have a doughnut for a head. It has taken you just a couple of books, effortlessly chronic venom, and the natural flair for idealogical pimping, to mount the high donkey of aberrant lunacy, in the natural course of suffering the Montezuma’s revenge in your travels through the muslim world, often to flee from rather than to go. In doing so, you have displayed an ingenuous ability to embarrass both religions that must take responsibily for the allergin called Tarek Fatah. Still, however, your indignant self may not realise it, but all innocent Hindus and Muslims cannot for the life of them fathom what the fuck are you up in arms about. To them, you are as coherent as a pair of simultaneously talking testicles reminiscent of Times Now panelists.

Doubtless you had a sensational debut on Indian television. For you know which media house loves to wallow in vomit. To pick an over zealous half wit anchor who wears the peeli chaddi under his secular suit, was a somewhat smart move on your part. I guess you have a nose for picking out like mnided talent across continents. And here you put it to full use as you peed all over the other panelists with the glee of a charged debutante. But it made your unsuspecting Hindu audience, who were new to you, wonder about the story behind your ragouted DNA. Did his Hindu great grandmother not run too fast when the mughals were horny or what, some of them asked. And it made your innocent muslim audience wonder about your khitan, your circumcision. Whether it was done not once but repeatedly by a dipsomaniac making young Tarek lose both gullis and one danda and that must explain his sporty vengeance for his faith and his obsession for the sub continent. What complex causes his bile to rise with with such spermatic fury, they wondered.

For your sexually constrained adolescence and to your stymied hormonal trot we can only apologise. It was an error, a mere mistake though a psychologically debilitating one. And in fact we pray that you are born a full uncomplexed male in your next birth, but as a hoary hog in repentence, and for easy identification from a distance, for we have seen that your camouflage has worked to our disadvantage in this life. Plus there is the scientific need for proximate replication with your current reality and therfore to be born an unambiguous non Hindu and non Muslim as a precaution the next time round. For any connection with mankind next time, is fraught with risk, our experience with you, tells us. So while we pray for your mamalian rebirth, we do not want to bear the sight of a rapacious dong springing out in a sea of hopeful hearts. This my dear, defines what you currently are—the real picture shorn of your guise of righteous non confirmism.

In the normal course I would never abuse anyone’s family but I heard you on India’s only channel that is licenced to abuse, where you literally resorted to maa-behen. Then I see this tweet of yours where you say of your place of birth:

“Pakistan Immi-Aunties make ‘polite’ conversation. How does one country produce so many rectums”.

Were you talking of yourself Fatah? The ‘aunties’ are not a patch on you.

You take up the cause of Balochistan like a vulture sighting prey.

Then you say of Indian muslims, whom you have never known or lived with:

“What stopped Indian muslims from joining #MuktiBahini (you tag it for attention!)? Fact is they backed Pakistan Army and were hostile to refugees”.

Are you fucking nuts? Can you generally just pull out your peanut and peepee anywhere? You take delight in abusing the father of the nation of Pakistanis. Who the fuck are you to do so? And I say this as an India. Tell me, who fathered you, you fungus?

You RT Pam Pam Kher as he tweets like he is imparting some crazily importatnt knowledge:

“The history of Kashmiri pandits goes back to almost 5000 years”.

So effing what? The history of apes goes back even longer.

You know what your problem is Fatah. You simply wanted to RT Pam Pam Kher even though all he ever tweets has the efficacy of an expensive condom with a hole. That’s because you want to join a club that is forever looking for a gigolo. And this one is. And as for you, you are forever sniffing for a new serail.

Then one fine day, you let loose some sperm-scarse semen from your brain-scarce mouth:

“Just getting democrats from Gilgit-Baltistan should be sufficient for India to assert its sovereignity over POK”.

Really? Really? Are you actually saying something coherent or merely seeking alligniment with the powers that be in India. And if so, then who are you doing it for except for your slimy hoggish self? Are you really doing anything for people? For peace? For harmony, you outcross? Or are you only here to vitiate the atmosphere, light the fire?

You write a book titled (over my dead body will I read the trash):

The Hindu is not my enemy.

But you are an enemy of the Hindus, you dunderhead. And of Muslims. That’s because you thrive on their conflict and live off it.

You are like a Taslima Nasrin with the biology interchanged. Both incendiary frothing freelloaders in your respective new found havens, both thriving in the blundering presumption that your hosting countries are muslim averse winky secularists simply because the two of you are just that. And because there is a shortage of your hybrid produce, you want to imagine a perverse brotherhood that actually doesn’t exist. But you two look around separately and furiously for other company confusing your search for a find, not realising that together, you two half wits make at least one nut. Indeed you should be happy together. But you don’t seem to have found each other. Or perhaps you are realistic enough to know the limits of your potential chemistry from the general analogy that two shits are not necessarily soluble. In fact maybe, that’s God’s holy way of having fun and yet not letting it all get out of hand. Of not allowing bigots to illegitimately combine under the legimate shelter of secularism. And so you remain the smallest minority possible without never becoming a group. And that can be seen in the bumpy life in Canada

You fooled around with New Democratic Party and lost the 1995 provincial election as its candidate. In 2006 you jumped ship to to the Liberal Party and bullshitted about the reasons for your departure, a controversial one, blaming funnily religious fundamentalism! So you now went to support Bob Rae, but again after Rae was defeated, you again touted religious fundamentalism as the reason for this new exit, giving quite a mouthful of complicated elaboration to justify your errant pimping. You even held press conferences to malign your ersewhile friends. Then you wrote dramatically that now you would be voting for the Conservative Stephen Harper in the federal election of 2015. Basically Fateh, I think you don’t know your pole from your hole.

Professionally too, you were promiscuous. You hopped all over, often because you ran out of favour. But you had your moments. To people intrigued by the muslim world you appeared liberal. And you made the most of it and in doing so you went too far. Politically, you were one of the founders it seems, of the Muslim Canadian Congress in 2001. Why Muslim, Fatah? Aren’t they both the louse, and the grouse? But then it wasn’t meant to be. True to form, you exited in 2006. Again a controversial and shameful exit. When writer Irshad Manji acknowledged you in her book, you repudiated her and went back on your word. Later, you regretted your remarks which showed your general mental instability, besides the faith you lost. Did your competetive instinct surface, Fatah? Do you have any friends? In 2001 you did not show up for a debate with Imam Shaikh, the President of Morth American Muslim Foundation. You simply chickened out (as I write this, I recall how earlier in the day, you blocked me four tweets that cooked your goose). You gave stupid reasons for your non appearance. And through all of this you have resorted to unabated Islam bashing riding on topical themes of the day. You even did the unthinkable. You claimed the Dalai Lama was endorsing Sharia Law! You went to the extent of mass mailing federal MPs to ban Zakir Naik from entering Canada on the pretext that hatemongers should not enter. Then what are you, my dear Fatah?

No wonder than, that the President of the Muslim Association of Canada, Wael Haddara said of you:

“It is hard if not downright impossible to find something positive that he has ever said about muslims”

You claimed to be a supporter of gay rights but when the moment to endorse it came, you backed out, once again with a litany of excuses. Like any fascist who doesn’t really believe in letting art and entertainment be, you found grave fault with the popular sitcom Little Mosque on the Praire. One fine day, finding yourself on their wrong side, you even went to the extent of saying that the Ontario Human Rights Commission has been infiltrated by Islamists! You were criticized severally by Mohamed Elmasry for smearing Islam and bashing muslims all the time. Wahida Valiante of the Canadian Islamic Congress felt the same. Is everyone wrong, fatah? To criticize a religion is all very well. I give a toot to blasphemy too. But to target one religion through your life is as stupid as it is psychaitric. I think you started as a liberal, then saw the spoils and then wanted to rake it in. Your greed for attention and relevance has led to this manic excess. And you have an ego so tall that you’d rather get screwed than retract. You don’t realise I think that with all these mental calisthenics you are convincing no one but somersaulting grandly to take your own ass. So much so that you are one awardee for whom CAF President emailed to many saying:

“Yes CAF awarded him that award but that was when Tarek Fatah was cheating his way through and pretending to be pro Palestine, pro social justice, pro multi culturals.” And he added, “everyone knows this sell-out, the shameless transformation of this human being . . . He should return the award as he does not deserve the honour that is associated with it.”

Now that, with many more episodes of shame missing, is your Canada journey.

At any rate, don’t tout Canada as some jaw-dropping experience to us Indians. We know it as the place where people wake up to alarms on their American and Korean phones, then sip Chinese tea in English teacups and then pick up their Japanese pens to protest to their member of parliament of the Indian takeover of the Canadian outsourcing business. Only see Canada as your savior. That’s all. Don’t make the big assumption that you make. That if you succeeded in befooling Canada for a good length of time, you can do the same to India. High hopes, my dear. For one, Canadians are far gentler than us and have therefore inflicted great suffering on themselves in bearing with you. In our equation ie yours and mine, I am feeding your inherent masochism. So it’s the other way round.

And then there is a mathematical reality and formula so simple that even Chetan Bhagat can confirm it for you. Our numbers i.e. India’s when compared to Canada, bear serious adverse implications for you. In effect, we gleefully and often unconsciously produce one Canada on an hourly basis. We do it for three reasons—too hot, too cold, or too rainy. Canada on the other hand is probably smaller in population that even Modi’s Mehsana and despite Gujarat’s crippling malnutrition, yet the fertility is galloping. So the implication is clear—Bhagat are you listening—that even if the percentage of intelligent people Canada has is treble of ours, our total number of intelligent people outnumbers America and Europe. Admittedly, the Chinese challenge remains whatever Modi may say. His facts are as exaggerated as the size of your you-know-what. His 56 inches chest and your dong are the stuff mythology is made of. I can understand your perceptual flaw though. Because Sanghis are so noisy, you confuse India for that lower limit. You know T Fatah, in the best of times, they and the befooled together added up to 31% and that too because the most intelligent of Indians saw no point in voting at all given the pubic hygiene of Indian demorcary at the time. This should be the second lesson for you. Fresh after the hard learning of 2014, India will no longer suffer polarising haters like you. And in any case, here in India, you are limping on a very narrow beam, a beam that is said to crumble in 2019 or who knows, even before. And that is when you will land on your tailbone. And then rather than India, you know what will split. And what you have got woefully wrong is also the timing. Just when Modi and his feculence are dissolving in their own acidic piss, you expect them to gush at you with fraternal love, hoist your banger and sing a pean in tribute. Are you just desperate or are you a thoroughbred idiot.

But now sweetheart you have a problem. In Canada you have turned untouchable. You are hated by all the 22 or 24 Candians who made the mistake of accepting you. So where do you go? May I suggest? I think you should go to hell. That’s where you came from in the first place. The remorse-filled orifice from which you dropped into Pakistan was merely a channel. You as the hairy pubis of the devil, were fated to blow opportunistically with the wind. And now nearing seventy, you have even missed the dignity that comes with old age. It is time for you to prepare. Ordinarily we wouldn’t have to, but in your case we have to think hard. For unlike us, you may want to leave the planet worse than you found it. But that has already happened my dear, and we must credit you for having played a role. So tell me Fatah, when you egress, how would you want your body to be treated? Buried like a (good) muslim? Or Christian? But you haven’t become one. Or cremated like a Hindu that you almost pretend to be? And where would you like this to happen? In Pakistan or Saudi Arabia which threw you out? Or Canada that regrets not having been able to do so yet? They must be wondering about the stench in your death when you have stank so obnoxiously alive. See, India is out of bounds for you. At most what we can torch or bury is your thinking. We are a people who have resolved not to be manipulated in the name of religion by you or Modi or anyone.

That brings me to the issue of the disintegration of India that you hope for and envisage. You forget India disintegrated decades ago at the time of partition and learnt her lessons the hard way paying the price in blood. If it were to disintegrate again, it can only be for the same reason of mixing religion in politics, by allowing people like you to piss into the toasting glass of our hard earned freedom. That is why I say India is none of your business, just as it isn’t of any of those who wish to polarize it and therfore partition it again. Kashmir is none of your business too. And what @iamrana writes, says and believes in, is shared by all free thinking and peace living people who cherish their cultures, a good part of which involves celebrating diversity. And it applies to Hindus and Muslims who you are none of your business. What Sushma Swaraj wears is also none of your business. You should infact be worried about what you don’t wear; about your intellectual nudity and the garb and zameer you failed to imbibe from your tehzeeb loving culture.

See Tarek F, you are a bastard to your own legitimate parents, a shame and slur on the geography that originated you, a disgrace on the shared culture of the sub continent, as well as even Saudi Arabia that fed you for long, and Canada whose graciousness you rewarded with your spite and bile. They provided you sanctuary when you desperately needed one as you fled in panic from Saudi Arabia. And now that your time in Canada is running out, you have turned to India, hoping that Sanghis fall for you since you know they are daft. Daft they are for sure, but quick to recognise one from their own tribe of assholes. And so they will flirt with you, just as you are flirting with them. But your full blown mutual incest will remain on the pending list. Just check how certain they are of staying wedlocked with Taslima Nasrin and you will have your answer. And that is despite her three-pronged strategy of exhibitionist muslim hate in public, flagrant asslicking of Namo-mards in private and begging for perpetual exile. Fatah, she may well be the reason we won’t make the mistake again. You two are better off crying into each other’s shoulders after namaz in private. And then square it all off in public by feeding off its bilious criticism, without changing your muslim names for fear of losing the profit that comes with it.

There is a lot of frenetic filth you Fatah, have splayed on the muslim world, in the process being occassionally right about some of the fanatic zeal some quarters and sections have displayed. And so initially, you were seen as a man who had the forthrightness of being objective about his own identity. But you soon turned it into a shop. Each and every bit of your merchandise was about this. Now your natural penchant is to find everything wrong with the muslim world and you use it to strike deals with its detractors, thereby joining up to contribute to hate. And these are times where hate has really gone far too far. The hysteria with which you condemn every facet of islam make you a pariah in no man’s land. If you genuinely meant even a bit of what you say you feel about the muslim world, than Saudi Arabia should never have been worth your while. But you lived long years there, till you did the usual, make such a nuisance that you had to tuck tail and scamper. Having milked Saudi Arabia all you could, and till you could, you landed in Canada, where again you showed your hallmark intolerance while your host country still shows the exact opposite. You hop here, from one camp to another, unacceptable everywhere. You use your anti-muslim tirade as a suitor to a new unsuspecting victim each time and lose credibility with him in due course. You are like a leaking bucket in terms of credibility. That is how you have survived. You befriend one guy deceptively and as he goes away disappointed, you befriend another. Over the longer haul, you do it to countries too. To media houses, to people. Even to idealogy. You must be the only individual in the world claming marxist origins and getting your toast buttered from the Right Wing. You pretent to be a gay right activist but chicken out when you have to sign for it because in fact you are not. You say you are an Indian – beats me ‘cause I am sure we produced no asshole like you, and you actually make even Bhagat look as innocent as the neighbourhood barber. You retain your muslim name, don a canadian accent, which miraculously shed and replacee with the indigenous one the subcontinent uses for maa-behen when you piss all over Times Now in heat-warming solidarity in Goswami’s pee-dom.

And now you fire your salvo of ‘calling for India’s dissolution’. As usual, as with every statement made by you through your life, you try to confuse your fuck-up with what you meant and what you didn’t.

This is what you said:

“You see India was never one country, even during the British. India has never been one entity even under Ashoka, even under Auranzeb, it has never been a country. The future that I see, if I had my dreams come true, are about the sub continent being something like Europe where the entities that exist are Bengal; places like Punjab shouldn’t be single entities, shouldn’t have borders, but should have common currencies, but we are different countries, I don’t disagree. There is more in common between someone in say Lahore and Delhi than there is between Delhi and Madras”.

And then you said it would be best if India breaks up.

This is just like your uncalled-for comment on Sushma Swaraj. I am no fan of hers, far from it, but it was gracious for her to dress for the occasion. Equally, Indira Gandhi stuck to her attire no matter who she met. That is okay too. It is an issue for only two types of people. One who are simply scavenging for filth, something you are doing. And two, alarmists like you whose next meal comes from sellably disgracing someone, and hence the desperation. See, respecting hosts doesn’t go down well in your innards. To repeat, you are a man who can be bastard to his own legitimate parents. You are the type who when invited warmy for a banquet, can show up with your fly open intentionally, all for the attention. That its contents are wrinkled to tiny nothingness will not bother you a bit. You simply cannot understand action-consequence because you don’t want to take responsibility. You spew hatred. And hatred is the cause. The effect is ISIS. You want to pretend ISIS is the cause. It is not. It is the effect of hatred. With your warped thinking, thank god you are not a urologist. For then you would begin every treatment with castration.

Long story short, Fatah you are a bastard. And that is what makes me ask: Who the F is Tarek F

See, you could have easily been an atheist if you don’t agree with your religion. And then there would be no need to single it out at all. You don’t need another religion Fatah. You don’t even need another country or another media house or another book. What you need Fatah, is a psychiatrist and a bold one at that, one who can take the risk of near inevitable failure. Very honestly Fatah, your mind, for all its opportunistic cunning, is deranged. The Sanghi certificate also confirms it. What does you family say? Do you have one? Give them my sympathy. Tell them I wish them well. I really do. Genuinely.

I am conscious that you must be furious hearing this truth above. And in fact everytime I search-light your ass, you must have been bitterly whining about my anonymity, because that frustrates you. It makes it impossible for you to typecast me into a typical Hindu or Muslim and thereby fit a motive. But my dear Fatah, does it strike you that my anonimity proves one more thing: where the aam admi stands is so much taller that all you attention seeking bigots, in that he seeks no attention for himself, his mug, his name, his identity. And immodestly speaking let me tell you, that my Kashmiri DNA has left its mark nicely on my looks and that so a sanghi-like low self esteem is not behind the anonimity. And still it seems pointless to let that form weigh on the content of my words. Which as you know, were more than enough for you to pant heavily and block me. Four tweets that showed you the mirror is all it took.

In contrast, look at you. A dubious muslim name captions your testically fashioned face. Your rutund form and your foul incediary words coast on stormy ingratitude for all those who made the mistake of letting you into their coterie. And what did you do. You raided them, stabbed them, let them down. God bless Canada for its magnanimity. But for all our hospitality, we don’t welcome disease. We quarantine it, even if we forget to eradicate it, distracted as we are by problems galore.

Finally, if you are wondering what’s in it for me, then let me tell you what makes me bang you. I am no hunter, picking prey. I am merely acting in self defence. The world is increasingly endangered by cannibals like you. I enjoy putting the light under their skirt and shooting a few verbal tear gas shells in warning. I like to to appear anonymously by the side of normal sweet people like @iamrana who haven’t hurt a fly. Or war ravaged Kashmiris, Chetan Bhagat decides to insult. Every time you guys open your vulgar mouth to castigate and bully simple, sweet and honest people, I promise you I will stuff it like no one did. And I am not burdened by journalistic niceties. Nor am I a bigot erroneously employed in the fourth estate. That my actions are assuming the nature of a spectator sport, you can blame on its psychological similarity with bull fighting.

Tarek F, I am an atheist let me clarify, before you start condemning me for being on one or the other side. But unlike you, I enjoy the nuances of the cultures, that varied belief systems give birth to and the wonderful world they create. For the sake of prserving this beautiful varied world, it does seem worth kicking your ass when you try to destroy this harmony. Every abuse to you seems like prescribed purging; every rile seems god sent. To get away with an invective hurled rather than a noose around your neck because the law doesn’t understand that you are the cause and ISIS is the effect, is your good fortune, Tarek F. And though an atheist, as compared to you, I am even pious. So it is your holy god who is deflowering you right now. I am only the instrument. And I will deliver poetic justice my way. Poetic, ironically, literally.

Sure, rile and investives will infest my defeature

For these abusive times, merit abusive literature.

And these times my dear Fatah, we owe less to me and more to you and the likes of you. As an abusive herdsman, you make your abusive gallery bay for blood, and bastardly governments fund and train the likes of ISIS and Taliban. Remember you cuckoos come first and the latter, later.

Now, come on baby, unblock me from twitter. Just my hawai fire made you fold in under the bed. What will you do when you read all this, which you doubtless will? Come on respond you startled rodent. Prove to us that your khitan didn’t go wrong. Write back, Fatah. Before Sanghis begin to wonder how it is all going so horribly wrong nowadays, two years into Ram Rajya. That despite donning disposal diapers like you and Bhagat, the stink is still retained. How their frontline goons are failing them, how their putrid pickets housing sacrficial scum isn’t warding off the sensible with its stench. How their illegitimate political offspring like Taslima Nasrin and Tarek F are proving to be as dumbfucked as Blundering Bhagat and Pam Pam Kher. Finally, at long last they will collect at Nagpur and ponder on how their incestuos foreplay with their muslim adoptees is even greater than their experimental orgy with the Pakistani leadership. For their sake jellyhead, respond. Take your time. We know you need it. Introspection is tougher than a debate on whether religions are screwed up or not.

And don’t worry, even while I await your response, I am not staying up. I always sleep peacefully after expelling all. Yet you can be assured of my quick response, if you write back, for two reasons. Using the latest technology (in digital India) I have a special notification enabled for responses by Sanghis and Namo-mards to my tweets. “Shit! Sanghi here!” it says and makes the sound of a cow mooing threateningly. And out I spring from my bed, my gun foisted, ready to play protector.

So goodnight T Fatah. Sweet dreams. Sleep with a smile. Just think I am you and you are me and it will be possible.

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