Apologies, Oprah.

We are apologetic, Oprah. You, the hostess of possibly the greatest show on Earth (nobody cares about The Olympics); we, the residents of a more-or-less anonymous third-world country.

You came here. You saw us. You conquered the country. You owned us from the very moment you stepped foot over here. More so with your skeptic comments about how our citizens manage to survive in chawls. Of course it's their fault that they are Indians by birth, and are not able to attain The Great American Dream of an eight-bedroom bungalow, three kids, two cars and a dog. I really cannot believe that the media has stooped so low that they have been criticising you for your comments. While busy doing that they missed how cute you found Amitabh Bachchan carrying his grandchild as he had been chaperoning you through Mumbai.

You see, we love our guests. We give them the best we have. We gave you Amitabh Bachchan as a chauffeur. Next time we might as well end up giving you Sachin Tendulkar. Or even Taj Mahal.

Of course you have found our ways inferior. Who eats with their hands these days? Any civilised human being is born with a knife and a fork in his hands (and a spoon up his arse, for good measure: which is removed immediately after birth and its memory is continuously erased with toilet paper). We, unfortunately, use our hands; and more surprisingly, water - often in a combination with soap - to wash our hands, rinse our mouths, for basic hygiene. Goodness, we even end up doing our laundry and dishes with our hands - would you believe it?

You see Oprah, hands are important for us. And if there are more women like you around, they would become even more essential.

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PS: Oprah, We want to make up. Which is why I have a gift for you.