Dear Love Reciprocator Wannabe, It's good to know that I have compelled you to express your deepest feelings. First, it's writing a letter, next a karke nazar, then who knows? One thing will surely lead to another, and just thinking about the endless possibilities makes my head spin. I am also delighted to lean that the hiccupping is mutual. I now fully believe Aristotle when he said that love is a single soul occupying two bodies. I have never drunk so much water to quell the intense hiccups, but every drop was worthwhile because it reminded me of you. Yes my dear, I have been fantasizing about your well proportioned and ideally situated beaker, and I would welcome its rise, especially if it is in my general direction. Ditto for your bewitching smile. You entered my thoughts like as a guest, but have now become the host of the house. Ever since you entered my mind like an adroit secret agent enters a foreign land on assignment, I have not made love to anyone or anything, including Kenny G's music. In fact, comparing Kenny G's music to your beauty is like comparing a crow to the fairness of the Himalayan snow. Honey, I would relish your slow roasted turkey and wash it down with wine, as if it were ambrosia handed down from the Gods. Finally, after the dinner, if you would like to ship me off to Iraq, I would smilingly oblige. But if you would instead grant me a karke nazar and turn on the melody of my heart, I would be happy too. Please do not tell me to suppress my feelings for you, for it would be like asking a nightingale not to sing, or for asking a peacock not to dance in the rain. Unfortunately, there are no peepal trees around where I live. I hope the leafless Maple tree skeleton outside my window is acceptable. When I do sit on the freezing ground, I would rather meditate on your multidimensional karke nazar than on my three dimensional navel. Good night and happy april 1st.