Mr. Prime Minister,

What is a superman?

Is it a man who's above the national average in strength, wealth, and intellect? Or is a term only applicable to comics superheroes in their tight suits and capes, pow-pow-powing their enemies? Could the term be extended to public servants like you who sweat your way through the bureaucratic maze, trying to protect your country from enemies, both internal and external, at the cost of your sleep and health?

I just turned off the television, and tonight, believe me, sir, large balls of tears rained down my eyes and flooded my living room when I heard a prime-time news reporter insisting that you work twenty hours a day. Twenty! I felt incredible guilt for not working as much for my country, as I sleep about ten hours a day. But then my senses prevailed, and I realized I couldn't work as many hours as you even if I wanted to. Human beings like me need at least eight hours of sleep for our brains and bodies to function humanly. But seeing as sleep deprivation hasn't triggered psychosis and paranoia in you, I immediately concluded that you are a superman, and so I jumped up from my bed, turned off the news, took up my pen, and set forth to writing this letter to you, because I believe only a superman (and not ordinary men like your political opponents) could possibly comprehend the contents of this letter--the contents being, a flawless blueprint of an economic model, a viable plan of action, that can make India the richest country in the world by promises of explosive returns to a nominal stake--and not only agree with it but put into action my utopian vision for India.

But allow sir, first, a humble introduction of yours truly and his qualifications to warrant this unsolicited guidance to make India a superpower.

Male, Muslim, 26, unemployed--in other words, a nobody. A nobody who's read one book too many and aspires to be a writer. An aspiring writer who's bothered about India's broken economy and believes it's his patriotic duty to fix it by way of applying the knowledge he's gained through his reading. And though seeking financial advice from practitioners of the written word is odd--literature is crammed with the Swifts, Poes, and Hemingways who have died poor, miserable, and drunk--I hope you'll bear with me anyway, because,

a. The application of my model is in everybody's interest, including mine, in that it'll provide me with a job (writing alone doesn't pay the bills, sir),

b. It'll be ridding the country of all major obstacles that are not conducive to its growth. The tragedy of your government, forgive me, sir, is that though it has identified potential hindrances, it has not been able to figure out how to deal with them, and,

c. It'll make India a self-sufficient country.

A lot has been said about the Indian economy, a lot of speculation on why it's not growing, a lot of advice sought on how to grow it, but nobody seems to realise that times have changed. The regular financial template that turned the economic wheels a decade ago wouldn't produce the same results today. We need to adapt accordingly. So let's not fix a broken machine with outdated tools. What we need are newer templates to solve the huge unemployment, communal tensions, and rising inequality: this polluted cloud of blackness that has cast its shadow on our beloved country.

And this is where I come in--to remind ourselves of first things first: Health is wealth. A country cannot be wealthy if its citizens aren't healthy. And I don't mean just physical health, but mental health too.

Citizens of this country, film stars, and cricketers included, take up the gym to be in good shape. Citizens spend a lot of money on supplements and fitness products, but few think it necessary to spend time and money on mental health. Everybody says, "I'm fine," when they are clearly not.

The only image that comes to mind when thinking about the citizens of this country is them being loud and noisy, them running, hitting, teasing, taunting, beating, grabbing, pulling, pushing, shoving, breaking, shifting, breaking again, and burning. Everybody's gone mad. This vandalisation of peace is a direct output of insufficient rest. Nobody sleeps anymore.

Any therapist will tell you that a good night's sleep is important for the well-being of the mind. But citizens won't sleep because citizens can't sleep.

Citizens are startled, shaken, and jerked up from their sleep at five in the morning when they hear the Azaan east-west-north-south in blasting, blasting loudspeakers: a call to prayer for the Muslims. At five! Even the cocks in my village don't wake up at this hour.

The loud Azaan disrupts the sleep of citizens. Disruption of sleep disrupts work efficiency, makes citizens cranky, and therefore leads them to the sudden outbursts mentioned above.

That wake-up call, as you see, Mr. Prime Minister, is a liability to the country.

Not to mention how one of my Hindu friends thinks it's offensive to other religious groups when a call is made five times a day, every day, asking Muslims to 'bear the witness that there is no God, but the one God' ("don't our Gods exist too?" he demands of me.) But that's not the scope of this letter, so I'll stick to discussing the noise generated by the Azaan and its damaging consequences to the economy.

Noise pollution is a major cause of heart disease and deafness, sir, and we can't afford that. Imagine an India where citizens go deaf: What will doctors do with a stethoscope? How will we manage our traffic? How will we listen to your speeches and clap our hearts out when you joke that Muslims produce too many babies? What if the Gods themselves have gone deaf with all this noise and can't hear us anymore? I have reasonable doubt that that's why our prayers aren't being answered.

That's a scary vision, sir. Noise pollution has a detrimental effect on the citizens and the economy and the only way out is through calling to mind another proverb: Prevention is better than cure.

My model suggests replacing the mosques with temples so that citizens don't wake up at odd hours of the morning, cranky from insufficient sleep and given to sudden outbursts. So that they don't suffer from heart disease and deafness. So that the Gods don't all go deaf too. So that citizens have good mental health and the energy to focus on the main proposition of this letter, that is, to make India the richest country in the world.

Now that we have our mental health preserved, I'd like to suggest how to go on becoming a physically fit nation, but before I do so, let me make a case for the degenerates who have nothing better to do in life than eat, drink, and overindulge in sex; of degenerates who waste themselves away in marital embrace and produce too many babies and overpopulate the country: Muslim men and women and what to do about them.

Your ministers like to frequently point out that Indian Muslims are responsible for its overpopulation. But what can you do about it?

If India were a nation run by unreasonable men, I'd have suggested shooting down the Muslim population. Make some space. Give the country some air to breathe, some room to walk. And if India's still overpopulated, shoot down some Dalits too, and throw in some transgenders, the homosexuals, definitely, and maybe push some women who go too far from the kitchen. But India is run not by unreasonable men but by supermen, as I have said. And frankly, it's a messy hypothesis and a waste of resources, as I will later on in my humble theory point out.

So, Muslim women have a high fertility rate? I say fine, let them reproduce and multiply.

In fact, I say, let's take all Muslims and concentrate them in camps where their only job will be to produce and multiply, multiply and produce. Let their men get two wives as they are wont to do. Do as they wish but please pump out units in plenty.

When a unit is born in the camps, the state will ship it to a Baby Farm, which are basically factories to store units for further use.

In the farms, the units will be nailed to a wood-like Jesus Christ to a cross. An automatic machine will first tear the skin off the units. The state will use the skin to manufacture shoes, belts, wallets, jackets, handbags, et cetera, et cetera, to sell for a profit. Fashion is an ever-expanding market--everybody wants to hide under shiny, shiny items--so let's tap into that market first.

While these nation-made items will obviously be available to citizens of the country, they'll also be exported internationally. I'm so tired of pouring my money into foreign shoes, foreign jackets, and foreign phones; it's time the foreigners pour some of it back into our economy.

And while we're at it, enough with the foreign food chains too. I'm fed up with McDonald's and all those junk food chains stealing our money in the name of mutual benefit. The state should have its own food chain to compete with these international brands and send them flying back to their country of origin. The idea is this, sir: If you want to grab the largest slice of the market, monopoly is how to go.

Now, to the Baby Farms and not let the fresh meat go stale on us. After the automatic machines tear the skin off the little units, the automatic hooks will drill through the insides of the units and pull out their intestines. Lungs and liver are rich in protein, which will make citizens physically strong for when the need arises to fight Pakistan hand-to-hand. The heart of the units will not be ingested though, but instead be used as a transplant to tackle the epidemic of rising heart failure among citizens. You very well know, sir, how other democracies laugh behind our back and call us "a nation of the heartless."

Leave it to the automatic machines now to do the heavy lifting: cut, chop, and package the meat to be shipped to the state food chains.

Of course, we'll have to maintain a balance between production and consumption so that a balance between supply and demand is maintained.

I recommend that Muslim mothers, after producing meat, take a rest for three months, and then be back at producing meat to take a three-month rest again, and so on. Half of all the popped-out units will be sent to the Baby Farms, and the other half to mature as usual. When puberty hits the teenage units, they too begin the patriotic task of producing meat for the state.

This goes on and on until a mother is too weak or too old to produce units anymore, which is when she'll offer herself as meat to keep the economy going. Old and weak fathers in the camps are sure meat. Resources mustn't go to waste. Infertile mothers and fathers will either be meat or work as public servants, depending on their age, weight, and strength.

The outcome of this recipe is two-fold. One is, of course, the self-sufficient business model of it: meat will never be out of supply.

The other benefit is environmental: the cows are saved. The Muslims eat a lot of cows, especially in Eid al-Adha; the population of the four-legged holy animal seems to be dwindling. Man and nature are interconnected is what developed nations try to forget, pretending nature does not exist. But I present an alternative. No need to slaughter cows because foreign investors are more likely to invest in a country that is more environmentally friendly than not. Like they say, if we take care of nature, nature will take care of us.

Mental health and physical health, check. The profits from the food and fashion industry, check. Cows and nature saved, check.

The state has its wealth-generating machine now, or at least got the wheels turning, so meanwhile, let's turn our attention to the citizens of the country.

Unemployment is a huge problem in this country. Everywhere you go, people are too poor, too angry, too quarrelsome, too mad, too hungry, too greedy, too unsatiated, too dry, too rough, too diseased, too drunk, too superstitious, too faithless, too rejected, too vengeful, too cranky, too lost, too unloved to love.

We have to give them jobs and keep them employed so that their energy isn't spent on bickering but channeled into the growth of the economy. Let them earn a little, let them consume some stuff so that the state can tax them for consuming it. It's a win-win.

But where are the jobs?

Well, the Muslims already have their full-time job of producing meat at the camps. They don't need their regular jobs anymore. So their vacant positions will be filled by regular citizens.

Now the citizens are employed. They have money to consume stuff. Businesses are happy that stuff is being consumed. The state is happy that consumption is happening. Word of consumption reaches international investors, and they pour more money into our businesses to help them grow more branches; more jobs are created, newer products are manufactured, people consume newer products, and the state gets its obvious tax from all this consumption.

But even that is not enough. We must continue to create jobs. And job creation cannot happen without a good education. We must restructure our education system so that our children think fifty years ahead of the children of the world.

A lot of nonsense is taught in our current school curriculum. We must edit, delete, add, modify, and challenge our textbooks. Were the present curriculum any good, our books would have made us rich a long time ago.

Let us not be a slave to Mathematics, I say, but be a master of it. My problem with mathematics is its uniformity, where every child thinks the same way, rushing to find the one correct answer because only one answer can be correct, and every other answer is wrong. There's no divergent thought in mathematics; no freedom of expression in these classes: it's suffocating.

So let the children of the world say one plus one equals two; our children will say one plus one is equal to whatever number comes to the top of their mind. Let us say "a plus b whole square" is equal to banana juice, and let us say fourteen is greater than eighty, how can the world not see it? If we take care of the numbers, the numbers will take care of themselves is all I'm saying.

And why should we care about History? We're moving forward, not backward. Delete all those so-called freedom movements from our history texts. Gandhi is irrelevant. He believed in non-violence and look where that got him. The world is a jungle and its very nature is violence, Mr. Prime Minister. Violence in thought and violence in expression is the way.

For that matter, can we replace Gandhi's photo from our currency notes already? I think a case can be made that the economy is struggling because Gandhi gives off a weak vibe. We must send strong vibes to the universe. May I suggest your own photo be replaced with Gandhi's, the one where you have your chest all puffed up? I understand if your humility is offended, but in my defense, sir, if the notes themselves are weak, how will the economy be strong?

Literature is useless. Who has the time to read imaginary characters do whatever nonsense they do, and stretch our brain nerves trying to decode poetry? No time for that, and there's a certain risk to it, too: What if some brain nerve tears itself in the stretch? The only stories children should learn are inspirational; I propose that literature be filled with the story of your life, sir: how you fought a lion when you were five and how God Himself appeared in your dream one night to tell you that you were the son He had sent to India to save our nation from hunger and enemies like Pakistan.

The only useful subjects are the Hard Sciences. A lot of money will be spent on the Hard Sciences because children need to think about building rockets and robots and social media applications and all kinds of technology that would create more jobs for the citizens.

Now that the cows are saved, and we have saved nature, let us ask nature to pay the favour back. Let's sell cow dung as cakes in our food chain. And while we are at it, let's sell cow urine as soft drinks. Pepsi and other foreign drinks will be boycotted. To promote our cow urine, Indian cricketers and film stars will advertise it on television while sipping the salty drink. I have even thought of a catchphrase for the advertisements. Some cricketer could hold the bottle to the viewers and say, "Cow urine: the secret to my batting energy." Or some film actress could say: "Cow urine is the secret to my glowing skin."

That's not the help we'll get from cows, though. Your ministers like to boast that drinking cow urine can cure cancer, but they haven't really figured out a way to monetize that theory. We need to go international with our discovery. Imagine when that happens: International investors will fall at our feet. They will shower us with money and say, "Take it, take all of it, O great minds of South Asia; we wish we had brains like you."

"How do you do it?" they'll ask us in jealousy.

"We don't divulge trade secrets," we'll tell them with a smirk on our face.

And that's the idea, Mr. Prime Minister. Let it flow. Let the money flow. Let us be a serious nation for once and suck all their Dollars and Pounds and Yuans until they all run out of money and start printing more and we'll suck that too. We'll suck and suck until Rupee is the base currency against which all other currencies must measure their own strength. Let us be so rich that sometimes we'll deliberately forget about any debts these foreigners owe us. Humiliate them like this to show them who's the boss. To show them what filthy rich looks like.

The citizens now have jobs, but they also need houses to stay and land to build houses. Unlike meat, land is limited; it can't be created out of thin air unless we decide to invade our neighbours. I'm half of mind to invade Pakistan as proof that I hate our neighbors and, therefore, am loyal to my country, but I don't want to be so swayed by emotions that I forget my vision for India. Resources, time, and morale are lost in invasion; let's not get there. There are easy solutions for land right here.

Why look so far, sir, when the lands of Muslims are drying away in the sun, anyway? They've no use for it anymore, so I propose we distribute their lands among the citizens. And no, not distribute it for free, but auction it to the highest bidder; the proceeds of which will go to the welfare of the state.

All the businesses and houses that the Muslims have no use of anymore: auction it. A lot of these buildings will surely be demolished for newer designed houses to be built. To tear down Muslim houses, bulldozers will have to be sent for. There's something about bulldozers razing down houses that's so captivating to watch, it's physically stimulating. I think the reason why we as a nation are so fascinated with bulldozers is because it's like a metaphor for our own strength. In that short duration, we become the bulldozer, stomping down on what we don't like. It inspires strength in us. Strength is a character-building characteristic, sir. Let's have a national holiday to celebrate the bulldozer.

There it is, Mr. Prime Minister, my recipe for a flourishing economy. We have mental and physical health. We have food, clothing, and shelter. We have education and jobs. We've saved the cows and put them to our use. We have currency notes that give off strong vibes. We have everything, and the best thing about it is the explosive returns for a nominal investment. How's that for a self-sufficient state?

The model sounds simple, but it will require hard work, and I believe you'll have to work twenty-six hours a day now instead of just twenty, but what is an extra six hours for supermen, sir?

A heads-up, though: I'm not a mathematician, so when you run the calculations with your experts, though I'm confident the model itself is flawless, my calculations may fall a little short. So if by any chance the Muslim workforce falls short of producing enough meat for the economy, may I suggest that we could also use the Dalits?

Sure there is the question of the untouchability of Dalit meat, but that shouldn't pose a problem if the meat is washed so minutely in the farms that every atom of impurity is rid of it.

I would like to conclude on a personal note, Mr. Prime Minister. I live within my means and don't crave much for materialism. All I have is this little house I live in.

My only request is this: When I'm offered a full-time job to go to the camps to produce meat for the country, could you not bulldoze my house, but drop a bomb on it instead? Because, you see, sir, I'd like to pay tribute to my Islamic heritage, but bulldozers are so vanilla; when buildings have to go, I like to see them go in a boom.