We stepped a line, Mr T. You didn't

And you will continue stepping several lines, and it's all our fault. Why wouldn't you, when you rant and rave and warn journos not to write anything defamatory about your sweet-as-sin toddler Uddhav, we just hang our heads in shame and silently promise to comply with your wishes.

It's not your fault that you hold forth on every topic, right from the Samjhauta Express tragedy to Black Friday. The fault is entirely ours. We put the idea into your head that maybe, just maybe, you and your amazingly proactive party should do something about stopping the screenings of Black Friday. You declared with a beatific smile on your face that if the film glorified Dawood Ibrahim, you would stop the screenings in Mumbai.

And then one particularly pushy reporter says, "Saheb, tya film madhye asahi mhatla aahe ki Thackeray, Advani hyana udvaicha kat hota." The smile vanishes, and you announce, "Me aadhi ti film pahto. Mag tyavar kay karvai karaichi ti baghu."

(Note: Anurag Kashyap, more publicity coming your way. Get a new wardrobe and a shave in preparation for interviews in the coming days).

Anyway, you also announce that the media is a chor, the media is only out to get you and your family and that your only advice to nephew Raj (who, you say, majhya mandit mutla hota) is to keep away from Maharashtra Times' Sukrut Khandekar, and we all giggle and look at you in awe as if you just made the joke of the millenium.

Like I said, it's really not your fault. I always used to think that your fault lies in assuming that you have patented rights to say anything about anything. Your fault is also in honestly believing that your views and you will never be opposed. Your fault also lies in thinking that you own all of the city and it was through your efforts alone that Mumbai is still surviving in its present form.

But then I look back at all the simpering and ass-licking and guffawing at your inane remarks (I applaud your gift for talking a lot and saying little), and I wonder if it's not our fault as well. After all, we let you carry your delusions into our workplaces, let the fear of your office-bashing minions stop us from wording strong stories, let a pint-sized politician of low cunning take over our imaginations and religiously note down your opinions on government policy, rival parties, films even.

And you can rest assured that we won't give you or your precious master strategist son any bad press because we have been WARNED. We promise to comply. Just do us a favour and keep your next press meet in Sena Bhavan - your house is too cramped and we want an uninterrupted view of you in all your frail, foul-mouthed glory. Besides, as many journos whispered to each other later, Sena Bhavan always offers refreshments...