We regret that we are unable to use the enclosed material. Thank you for giving us the opportunity to consider it.
Although we admit that "Namaste: Now You Die" is, as you insisted in your cover letter, "the riveting story of a Mumbai based self-help guru turned international assassin and Bollywood dance sensation", its subject and style are not congruent with the type of fiction favored by New Yorker editors and readers.
Similarly, your horror tale "Cleanliness Unto Death" is, we're sorry to inform you, not the sort of thing we publish (though the concept of an inexplicably sentient, and murderous, shower loofah is not without its charms).
The Editors