Forty

Talk about weird coincidences? This happens to be 40th post and it happens on my 40th birthday. WOW.

I am sorry, I cannot write a full-length post today but I will write one tomorrow. I am waiting for my new laptop to arrive. We are going to have a party for some friends at home. I am sure my family will be the uninvited gate-crashers.

Happy Birthday To Me.

Yes, (Prime) Minister

My wife promised me last night that she will not initiate any arguments until my birthday. I think that is just NOT* terrific.

Last night, I was watching some movie when a friend of mine called and asked me to tune into NDTV The X-Factor**. They were covering India's biggest security breach since Babur***.

Events:

• Appranetly smoe kdis deicded to vsiit teh pirme miintser atfer dnnier to disucss Foriegn Dricet Inevtsmnet.
• They were in a black Sonata****, named Sheila Dikshit, Prathiba Singh and Jagdish Tyler.
• After passing through the first gate, the car was stopped for no apparent reason*5.
• The car was then stopped by NDTV crew, which asked a whole lot of dumb questions*6.
• Sheila Dikshit then replied with some dumb answers*7.
• Now, all of them have lost their cabinet ministries for some kids from Air Deccan*8 named Yogita, Veena and Imran*9.
• The spokesperson of the PM was heard saying, it was not a security breach, it was just some of our Indian National Congress leaders visiting him at odd hours. This sort of an oddity is common at His, PM's 7, Race Course residence. It has been observed that, at times, greyhounds, rabbits and draft horses are found racing across the quarters though there is NO physical evidence, so far.
• Bharatiya Sena has now deployed the Jat Regiment and Punjab Regiment around His house. This was an idea proposed by the Intelligence*10 of our country.
• The artillery deployed at His residence includes 17 Carl Gustavs, 3 T-90 tanks, 1 Sherman M4 and several Agni's. When questioned, someone from the PMO's office said, we just beefed up security to stop any trespassers.
• Incase anybody wants to meet the PM, any Indian citizen or Italian, please send in an email to primeminister@indiannationalcongress.gov.nic.pic.edu.in *12. There is a HUGE backlog of requests to meet the PM. So, inconveneence is regritted.

Yours PranabMacherjee.

* I can't walk away in a huff from the bedroom and sneak into the study and turn on my computer. I will be compelled to stay in the bedroom and watch re-runs of Fauji. No excuses.

** It is not based on The X-Files though they keep showing Rupert Murdoch's face very often. It is a horror show.

*** He is the son of Genghis Khan from Sogdiana and Ahmad Shah Abdali. He also brought to India, Conversion By The Sword Theory, by which, I mean, circumcision.

**** Korean crap. It probably has the worst name in the history of car making. Imagine meeting a business partner and saying, Yeah, I drive a Sonata. They also managed to copy the Jaguar grille without much ado. And, Jaguar can't be bothered. Ha-ha.

*5 Though the car was holding substantial amount of Pentaerythritol Tetranitrate, the security let them through because, the security obviously did not know what Pentaerythritol Tetranitrate was.

*6 Why do you want to see the President? Did you not know that our Prime Minister after 1930 hours disrobes his turban? Did you not know PM's residence is a high-security zone?

*7 We did not know that we are not allowed to meet the PM after 1730 hours. We were just swinging by his place with a couple of cold beers and stopped by to check if he was home. We were surprised that the security didn't stop us. What's wrong with meeting the PM? Isn't he the same guy elected by the people, for the people?

*8 Rigg's (my friend) preferred mode of transport. Getting jacked while flying Air Deccan is commonly known as a "Flying Fcuk". Just because he loves AD so much, he has traveled to places such as Aizwal, Bhavnagar, Dibrugarh, Jamnagar, Rajahmundry, Silchar, Tuticorin and Siachen Glacier. He really likes living on the edge. In an exclusive update, AD is now the second biggest domestic death toll ringer in the India. Thank you and Namashkar.

*9 Everyone is saying, they are somewhat better looking than SD, JT and PS. Also, Imran, like always has been suspected to be the main culprit. The intelligence of our country is busy trying to link him up with either SIMI or Lashkar-e-Toiba.

*10 They believe this is a common camouflage technique adopted by many armies. To have 4000 Manmohan Singh look alike(s) at one gathering will confuse Giuseppe Zangara from taking aim at MS.

*11 Indian soldiers are commonly known as Jawans except in Tamil Nadu because they do not understand Hindi. It is not a bigoted view.

*12 From: MAILER-DAEMON at primeminister@indiannationalcongress.gov.nic.pic.edu.in

Is Your Antediluvian Computer Insured?

When I was temerarious and pubescent, I made a retarded decision to buy a MacBook*. Based on the Moore's Law**, Apple changes it's products, this is true, every 14 days, thereby, discontinuing the production of all the spare-parts of models bought 15 days ago. They also ensure that product upgradation or enhancement is absurd and unfeasible***.

Two years have passed since. With my birthday around the corner, my wife has decided to buy me a new MacBook Pro****. I am just kidding. She has categorically stated that she will not buy me any Apple products. She also casually added, I am juvenile. Instead I am getting a VAIO TX***** as a gift. I am ashamed*6.

Anyways, I have a packed weekend ahead, by which, I mean, I have to attend many family get together(s). I think I will have enough information to write about for the entire next week.

Have you ever received telephone calls from strangers asking you to visit their office on Sundays for a one-hour session on their company and walk away with an assured holiday in Goa? Well if you haven't, you have missed an opportunity. The next time you receive such a call, grab it.

• Prerequisites: You have to be a couple. This offer is not valid for single men or women. Also, they will NOT reveal the name of the hotel till the very end.
• Not very long ago, I received such a call. It was from an insurance agent. After a conversation on A Brief History Of Time, I promised to visit their office on a particular Sunday for kicks.
• I managed to lure a MALE friend of mine to accompany me to their office*8. The receptionist confirmed my details and was surprised to see my male companion. After mulling over this predicament for a moment, she summoned her manager.
• The manager was gentle enough not to provoke me, only because, my MALE friend is all of 6'2" and one of actors in the movie Pumping Iron.
• Honestly, I was not concerned about insurance. Also, I have little understanding on this subject. (to date)
• After waiting for five minutes, we were invited into the larger room, only to find lots of couples (man and woman) sitting around tables with an 'agent' spieling out incoherent statistics and data.
• The manager was kind enough to sit with us and explain the entire insurance procedure. After forty five minutes, he realized, neither of us had any knowledge about insurance nor were we interested in buying an insurance policy. Without wasting any time, he brought out a coupon with a two-night-three-day stay at some nondescript bivouac.

We thanked him profusely for his time and patience and offered him a two-night-three-day stay at Goa and dispersed.

Yours KalHoNaHoInsurance.

* A computer developed by a fruit seller named Apple Computer, Inc. The advantage of buying a MacBook is simply that you cannot install any Microsoft products on your machine, by which, I mean, the laptop is rendered useless. You can use the computer to view pornography, pictures (family) and connect, yes, you have guessed it right, an i-Pod. I currently use it as a word-processor. Incase you are in the middle of a Product Development Cycle, (PDC, 7th day) I strongly advise you not to wait another 7 days to buy their newer product but invest in a Microsoft enabled machine. Microsoft may be unreliable but they haven't changed their technology since Charles Babbage.

** Moore, yes the same guy who started the "Intel Inside, Idiot Outside" revolution. He states, every 18 months, double the number of Intel employees will quit the company with enough confidential information and intellectual property to start rival start-up chip-making companies. He also says, every 18 months double the number of transistors will be added onto IC's, by which, he means, by 2116, computers will be the size of pick-up trucks.

*** Incase there are any spare-parts available in their inventory, they will cost more than the entire product cost + services charges + shipping + Make Steve Jobs Richer Fund + VAT. You may also find some spare-parts on e-bay, which are costlier than the GDP of Ireland. Apparently, Ingvar Kamprad made his first millions selling spare-parts of obsolete Mac machines on e-bay.

**** These machines are ludicrously unaffordable. Apple to date has not recorded a single sale but continues to produce these machines. They look good as mannequins in Apple Stores.

***** VAIO TX: VPFNGCHHHHTQWER-TXXX5280021GPPRSAIDS/VVXZOO. That is the model name. It is true. Incase, you ever happen to call Sony's customer service, after the introductory nonsense about 'hear this information in forty three different languages and we are an equal opportunity employer', a thoroughbred Learn-English-In-30 Days-Through-Gujarati executive will want to know your name. After furnishing details about your personal life, (includes current affairs, this is done only for authentication) she will (parenthetically) ask, what is the problem with your Sony product? Before you can explain the problem to her, she will transfer your call to their technical department. The process of furnishing details about your life continues, till Nalineenart Supravee Wuthisanti will ask you, Sir, please tell me your laptop model?

*6 I am ashamed because I almost forgot her birthday and only managed to buy a wilting rose from a florist who was shutting shop. Also, I dislike roses.

*7 Bottega Veneta and Luella are the only two brands that make laptop cases for Apple MacBooks. Incase, your fashion quotient is unsubstantial, believe me, the cumulative monthly salaries of all the employees in DLF might be insufficient to buy a case.

*8 Their reception area was smaller than our smallest bathroom with an old rusty table and a chair. Also present was a 'sofa' with questionable stains. This area was partitioned from a larger and invisible room that contained many chairs and tables without a menu card strewn around the room.

Blog Kya Hai?

Given my clamorous and emphatic success as a seasoned blogger, my family threw a party for me yesterday. I am not kidding, it is absolutely true. Yesterday, my wife invited a whole load of people for dinner, the reason is strictly confidential*. I am not sure but my family has a congenital disease about telling everybody in the extended family about everything**. So, everyone at the party wanted to know what a blog***** was.

Have you ever come across any person who wants to relate every single event of their life on a blog? Well I have, my cousin***. He is all of 20 years and describes every single aspect of his life on the blog. I am sure, if he survives a near-death experience, say, has a head-on collision with a truck, the first thing that will come to his mind is, WOW here's my topic for tomorrow's post.

Excerpts from a single day:

Woke up to a loud fart from me. Kal raath kho wat did i eat? After quickly brushing my teeth with my Colgate motion (battery operated) toothbrush and using my tongue scraper, I looked at myself in the mirror. I seemed to have sprouted a new pimple on my left eyebrow and one on my right cheek just inches away from my Elvis Presley look-alike sideburns. It appears that I have also sprouted several hairs on my chin. (I am becoming a man) My nose remains clean of any nose boogers. After shaping my moochi and maalishing it a bit... I quickly had a bath. (I am not going to describe what I did during my bath,hehe)

I measured myself again. I haven't grown too much since I last checked, which was yesterday. (haha) I am slightly perplixed. Wore my carpenters, a cool Nike tee, rings for all my fingers, gelled my hairs, put on my Oakley sunglasses and went out. Grabbed a cappachinno on the way with a chciken-grill sammich. Met up with Rohan, Rocky, Vickey, Sanjana at college. I think Sanjana is having the hot for me. She always looks at me different from the other guys at college.

We bunked Economics class, as usual. You know how that fat, burly, lecturer is? Cannot stand him. Boooooorinnng. We went to watch the movies. We had to choose form Kkrish, Date Movie, MI:3 and Corporate. All boring yaar. Instead we went to McDonald's and had some snackies and coke. It was almost time to finish college. I offered to drop Sanjana in my car and she accepted. So, I ran back into McDonald's and asked for some mouth freshener, like Polo or something... you know, you never know when one can get lucky *wink wink*

I played some romantic songs like I Just Called To Say I Love You and Words to set the mood. You know recently I asked pop and got my glasses tinted dark though its illegal but big deal man everybody is doing it. The a/c conked off and the traffic was so baaaaaad, we had to roll down our windows even though I tried to keep them raised for a while. It was getting too suffocating. Yaar, I missed a chance. After droping Sanjana home, I headed to meet some friends. Man some of those chicks make my wee-wee go all woo-woozy. I want to lay one of them soon, if not all.

Headed home finally at 6:30 PM. Dad and mum were waiting for me. They asked me how was college and I told them it was fantastic. I think they believed me. Sat down and watched some TV and played some Play Station. Called Sanjana at 7:20 PM. She didn't pick up the phone, so had to hang up. Her dad will kill me. Called back at 7:23 PM again and she picked up. I just love her voice. We chated till 9:00 PM on the fone and then she had to go for dinner and me too.

Changed into my nightwear and measured myself again. Still same. No warts whatsoever. An here I am typing this out to you, my dear blog. Good night and till tomorrow.

He has been typing such posts for the last 15 days and the comments are worthless. He had the cheek to say at the dinner, Mama, I take the creative juices from you to write my posts. I wanted to commit instant hara-kiri on him but the presence of his parents grid-locked me.

Some Hindi Movies And Story Lines In One Sentence:

• Sarfarosh: A movie about allergies caused by detergents. Ex: Surf.
• Rangeela: A wet colorful panty.
• Jo Jeeta Wohi Sikandar: A movie about a woman and several Sikhs. Winner gets to cycle her.
• Dil: Coronary artery bypass surgery. Special appearance: Dominique Jean Larrey.
• Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak: An Afghan movie stalled since there were no Hindi translators.
• Love Love Love: A a a movie movie movie about about about love love love lust lust lust and and and labor labor labor.
• Tum Mere Ho: Misappropriated in foreign countries as a pornographic flick though it is the Indian remake of Psycho.
• Parampara: The sound that is made when elephants and their respective mahouts make a grand entry in an epic movie. Much like the cult movie Lola Rennt or Run Lola Run by directorial benchwarmer Tom Tykwer, Parampara is also a 3-minute short-film on elephants juxtaposed several times and played for 79 minutes.
• Kuch Kuch Hota Hai: A movie made based on the book Freedom At Midnight by Larry Collins and Dominique Lapierre. Special Appearance: Yes, good guess, Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi.
• Swades: Opposite of Pardes.
• Pardes: Opposite of Swades.
• Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham...: Working title: Kabhi Pussi Kabhi Bham. A poignant tale about SRK and Karan Johar.
• Main Hoon Na: Every politician's casting couch. A secret camera that beams on the secret lives of Amar Singh and Jaya Bachchan, together.
• Veer-Zaara: Veer - to swerve, to turn aside, to bend. Zaara - little. Much like KKKG, this time, SRK does Yash-ji.
• Love Ke Liye Kuchh Bhi Karega: Saif Ali Khan's auto-biographical cinema on why he left Sharmila Tagore for Amrita Singh.
• Dil Chahta Hai: A movie about three men and a really old lady. A cheap pun on the soap Bald And The Beautiful. Special Appearance: Feroz Khan.
• Hum Tum: Originally titled Hump Tum. Since it didn't go past our revered Sharmila Tagore, they merely had to drop the T.
• Hum Saath-Saath Hain: A group-orgy. This movie was responsible for, this is true, many nuclear families embracing the conjugal family system.
• Tu Chor Main Sipahi: A medley of many short stories that include teacher-student, patient-nurse, Father-altar boy, professor-pig-tailed uniform teacher and my pop-and his hand.
• Bunty Aur Babli: Two Panjabis.
• Bade Miyan Chote Miyan: Short-film of Masturbation.
• Gangaa Jamunaa Saraswathi: A remake of I Know Who You Did Last Summer?
• Do Aur Do Paanch: This movie inspired mathematicians around the world to make another movie called One Two ka Four.
• Kaala Patthar: Stone the Blacks. This movie was apparently a stark reality about the Hutu, Tutsi and Twa tribes of Rwanda. This movie could have sparked the Era of Apartheid. Special Appearance: Martin Luther King, Jr.
• Iqbal: A movie based on the non-existent English sitcom; The Trials and Tribulations of A One-Balled Misfit.
• Amar Akbar Anthony: A remake of I Still Know Who You Did Last Summer?
• And finally Sholay: Pronounced Sho-Lay, meaning 100 Lays. The movie was later exaggerated and made as Hazar Chaprasi Ki Maa.

Please send in the corrections to any of the films themes I might have screwed up. It impossible to remember plots of all the movies.

Yours GandKiSaugand. (Apparently, the movie was initially titled Ganga Ki Saugand, which was worse.)

* It means, I do not know.

** Hypothetically speaking, incase I happen to have my foreskin surgically displaced (circumcised), my parents will call for a gathering and discuss why I had to go in for an operation, how long the operation took, for how long I will walk in a funny way and what it looks like now. They never had such a gathering, honestly, but don't be surprised.

*** Distant relative. Apparently after hearing about my blog, he decided to start one of his own. I am sorry; I cannot reveal the blog address only because I will be ashamed. His blog is full of mistaks grammmetical both and misspellings,.

**** Ho is short for Lady is a Tramp.

***** Not the personal diaries of Gen Pir Khan Durrani*6. This put me in a precarious position because present at the dinner were Penthouse Uncle, Reddy Cousin's folks, PP and the rest of the usual suspects.

*6 A computer bot.

Chat Poetry

I have been thinking of something to write all morning until I found this. This is the only poem, I have ever written*. This poem was detrimental for my future because my wife loved it. Just imagine the repercussion of writing something meaningful?

What sweet affliction time is doing to us,
Neither are you yourself anymore, nor have I remained myself anymore,

Our restless hearts met,
As if they were never apart,
And you've lost yourself, and so have I,
After walking together, for a couple of steps,

I am no sure where we are headed from here,
Though we have set off without a path,
And what we are in search of, we don't know,
Though our hearts are weaving dreams breath by breath,
That's what time has done to us...

My new found addiction is rediff chat. I was introduced to it by riggy. Apparently, he is really big out there and can pull a few strings**. While I had nothing to achieve this afternoon, I decided to log onto rediff chat. Barely, after riggy left me in the warmth of the afternoon, Footsie*** was teeming with emptiness. As I sat there in solitude waiting for my next victim and twiddling thumbs tolerantly, ragingbull38delhi**** arrived.

I: Hi ragingbull
It: Hi ahnooie
I: Are you a fan of Jake La Motta?
It: Wat?
I: J-A-K-E L-A M-O-T-T-A, A-R-E Y-O-U A F-A-N O-F H-I-M?
It: Wat?
I: Did you watch the movie?
It: Wat movie?
I: Raging Bull?
It: No
I: So what is the significance of Raging Bull in your nick?
It: Wat?
I: Ok.
It: Wat?
It: F?
I: U?

ragingbull38delhi has logged off chat.

The next one to arrive was AffectionNcare*****.

AffectionNcare enters our room.

I: Just like your mamma.
It: hi anoo
I: hi fec
It: how ar u
I: fin tank u
It: can v privat chat
I: F?
It: whr r u f
I: India
It: i too
It: r u marrid?
I: dosn't th ky 'e' on your kyboard work?
It: lol......no... ths is chat lingo
It: wht r ur hobbis?
I: Play real time characters of Jame Gumb, Max Cady, Alex De Large and Frank Booth.
It: who r thy?
I: Old time friends.
It: ok. can v go to privat room
It: i mak u cum
I: What's a private room?
It: only u n i can chat. no 1 can c
I: Including us?
It: lol...silly no. u funny boy... no 1 but us can c
I: Can't we just stick around and chat here?
It: no...i lik privat chats
I: Ok. Go ahead and create the room and give me the instructions to join your private room.

Atleast ten minutes passed after which, It told me how to get into a private room. The private room was christened "Frinds".

It: hai anoo
I: Hi fec
I: So, what do we do now?
It: chat
I: Ok. What do you want to talk about?
It: ***
I: I am not sure what you want to chat about.
It: ***
I: Can you please tell me what the password is?
It: wat password?
I: ***, what does it mean?
It: talk about ***
I: Do you have a decoder?
It: wat is dcodr?
I: Ok. Forget that. What do you want to chat about?
It: ***

By which time, both of us were frustrated for different reasons.

It: how big is u
I: 5' 11".
It: lol...lol...don't b silly... u cant b that big
I: I am, God's truth.
It: WOW
I: My father is bigger than me.
It: rally? WOWOW...
I: yes. So what is that you want to chat about?
It: u know want to ****?
I: What?
It: pls want to ****... i am along and want satisfacsion. cum pls...quickly
I: No, I am a guy.

AffectionNcare has logged off chat.

Yours higgledy-piggledy.

The events are all true. I have no made them up.

* Plagiarized.

** Introduce me to chat screen names, that we are both unsure of, especially about their sexual accouterments.

*** For the uninformed, it is your friendly neighborhood tooth fairy.

**** Chat ID has been altered for anonymity.

***** Chat ID has NOT been altered for originality.

*6 In an unrelated bit of trivia, the line, I coulda had class. I coulda been a contender. I coulda been somebody, instead of a bum, which is what I am, let's face it, from the movie On The Waterfront is used in the Raging Bull.

The Great INDIAN Escape*

Have you ever wondered why people have self-deprecating names like Mulla, Mohammadullah, Abdullah and Bulla?

My entire weekend was packed with watching The Great INDIAN Escape**. Yes, the latest booty-shaker in India is no longer Mallika Sherawat or Mika Singh or blog blocking but The Rise And Fall Of Tomato Rates Post-Liberalization.

History:

On Friday, in Haldheri village***, Kurukshetra district, Haryana, a small, young but ugly child named Prince Kumar****, in an experiment***** gone horribly wrong capitulated the entire nation. He was missing since Friday until his father heard his voice at the end of the tunnel asking him to rescue him. (Prince, not the father) After cautioning the authorities, the 66 Engineers Regiment******, the rescue operation began.

Rescue Operation:

With the able assistance of AIDMI (All India Disaster Mitigation Institute), UNDMT-I*8(United Nations Disaster Management Team, India) and the local villagers*9, the 66 Engineers Regiment sought out a plan to rescue Prince based on the movie Digging to China. While the rescue operation could be accomplished within three minutes by lowering a gunny bag*10 and asking adept Prince to sit in the bag and the team pulls him out. Instead, the regiment started digging a tunnel from Shahbad.

The team began constructing the Hoover Dam while food, books, a shaving kit and a blow-up doll named Lady Midget*11 were lowered to keep Prince busy while he was growing up to be a full blown adult. After close to fifty hours, the rescue team managed to save Prince.

Aid & Help:

• Haryana Chief Minister, Bhupinder Singh Hooda*12 announced a grant for 2 lakhs for the trauma caused to Prince's family. All the medical expenses incurred during the treatment of caveman to prince will be covered by the government.
• Prime Minister, Manmohan Singh appeared on National Television and offered 72 lakhs from the PM's National Relief Fund. In a special update, he also said, Haldheri Village will now have a maternity ward, three schools, seven PCO booths and electricity.
• SIEMCL (Sahara India Entertainment Management Company Limited) has signed up Prince for Chhota Chetan Redux.
• Reliance Infocomm supermo Anil Ambani has offered Prince's family Karlo Duniya Muthi Mein offer and gifted him a free incoming till the next seven generations offer at 12 paise per day.
• Several celebrities and cricketers are getting together to hold a benefit match and pass on the collections to Prince: We Need More Children Like This relief fund.
• Even Salman Khan's stage shows around the world are becoming hits.

What Are They (Media) Saying:

• The people, especially media channels are enraged about this incident and are calling it the Breach Of Indian Administration since the destruction of the Babri Masjid, 1992.
• The media believes that the administrators have not been doing their duties properly.
• This is negligence on the part of the Government of India as a whole.
• As angry Indians, we want all the pits in India to be closed within 50 hours.

What Are They (General Public) Saying:

• Presidential form of government must replace our current government, thereby, enabling us (general population) to ask him (The President) about the uncovered holes. He will then be directly responsible for all the uncovered pits in India.
• Installation of compulsive hoardings that say "Pit Ahead. Unless You Want To Appear On National Television, Do Not Risk It." or "This Is The Bhakra Nangal Dam. Unless You Wish To Be Electrocuted, Please Do Not Jump." or "This Pond Has Alligators. Please Do Not Swim, It Could Be Dangerous To The Alligators, Thereby, Disturbing The Ecological System." Since these ideas were suggested by Indians abroad, the government will in all probability install these hoardings in 14 national languages.
• We thank our Indian Army for saving the child. Indian Army goes where no person goes. At this point, I said, Ofcourse they wouldn't allow us civilians to go on an evening stroll on the LOC. This remark almost had me killed.
• A UK caller said: We haven't slept all night. A bunch of us got together with some chilled beer and chicken wings and sat up all night.

And Finally, What I Am Saying:

• Much like The First Giant Lie For The Mankind, did Prince actually fall through a 60 feet tunnel or did he start digging a hole around himself and after digging for many hours realized he was 60 feet below the MSL. (Mean Sea Level) Incase, he did fall through the hole, why isn't he bruised?
• Why Prince was without a shirt, if he already knew every news channel was going to air him on prime television for forty eight hours? Also, he must have carried Mensa Book of Puzzles with him.
• Finally, based on Edward De Bono's Lateral Thinking, instead of drilling through the same hole in which Prince was buried with a submersible bore-well machinery, they decided to dig a well 431 kms away, which proves EDB's LT is just another attention-grabbing blunderbuss.
• To begin with, the media channels said, Prince fell into a 53' pit, followed by 57' and finally when he was saved, he was in a 60' pit, proving only one thing. He is a gold-digger and the Original Sin of a Caveman. Also, I felt he was camera shy.
• Present in the pit were NO predators such as Ants, Earthworms, Jerboas, Armadillos and Chipmunks.

Yours Whendovesbray.

I share similar sentiments with everyone in India and abroad about the traumatic experience I shared with every other male-being who was sitting at a pub on Saturday night devoid of any female-being because all the female-beings I know were doing time at Gurdwaras, Temples, Churches, Mosques and Dar-E Mehrs praying for Prince's speedy recovery. I am writing about Prince's Untold Story only because I did not find anything highbrowed to wax about.

* Actors include Steve McPrince, James Gardener, Charles Bhupinderson

** It is a reality show hosted by Annu Kapoor and Renuka Shahane where seven participants are lowered into the Farmington Mine and are asked to sing while liberal amounts of Methane is pumped into this mine. The 16th Punjab Regiment, The Indian Grenadiers, The Royal Gharwal Rifles, 10th Princess Mary's Own Gurkha Rifles, The Indian Parachute Regiment and The Rajputana Rifles battle it out to rescue these participants. The regiment, which rescues it's schlemiel the slowest wins the competition.

*** A village that was nonexistent till Friday and miraculously appeared on Friday. Some villagers believe Amazing Grace was playing in the background during the rescue operation while the others argue; it was the Greatest Love Of All.

**** Son of Yesudasu and Amma Mariyamma, along with the able assistance of The Three Wise Men.

***** In an attempt to disprove, Square Pegs Don't Fit Into Round Holes, Prince the Cockamamie (not be confused by an incestuous son) jumped into, what was believed to be a chink in the metal.

****** Not to be confused by 666 Engineers Regiment of Falling Buildings, which was responsible for a number of building collapses during earthquakes. Anyways, 66 is NOT the total sum of engineers in the regiment but merely an arbitrary number. The number 45493439311 has never been used, for example, 45493439311th Gurkha Rifles, only because it was impossible to accommodate such a huge number.

*8 The rescue process was delayed because this team had to arrive from Geneva and Botswana.

*9 They provided unmitigated help by supplying Doodhi Aur Jowar Di Masala Rotis, Sarson Ka Saag and water. They also helped in being road blocks to easy emancipation.

*10 A jute bag used for carrying food grains. Also a rescue operation suggested by 1 billion - the rescue operators present at the site.

*11 A full-blown lady could not be lowered down through the hole because the rescue team was concerned about the tunnel caving in.

*12 Belongs to the Ku Klux Klan.

Karaoge Tea

If you live where I live, then tea is considered to be ambrosia*. You have to believe me when I say my family is as passionate about tea as I am about sex. Citations:

• You are at a funeral and somebody says, loud enough for everyone in the neighborhood, Chai** hoti, tho kitna achcha hota.
• You have just arrived after a scathing journey in a defunct car in summer and the first thing you are asked is, how about a cup of Camomile?
• They believe the Boston Tea Party of 1773 is about a number of tea connoisseurs sipping on East India Company's tea at The Waterfront. They believe the party was held to ceremonialize the acceptance of EIC Chai.
• You have just finished a five-course meal at, say, The Grill Room and got home at 2:00 hours. Someone will say, lets have tea and the entire family is up on their feet, one boiling water, another boiling milk, another one has disappeared to Zhejiang province to fetch Oolong tea leaves and in less than ten minutes, everyone is holding fine bone-china the size of a pint tankard***.

Growing up was difficult for us, especially me. Everytime we would go to some party or the other, following dessert would be a round of Antakshari**** and Housie*****. This form of expression has now pussyfooted into urban areas and is popularly know as Friday Night Gians.

• Every once in a while, my BIL and I go out to pubs on Fridays, by which, I mean, I have a chance to get away from my wife while my BIL has a chance to get away from his home bar. We tend sit away from the speakers and karaoke box****** and very close to the restroom and the bar.
• Atleast six people will sing six, if not more versions of Hotel California*******.
• Several people will also sing the most popular songs of Pink Floyd, Metallica, Guns N' Roses, etc., while they shake their heads vigorously and sibilate, depositing huge amounts of beer into the microphone.
• Some anthropoid ape will challenge his mate to sing In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida********.
• A biker chick, tattooed Rhonda Rash will sing, yes, you have guessed it right, Zombie.
• A Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie will attempt to sing Hand in My Pocket or Head Over Feet*9.
• An uncle somewhere will want to dedicate a song to his sweetheart*10 and sing Heartbreak Hotel*11.

Yours croakingtoadly.

* The drink that was responsible for Curtly Ambrose's lascivious lips. Exception to the rule is my BIL. Everytime anyone wants a cup of chai at home, my BIL will instantly down a thimbleful of alcohol. He has agreed NOT to take it easy and drink in moderation.

** Please do not be mistaken. Chai is NOT the name of the person dead.

*** Ofcourse there is a lot of confusion between half-empty or half-full. Eitherways your glass will be full in a moment. To avoid this befuddlement, my BIL never uses a glass.

**** The vernacular version of Karaoke popularized by housewives watching too many Hindi movies though my BIL always sings songs of Pankaj Udhas strangely. I never understood the connection.

***** Any game that is played indoors. My BIL always looses count of his numbers after number 9.

****** Usually a television set or a projector displaying the lyrics of the song. As the night progresses, this box is blinded from the singer by a bunch of drunk men and women, thereby

I want to feel sunlight on my face
I see the dust cloud disappear
So I dub the unforgiven
I was kissin' Valentino
So kiss me and smile for me
Right through the very heart of it - New York, New York

only if it is an informed singer.

******* Versions include Sonu Nigam, Altaf Raja, Udit Narayan, Kumar Sanu, Abhijeet and Alka Yagnik. (female singer) Somebody with dreadlocks and unusually dark will attempt to do a Bob Marley version too.

******** By the time he finishes his own rendition of the song, the pub will be bereaved of any women population.

*9 Everytime someone sings terribly, my BIL stands on his feet and starts singing the National Anthem, thereby compelling other drunken patrons to stand up, which is the real problem.

*10 Usually half-his-age and smarter-by-half or a woman about his age dressed for a house warming ceremony.

*11 Very little singing interlaced with heavy suggestive pelvic thrusts, at times exposing his prostrate problem.

Shopping The Indian Way

The acroamatic juxtaposition of hands is more commonly known as Namaste. In the beginning of time, calisthenics* was an accepted form of greeting both men and women. As time progressed and with the invention of hotdogs, this form of aerobatics was replaced by the Namaste.

The Namaste Protection Society was formed in the same year; Global Television Network Star Group Limited set foot in India. Over the years, the reverential and obeisant form of salutation has conspicuously depreciated with the advent of television shows like CSI: Miami, Rap music and Bad Boys I & II. Since then, the antiquated form of consecrated greeting has changed. It has been replaced by

• Men hugging women, women hugging men, men chest bumping other men and if possible chest bumping women too.
• The length of this form of greeting is directly proportional to the alcohol content in the body.
• After shopping for some stuff downtown with mum, my father, upon sighting me says, Wazzup dawg? Whoz yer Big Daddy? He has completely transformed himself and currently sports our dog chain around his neck for the rap effect.

Shopping is an activity that should be, by definition, carried out in solitude though any activity carried out in my family is a group activity**. If you ever commit a mistake by letting my family know about, say, going to The Shop Around The Corner to fetch a bottle of Gaviscon, you can be sure that my dad, my mum and their dog will come along. I honestly love this sort of affection and fondness but it is just impossible to shop for, say, sexy muumuus or BVDs (Bradley, Voorhees & Day) with your family.

A few months ago, my wife and I were out of essential undergarments. On our way to the mall, we dropped over at my dad's place*** and before I could realise what was happening, both my dad and mum were ready to accompany us. I pssst-ed**** my dad to a corner and related my predicament.

• We reached the mall and without wasting much time my dad headed to the lingerie section along with his wife (my mother) and my wife. (my wife)
• I headed to the men's section and picked up several essentials such as underwear, undershirts and several police, surveillance, safety, self-defense and tactical equipment.
• Honestly speaking, my wife is not very comfortable shopping for lingerie with her FIL. We are a happy family, I admit, but not just so happy. By the time, I got to the lingerie section, this is absolutely true, my dad was holding up a bra by both his hands, pinned it against his shoulder-blades, staring into the mirror and wiggling his butt oh-so-gently and screaming across the room, Beti yeh tum par achchi lagegi.
• To make matters worse, he then asked some women assistants about How-To-Measure-Your-Cup and charged with this new ammo headed towards his DIL (not to be mistaken by Heart) and asked her succinctly for her cup size.
• Unable to hold my laughter anymore, I dragged my dad away from the lingerie section. In a moment of utter lunacy, I dragged him to the negligee***** section.

Now both my dad and mum are aware of our sizes, which technically means, we don't have to be present for lingerie shopping from the next time onwards. My dad was generous enough to offer his services the next time we wanted to go shopping. He said, just let me know and if I am passing by the mall, I will just stop by and pick up stuff for you guys. What is your size again, beti?

Yours jee-stringly.

* You often find this form of greeting in Indian Cinema. This involves tripping on banana peels, kicking the bucket, breaking your 18" high heels and falling forward into the arms of the hero. This form of greeting hasn't changed since the time Satyajit Ray's dad was watching films. Also, calisthenics are fervently used in all dance sequences in all our movies and considered to be India's answer to Salsa.

** Except baby making.

*** As soon as we arrive at my dad's place, my wife runs into all the rooms to find my mother and then reads out a log of complaints till they agree that I am counterproductive. While this happens, my dad discusses the state of affairs of the Indian Cricket Team.

**** I called the Parent and Special Services Support Team. In some parts of the world, politically speaking, it means, loony-bin.

***** He loved a black negligee, which he thought would look superb on my wife. Everybody except him is aware of his Birthday gift.

****** Nihil ad rem. My BIL's son AK is an early bloomer. My BIL proudly says, AK finishes atleast one bottle of expectorant on a regular day.

Pratchett & Quiz

Honestly speaking, it is absolutely impossible to hide an erection in public, especially if you are wearing jeans. Yesterday, my wife was on yet another shopping binge*, which means, I am usually out of sight and my wallet is missing. While we were at the shop, my wife decided to try on some very sybaritic and risqué tops**. For my uninformed readers, I am currently leading a life of vestal celibacy. For some strange reason, my wife agreed to revoke my bedroom rights.

If there was any possibility of progressing from a life of continence then it had to be last night. Much to my misery, soon after we got home, my sister and her family landed up. While I engaged my nephew with small talk about Superman, Harry Potter and Kkrish, my BIL was in a deep conversation with George Dickel or Bushmills The Whole Family. At 23:15 hours, AK*** decided to stay back at my place. This atrocity presented several problems

• I was responsible for cleaning his bum.
• I was responsible for preparing him for school in the morning.
• I was responsible for feeding him breakfast.
• I was responsible for packing him munchies to school.
• And, he was going to sleep in our bed, which meant, I was responsible for telling him bedtime stories and putting him to sleep.

These were just a few of the several worries worrying me at that moment. Instead of hauling his ass and taking him home, my sister said, Hey, why don't you take care of your nephew tonight? Spend quality time with him and get to know each other? I couldn't budge out of this one. So, I told him the stories of The Shining, Rosemary's Baby and Psycho and ended it with humming the tune of Omen.

For my uninformed readers, I have recently acquired a great fortune of books written by Terry Pratchett****. I have a terrible habit of reading as many as four books at a time, thereby finishing four books in six months and mixing up all the characters. This is something one must never do while reading Pratchett. Pratchett himself is known to read atleast 14 books***** at a time while writing several books in one book. It is true; Pratchett's books on an average contain 32 parallel stories in 32 orthogonal universes trying to communicate with each other without a translator. The end result is usually chaos in one multiverse.

Incase you do not believe me,

As a smidgen of the polka-dotted purple sky smirked at Gallop****** in the quivering trilight, a silhouette of a kitten traipsed over the shards of a broken glass in Yank-Mopork*******. The moon shone over both the hemispheres discordantly exposing the thievery of the daylight.

Somewhere in the dark-alleys of Stroganoff a bunch of hooloovoos were listening to Concerto pathétique while they twiddled their nonexistent thumbs in a venerable fashion pondering thoughts on breaking The Epigraph of Disambiguate Tryangel.

While E. and T. with severed ears tried to intercept the echolocation of two anfractuous amoebae, P. and Q. were in search of an Ultrasonic Improvisational Composition device.

You know, that sort of thing.

While I was wasting time yesterday at the shop, I chanced upon Femina, the magazine.

• Career Highlights: Antagonized.
• I Kick-Start my Day With: Wife, I Wish.
• I Pamper My Skin With: Fore Or Otherwise?
• My Hair Loves: Curls.
• I Primp My Eyes: Everytime I See My MIL.
• My Favourite Beauty Treatment: Blow-Drying.
• My Fitness Mantra: Do Not Follow One.
• Pre-Party Quick Fix: Hugely Dependent On What The Hosts Are Serving.
• I Keep Myself Stress Free By: Going On Frequent Business Trips.
• What Keeps Me Energised: A Bunny.
• On A Bad Hair Day: I Am Himesh Reshammiya.
• Bed-Side Table Essentials: Rubik's Cube.
• Growing Up: Hardly Ever.
• If Not Romancing The Cameras, You Would: Romancing The Casting Couch.
• Psychiatry! Why?: Huh?
• No Women On Your List?: One, Hit-List.
• You In A Nutshell: I Wouldn't Fit Into One.

I am going to go home and listen to some Soul Music now.

Yours ponderously.

* A medical condition that results in polyneuropathy, sexual dysfunction, marital conflict and hallucinations among men.

** Tops that have the risk of falling off uninformed.

*** An overgrown child who happens to be related to me only by the virtue of being my sister's brother (me, not him).

**** As recommended by Riggs.

***** A Guinness World Record.

****** A Unicorn.

******* Somewhere between Turkmenistan and Jacobabad.

I haven't made this up, but Important Notice: Have you all heard about the new rage in the country? This is absolutely true, Blog Rehab/Detox Centers. Apparently, at these places, patients are provided with a personal journal / diary and a pen to kick-off the habit. Ha-ha.

KKrishtopher Leeve

Everybody in my family expect me is happy about the government's order to block blogs. That comes as a surprise, honestly. When I told my dad about it yesterday evening, he said, Thank God, atleast now you will stop making fun of my erectile-dysfunction in public. I never realised it made such a big difference to him.

I had to speak to The High Commission of India* to let me access my blog and publish new posts. All I had to say was, Tere saahib ko bolo, mein ek bahut bada VIP aadmi hoon. Soon after this short SMS to THOCI's phone, my blog was restored to normalcy.

My wife is ecstatic after watching Kkrish: A Caped Indian Hero for the third time, a few days ago. Apparently, my wife's Alma mater is now doing a case study on, this is true, the success of Kkrish. A huge argument extravasated between us when I remarked, Ha-ha, it appears your booby hatch** has way too much time and nothing important to do. I have yet again lost my bedroom rights***.

What they (makers) had to say about Kkrish:

• Kkrish is not a copy of Superman***** primarily because his kacha is ungraspable. (This alteration from the original script has raised a furor among movie-goers, who are now asking the important question, Is it de rigueur to wear a kacha on the outside?)
• There are several doubts about Superman's ability to father a child while Kkrish is proud father of a healthy baby boy named Kal-L.
• Due to unavailability of dates, Marlon Brando could not play the role of Kkrish's dad. A self-portrait of Kkrish was developed to play his own father since nobody was willing to play his dad including Rakesh Roshan. Amrish Puri was unavailable for comments.
• Kkrish unlike Superman possesses a vestigial thumb. Apparently, Kkrish derives his energy from jerking this thumb several times a day. In the later versions of the movie, this vulnerability will be readily available for the bad guys.
• Unlike Superman, Kkrish bleeds. The director re-did the action sequences of the movie after screening the premiere, when many movie-goers said, Oh C'mon, this can't be true.
• Unlike Superman, Kkrish is not from a different planet. Kkrish is fruit of a derelict father and Pat Welsh.

Following the phenomenal success of Kkrish, Filmcraft is toying with the idea of remaking The Matrix, titled Jantar Mantar with Hrithik Roshan playing Neo, Sushmita Sen playing Trinity and this is true, Dr. Avul Pakir Jainulabdeen Abdul Kalam playing Morpheus. Filmcraft believes in bringing avant-garde cinema to the Indian masses.

Story: (Only Spoiler)

Kkrish, the movie, begins with a bucolic and hideous looking butterball, drawing caricatures of his dead dad and mom. The granny is so impressed with his work; she enrolls him at Art Center, Pasadena. Kkrish has other plans. He decides to remain a proletarian, playing gully cricket with a bunch of retards. While Kkrish is mastering the art-form of being Charlatan**** Heston, Lois Lane arrives in the pahadis.

Lois Lane in an act of utter stupidity decides to go hang gliding****** when the operation goes horribly wrong and in a single-act of dare-devilness Kkrish much like Chow Yun-Fat flies over trees and saves Lois Lane. This act of kindness proves cataclysmic. Soon Lois Lane is introduced to Kkrish and they fall in love.

Lois Lane returns to Singapore and Kkrish also goes to Singapore, this is true, in search of his loin cloth, the one Lois Lane disappears with, after their one night in the bush. In Singapore, he discovers the many joys of other women.

While he is in Singapore, he hears about Lex Luthor (not played by Gene Hackman) who is building a one-stop-mall for all your family needs. In order to save the human population, especially men population from near extinction, he kills Lex Luthor and saves his dad.

He then takes Lois Lane and Jor-L back home, only to find out his granny is Nick the Van Driver.

The movie draws its ideas from Superman, Men in Black, Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon and Shawshank Redemption.

The film director is hoping that The Film Federation of India will choose Kkrish to represent India in the Original screenplay category. Ha-ha.

Yours kentlee.

* I met the THCOI in Singapore. We were both at the same mujra. After that day, I have been fleecing him handsomely.

** Sometimes referred to as Bra. My wife has studied at one of those B-schools, which expects you to have defended atleast two dissertations, published several white papers and aged close to fifty years. On the subject of white papers, I have published many too.

*** The rights restrict me from bringing my laptop into the bedroom. I am usually very happy to lose them. I am still practicing the art of concealed glee.

**** A cheap pun on Charlton Heston.

***** Apparently, during the filming of Superman Returns, Bryan Singer was confronted with an unusual dilemma. This is absolutely true and I am not making up any of it, Brandon Routh's package was really huge. The movie was delayed for several months while the Art Division team tried unsuccessfully to create a padded underwear that could conceal his proportions. Singer was facing three problems

• He had to film his entire film without beaming below Routh's upper torso; which was quite impossible.
• The design team offered a brilliant idea; replace Superman's tights and the conspicuous underwear with pyjamas. This was definitely impossible.
• Incase Singer screened the movie without a contingency plan, he was risking a NC-17 (No One 17 And Under Admitted) rating from MPAA, which would mean, his target audience was restricted to people from Dwight David Eisenhower's administration.

After much deliberation, Singer ordered a Hydrocele be performed on Routh. The movie was stalled for four months during this commotion, thereby compelling Singer to make Titanic Revisited.

****** I am still trying to understand, which part of If at first you fail; hang gliding is not for you didn't she understand.

A Supplication

Dear The Government of India,

How are you doing? I hope this letter finds you in the pink of your health. How is Sonia aunty diddling? Please pass on my good wishes to her. Have you ever comprehended the catastrophe it would cause if our current prime minister and Sonia aunty in a moment of sublime vulnerability got naked? They would then be responsible for the creation of Capo di tutti capi lovely Singh; who will head Cosa Nostra and live in Fatehgarh Sahib. The hypothetical occurrence of that is spine-chilling.

Yesterday, the entire online community was crying murder, since Sourav Chandidas Ganguly failed to impress for the eighty fifth time since his last double figure score of 17. They (the entire online community) want ICC to make a special consideration by allowing him to bat without a bat, thereby saving him a lot of embarrassment.

No I am kidding. The chart buster in India is no longer the Mumbai blasts but an infinitesimally insignificant subject; BLOGS. This is true, even the rural population of India is now aware of the blogging concept and are deeply condemning MNC's for paying huge salaries to their employees for maintaing dinacharyA patrikAs. A large section of the rural population wants to now move to cities like Bangalore, New Delhi and Mumbai and chase their online dream. This could give way to the Online Green Revolution after close to 50 years.

In another input; many MNC employees are jobless since the blocking of many unnamed blog sites. This vicissitude has caused confusion and upheaval among the employees propelling them to an uncommon phenomenon; work.

In a special update, when one of the officials was asked about the intelligence failure to avert the blasts in Mumbai, he said, It would be unfair to say that there was an intelligence failure as it is them (the terrorists) who decide the time and place to commit the crime. He continued, This time they were lucky and were able to strike through the blasts. Sometimes they are successful and sometimes us. On the subject of blocking blogs, he said, we wanted everyone, (Indians) especially The Spirit of Mumbai to be busy and distract them while we carry out our task of finding the culprits. The Director of Special Intelligence said this sort of ambush could distract the wrongdoers, thereby making a few mistakes and getting caught. The blogs will be resorted as soon as possible.

I suggest a few technological advancements that you (GoI) can implement for a huge chunk of money.

• Much like the The Great Firewall of China, India must also begin building a concrete wall around the Indian borders. Kerala can be left unguarded since it can be an easy getaway for the Kozhikode Abdul Kader Menons of the world to the Middle-East. The real truth is we don't care.
• India must also filter atleast 500,000 pornographic sites or sites with subversive content. This will ensure the country's increased literacy rate and also moderate the number of devar-bhabhi sex stories.
• Blogs like How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb must be blocked because somewhere on the webpage will be a hyperlink to How To Assemble An Atomic Bomb.
• India must print Jyllands-Posten Muhammad cartoons in all Indian newspapers, especially The Milli Gazette, thereby strengthening Indo-Pak camaraderie. India must not block blogs that publish such cartoons.
• Induct computer savvy professionals to work for CERT-In. (CERTainly-INept)

It is my humble request to you to take care of impending problems in the country rather than harass a bunch of netizens who get their kicks by maintaining online journals about their day-to-day activities. Please ask Joginder Jaswant Singh* to find something important to do than rummage through my blog for some laughs. I know you are looking.

Yours parsimoniously.

* Chief of Army Staff of the Indian Army.

Sunday Revelations

Yesterday, my dad told me the secret about our family. He said, I know, I have hidden this from you for a very long time and I am sorry for it. At this moment, my palms and brow turned sweaty, my butt-clenched, my heart raced faster in anticipation; I was going to know the secret about my family. After mulling over the thought for five minutes or so, with a sigh of relief, he said, Did you know we belong to the fair-haired, blue-eyed, superior and noble Aryan race? He continued saying, We belong to the fifth Root-Race and spring from one single progenitor and hail from Caucasus Mountains. It was his duty to pass this family secret onto me, which technically means, I-am-the-only-dumbass-alive-who-cannot-share-this-piece-of-information-with-anyone-because-I-will-get-stoned.

My wife is a member of the not-so-prestigious India Today Book Club. Every month, she gives me a catalogue of books that are available at 40% of their original price to choose from. For my readers, who are NOT members of this illustrious club, the selection of titles include ALENTEJO BLUEA Story Of Jealousies, Passions And Disappointments… Monica Ali, A Life Less Ordinary, A Story Of Courage And Grace…Translated By Urvashi Butalia, HARRY POTTER and the Half-Blood Prince, Now In Paperback... J.k. Rowling, India’s Legal System: Can it be Saved? A Frank And Thought-provoking Book On India’s Legal System... Fali S. Nariman, Faith Renewed... Dr. S. Radhakrishnan, Flat & Office Vaastu... Guru Kuldeep Saluja, Barron’s Creating Calm Meditation In Daily Life... Gill Farrer-halls, etc. I have to make an arduous yet simple decision every month to throw away the catalogue without viewing its contents.

Incase you did not know the secret to a happy marriage, here it is. Have two cars and one with a chauffeur. I have to admit, I learnt this technique from Teachings by His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama. Yesterday, my car dealer had a customer education program at his showroom followed by lunch. The owner called me personally to attend the CEP and support their cause. Since, I had particularly nothing to do, I decided to go for the meet.

• I was surprised to see so many cars of the same make at one single gathering. Present at the showroom were a number of proud owners along with their wives, children and grandparents. The owner of the place was more than glad to see us. (wife and me)
• The meet kicked off with the owner thanking us for endorsing their brand. He continued his never-ending speech with details about how the showroom started with a small capital of ten crores and fifteen employees and now has grown into a multi-million dollar money swindling conglomerate conning a number of customers to buy their products since their cars do not run on fuel.
• I was appalled to see the kind of people who bought these cars. I am not snooty but I wasn't particularly happy to sit along with pan-chewing, thumb-impression, dhoti wearing, Bata slipped-on baniyas with torn Rupa baniyans. Accompanying them was their entire village population that had arrived the night before in a matador.
• The company's technical staff provided us with all the information that we already knew about our cars. They did not provide us any tips on how to get to a safe place when your car conks off in the middle of the night and the closest gas station or workshop is farther away than the distance traversed between Mcleodgunj and Kanyakumari and the only possible form of communication is a carrier pigeon.
• He gave us tips on driving the car, ignition, maintenance and a whole lot of unnecessary stuff only to be replaced by their sales head who was trying to sell me another car. He showed us a comparison chat that included cars like Maruti 800, Santro Xing and Indica V2 and highlighted how their brand was far superior in all aspects. He also pointed out that their car had a hood.
• The next in line was the finance and insurance head who spoke about how insurance and finance companies had their asses covered and any damage to our cars was not going to be covered. He was absolutely refreshing and reassuring.
• He was followed by their accessories division head who told us about the dual-tone painting works, fancy stickers like "1 01d y0ur 515 1n 7h3 8ack 53a7" and public address music systems.

Just when I thought we were done and I could head to a pub to down a stiff drink to neuter the CEP effect, the vice president of the organization declared an open house. None of the questions have been made up. I had written down every question asked at the meet on my conference pad; verbatim.

• The manual clearly instructs us to use, this is true, Water for running our car. I thought this was absolutely ridiculous. After consulting my wife and the impending costs of petrol price hike, we decided to use Vanaspati instead, for the first one month. This has caused engine chocking, jerky motion, knocking and misfiring of the engine. As a result, our ECM has failed. What do we do now?
• We bought the car in the month of March. After tank-fulling till the top, we went on a long drive. On our way back our car stopped abruptly. We do not know what happened and our car is still on the road for all these months. Your 24-hour call-centre could not come up with an ingeneous plan to recover my car. What do we do now?
• A robber stole our left front tyre. Since that day I have been trying to replace my stephnei* unsuccessfully. What do we do?
• I thought car fuel was covered under warranty. You cheated me. Now help me sell my car.
• This one is absolutely true. Kya hai isme ban****? pandra lakh liye ho. bishaap maare tho bhi nahi chalti. Paise nikhalo maaki teri bhos****.
• Then there was this one. I want to personally thank Mr.Singh for his efforts to organize this one-of-a-kind CEP. I am very satisfied with their service, beginning from pre-sale service, after-sale service and workshop maintenance. They have carried out their work in a professional manner. I wish Mr.Singh and his family all the very best in their future andivers. He read it out of a piece of paper that he extracted from his coat pocket.

I did not have the heart to say yes for the lunch that followed the CEP. Is anyone interested in buying my car?

Yours carfully.

* A french bar-maid who lives in the neighborhood.

Resurrection Of Ananyobroto Don Cupitt

My wife has attacked me with a list of movies that she intends to watch. My presence is merely consequential to the extent of driving her to the movies only because the chauffeur is unavailable for late-night shows. The list includes:

• Krrish (3rd time)
• Superman Returns
• Corporate (1 1/2th time. She wants to watch it again because we missed the titles and director's disclaimer)
• Golmal
• Strings
• Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest (to be released)

Recently at a gathering, the conversation gamboled from one subject to another until it landed at movies. Everyone was giving his or her view on the best movies of all time, dissecting, discussing and arguing about them until it was my BIL's turn to pick his choice. For everyone uninformed at the gathering, (and some of you) my BIL's working knowledge about movies is nearly nonexistent. Without much thought, he said, Superman and followed it up with, I have watched Superman I, II, III & IV 37 times in total. Nobody understood why, until he said, Ban****, I have been watching Superman for the last 30 years with the hope that atleast in subsequent versions of the movie; the director will fix the Kacha. He was obviously drunk.

When I was growing up, I had a father with liberal views on religion. He used to say, paraphrasing Henry Ford; You can have friends of any color or religion - so long as they are Hindus. This latitudinarian view has weakened over the years but his recurring chimera continues to torment him.

Some of my closest friends then and now consist of Muslims, Christians, Jews and Women. I think, if my memory serves me right, during high school*, I was bum chums with two Christians. For the purpose of our discussion, I will refer to them with their initials, A** & D**. AD were good friends much before I went to school with them. They used to meet at balls on Sundays and jive to Engelbert Humperdinck or Barry Manilow with the catholic chicks and sip fruit punches till their mammas & pappas would come looking for them.

For some strange reason, I was friendlier with D than I was with A and this didn't fit well with A. It didn't take a lot of doing to be my friend back then. Buy me a Goldspot or Campa Cola and voila I was your friend. A made repeated attempts to get close to me and when all else failed, he turned to religion. He wouldn't watch porn with us, wouldn't listen to The Beatles since he believed that their music was The Hand Of Satan, wouldn't share a cola or a burger, nosirebob, nothing. He turned absolutely weird on us until one day, he convinced both of us to go to a certain Christian Congregation in some dilapidated convent school named Brothers Of St.Peter's or Fathers Of St.Mark's. He told us how Christianity as a religion was dying and a bunch of parishioners and brethren were working very hard to instill the faith of Jesus in everybody around them.

Though I am not a believer in God or one single religion like all urban educated folk, I follow Kabbalah. I am just kidding. I didn't have a problem going to this congregation but my father surely did. After much convincing by my mum, he agreed to let me go for this meeting.

• We reached the location, a prime spot for day light rapes. It was a half-finished/unfinished whitewashed building with un-plastered stairs and walls. There were puddles of water everywhere with more water dripping through the roof.
• Present at the gathering already were exceptionally empty Polypropylene chairs in a huge hall with no windows and artificial lighting. At the rostrum, stood a tall, dark, lanky chap in a habit with The Holy Bible (I guess) in one hand and a wooden Cross in the other. I swear, I am not kidding but he looked like Bela Lugosi. Also, by his side stood a bunch of people who were making sure that sound system was in order.
• Bela was glad to see A and with a knowing smile, he greeted us. I have always been a back-bencher (not just academically) at school. Even before I could head back to the last row in the hall, Bela asked us to take the first three seats in the front row.
• People started trickling in one after the other, greeting Bela and finding a suitable place to sit. I swear, I saw some pretty girls too. By the time the Prayer began, atleast 75 people had assembled in the hall.
• Bela started telling us about the birth of Jesus, the second coming, etc. by which time, my cup had runneth over big time. I was terribly bored and being a first-bencher didn't help my cause. Somewhere during the discourse, vernacular Bela2 joined Bela and started literally translating the English verses into the local language. This brought about instant mirth in me.
• Everything was going on smoothly till this happened. This is an absolute true occurrence. Everybody in the room kicked off their shoes, got off their chairs, got down on their knees and held their neighbor's hand. No such luck for me, I was sandwiched between A & D.
• At this moment Bela asked everyone to close their eyes and let the Lord transcend into them, giving them the strength, courage and power to be honest to themselves, their neighbors and loved ones. He asked the people to believe in the Lord and speak the truth. He wanted us to confess*** our sins or wrong doings to the strangers in the night.
• The indistinct murmur and undertones, at this point, suddenly broke into obstreperous and uproarious bawling and the entire room began to sway (not the room, the people) uncontrollably. Except me, everyone in the room including A & D were swaying incredibly. Even Bela was swaying with the microphone in his hand like a rock*.
• A suddenly tightened his grip around my palm and begged me to cry. Not only did this break my silence into a giggling fit but also induced me into bopping A on the head. This seemed to have caused some imbalance in A. This is true; he lost his balance and tripped onto his neighbor thereby causing a chain reaction. Everyone in our row except D and me were on the ground.
• After excessively crying for ten-fifteen minutes, A turned to me for forgiveness. He told me about how he hid my Chemistry Practical Recordbook, how he emptied my bike's petrol tank, how he finished my lunchbox without telling me, how he told my girlfriend that I was characterless (partially true) and finally how he wanted to be my best friend and did everything to rupture my relationship with D. Not knowing what to do, I gave him a big warm hug and never spoke to him ever since.

After the Prayer everyone went home and watched How Stella Got Her Groove Back, a soul-stirring movie about how Stella goes back to loving children half her age. They all thanked Bela for his discourse. The Prayer had dangerously exceeded my time and when I got home, I was greeted by a grim sister and a grimmer dad waiting for me at the dining table. On spotting me, he said, Hello there, Mr. John Mathiah and continued his niceties with a food prayer, Rub-a-dub-dub, Thanks for the grub. Amen.

Yours holyspirits.

Disclaimer: The practices, principles and beliefs, depicted in this post represent absolutely nothing. The information found on this blog does not apply to any other blog but this blog or with any other blog but that of Qwerty's. I do not claim to be a historical expert on the anything, I am not an expert in the language and may have committed many grammatical errors. I have derived my beliefs from oral traditions. And no, you cannot contact me for the reason you are asking. I don't wish to be harassed. Only one bugeye bumble bee was hurt. It is absolutely kosher.

* Even though it has been a couple of decades since I quit school, the memory of this incident still remains. It is a chick magnet story and I use it generously.

** D continues to be a distant friend. We speak once in a couple years. I am not sure what happened to A. I met him once at a Chinese restaurant with a girl and his mother. He had apparently finished Engineering from some fly-by-night operator school and was hoping to start working as a Medical Compounder at his dad's clinic.

*** The confession I never made to A. For a very brief period, between his breakup and reconciliation with his then girlfriend (no shame, she was Mighty Aphrodite), I extended a helping hand and a compassionate shoulder for her to lean on. I promise, I did all in the name of Thy Lord.

Foreign Movies, Bengali Movies And The Universe

This morning, I was thinking about the battle of the sexes, its origin, propagation as a function of self-pollination and the test of time. Centuries ago, when Ape Man and Jane* were the only two people walking Mother Earth with gay-abandon, things were all going fine until the invention of Civilized Defecation. The invention of CD, led to the discovery of WC. This was really the critical mass, the defining moment that sparked the battle of the sexes. My wife insisted that we must have the WC seat grounded while I argued we must have it raised. The argument never ended, thereby propelling us to miss breakfast and head to work at break-neck roadkill speed. This argument also resulted in a) Balancing the WC seat at 45 degree angle with the assistance of a stick b) Opening the Encyclopedia Britannica and typing out the story on battle of the sexes.

My wife and her family are arty-farty lovers of alien-language movies. If you ever happen to visit my in-laws place or for that matter my place, you will find innumerable DVDs that cannot be watched without a translator. I recall, we had to cancel watching a movie due to the unavailability of Russian, French, Italian, Japanese and Uw Oykangand language translator. The interesting part is my-inlaws watch movies** like La Dolce Vita, Satyricon, Höstsonaten, Det sjunde inseglet, Yojimbo, À bout de souffle, Le Mépris, Roma città aperta, Rashômon, La Nuit américaine and Jules et Jim without, this is true, subtitiles while I sit there chewing gum and hoping for a nude scene. I just hate those film appreciation sessions where my inlaws (including PP's mum, my wife) sit together and watch two or three foreign films back-to-back without subtitiles. I am not entirely kidding but my FIL's fascination for la Nouvelle Vague stems from a trip to Europe on Thomas Cook vacations.

I recall, when I was first introduced to my to-be in-laws, my to-be wife categorically told me that her parents were aficionados and bon vivants of cinema, theatre, art and wine. She insisted that I must resist myself from calling Michael Madhusudan Dutt, Shakti Chattopadhyay or Joy Goswami bongs. I wasn't aware this was such a serious issue until her family initiated me into bengali poetry and movies much before our marriage.

I can proudly say, I have watched most of the movies made by Bimal Roy, Satyajit Ray, Ritwik Ghatak, Rituporno Ghosh, Pramathesh Barua, etc. For my avid readers, I suggest***, Devdas, Madhumati, Meghe Dhaka Tara, Komal Gandhar, Subarnarekha, Heerak Rajar Deshe, Aparajito, Choker Bali and ofcourse Pather Panchali.

Upholding the Bengali spirit, sometime last year, my inlaws decided that we must (Chintu's family, PP's family, wife and yours truly) watch Antarmahal: Views Of The Inner Chamber as a family since the movie featured Jackie Shroff, Abhishek Bachchan, Roopali Ganguly, etc. I am not kidding you but the movie was a treat. The parents were busy trying to close the eyes of their respective kids while I was trying to hide my face in my nonexistent bosom.

The movie is about how Jackie Shroff, a Zamindar, who cannot beget children and he keeps changing wives to try new positions. He desperately needs progency (preferably male) to carry forward his legacy and he employs every possible person in town to help him achieve it. To appease the Queen of England, he decides to overthrow his old sculptor with a bare-chested AB to make a figurine of Kali Mata with her body, this is true, and the Queen's head. He believes, this might help his wife conceive. OK, I was kidding. He then employs a pujari who insists by chanting some secret vedas while Shroff is in action with his newife, he can help Shroff and his newife have a baby. The newife is dismayed and sharooshed by His Zamindar's idea and decides to commit suicide. At that point, the oldwife makes an appearance. She seduces the pujari and get seduced by the bare-chested AB building a Kali Mata figurine with a Queen's head.

--INTERVAL--

I will leave it upto you to figure out what happens next. The movie is reflective of normal Bengali families though the director begs to differ. He says, Yes, it is true with unlikely exceptions.

This zealotry extends to Indian Theatre too. People like Geoffrey Kendal, Naseeruddin Shah, Lillette Dubey, Tom Alter, Girish Karnad, Saeed Jaffrey, Shabana Azmi, etc are always mentioned in our conversations. I recall, answering a question, I said, PVR, Regal, Odean and Paras are fine Indian Theatres. My FIL thought I had a sense of humor until he figured out I was not kidding. From that day onwards, my FIL stopped treating me as his SIL.

Dada, ami baachte chai.

Yours educatedly.

*History of Jane: Jane is Plain Jane with extraordinary good looks and huge breasts. She comes to the jungle with a bunch of amateur hunters in search of rhinoceros horns, tiger penises and turtle eggs. Soon after they arrive, Jane decides to stay back at base camp and read some mind-numbing John Collins book. Her friends and a bunch of aboriginals instruct her not to wander away from the camp. Ofcourse, like in all movies and books, Jane decides to stroll through the jungle insouciantly only to be snared by one of Ape Man's bOOby traps, which knocks her unconscious. She wakes up to find herself in Monkeyland surrounded by monkeys and Ape Man. (Look alike of Hermes, with six pack abs and a well toned muscular body in a loin-cloth) Jane then enjoys a Banana Split, which happens to be the cardinal and fundamental point of no return in the History of Mankind.


** I have spent close to forty-five minutes with a selection of the aforementioned DVDs before my computer trying to find special-characters such as "ö, À, é, ô" on my keyboard. I figured, I had to use Programs >> Accessories >> System Tools >> Character Map to find them. I had to insert those characters for authenticity and foreign effect.


*** I didn't spend forty-five minutes since they did not contain any special characters.

Any Given Thursday

Every now and then, I go through bouts of maladroitness, by which, I mean, I do not have enough creative ideas to write about until something happens in my wife's family.

Critical Acclaim for my blog. Entirely fictional.

• The very blog I have been looking for most of my life...It represents virginal education, and all schools will be better places if they made this blog a part of their curriculum.
  
  
• I defy any reader to be bored by any of its contents. Genuinely enthralling. Unintentionally precise. Flamboyantly encyclopaedic. In toto, an imaginative and penetrating storyteller who dared to retell the Big Bang Theory.
  
  
• Gripping, utterly absorbing and leaves one gasping for many more. Seldom have I rooted so hard for a set of fictional individuals. I am in awe of his capacity for finding detail in nothing.
  
  
• I love this blog. Screamingly funny. I want to marry him.
  
  
• The first blog that looks at humor as a practice and as such should be necessary reading for everyone in the human gene pool.
  
  
• When I finally did get hold of the website, I was prepared to hate it. But I ended up loving it and reading it slow because I didn't want it to end.

Sometime ago, one of my wife's cousin decided it was his turn to do the saath pheras. Essentially, marriages around the world are divided into two categories: a) Love b) Ekta Kapoor. I chose the easier way out. I found the then girl of my dreams and changed it into naked reality. My folks were more than happy with my choice because they figured it was the easy way out for them too.

I have to admit, in a perverse way, marriage is like a garment store. You have great fits, great colors, expensive ones, cheap ones, defects and most importantly, way too many to choose from. Lately, you have seconds sales too. I chose mine when it was very dark. This guy decided to break the rules. He decided to marry someone of his parents' choice. Everyone appreciated his decision until my wife and I were also invited to see the girl(s).

I did not want to go to help my wife's cousin make a decision about his marriage. I was unwilling to influence his decision. After all, I was not going to live the rest of his life with her. My wife decided that we must accompany him and his family to check out the girls.

• The entourage consisted of my cousin's father, mother, two sisters, their two children, his grandmother, my wife's parents, my wife, me and several chauffeurs. My FIL also contemplated bringing his dog.
• Even as we left home, I had a bad feeling about this trip and by the time we reached their place, the feeling became real. I never knew my ex-girlfriend had a pretty little sister.
• The entire family seemed to display a certain amount of hostility as I walked in. When hostility is coupled with familiarity, its time for double whammy. Except for my ex-girlfriend, her mother, father, sister and my wife, none of the others present at the gathering were aware of my predicament, thankfully.
• I sat crosslegged, away from my ex-girlfriend's father while the entire place broke into a furor of activity. People were laughing, sherbats and knickkancks were being passed around, and conversations about preparation for the impending marriage being fervently discussed.
• Just when I thought everything was going okay, the attention suddenly shifted towards me. My ex-girlfriend's father broke my silence with a quick-fire questionnaire that included several unnecessary questions.
• I managed to answer most of his questions without raising too many eyebrows. I still suspect my FIL has his own doubts.

A few weeks later, my wife told me that her cousin is going through with the marriage and with a smirk said, We will be one happy family!

Yours woebegone.