An non cheating male? look no further! Thursday, November 4, 2010

Since time immemorial, the one thing all female species have wanted is branded clothing at an all year discount. The second most dreamed wish in general has been a faithful partner. Both of these have remained just that, distant dreams. But this was till today. While the world is still not ready for discounted branded clothing, honest males now come with an indicator.


This:





Just when I thought only software engineers have nothing useful to do, I was pleasantly surprised to find many PhD scholars also in the same boat. I always used to think, just like all engineering classes have a section of really genius people who do cool stuff after joining Google, and there are another bunch of people who have no clue why they picked up engineering, and land up in the various cattle recruiting companies. The same people who comment lines of codes in order to make an error disappear in the error log to resolve a customer ticket (true story). There got to be such people in the PhD classes as well. What the heck do these douche-bags do their research on? I got my answer today. However, the bigger point I'm trying to make here is this:










Before you pass judgment on my unwashed hand, do check out my ratio. Could there BE any more proof?


Clearly, if there ever was a perfect example of a true gentleman, a keeper of promises, an upholder of ideals, a protector of male virtues, a disbeliever in the arousing art of cheating, a rejecter of extra marital bliss, the personification of the ideal man, a guy with 'my perfect boyfriend' written all over him, a man for whom all married women would agree to cheat on, all of this two times over... it is indeed... yours truly.


My phone number, link on top, about me section.

To B.E, or not to B.E Friday, August 13, 2010

The engineering course in any one of India's colleges has recently been included in the Times top 10 courses to do, to get into the top 10 military courses to do, to get into any of the world's leading terrorist organization. A look at our slogans and you'll know why. While the world's best colleges boast of pompous mottoes ranging from 'A Tradition of Excellence' to 'A Culture of Success', the engineering colleges at home have this as the unofficial, yet official saying. 'What the Fuck!'. Profound, would be an understatement. The saying is believed to have been first words which India's first engineer Mr. Mokshagundam Visvesvarayya  uttered in an intoxicated state on the day of his convocation. It is widely believed that Mr. Visvesvarayya (lets call him Mr. Vishi from now) was distraught over his percentile score of 99, in spite of  being the first and only student enrolled. Experts have explained this farcical test score by a single statement, "If your the first engineer, the ones teaching you definitely aren't". "What the fuck" has till date, remained the single most important legacy Mr. Vishi left us. It is also the the most widely uttered statement in engineering college campuses, (closely followed by "Proxy laga dio").  Mr. Vishi's iconic words echo across the nation on many occasions in the due course of an engineering degree. Some of which are:
  • As part of your 'first day in college' preparation, you suddenly realize that you'll be the apple of every girl's eye in college. This obnoxious lie is created in our minds largely due to crappy bollywood movies, in which we are forced to believe that even people with a face like Tushar kapoor  and Uday chopra find true love in college. Anyways, you splurge on branded jeans, branded tees, branded underwear, etc. As soon as you enter class and have a look around at your potential 'true loves', out comes Mr. Vishi's iconic words; WHAT THE FUCK!
  • You have read about teachers that change lives. Hold a class spellbound, and take students on an imaginary journey, and time stops when they teach. As soon as such expectations are met with an ordinary betel chewing, crotch scratching, breast staring uncouth moron, our bubbles go bust, and its really hard not to yell out, WHAT THE FUCK! The only spellbinding journey most of our professors take is either to the loo, or in the corridor to spit.
  • What the fuck, is also a common sound on the day results are announced, as either people over achieve, or in the usual cases (almost always) under achieve.
  • You finally meet and start liking that girl who originally you hated (see point 1 above). You take her out to places which some days back you prayed to be able to afford in at least 10 years. You spend on her the money which was originally meant for your tuition classes. You become you mobile operator's most privileged subscriber, and have a personal call center employee that attends only you. As months go by, you suddenly discover prettier girls on the planet. One of these prettier girl hints at liking you. you calculate the most feared mathematical equation in the world:
    X + Y = HOLY CRAP!!
    where:
    • X= Amount spent on current love interest
    • Y= Amount to be spent on the future (and hotter) love interest.
    Seriously, What the FUCK!
  • Just when you thought when you would take the software industry by storm (this is after you land one of the millions of low paying Indian IT jobs), A bomb explodes. The lame guy who you helped pass in his exams, the same guy who asked out 13 girls of the class (even though your class only had 10) and got bitch-slapped by all of them, cracks the MBA entrance and secures a million dollar paycheck in a few years. On hearing this news, you tear apart your peanuts paying offer letter, look up at the sky, and offer to the almighty the world's shortest 3 letter prayer, WHAT THE FUCK!!
So Mr. Vishi was clearly a visionary. He foresaw things that didn't even exist at his time. His famous three words will echo for as long as eternity, and continue to guide fellow sufferers in the most toughest 4 years of their lives. Years, which will teach them, that there can exist a sentence beginning with 'What' which doesn't need to be a question. It can also be, a way of life.

The Uncursed Hero Wednesday, June 16, 2010

The English sent their missionaries to India only to realize that this country already knows everything. And indeed it did. So much, that it took the pommies hundreds of years to systematically make us believe that our ancestors didn't know shit. The most important stuff that our ancestors had so painfully learned, was stopped from propagating to the future generations as it would become the source of unending powers for an unstoppable nation. This truly awesome piece of gyaan was termed  as 'social evils' that needs immediate banning. All of this is about to change and enlightenment is only a few hundred words ahead. To begin my thesis, I began my prodigious research on Indian history which required diving into a sea of historical books, letters and wikipedia articles. Basically just the wikipedia articles, the letters to the penthouse did not, to my surprise offer anything historical. (Although they did invoke my nationalistic instincts inside, with me wanting to invade the country of the various letter writers). Nevertheless, what I did find was truly a revelation.

The purdah
The most intelligent women centric custom ever conceived. Indian males of the medieval times realized one of their dormant super powers. The power to imagine. My data clearly suggests that women at that time were actually wearing pretty revealing clothes even by todays standards. Hot pants and tank tops were the norm. The average Indian male even then checked out the ladies unashamedly (which has somehow been passed on till this date), but he got bored almost immediately. There is this game that men have been playing since ages. Its called 'checking out ladies, and rating them on a 10 point scale' Apparently In those times, this game wasn't fun anymore. It got over really soon. A few wise men of those times then decided, to give the game little twist. To truly improve their powers to judge, they would now start covering up the women folk. Suddenly it became interesting. Those few ladies who might not have scored earlier found their voice again, and among the men, the true experts were born. From a mere 20% of the total women, the entire female population now turned into the single largest group of potential super models.
And then, the British came, and fucked up this notion, and shoved it as a 'social evil' up ours.

The caste based segregation
The year was 1212 AD. Brijmohan was born into a wealthy family of beggars. While posing as eunchs, they were able to extort huge sums by merely threatening people with one of their trademark "Thou shall not conceive.. EVER!" curses. Clearly, as the latest census data confirms, our country is really serious on its ability to conceive, and such threats could not be taken lightly. But all of brijmohan's friends were going to school. And so he had to as well. After his studies, he gave the CAT, MAT, SAT and enough ATs that his tiny fingers could swat. His indecision and the resulting frustration had reached such high levels, that once he contemplated suicide but couldn't go ahead as he was unsure of  how to kill himself. His friends went on to become Nalanda educated financial wiz kids who were employed by the infamous nawabs of those times. Brijmohan saw his friends earning their daily bread by bowing in front of the nawaabs and requesting for favours by day, and responding to the nawab's requests by night. Brijmohan now knew that their job was no better than his ancestral one. He declared that all children from now, could only take up the jobs their forefathers did, as that would not only save them from future career related indecisions, but also some painful nights with the nawab.
And then, the British came, and fucked this concept up, and shoved it as a 'social evil' up ours.

The child marriage
A bunch of medieval men once realized, that inspite of being grown ass men in their 20s, all they could think of was sex. They not only felt ashamed of themselves, but also realized why their boss kept complaining of their non-seriousness to work. A few of these men were having love affairs since college, and the village heads from the girl's side wanted to marry off their daughter at the earliest. All this tension was hitting on their efficiency at work. And so the orders were given. The maximum age by which you have to get married is 15. The sex bit now became part of early education, and by the time men and women reached 25, all they could think of was their careers.
And then, the British came, and fucked this concept up, and shoved it as a 'social evil' up ours.








But the  Britishers couldn't do it alone, they needed an inside man.



Here he is, giving us the finger, mocking us for the sea of knowledge he stopped us from having.

Fuck you Raja Ram Mohan Roy, may you never rest in peace.















(Key inputs, all the way from tulsa!)

The greatest game ever played Tuesday, June 8, 2010




How many times has it happened, that you turn on the TV only to get irritated watching the entire bunch of reality shows and then soon switch the damn thing off? Ahaa..!! That's what any normal person would do. I on the other hand, am different. When I get bored of something, I do no take the usual selfish decisions. My heart beats for the entire world and I always try to come up with solutions to improve the state of affairs. The following is my draft proposal of a show which will change the way you look at TV shows. What it will change for sure, is my relations with the 'kapoor' clan (a change from 'non-existing' to 'intimately personal').
I'd like to call my reality show,


Na Maa Ki, Na Behen Ki,
Main Favorite Is Poore Vatan Ki.


I know it sounds a bit shady, but that's just the title. The show is purely for the families. I had to give in to my to-be producers for a raunchy title to make some profits. So the show will be about the search for a woman who has all the qualities of becoming India's most loved reality star. It will be a series of the most difficult tests the lady participants will ever take in their entire life. The experiences gained will be life changing. For a few of their future husbands, it might even be life threatening. They will go through shit they never knew they could go through. Let me just cut the crap and present to you, the most  intensely insane, obscenely vulgar, but yet, awesomely thought provoking format for India's greatest reality show ever produced.

Round 1.
Applicants will be sought to participate in the show. We are assuming the numbers to go in millions. A number of clauses will need to be signed. A few more important ones will range from agreeing to work for free in return for guaranteed stardom to agreeing to go through any shit the director asks (or the producer wants... when he's a little drunk... if you know what I mean heh). The auditioning interviews will be conducted by our esteemed panel of judges which would include celebrated personalities like Gulshan grover, Danny Dengzompa and Ranjeet. Oh don't worry, since this is a family show, Ranjeet would be kept tied.

Round 2.
Only 40 would remain. The shortlisted contestants would enter a round called 'vixen' which is a play on words for BIKKSeN which again is short for "basanti in kutto ke saamne BHI naachna". Their star choreographer would be none other than our desi Michael Jackson with a polio in each feet, Sunny Deol. Not that they would need any coaching, coz they would be dancing to this following piece of musical marvel:



In case the above video doesn't load, here is its link on youtube-link
Some important points from the video:

  • The female lead's solo moves around 2:10 could make or break a contestant's chances at the trophy.
  • Has television ever seen a more lamer guy appear on it?
  • Even this douche-bag drives a better bike than I do. (Consider this as my suicide note)
Round 3.
Only 30 would remain. After the viewers approve of the ladies' gyrating talents, we would be checking out their vocal ones. Each participant would be called out to perform in front of a drunk audience, the ultra famous cult song, "Beedi Jalayile". The twist here would be that the drunk people around them would also be the judges for this round. (No intentions of cheap TRPs. Purely done in accordance with the way the original song was picturized)

Round 4.
Only 15 would remain. These 15 would be thrown in 15 separate punjabi joint families who themselves would already be fighting over property claims. Each girl would be introduced as the family grandfather's illegitimate love grandchild who has come to stake her claim. This would lead to conspiracies, camps, plastic surgeries and bitching of a scale that Indian television has rarely seen. I personally see this section garnering the maximum TRPs. The families would then vote out their least favorite bahu, before returning to their usual crap.

Round 5.
Only 7 would remain. Rahul Mahajan will have a surprise entry on our show. We are assuming that he'd be divorced (again) by then and would be longing his 5 more minutes of fame. In true Godfather style, we will make him an offer he would not refuse. We would offer him the role of  the new age draupadi in a male avataar. (No, he won't be undressed in a courtroom) We will lure him into believing that this time he could marry 5 girls, but would have to sign an agreement according to which he would have to, in any circumstances select 5. The big loser he is, he would happily agree (might even agree to sponsor the show). To twist things up, we would tell the girls that the 5 that Rahul chooses would actually loose. Our poor Rahul would then have to face the most severe crap of his life at the hands of our participants. Till the time the show ends, the amount of ridicule we would have caused him, television audience would hopefully never see him again ever (fingers crossed).

Round 6.
Only 2 would remain. It has been a conscious decision to avoid the usual SMS voting, but only until now. The entire nation finally gets to participate and votes for its favorite daughter/bahu/keep. On a grand stage, the janta's decision will be announced. Just when the winner would be about to be crowned, our awesomely sharp story twist. Enter our Grandmaster. (Dance India Dance?) the greatest womanizer of em all, Shakti Kapoor. He would arrive on stage only to veto the audience's decision and postpone the results for a week. A week later he would come and disclose the real winner. What happens in that week is a trade secret which the channel guys (and Shakti kapoor) have asked me not to let out. Let's just say our grandmaster needed a bit of convincing.

Now before you judge the above concept on the way it treats women, believe you me, the pervert and hypocrite Indian audience would spend their days protesting against such falling levels of entertainments, while at the same time vote for their favorite bahu at night.

I on the other hand would not attach my real name with show. God sent me to serve his subjects, and by God I will. As the show reaches sky high levels, I would be somewhere....
meditating in the Himalayas....
searching for the deeper meanings of life.
(Oh I'd still be online on gtalk though, just in case)

BlueTube Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Paulo Coelho once famously said this: 
When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it
Shahrukh khan said something similar as well in of his lame movies (Oops! There goes my already miniscule female readership). Hell I keep saying that to myself all the time, like yesterday when I was looking my colleague's IPhone with my usual covetous eyes, I said the exact same thing to myself. And just when the universe was about to conspire, I felt the strongest of all urges to pee. You might ask, how the hell did that happen? Ahh well you see, my belief  in universal conspiracies was indeed shaken for the few minutes I was in the loo, but when I had a look at my colleague's wallpaper on the phone, it was this.





So clearly, when you do want something, the universe does conspire. It's just that its not smart enough sometimes. So, regardless of this small setback, I still spent a few more days living with the same belief. This time I wanted something bigger. A huge favor in fact from this universe. A seat in the IIMs to be exact. I know I was kinda stretching it a wee bit too much, but hey, whats wrong in trying I said. So the hard worker that I am, I took an alternate approach to prepare. I thought, since I spend most of my time online, why not do the studying bit there as well? I can do my algebra with one hand, and be online on gtalk with the other, of course just in case there's a life threatening situation from which to save the world. So I started off with watching videos on you tube of past success stories. Some of the chicks were actually cute, and my mind wandered off the content they were actually speaking. You see, engineering has taught us one thing (if any). That when a college seat is up for grabs, and there are 5000 applicants for that one seat. In all probability, it will be a guy. In the rare cases it isn't, you still won't know because she may still look like a guy. So here I was watching the beautiful ladies talk about the immense workload they were under, all the stuff they knew and how they implement it in the sheets, how each day took so much out of them, how they felt before the big day, and that amazing feeling after everything ended. (See, now your thinking on my lines too. Clearly I'm not alone in this). And in one such videos I found this:





Now the really strange part is, if you watch closely, on the playlist on the right, the fourth link from the top. I am still wondering how one of the best algorithm from google (which owns youtube) came up "Dobara-Tum abhi" as a related video. Clearly all others are actually relevant.

The universe is indeed conspiring.

A bikini made of cement?? Tuesday, May 4, 2010

Advertisements are good. Advertisements make me want to buy stuff. And then there are some which make me do stuff. Stuff like trying to tear apart my head, split up my brains and try to understand what exactly are the Ad agencies trying to say. One such creative marvel I saw a few days back was trying to promote JK cements. A swimsuit clad, coy girl walks through the entire length of the Ad (which I really don't mind, she should have run if you ask me) and then the classic masterpiece (this Ad) comes to an abrupt end with the logo of JK cements in your face.

Here's the link on youtube for those who don't give a fuck for what I'm about write below, and just want go watch the hottie:  I ogle at under dressed women, take me to the link


The first time I watched it, I was pretty sure the Ad must have been a long one, with some sort of a story to it, but due to cost cuts, the JK cement guys decided to just show a clipped version of it later. This is actually a pretty normal thing that happens with ads. I was wrong. This was indeed the complete thing. Why the hell would a reputed company, who must have hired an equally reputed Ad firm go ahead and make this nonsensical (but equally sensual) ad? There had to be some sense behind the nonsense. I knew that God had chosen me to decrypt the greatest mysteries of all time.

The lack of data was driving me mad. I had an imaginary face for the Ad director in my mind who I felt he was laughing at me 24x7. That bastard had not given me anything to think on. I mean seriously, all you have in the Ad is a pretty girl, walks out of the beach, smiles and it ends. After a week of complete lack of sleep, overgrown beard and immense hygiene sacrifices, I cracked it.

After matching her facial features to my pretty exhaustive list of pictures of Indian women, I found her out. She goes by the name of 'Urmila Undress'. I know what you'r thinking of her name and would politely ask you to stop thinking ahead any further than you already have. The girl is not promoting obscenity by that surname. What she is, is giving me my next hint. Surely with a name like that, your ancestry would not be tough to Google. Google works best for people with strange names. A guy I know who goes by the rare name 'Dicwitington' tells people to search him on Google instead, when people ask him for his visiting card. Try Google-ing his name for confirmation. So, my search on Urmila disclosed the fact that she was a love child of 'Ursula Andress' (see the connection in the names?).

Ursula Andress is ofcourse best remembered for the famous James Bond scene (link). On watching the link, you'll agree that the similarities between the Ad the scene from Dr. NO were shocking. Now that I had established a connection, all that remained was a motive. What was this daughter of the ex-Bond girl trying to say? That's when I brought out my entire arsenal of mathematical formulas into play. Ursula Andress was born in 1936. My mathematical equations which are based on data collected from various bollywood magazines tell me that for a movie star to have an illegit love child, and still escape a media frenzy, it has got to happen before you enter the industry. Which gives our Urmilla Undress an approximate age of  45-50. To be able to look that way at that age is nothing but a miracle. A miracle that JK cement have been able to successfully engineer. You see for ages, silicon and botox have been the elements of choice for women, for various well known purposes. They do a pretty decent job at hiding your age, but only for some time. And here's where JK cements come. This Ad is nothing but a teaser to an upcoming announcement which will... hold your breath... LAUNCH CEMENT AS A BEAUTY PRODUCT in the market!! I know..!! Am I a genius or Am I a genius! Hah. take that JK cements! you could fool the world but not me. It was a pretty perplexing riddle until Urmila gave it away with her oh so perfect cement bonded figure, and that semi smile of her. Clearly, all the cement in her face did not allow the poor girl to smile fully.So the moral of the story, next time you comment on the cheap levels Ads have fallen to, remember, their intention might not always be to titillate the masses... but maybe... just maybe... to instigate the minds of the classes.



p.s: The idea for this post came from here

Four Reasons why Shoaib malik did the right thing Monday, April 5, 2010

Reason# 1
We all know the future of Pakistan. And no, it wont collapse under some Talibani regime, on the contrary, it will be run by this hottie known as Fatima Bhutto who shall make all the men her slaves, and with her looks, I doubt any guy would oppose. So in a country ruled by a woman hell bent on avenging all the injustices done to her kind in Pakistan, she shall permanently put all the men in bondage (not in a sexual way). There wont be a Pakistani men's cricket team. Shoaib malik would be among the lucky few who could then play for India. Ofcourse he'll have to enact the scene from Gadar in which he'll have to yell "Pakistan murdabad" holding a hand pump in one hand and all this under the supervision of Anil Sharma, but thats a different story.


Reason# 2
He and Sania Mirza will have a love child. Yes you heard it right, she's expecting. How it happened? you mean the circumstances or the process? :) Same old story. First round exit, killing the spare time in a bar, thinking where have all the hot men gone from sports, mistaking a guy named shoaib malik for shoaib akhtar, mistaking the act of 'sleeping together while your drunk' with 'dreaming that your sleeping together while your drunk', taking a steroid test later only to find more than a few steroids in your body. That's 'how not to make babies' in a nutshell. But that's not the right thing shoaib did (although was a pretty cool thing by his standards). Their child once grown, will become a UN peace ambassador and finally solve the kashmir issue by making such a mess of the state that none of the two countries would want it.


Reason# 3
Contray to what most people believe it was him who did Sania Mirza a favor. At her age and taking into account the enormous amount of activity her body goes through, (that bar incident included) it astounds me that she possesses the body of a south Indian home grown middle aged actress. God knows the amount she would have had to spend on the repairs on the furniture of her home had she decided to marry say an Inzimam ul haq. With a malnourished body, Shoaib Malik is the perfect balancing act to the ever expanding Ms. Mirza


Reason# 4
We all know what peer pressure is. Our house should be better than our colleagues'. Our car should be flashier than theirs. You think wives are spared. To prove a point, I have collected some highly classified photographs of some even uglier looking pakistani cricketers and thier wives. The images are classifed as research still continues on how the fuck did these douchebags land these stunners,

    This is why Inzimam played cricket. All the crap about pride in representing one's country and making your nation proud is just that, crap. Seriously, you think a guy like this could ever have landed with a girl like this had he not been a celebrity?? 

    Kamran Akmal is even luckier, with a face like that he should be thanking his stars for just getting married!



    Imagine our poor Shoaib malik in a party. While everyone's showing off, the poor chap has to walk in hand in hand with Mrs. Ayesha. and explain to everyone that beauty is merely skin deep. In his case, around 5 feet deep.


    To whomsoever it may concern Tuesday, March 23, 2010

    Relationships are tough. Long distance ones are tougher. But calling a break up suddenly isn't an option. A guy should have the decency to at least inform the girl, if he feels things are going bad. I know most guys don't do that. I did, and this is how:



    Hi Pushpa, (name changed of course, she wouldn't want anyone in this world to know she's dating a moron like me)

    This is to inform you that due to your continuous neglect of a mutual agreement both of us made on that fateful date of... ehh.. umm... which lies in the range of 2-10 September, I'm considering a buy out which involve me giving you a certain materialistic or a small financial token entity (not exceeding Rs 100) in return for a sudden abolishment of our mutual contract with immediate effect. I deeply regret this move of mine which I must admit that I had been contemplating for a while now, ever since you broke one of the clause in our agreement (Clause number 69) which clearly said "The female party involved will under no circumstances gain more weight, while the male party is fully authorized to do so". Apart from this serious breach in contract, there are many other reasons which are a factor, namely, a few other of your competitors offering me a much better and a cost effective deal. It seems to me that the offshore-onshore model does not seem to work as expected, and I'm looking forward to working with an outsourcing company that is located nearby. I would suggest that you do take some drastic measures if you are to continue with our corporate agreement and I hope you understand the serious shortcomings on your side.


    Yours not so honestly,
    Pappu Puneet (yes, that's what she calls me plain and simple, puneet)



    I'll try to post the reply. Can't promise it though, blogger might not allow so many swear words.

    Bow down Adam, to the awesome Madam Monday, March 8, 2010



    My salute to all the women folk in the world. A very happy womens day (Does it have to sound like a birthday?). Well this could not have been a blog post but a simple facebook status like a few other of my friends. But the real motive behind many of those numerous status updates is to really sex up your profile and have a few ladies posting nice comments and 'liking' what you say. I of course am neither that shallow a person nor in that desperate need of female attention (I've learned to live without it). But I will admit this, that there is nothing more sexy than a woman in control. If evolution is not a myth, and all intelligent species slowly but surely outnumber their earlier primitive versions, then 'men' are indeed a dying breed. So clearly, I am all for women empowerment.



    In fact, it's my dream to see Indian women on top.

    No pun intended here :)

    Phir dil do..... but kisko?? Wednesday, March 3, 2010

    A crisis awaits Indian sports. I know what you are thinking,. am I nuts?? Sachin is scoring a double ton, India's on top of the rankings and Rajyavardhan singh Rathore has finally got an endorsement to pay off his debts. Indian sport in crisis?? But to my short sighted and naive friends, my doomsday predictions, as always, are backed on sound logic.


    'Indian sports' is actually a misnomer in this entire rant. Please read 'Indian cricket' whenever you see 'Indian sports', because that is the truth. We are overjoyed by our cricketer's feats and mistake them for Indian sport's victories. What would happen if say... something awful happened to Indian cricket suddenly? If the nation's biggest sport superstar whom we idolize and call God turned out to be mere mortal? The thought might give quivers down your spine but my friends, what I'm about to show you, will twist you in ways you never imagined. No, I won't be disclosing a new recipe on cough syrups that might get you high. What I will be, will cause more damage What I have in my possession is an old sachin tendulkar pic which was taken when he was much younger. Please do not pass the pic around as it may send shock waves throughout the country and we may very well be seeing an end of Indian cricket as we know it. This may take with it our entire sporting culture as we have shamelessly been loyal in our affair with cricket, while we continue to check out our hot neighbors even after we're married. Talk about double standards! Anyways, here's the picture taken by a photographer called Chotu Photuvala whose name we have decided not to disclose due to obvious reasons. (oops! where the fuck is backspace... ehh never mind)


    I know guys. I couldn't believe it myself. How could he! The epitome perfection, the greatest Indian ambassador, a probably Bharat ratna do this! To me personally its not the over the top celebration with two bottles of liquor, its the man's drinking capacity. I've heard tales of people gulping down entire bottles but two of them?? Hey wait a second.. I thinking I'm turning into his fan again for his drinking prowess. Never! I can't allow myself to do that. In a country where more than half of the population drinks below the poverty line (According to latest census, the poverty line has been defined as Royal stag or below) how could he be so ignorant of the prevalent social conditions and hold a bottle of Jack Daniels and Blue Label? Can you imagine how many lives were at stake in this match when the bottles were swaying all over in the air. Had any of the bottle slipped we might have seen India's first spectator death.


    But on hindsight, I think it was us, we never let the man live like he wanted. At the age Sachin was when this was photographed, we were doing stuff which cannot be written/discussed/whispered anywhere. But of course, the damage has been done. With cricket gone, what sport shall we turn to? Hockey looked like a good contender but that was before we got thrashed by Australia yesterday. One thing is sure, we'll have to choose a sport which these freaking aussies do not play. And since we have the luxury to choose, we might as well find one which the USA or China doesn't play either, because they also kick some serious ass of their competitors. Another major factor that would have to go into the sport will be glamor. With the cheerleaders gone, we'll have to find an alternate. This is for people who don't understand the sport but instead of watching girls on television, one fine day decide to catch some live action and turn up in the stadium. I think I have just the right sport that meets all these conditions.









    Phir dil do kabbadi ko







    Mazaa Puneet Thakeray aahe Friday, February 5, 2010

    They say that except your biological parents, you can choose pretty much everything else in life. I have. I'm now a Thakeray.  I have devised a masterplan which shall take me to greatness. I know I shouldn't make this super confidential plan public, but then... who else but me reads this crap!

    I'm trying my hand at learning Marathi. At this age, learning a new language is a scientifically proven pain in the ass. But I'm already armed with basic swear words and since I won't be reciting poems by Pula Deshpande, only a few select statements would need translation. "Fuck you gamcha lover..!!" , "Fuck you Bihari..!!" and "Fuck you bhaiya log..!!" is probably the only 3 statements I'll be making in my short and eventful public life while I beat the hell out of all migrant labours here. Since "Fuck you" comprises 50% of all the statements, learning the Marathi equivalent of just these two words would take me half way there.
    Step 1: Learn Marathi (Target level: basic)

    I was watching the news the other day looking at the taxi/auto drivers getting beaten up. The people around me immediately let loose a tirade of abuses against the violent sainiks which I found strange. I mean seriously, just have a look at some of those people getting beaten up. Many looked like jail convicts who had just conned the last person who sat in their taxis. Their must be some reason that with faces like that, they are still able to attract the general TV viewer's sympathy. And then suddenly, it happened. My eureka moment had come! I realized that the reason the sainiks were being hated was because their fighting tactics were old. No matter how righteous your cause is, hitting with bare hands on the heads along with a constipated look (like the one shown in this pic) will not make you look macho, no matter how ideologically correct your intentions are. Imagine hitting them kung fu style with legs flying all over the place (which will keep flying... in slow motion the whole day for India TV viewers). WOW! Now thats an impact. Who can hate that? You turn from being the hated villain into the awesome Akshay kumar in an instant.
    Step 2: Learn Shaolin Kung fu (Target level: intermediate)

    Once I teach my fellow party workers the fine art of  beating up people and looking sexy while they are at it, the migrants would run for cover. For the final kick that would throw everyone out, I would need to blow this very cover. With my extensive knowledge of the likes and dislikes of my people, I would point fellow sainiks to our hideouts and weaknesses.


    To draw out the Delhi crowd, I'd arrange a fake Gucci & Versace sale allegedly offering a 0.02% discount. People from Delhi generally have the tendency to splurge on stuff they generally do not need (and cannot afford) in order to show off to their neighbors or relatives. On reading the word discount (no matter how infinitesimal), they can even risk their lives.

    For the UP bhaiya log, I'd arrange a reality show called "Sabse bada goon le jaayega Rakhi ko honeymoon". The criteria for coming as a contestant would be a bio-data full of pending court cases for crimes ranging from rape to murder. Most UP guys would be easily covered here.

    Drawing out the Bihari folks would be the easiest. Search for a Manoj Tiwari duplicate, Book a movie hall to play "Daroga baabu I love you" for a whole week at subsidized ticket rates. Bihari migrant problem solved.
    Step 3: Betray your own


    And then would come the master stroke of all. After getting rid of the 'outsiders' and helping the two senas achieve what they obviously couldn't without my help, I'd be the jewel crown in their courts. Pleased with my services, the state government would give me a stake in all the riches left behind by my fellow north Indians as I'd be the last rightful heir.
    Step 4: Sit back and relax

    The great Indian dance trick Friday, January 15, 2010

    We sure know how to dance. Over the years, growing up in Delhi has meant that I have witnessed a gamut of marriages ranging from the most bizzarre (where the groom was brought on an elephant which accidently drank some rum and went on a stampede) to the most lavish (one which had Dominoes put up a pizza stall). In all of these money wasting affairs, one thing remains common. The dance moves us Indians bring out. Here are a few personal favourites:





    • The talli sapera-
      Join your hands, form a snake, place it over your forehead, now wriggle like a snake which is prime into its mating cycle.... yeeaahhh

      Statutory warning: Make sure the pointy thing you made with your hands doesn't point towards the wrong body parts. Especially when dancing in a mixed gender crowd

    •  The patang baaz-
      Imagine yourself flying a kite. Suits best on bollywood numbers. There's a catch here however. Only one person in the group doing this looks cool. If you were about to bring this ace out and some one else stole your thunder, too bad. All you can do is hold an imaginary 'charkhadi' and try not to look like an idiot.

      Statutory warning: While you are flying the kite the most common technique is pulling up the kite (kheecha maarna) because I've hardly seen anyone releasing the string (dheel). kheecha always looks cool while dancing. There's one danger though. In an ideal Indian marriage, the women folk adorn themselves with the most complicated drapes better known as sarees. A saree's anatomy includes something known as a 'paloo'. If one of these accidentally falls in your kite flying hands, the entire celebration might turn ugly and your might henceforth have to live with a new nickname- Dushasan.



    • The Indianized taang-o
      No indian wedding or anniversary is complete without the maami chaachis forcing the couple to do a ball room dance. I not only find this strange but also disrespectful to our culture. I mean come on! Are people in latin America (from where tango originates) forced to do a bharatnatiyam at their weddings? Why should we do theirs? Especially when we totally suck at it. To make matters worse, most desi couples oblidge. Dancing lessons have made the newly weds atleast prepared with the basics. Middle aged couples doing ball room on their anniversaries are the worst affected. Looking at their awful synchronization coupled with their complete mismatch of steps makes people wonder that with this compatibility, how the fuck did they make it so long!!





      Statutory warning: I know you are getting married and its pretty obvious you'll be told to do that customary ball room thing. It's good to prepare yourself. Just don't get carried away.
      The guy in the pic on the right looks cool, but only on TV. You don't want to be trying this move on your marriage, trust me. The Indian wedding attire can do a lot of things. Hide you excess fat?Yes. Put you in debt due to its astronomical price?Yes. Make you guess where the dress ends and where the person begins?Yes. But sustain such elongation and stretching?HELL NO!





    • The flying earthworm
      This one takes the cake. Not because its extremely popular or anything. It's just that it's a family exclusive. I can proudly own up to this and say that this one originated in my family and at every other family celebration, someone in the family picks up the mantle and performs it to thundering applause. The applause is from our family members mostly, others just laugh. Anyways, the technique is pretty complicated and it is said that the true reason Michael Jackson died was because he was trying to copy it. The move basically goes like this, Imagine an earthworm flying vertically from the ground towards the sky. Now imagine your finger to be this earthworm and don't forget to keep it wriggling while it flies. To save you the details I have drawn a 3D image using the most sophisticated animation software that todays technology offers. the 3D technology used to draw these images is the same which was used to make the overly hyped flick 'Avataar'. Anyways, here is the masterpeice:








      Statutory warning: Don't try this at home. On celebrity death is enough. In case you are able to do this, don't forget to pay us the appropriate royalties.

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