No Country For Petrol, Men

“Tum mujhe petrol do; main tumhe aazaadi doonga.” This is what Subhash Chandra Bose would’ve said had the Britishers been ruling us today. Heck, they would’ve run back to their land of football, WAGs, idiotic accents, and underperforming cricketers; looking at the petrol prices here. No war. No drama. Gandhi would’ve lived. Nehru would’ve ruled. Bhagat Singh would’ve been chilling at a pub with Milkha Singh. No ifs. No butts. Sirf Jatts. Sunny paaji would’ve been so happy.

I was having a talk with my girlfriend about the increasing prices of petrol in our country. Sadly I was wearing the ‘No girlfriend. Save petrol.’ T-shirt that very day as I didn’t know I was going to meet her. Thankfully, she called me before coming to my office, so I quickly smeared my t-shirt with some dog poop to hide the idiotic text. Otherwise it would’ve been goodbye sex and hello YouPorn. Although I never really said goodbye to YouPorn. But that’s a different story, a different time, a different blog.

It would be idiotic to complain about increasing prices. It’s the natural world order. Like Asians taking over the world, gays getting married and having legal anal sex on the streets or dogs finally evolving to be able to talk to humans and tell us that their way of wanking off is actually wagging their tails. So I’m all cool with paying 400 bucks for a movie ticket, 3000 bucks for a meal for two, 8000 bucks for a semi deluxe room in Patna and 30000 bucks for a gram of gold. Only thing that has remained constant is the price of potato per kg. Buggers don’t go higher than 10 bucks a kilo.

What I’m not cool with is the mercurial and exponential increase in the price of petrol. I pay 70 bucks a litre and that’s apparently the cheapest in India. That means 70 bucks to travel 8 kms. That means 140 bucks to the nearest mall where I can go eat expensive dahi in the form of Cocoberry Yogurt. But that’s cool, the yogurt, it’s healthy and all, and you can’t make it at home, no? But paying 18000 bucks for fuel every month is not. I already have just one kidney, one testicle, one nostril, one moob, and one butt cheek. I’ve donated the rest for fuel money. How will I pee if I sell my penis too? The government does not understand the need of a man’s penis in this country. The roadside walls will go dry if they don’t get irrigation.

This petrol price rise coupled with the constant ‘recession’ that’s been happening in India since 2006, which, for some reason, does not seem to end, EVER, has really taken a toll on my monthly budgets. I can no more subscribe to Bang Bros or GrehShobha or get fish pedicures or attend Shiv Khera’s inspirational speeches or save up for my future kid’s tuition fee at a premium computer institute in India like Maya Academy or Arena or Aptech or NIIT or Faridabad Technical Computer Language Model College. I have no future. Thank you petrol. I can’t even burn and kill myself for I can’t afford to do that. What, men!

I think I will give up soon. Last I heard that even Saif Ali Khan couldn’t afford to buy petrol so he somehow managed to get a job at a petrol pump and siphon off little little amounts of petrol for Kareena so that she could drive to Priyadarshini Park to run for 8 hours till she loses all her fat, skin and only her skeleton is left for us to see. Just imagine the tits and it might work.

There is no hope left, my comrades. Give up now and buy a donkey. At least you’ll get some ass this way. Spank and ride all day long. No Petrol No Tainsan.