Green Mango More

I recently heard about a statement made by some politician in the Parliament. It went as follows:

“Aapko tay karna hai ki Dilli mein sarkar Ramzadon ki banegi ya haramzadon ki.”

I can’t help but laugh at people still cracking the green mango more joke. Have you not heard the green mango more joke? Well, it goes something like this:

“Green mango more ko hindi mei bol.”

“Hara. Aam. Zaada?”

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA LOLOLOLOLOLO HAHAHAHAHAH HARAAMZAADA BOLA HAWWWWW HAHAHAHAHA HAWWWWWW!”

Guys, give that woman a break. It was a harmless, classic ‘90s joke that we used to crack all the time. She probably just heard it recently and tried to lighten up the mood in the Parliament session. I mean, just because you didn’t get it, the politicians didn’t understand, the news reporters hadn’t heard of it, the opposition didn’t end up laughing, does not mean the joke is bad. She tried her best to make people laugh and I think she is an extremely strong woman to have dared tickle the funny bone of a group of people where the average age is 103 years.

Of course she did not mean it seriously. Are you kidding? Why would you think that she would single out each and every community other than the Hindu community and abuse them in public? Just because everyone other than Hindus in this country is a minority? Naah! This lady would never fall that low, would she? Don’t take her for being that stupid. Just because she only wears saffron saaris and is from the ruling party does not make her a bigot. No sir! I know she reads the Ramayana regularly, has her own Ashram, is a ‘katha vachak’ (one who delivers religious sermons through storytelling) and prefers to be addressed as Sadhvi (a female Sadhu or a monk), but what I also know is that she is definitely not a hate monger. She is a beautiful woman with a great sense of humour.

India is a secular country, people. And who do you think came up with the concept of secularism in India? It was our politicians! This sense of patriotism which incorporates equal rights for people of all religions is deeply instilled in each and every one of our politicians, especially the ruling party. Don’t you see them implementing this in our lives every day? If not, sir, you are totally blind and must get your eyes and brain checked! How dare people doubt our politicians’ intentions and blame this innocent woman for cracking a not-so-funny joke? We must blindly follow them as they are our true leaders and we must respect them more than we respect our elders or even parents. It’s us, after all, who elected them. Certainly, we are not that stupid, now, are we?

In fact, this woman should, along with running the country so beautifully, get into stand-up comedy. I’m guessing she is a little ahead of her times but soon you will see people laughing hysterically at her jokes. You’ll see. If you still don’t agree with me, tell me one thing. She made fun about a 'green' mango that so closely resembles the colour on the Pakistani flag. She is a real Indian. So, trust you me, trust her with your eyes and brains shut and let her do her job.

I, personally, wish her all the best for her future and I so wish that she continues to crack such great jokes all the time. I’m a budding humourist and would love to take some tips from her. If she is reading this, I hope she can send in some pointers on ‘How to be funny in public in 3 easy steps.’ I still pee my pants whenever I get up on stage. So that’s that.

Being Jelly

There are only 2 kinds of dictionaries in the world. The Urban Dictionary and the not-so-urban dictionary. According to the latter, here’s what jelly means:

But who really refers to an actual dictionary nowadays? I’m sure nobody walks around with a pocket edition of the Oxford Dictionary like we used to back in the ‘90s. And we hardly bother looking up for terms we don't understand on our mobile phones either. But we don’t waste a minute before searching for our own name on the super cool Urban Dictionary. And according to that, here’s what jelly really means:

Oh btw, before I proceed with the blog, here’s what my name means on Urban Dictionary:

I'm cool, in a unique sense. I can work with that. But wait, there's more:

Now I'm the ultimate cool person. And I am also a unique creation of God! Haha, but this is my favourite one: 

I AM A SEXY BEAST WHO GETS GIRLS WITH A WINK!
I have a cool toothbrush? (I don't know what this is about)
AND GIRLS BE LIKE: "OMG RACHIT IS HERE CAN I HAVE AN AUTOGRAPH"
AND BOYS BE LIKE: "DAMN RACHIT IS HERE HOW'LL WE GET ANY CHICKS NOW!"

PS - I haven't written any of these myself neither have I paid vanessa_i or dart vader or ThisOneGuyYouKnow to write all of this. I guess it's just in the name. But I wish I was more like the 3rd definition mentioned here. I'm probably the exact opposite of it. But more on that some other time. I will come back with a blog on my social skills and how big a 'player' I am when it comes to talking to girls. I'll now get back to the topic of Being Jelly.

I don't know what being gelatin means, BECAUSE I AM HINDU AND I CAN'T KNOW ABOUT COW AND PIG. But I do know what being jelly means. I'm sure you do too. Everybody does. We're all khokhla people who can never be even remotely satisfied with what we have (Are Gujaratis Dhokla people?). Even if a guy gets an Angelina Jolie with 3 titties or a girl gets a Brad Pitt with a 6-pack on his penis, they won't be satisfied. Once they are done with them or once they see someone else with someone / something better, like a 4 titted Angelina Jolie or a 12-pack penised Brad Pitt, they'll start feeling jelly and get unhappy with what they have. It goes on and on and on and it never ends. It's a vicious circle.

For those who don't know what a vicious circle means, this diagram should show you exactly what it means:

This is exactly what a vicious circle looks like. When you pee to take the water out of your body and then you drink water so that you can pee. It never ends. 

The same hold true for jealousy between humans. We're almost always feeling jealous of someone else for some reason or the other. It is usually not the same person that we are jealous of at all times. The moment we match or get better than the person we were jealous of, we find someone else to be even more jealous of. This cycle of unhappiness continues all our lives. Here's how it happens through the life-cycle of any human being on Earth:

6 years old
You're jealous of a kid who has a cycle
You get a cycle
Now you're jealous of a kid who has a cycle with gears

12 years old
You're jealous of a kid who just went to Singapore for summer holidays
You go to Singapore for summer holidays
Now you're jealous of a kid who went to Switzerland for summer holidays (and got molested buying chocolates from a stranger)

18 years old
You're jealous of a friend who is having sex
You start having sex
Now you're jealous of a friend who is having sex with multiple partners. At the same time even. In different positions. With whips and stones. Without breaking any bones.

30 years old
You're jealous of a colleague who earns more than you
You start earning more than that particular colleague
Now you're jealous of a kid who just became a millionaire with a new start up which does something stupid yet it works and the kid sells it for a lot of money and runs away to Goa

45 years old
You're jealous of how a friend who owns a house, a BMW, a pretty wife, and 2 beautiful kids
You buy a house, a BMW, get married, have 2 kids
Now you're jealous of a guy who owns a house and a BMW

75 years old
You're jealous of a guy who is having sex
You're not having sex. You can't have sex. You are too old now.
You are jealous of your grandson now as well who can at least play with himself

90 years old
You're jealous of a man who's dead rather than sick
You become so sick that you also die
You're jealous that you're not in heaven

As you can see from the heavily researched results above, there is no end to Being Jelly in our lives. We'll always be jelly even after we die. It is how we are wired and programmed. No matter what we achieve, no matter where we reach, no matter what we have, we will always find someone better than us to feel jealous of. The sooner you realise this fact of life, the happier you will be.

Unless you become Dalai Lama. I'm sure he is not jealous of anyone or anything. I'm so jelly of him right now. He's sitting on Twitter giving out gyaan to an audience of almost 10 million people and when I do the same to my 700 odd followers, they unfollow me and some even report my account.

So if there is anyone in this world who has broken out of this vicious circle, show yourself now. I am looking for you. And you know why. I need someone new now to be jelly of.

A Toilet In Your Living Room

This is no ordinary toilet that I’m talking about. You don’t visit this toilet at all. But it still exists in almost all households in India. It is usually in your drawing rooms. Sometimes, it is in your bedroom too. And I’m not talking about the attached bathroom you may have in your bedroom. This is something you have inside your room. Some are really fancy and expensive with all sorts of cool gadgets attached whereas some others are simple enough which get the job done. Either way, it is still used for the same purpose, a place where you could take a dump. Simple. It’s a shit hole. A latrine. A sandaas. A ghusalkhana. Whatever floats your boat.

Don’t take it literally. For those who couldn’t figure out what I’m talking about, I’m referring to the so called Idiot-Box! The television. A gadget that was invented by a great… Wait, let me Google… I don’t know, 3 names popped up, so let it be. The television was invented for a noble purpose of entertaining people. It fulfilled its destiny for many a years but it has been turned into a shit pot in recent times. A toilet where actors come and take a dump on their viewers through their shitty shows. The content has gone so bad that it almost feels like it would be better to smear someone else’s feces on our faces than watch their crappy shows.

The biggest problem is, that we’ve started enjoying them taking a dump on us and on our minds and on our brains and on our intellect and on our intelligence. We’ve gotten so used to the kind of content that is on TV these days that there does not exist any standard whatsoever of the quality of what comes on TV. We reach an orgasm when someone gets knocked out of Big Boss or someone comes back to life in some 13 yearlong never ending soap opera with daily episodes. We love it when we make ourselves a part of absurd nonsensical news shows that last for an hour and we enjoy every bit of the ads which show some movies in between them.

Even the person who was referred to as an ‘idiot’ when they named the TV an ‘idiot-box’ would feel more intelligent than Albert Einstein or Stephen Hawking. We’ve managed to ensure that nothing of ‘good’ quality ever comes on TV ever again. While in one part of the world they are making some of the best TV shows ever created, we’re doing the exact opposite by creating, watching, and enjoying the worst of TV shows in the whole wide world ever!

The biggest problem is, it’s only getting worse.

I don’t seen an end to the streak of crappy reality shows, noisy news shows, 28 ads per hour on every channel, music channels with no music, never ending drama series, and other similar crap in the name of content. The only thing watchable on TV is probably some Football. Why I don’t include Cricket here is because firstly, I’m not interested in Cricket any longer, and even if I was, I wouldn’t have enjoyed watching it anymore because of the insane amount of branding done during a match. Every stupid ball is brought to you by some brand and every boundary is brought to you by 10 others. The screen is half filled by 60 different brands and, for heaven’s sake, there are ads in between balls as well! What has this world come to?

I dream of a day when we could have some good quality content on TV again which people could sit and enjoy. I’m not necessarily talking about stuff that stimulates you intellectually, even light hearted fun stuff is acceptable. But please let it be good. And not crap. We’ve had enough shit taken over us, it’s time we flush it all down for a new beginning. Oh TV lord if you can hear us, save us!

PS – If you are going to start an argument about ‘good’ being subjective, please go dig your nose and eat what comes out of it. 

My Penis is Circumcised And I’m Not A Terrorist

Yes, it is. No, I’m not.  

How or why you may ask? Tarantino did it with a sword. Watch the video here.

No, he didn’t. So how the hell is this possible? A person who is circumcised and still not a terrorist? Oh, ya, I’m not Muslim. But that doesn’t cut it though, does it? No pun intended. Not all Muslims are terrorists. I know 3 Muslims who are not terrorists. But I know just 3 Muslims. So that means, 100% of Muslims are not terrorists? Hallelujah! And I’m not Jewish either. Then why the hell am I circumcised? Did I get it done by mistake? Was I born like this? Or did someone bite it off? Why? Why? Why? I needed an answer and I had the talk with my parents a few years back about this. It was one of those talks when your parents tell you that you’re adopted.

“Child, come here. Sit. We love you. We will always love you. No matter what. We love you like you’re ours.”

“What do you mean ‘like’ I’m yours. Am I not yours?”

“Oh of course of course!”

Well, I had an incident when I was a kid.

Once upon a time, when I was 6 years old, I went to the loo to take a leak. Back then it was called susu karna when you would just stand and dance around and dirty the whole pot and feel so happy about it singing la la la la la. And there were times when I didn’t wear underwear under my wear. I guess I never paid heed to the word ‘underwear’. What it actually meant. Till that fateful day! So wearing a pair of shorts with a zipper without an underwear underneath, is not a very good idea. Alas, I did not know this back then. I would feel cool that my ding dong was just a zip away and I could pee whenever and wherever I wanted to. On the street, while playing cricket, while playing football, while playing badminton, while playing pakdam pakdai, while playing kho kho, while playing ghar ghar (yes I did play ghar ghar and I always used to name myself Ravi for some reason). I would just say “Yaar susu karke ata hu.” and would go away to a corner or a wall or a car or a tree, open up my zipper and let the fluids out and come back within 45 seconds. So one day, as I pulled down my zipper… You know the story after this, don’t you? I’m sure all guys have had an incident like this once in their lives. If not, then either you do not have a wee wee or you are lying. But if you genuinely don’t know what happened next, go watch the first 15 minutes of There’s Something About Mary and then continue with the blog.

Well, the above incident was not the reason either. Sorry for confusing you all. But a slightly milder version of what happened to Ben Stiller happened to me, but no big deal. I’m circumcised because there was some issue with my organ when I was about 5 years old so my parents decided to get me operated upon and get it fixed. With Allah’s kripa, all is well and the rocket in my pocket goes off perfectly fine. Way too often though, at times.

Well, I think you have read enough about my penis. Let me get to the real point of this blog now. You know what it means for me with the current state of my wand? If and when there are any Hindu-Muslim riots in the country, I shall be slaughtered this way or that. The Hindus will burn me alive if I show them my dick (but why would I do that?). And the Muslims will chop me up if they ask my name (will they even bother?). Imagine you’re walking on the street and you see this gang of orange men coming towards you and you’re like “Hey duuuuudesss, check out my shlong!!” and they’d be like jala do saale ko. Or, you’re eating kababs and a bunch of capped men come and say “Dear sir, what is your kind name? We need to know before we show you something.” And with excitement you tell them your name and they take out their little friends and shoot! I think it’s possible in a country like ours.

In India, people don’t believe in right or wrong. They believe in name, caste, culture, religion, state, origin, language, and all other things that don’t particularly matter. Other things they believe in include dowry, rapes, injustice, corruption, ‘bad boyz attitude’, ‘v dNt fOLLow no RuLZ’ attitude, and lot’s more. I mean, we live in a country where it is believed that you can wash away all your sins by taking a dip in a sewer. Imagine that!  It’ll be so convenient!

“Hey, let me just go out and kill a few men. And I’ll quickly jump into that sewer to undo everything I’ve done! Woo fucking hoo!”

Also, to not single out the sewer, people also believe that they’re fighting God’s war!

“I must kill men and oppress women to please my God as he was as evil as me. I must also marry 29 women and have 290 kids each.”

In an evil country like this, what can me and my little friend do? I and he try to spread the seed of happiness wherever possible. Him not so much, but I do my best. But it seems it is only getting worse. Someone told me yesterday that the buffalo that was killed at the Surat airport was actually a tanned cow and it was a ploy against the ruling government. I mean, what would be a tanned cow doing in a state like Gujarat, you tell me! Wouldn’t she be chilling on the beaches of Goa sipping some beer giving some milk and making White Russians below her belly?

For those who got excited reading the last part, this blog is definitely not for you! Please stop and get yourself checked.

Ab aise zamane mei mera wo hi meri budhape ki laathi banega. I’m sure it won’t be too much of a laathi when I’m old but I’m hoping for the best while I’ll be groping for the breast. If you know what I mean.

So this was my tribute to Shahrukh Khan’s classic dialogue My Name Is Khan And I’m Not A Terrorist. As if you didn’t know that already. More on me and my penis, next time!

Real Men Don’t Cry

The Jawan is not laughing today. The Jawan wants to cry. But since the Jawan is a man, he can’t. It’s because real men don’t cry. Yeah, that’s the kind of world we live in.

Just a note of caution, if you’re expecting a typical Laughing Jawan post with humour, you’re going to be disappointed with this one. Not that I make you laugh all the time, right?

I was quite the cry baby when I was a kid. I would end up crying at every little thing. None of my friends of cousins were like this. I wasn’t too extreme either. I would cry if someone hit me, I would cry if something happened at home. Not like I would cry if I saw a white pigeon. Not that kind of a cry baby but give me a reason and I’ll show you my tears.

Now because of that a lot of people thought of me as a chump. And all this was happening when I was 8-10-12 years old. My formative years. That’s when I was still soft and could have been moulded into anything. But because of all the comments from people around me, mostly relatives and older friends, I couldn’t be what I was naturally. I was told by my uncles “Arre ladke hoke rote ho. Ladkiyon ki tarah rote ho.” Even my aunts didn’t spare “Chup karo. Kaise ladkiyon ki tarah ro rahe ho.” Even my friends would say to me “Hahahaha kaise ro raha hai ladkiyon ki tarah.”

It never felt nice. It took time but I gradually stopped crying. I grew up a little and started realising that boys were not supposed to cry like this. Only in dire situations were they allowed to cry. Like, maybe a death in the family or something. It was because that was what I had seen in life. The only time I had seen men cry was during a death of a close one. Although, I hadn’t seen too many people die during my childhood, just experienced my naani’s demise when I was about 8 or something. Even then I couldn’t cry. I had started becoming this boy who would fight the tears. Who wouldn’t let go. He started being conscious of what people around him would think if he ended up crying.

There were still instances when I howled but probably by the time I was 15, I had more or less stopped crying. Even if I got hurt, I would fight the tears and not cry. To be honest, it didn’t pain me that much either, the little bruises, etc. like they used to when I was younger. Even in a situation when there was emotional pain, someone said something mean, someone did something, I would fight back the tears and not let them fall of out my eyes. My eyes would be filled with the tears just dying to come out but I would somehow maintain my composure and keep them in. I knew if I let go then I would howl and it would not be a nice scene. Nobody wanted to watch a grown boy cry.

Once I started drinking, things changed a little. When I was leaving the apartments where I had stayed for over 17 years, it was an extremely emotional moment. I called a few of my friends over for a last round of drinks in the house where I had spent a good few prime years of my youth. That night I got drunk and I howled. I howled so much that a couple of more friends had to be called in to help me. I was drunk and I was letting it all out and it felt good. I felt like letting it all go. Bare my soul in front of my friends and let them know. I didn’t want to keep it in this time and the booze helped me kill the inhibitions after years of keeping quiet. And you know what? It felt much lighter after that. It became easier for me to deal with the fact that I was leaving the place where I spent almost all my childhood at. The place where I got my first dog and where I lost her too. Even that night, I didn’t cry. I so badly wanted too, though.

Having experienced a few deaths around me in recent times, I have thought more and more about this phenomena in our society. I’ve been turned into this creature of sorts who does not cry. I still give in time and again when I get badly drunk but that happens probably even less than once a year. I mean, I don’t remember when I cried the last time. I’ve been to funerals and cremations. I saw my own grandfather pass away sometime back. The last link tying the family of my mother’s side. Not saying that we’re all divided now, but it’s just not the same. The one place, the common hub, the one man who commanded it all without doing it directly, now does not exist. And that saddens me in spite of the fact that I’m not too fond of all my relatives.

Even when I am on the verge of crying, that precise moment when I’m about to burst, that instance when you can’t even speak because you may end up crying, I still manage to keep it all in, suck up the tears, and show a strong face. I don’t know if it actually makes me strong or not. All the pain and sadness is still inside of me. I still keep thinking about it. On the outside, people either think I’m strong or I don’t care. I don’t know what to do about that.

I am this person now. Unless something extreme happens, I don’t shed a tear. There are times when my eyes do get filled up but that’s that. I don’t let it get any ‘worse’. I have been conditioned like this now. It’s unfair. I don’t want to be a cry baby or anything but I do, at times, want to give in and just let it all out. I know people won’t mind. I know my girlfriend will be there for me. I know my parents will be there. I know my sister will be around. I know my friends will help. But I still can’t get myself to cry in front of people like that. So much so that I feel conscious even if I’m alone in my room at night and I feel like crying. I don’t.

It’s unfair because I do want to let go at times. It’s unfair because women can do it so easily. I want to be able to deal with sadness in an honest way like that. I also want this outlet to be an option when it’s needed to be one. I don’t want to be this strong macho man whose eyes have dried up and he has become a stone from the inside. I have not and I don’t want to.

I want to let go. But I can’t. It’s just sad at times. 

Achhe Din Aa Gaye

I was a little sceptical about Narendra Modi becoming the Prime Minister of India but after the happenings over the last couple of day, I’m quite sure that he is the right choice.

Friday was a landmark day for him and BJP. They became clear winners of the Lok Sabha Elections 2014 trumping Congress and Aam Admi Party (AAP) pretty badly. It was as expected and the ‘Achhe Din Aane Wale Hai’ chants turned to ‘Achhe Din Aa Gaye’. I still didn’t completely believe in our Lord and saviour Narendra Modi Ji until Saturday.

As promised, he delivered on what he promised. He said he would bring happiness into our homes and that’s exactly what he did. In fact, his effect has spiralled worldwide and people all across the globe must thank him for what he has done. Something that Congress couldn’t do for over 10 years (almost), Modi and his aides at BJP took less than 24 hours after winning the elections to achieve it. It was a feat unmatched and all temples on his name are now completely justified.

I personally had been waiting to something positive in my life after having given up on Congress a couple of years back. Who was to say that Modi Ji would just take a day? Me along with millions of other people around the world owe it to him. The master. The professor. The great one.

It didn’t come easy though. Almost till the last minute there was no confirmation if he’d be able to pull it off or not. But he silenced his critics masterfully and let his actions speak for him. All the doubters and haters were silenced for once and agreed that Modi, the king, had arrived.

I can only see positivity in the air now and the future definitely looks brighter. There are going to be plenty of more achievements and we’ll be back at the top after such a long hiatus. To say ‘It feels good’ would be such an understatement. So would be ‘It feels orgasmic’. It’s much more than an orgasm. There were tears of joy. It was the greatest moment of our lives, ever!

Thank you Modi Ji for making Arsenal win the FA Cup 2014. Thank you Modi Ji for making Arsenal lift a trophy after 9 years. Thank you Modi ji for bringing a smile upon Arsene Wenger’s face after so long. Thank you Modi Ji for everything. Your actions and your promise of ‘Achhe Din Aane Wale Hain’ wasn’t just confined to India but it rattled our homeland, England too. London may be red but surely everyone sees saffron in it. Job well done, sir.

Also, I took a nice dump on Sunday, my fart didn’t smell too bad today, I cleaned my nose and nobody noticed, a friend of mine ate a sandwich, I filled water in the cooler, my L’Oreal shampoo still remains, surely, Achhe Din Aa Gaye Hain. If these are not happy days, I can only wonder where we go from here.

Narendra Modi, I love you. And thank you, again. 

Indian Politics in 2014

True story, bro.

Ignore the meme above. And ignore the ones that keep appearing. If you are expecting a serious, well researched, and insightful blog about politics, well, you are at the right place. I will exceed your expectations and by the end of the blog you would want me to become the next Prime Minister of India. I will be RaVa. Or LaJa. Or something. Maybe just MaMeSa.

RaVa is short for Rachit Varma, which is my name.

LaJa is short for Laughing Jawan, which is my blog’s name.

MaMeSa, my favourite, is short my for my Twitter handle @MayaMemeSaab.

And that's how I roll.

I’ve seen elections before. Starting from school for the posts of the head boy and the head girl. Those were important times. Alas, I was never a candidate. I was an averagely average boy. I had a side parting and I used to apply coconut oil in my hair. But, for the actual winners, it was a big deal. It defined the rest of their lives. For boys it meant they’d get to go to the US and marry a small town girl from India. For girls it meant they’d get to go to the US and marry an ex head boy, from their school or some other.

I have also experienced local colony elections amongst friends to decide who would get to throw an egg on the girl everyone had a crush on. I won that a couple of times but could never hit the mark. I was bad at cricket too. See how average I was? I even remember the Delhi elections that just happened last year where I voted for the very first time in my life. But the elections that are happening right now, are way beyond my comprehension. You lost me at NaMo…

Dil ki baat.

Let me make my stance clear before I continue. I am not for anyone. I will openly tell you that I voted for NOTA. I do not support any of the parties out there contesting the elections right now. I don’t think I will ever be able to do it too. Till the time we have cow praising, people killing, ugly ass fat and old uneducated idiots contesting the elections, I am sorry, they will not have my vote of support.

Like, seriously.

Politics and elections is all fine. They are a part of life because that’s how a democracy functions, at least on paper. It’s the people, you people, who bother me. I have never seen a crazier bunch of people. Last time I saw such madness was when this ‘Didi’ had a wardrobe malfunction when all of us little kids were out swimming. I will always remember that day as ‘The Day When We Hit Puberty And Had Our First Hard On’. Ahh, what a glorious day for mankind. Let me relive it and come back in 4 minutes.

And I’m done. Continuing…

From old intellectuals to young hipsters, everyone is riding this Indian Political wave that has become so stupidly hilarious that it’s poli-tickling me now. It was unexpected from so many of the people around me to indulge in any kind of support or bashing of the politicians that I don’t know if I can trust even my dog or the pet mouse that I have in my kitchen who is not afraid of me and keeps staring at me no matter what I do I have not eaten in 8 days. Some are out there with their dicks in their hands and wanking off to the most likely PM to be announced. Some are shoving brooms up their behinds in sheer pleasure that they get out of it. And I am not talking about the mice in my kitchen. Although, that would be quite a sight.

There are some who are opposing them so fiercely that they’ve quit their jobs and moved in back with their parents and spending 18 hours a day just bashing the politician they hate. I once did that in the summer of 2010 and all I did was watch porn and masturbate. Still more productive than what these other guys are doing.

Am I???

I can’t wait for the elections to get over. I need people around me to become normal again. I need better conversations than the ones comparing penis sizes of Narendra Modi, Rahul Gandhi and, Arvind Kejriwal. I have no interest in them whatsoever. At least discuss bosoms of Mamata Banerjee, Mayawati, and Jayalalitha. Everywhere I go, everything I do, everyone I meet; all I can see, hear and feel has something to do with the ongoing elections and Indian Politics in 2014. I see a broom and BANG! I see a monkey and BANG! I travel in a train to Ahmedabad and I stop at Godhra and BANG!

It's unpossible.

Please get this over with as soon as you can otherwise I will have to illegally move to Bangladesh and become a male prostitute and get deported to Thailand as a ladybody of sorts and hope for a better life. Do you really want to stop reading the awesome stuff I write? NoNa? Let’s move on with our lives. There are castles to be built, noses to be dug, Anil Kapoor’s hair to be shaved and banana peels to be slipped on.

Please feel free to use the awesomely contextual, topical memes around Indian Politics and the ongoing elections, with my face on them, on your social networks. Enjoy! 

Big time, man!

You're welcome.

What is up?

Can't help it!

To Buy Or Adopt?

I’m not talking about kids here. This blog is not an intense piece about child trafficking in India but it’s about KUTTE! It’s about those dumb creatures who we humans love dearly and think they can protect us from all evil. They do protect us from some shit like sadness, depression, frustration, etc. but they hardly help us in any other manner. I find them to be quite useless to be honest and they’re only good at one thing: making you feel loved. And that’s reason enough for me to have one in my life, always.

But I’m not here to write about how stupid my dog is or how much I love canines. Today, I’m talking about a recently discovered dilemma that people face when they decide to get a dog in their family. To buy or to adopt?

Lately, I’ve come across a plethora of advocates talking about the advantages of adopting a dog rather than buying one. They say that buying a dog is not right both morally and ethically. Nowadays it’s suggested that people should rather adopt a dog off a street or a shelter and give that little unloved puppy a loving home.

Now I get the whole deal about people trying to give these unfortunate puppies a nice home but what I don’t get is the whole negativity around buying a dog. They need to realise that not everyone wants to pick up a dog from the streets or get a stray from a shelter. Some people want smaller breeds. Some people prefer bigger ones. It’s just what they like and there’s nothing wrong with that. They also have reasons for those decisions a lot of times. Old people prefer keeping small dogs because they’re easier to manage. People with big houses can keep big dogs and it complements their stature as well.

When it comes to strays, you don’t get too many options like this. I know a lot of people who have strays at home and, in fact, even I’ve always taken care of the ones living around my house. They’re alright but not many people want to take the risk as they’re behaviour is more susceptible to being unpredictable. I wouldn’t prefer to get a stray to my house purely because it’s my old parents who take care of the dog primarily and not me. It’s best for them if we have a small dog, which we do currently, a Dachshund. The strays are also often of the same average size. They all look particularly the same but I’m not being judgemental here. I love all dogs no matter what size or breed. But let’s leave the decisions of buying or adopting to the people and not become too preachy.

Adoption is not always possible since these pure bred dogs don’t often come for free. Educating people is important, I get it. And the whole deal about breeders killing off unwanted pups and it becoming a bad business and all, does not mean people should start adopting strays only. Rather the authorities should put a check on those who don’t practice this ethically and treat the animals badly. The solution does not lie in not buying. It’s like saying that girls should not step out because the cops can’t control the rowdy men. That will be all.

Have You Taken A Selfie Today?

I recently found out that Yale and Harvard Universities will be offering Master and Ph.D. courses on ‘Taking Selfies’ starting fall semester 2014. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but owing to the word ‘selfie’, the Oxford English Dictionary guys have stopped printing its paper version. They say it’s now too big to be printed but they’re just 1 word over the limit. Of course, a critical word like selfie can’t be taken out of the dictionary for sure.

Idiots Are Everywhere

Late last night I reached a certain posh locality of South Delhi where my fiancé had parked her car because her office is in the same colony. We had gone for dinner in our car and we were picking hers up on the way back. Since it’s a residential area, one can find empty parking spots during the day but they fill up by night as people come back home from work, etc. When we reached, we saw a car parked right behind ours and I wasn’t too surprised. Although our car was parked on the side of the garden and not in front of a house. But I thought to myself, maybe we parked in someone else’s usual parking spot, and we didn’t take it out on time, so the poor guy had no choice.

The Biggest Tragedy Of My Life

The day was a Sunday, it was the 18^th of March, 2007. It’s been almost 7 years but the memory is etched in my mind vividly. I still get a tear or two in my eyes when I think about it. That day, what happened, is probably the only thing that I regret so badly in my life. There have been mistakes and then there have been incidents, I’ve regretted my actions or decisions every now and then, but nothing has lived on like this.

B For Bakchodi

What is Bakchodi? It sounds like a dirty word but I can tell you it’s not. You may think that only the most useless people indulge in it but I can vouch for the fact that everyone does it. It is what keeps us going. It is what differentiates us from the animals. It is what brings a smile upon an infant’s face. It is what makes a dog wag its tail.  It is what impresses your boss and gets you promoted at work.

It is the essence of life.