For a nation of a billion people , to have reached that number , imagine the effort, that we Indians put in to create so many naked frolicking tiny Indians. And we still can't teach our kids sex?
They say the cat has nine lives.Coincidence that the human gestation period is nine months? To put the things into perspective our watchman's wife has been pregnant whenever I have seen the poor lady.And from the human sizes rolling all around the floor, it seems; they have been at it for a long time.What bums me out is how and where ? Not to get too crass about it but, we Indians as a collective soul would certainly crack a record for being at it. Indian culture is all about having sex and not having to talk about it. World take heed ! If this phenomenon were ever to made public a lot many disgraced westerners with their post-renaissance intelligentsia would die to take the proverbial nine lives in India.Freud, I think just rolled over in his grave.
What bums me out about us Indians is; for the extremely large populace so much enjoying sex, how do we let the women be pregnant for lot of the time? This basically limits the time, the dominant male populace can enjoy.If someone can batter the fact into the woolly hare brains of pastoral India, that I guess would be the best contraceptive India can ever think to have. That might seem sadistic on my part to suggest such a gross measure but I guess giving multiple births might not be as good. And I guess if the women weren't pregnant all the time, there would be little lesser collateral damage.( I actually disgusted myself but logic dictates truth !)
The weirdest thing that comes out it seems India needs to have more sex to create less babies. Logic eh!
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Bro’s before Ho’s!
So often has the article one been quoted in the travails of history than I care to think about.If you have any doubts then you can enlighten yourself by reading the Bro’s code.
St. Barnabas Stinson said so and there ain’t a exception to the universal rule.As has been seen so often lately, the article one has been loosely interpreted and thus I think a few clarifications have to be added.
- At no point in a binge drinking night out can a bro leave another bro in the lurch without a cheers. It is considered to be a cardinal sin to leave a bro waiting destitute.
- At no point during the above said night out a bro is supposed to talk to the ho for more than the time required to empty half a peg or three gulps of beer. The time in waiting for the other bro’s should be suitable compensated by buying the next two rounds of alcohol.
- The bro with the ho is not supposed to talk about the emotional disposition of other bro’s to the ho. The only exception to the rule is if the ho is a prospective bro and wingman.
- A bro is allowed to take the side of the ho in case the ho is present. Under no circumstances is the bro allowed to take the ho’s side in case two or more bro’s disagree on the same (in absentia of the ho duh)!
- On no account is the bro to sideline a bro’s plan that involves multiple bro’s to just be with the ho. This violates article one in the multiple.
- In case the bro has to go pink for the ho, he is not to expect another bro to recognize him till the course of the pink interval of life has ended. Understanding emotional patches is not the bro’s job. It is our job to get you drunk and get hooked up.
PS: the above is meant for the people that are comfortable with the bro's code.In case you find this offending the planet of venus would welcome you for cuddling.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Indian wedding Blues
The concept of a western urinal is good.Provided you dont happen to be anywhere near to a indian wedding and morbidity has taken toll of you to such an extent that you have decided to wear something resembling a Indian Kurta.For such matters western urinals and indian weddings are a disaster in the offing.
Imagine you are the urinal trying to do what the gods have ordained for you at this importune moment.The bladders are loaded to the point of detonation with a very short fuse.The concept of automatic disharge with your pants on has been obliterated the day you passed the potty sesssions back in infancy.Decency says you have to do it the naked primal way with due adjustments to your hang.And you hit the first roadblock.
Ground check to see whether the person beside is more interested in his life or is looking around.Then you proceed to pick the kurta to an extent where anndiems cannot discharge a heady and smelly patch on it,all the time looking funny like a kangaroo with an up turned pouch.The next logical steps would be to untie the umbilical cords of your pyjama.For some hellish reason you wish you are a sailor adept at knots.Also you wish you hadnt tied that knot looking at that gorgeous picture of whoever adorns the dark walls of your sanctum.In the mean while you are enlightened on the joys of life , about karma and crap ie basically how it feels to be happy.
With the success of all your endevours you loosen the knot.Now with a careful estimation lower you pyjama so as to avoid butt exposure to the nosy bastard who came behind you at this very moment.The levels of estimation is the one thing one feels that beats the heady astrophysics.And then the karma , the action that liberates the chained and maimed soul from the manifestaion of lucifer himself.
That done and thank heavens for that the same reverse engineering works wonders.Think of the lass of your sanctum,mess up with the knot and close the exposed parts of the bodice.Run out of the purgatory and sincerely hope you never wear an Indian Formal to Indian Wedding with an western urinal.
Imagine you are the urinal trying to do what the gods have ordained for you at this importune moment.The bladders are loaded to the point of detonation with a very short fuse.The concept of automatic disharge with your pants on has been obliterated the day you passed the potty sesssions back in infancy.Decency says you have to do it the naked primal way with due adjustments to your hang.And you hit the first roadblock.
Ground check to see whether the person beside is more interested in his life or is looking around.Then you proceed to pick the kurta to an extent where anndiems cannot discharge a heady and smelly patch on it,all the time looking funny like a kangaroo with an up turned pouch.The next logical steps would be to untie the umbilical cords of your pyjama.For some hellish reason you wish you are a sailor adept at knots.Also you wish you hadnt tied that knot looking at that gorgeous picture of whoever adorns the dark walls of your sanctum.In the mean while you are enlightened on the joys of life , about karma and crap ie basically how it feels to be happy.
With the success of all your endevours you loosen the knot.Now with a careful estimation lower you pyjama so as to avoid butt exposure to the nosy bastard who came behind you at this very moment.The levels of estimation is the one thing one feels that beats the heady astrophysics.And then the karma , the action that liberates the chained and maimed soul from the manifestaion of lucifer himself.
That done and thank heavens for that the same reverse engineering works wonders.Think of the lass of your sanctum,mess up with the knot and close the exposed parts of the bodice.Run out of the purgatory and sincerely hope you never wear an Indian Formal to Indian Wedding with an western urinal.
Mix And Mash Hinglish rediscovered
We Indians take a lot of pride in our grammatical approach to English. So much so that we would readily abandon the crudest nuances of what would seem comprehensible and use tedium as an alternate of literacy. The lessons of dictum later, let’s get down to the assimilation of vernaculars. We do have a version of English called “Hinglish”. However we do forget that India speaks a million languages for it’s oh so modest population of a billion hungry people.
The other day I was off to the only temple I go to. Something about the atmosphere appeals to me. There is a weird custom there. Every visitor is welcomed into the temple by being hit in the head with two canes by scantily clad Brahmins. And if you are unfortunate enough to understand their lingo then you will also notice a perverted view to the world of religion. The language is unnervingly akin to the one used by the slum dwelling Indian counterparts. One would expect the pillars of religion to be a little bit; civilized should I say! Their religious semantics apart, their usage of language was quite a revelation for me.
On the occasion I was sporting a goatee, which my friends had assured me; looked prosaically draconian. However I was convinced that the original without the patchwork was no better and hence the abominable styling. The Brahmin in the meantime quipped “Jagannath ki chadi, I like your dadhee”.
For those familiar with the English, Hindi and Oriya ; you should have no trouble deciphering the quip. Loosely translated it was “The cane of Jagannath, I like your beard”. Now that would be a veritable nightmare in case you looked for a critical appreciation of the same. It rhymed however. No doubt the intent of humour was to loosen my wallet a wee bit and the niggardly one that I am, I wished him well. The thing that caught my acoustically trained ear lobe was the strange palette on offer. India it seems has learnt to grow itself a language that seems strangely scavengic (coined one there !) ! We have developed a sense of language like sponges. Absorbing and evolving. After all religion and its mascot the relevant deity are on sale to the highest bidder. And it makes sense that the bidder would definitely not be speaking the vernacular.
However in a few cases we do use the language of the world in its entirety. On this trip to Mumbai, as I and my friend were trying to find our way we came across a food joint. As usual it sold Indian and Chinese and fast food. We were more interested in finding a decent chai shop when I happened to glance at what was written underneath the menu.
“Entry from backside only”!
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Its called demand...Supply is a word I barely recall
Ye all who yearn for a Nobel in economics here is a case study for ye.
Have you heard of the phenomenon where you do not notice a thing till someone spells it out for you.I had the self same enlightenment a couple of years back. To be able to come home to prepared food is a luxury.Not that I call what our maid bakes food but it suffices to fill the ravenous four that our room is.Accepted that it is once in a blue moon that our "bai" (ahem maid) chooses to show up and invariably when she's expecting salary, however she does turn up sometimes.
However what I noticed is the number of rotis she makes.Very often she would ask how many of us neanderthals are actually eating.Most of us expecting no food at homestretch take the liberty of fulfilling our basic demands else where mostly with hyderabadi biryani and sometimes with chicken gravy.In hyderabad , inspite of the myriad names chicken gravy is basically the same. But that is not what i wanted to point out here.
So the interesting part is that the raw ingredients to our daily food however does not change with the number of people eating.The amazing part is notwithstanding the demand the supply remains constant.
Our maid is a genious.Talk about the indian food needs.Our agriculture department could do a lot with her at the helm.(I hope she's more well versed in education than some of our political big weights.)What I fail to understand is how dough for two suffices for four at times.In times of population explosion (and seriously indian's need sex education) I would deem it important that this travesty of demand supply chain be explored into.Who knows there might actually be an Indian who would win the Nobel on economics.
And no I guess Amartya Sen is not Indian.Not that he has NR whatever status; but to the fact that the prodigal daughter needs to learn to tie that saree around.(wrt Tango Charlie)
Amen
Have you heard of the phenomenon where you do not notice a thing till someone spells it out for you.I had the self same enlightenment a couple of years back. To be able to come home to prepared food is a luxury.Not that I call what our maid bakes food but it suffices to fill the ravenous four that our room is.Accepted that it is once in a blue moon that our "bai" (ahem maid) chooses to show up and invariably when she's expecting salary, however she does turn up sometimes.
However what I noticed is the number of rotis she makes.Very often she would ask how many of us neanderthals are actually eating.Most of us expecting no food at homestretch take the liberty of fulfilling our basic demands else where mostly with hyderabadi biryani and sometimes with chicken gravy.In hyderabad , inspite of the myriad names chicken gravy is basically the same. But that is not what i wanted to point out here.
So the interesting part is that the raw ingredients to our daily food however does not change with the number of people eating.The amazing part is notwithstanding the demand the supply remains constant.
Our maid is a genious.Talk about the indian food needs.Our agriculture department could do a lot with her at the helm.(I hope she's more well versed in education than some of our political big weights.)What I fail to understand is how dough for two suffices for four at times.In times of population explosion (and seriously indian's need sex education) I would deem it important that this travesty of demand supply chain be explored into.Who knows there might actually be an Indian who would win the Nobel on economics.
And no I guess Amartya Sen is not Indian.Not that he has NR whatever status; but to the fact that the prodigal daughter needs to learn to tie that saree around.(wrt Tango Charlie)
Amen
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Hyderabad for Dummies
Some points to note for people new to hyderabad.
A) People here use the vigorous head shake for a affirmative and the negative.You need to be a mind reader to know if the yes is a yes or a no.I would advise that please look out for the word "nakko".That is the most definitive answer you can squeeze out of the vocally impaired.
B) A friend of mine had been to the local cd wallah to get a couple of pirated movies . When after perusing the long list of W(J)ackie chan's and Bruce Li's I think he surrendered to the abyss and asked for one.The answer he received shook him to the core.No offence meant for our gay counterparts but the part was a little shocking for my hapless friend. The cd wallah told him in what i quote "kal touch karo , mein batatun". Apparently translated to human readable language that means : "touch me tomorrow and then I will tell you". After a few very uncomfortable moments my friend got the import of the diatribe.
C) Whilst I was new to hyderabad; the myriad pallies, chowkis and bads were alien to me.So in absence of all directions on the roads I had to take recourse to asking people directions. Those days it was either public transport or my two good legs. Evertime I asked directions the average hyderabadi would look up from his Irani chai, point to a vague direction and say those fatal words : "Ageich Hai.Thoda chalte chalo."
Literally translated to human readable form its just in the alley ahead.Walk on. After a few trials I found that just ahead here does not signify distance.Hyderabadi's are good with directions and the tend to overtly exaggerate on the distance on the lower side. So invariably when asking the average Hyderabadi spare a moment to ask them, Can I walk to the place or do I need transport ? Next time you are here be forewarned.
I will endeavour to find more of the hyderabadi quirks.Stay tuned. In the meanwhile get hold of that local movie called Angrez .Trust me that is hilarious.
Signing off with
"Wo nakli scent tera baba lagata"
And please its called Yellow.There is no god damned word aello.
A) People here use the vigorous head shake for a affirmative and the negative.You need to be a mind reader to know if the yes is a yes or a no.I would advise that please look out for the word "nakko".That is the most definitive answer you can squeeze out of the vocally impaired.
B) A friend of mine had been to the local cd wallah to get a couple of pirated movies . When after perusing the long list of W(J)ackie chan's and Bruce Li's I think he surrendered to the abyss and asked for one.The answer he received shook him to the core.No offence meant for our gay counterparts but the part was a little shocking for my hapless friend. The cd wallah told him in what i quote "kal touch karo , mein batatun". Apparently translated to human readable language that means : "touch me tomorrow and then I will tell you". After a few very uncomfortable moments my friend got the import of the diatribe.
C) Whilst I was new to hyderabad; the myriad pallies, chowkis and bads were alien to me.So in absence of all directions on the roads I had to take recourse to asking people directions. Those days it was either public transport or my two good legs. Evertime I asked directions the average hyderabadi would look up from his Irani chai, point to a vague direction and say those fatal words : "Ageich Hai.Thoda chalte chalo."
Literally translated to human readable form its just in the alley ahead.Walk on. After a few trials I found that just ahead here does not signify distance.Hyderabadi's are good with directions and the tend to overtly exaggerate on the distance on the lower side. So invariably when asking the average Hyderabadi spare a moment to ask them, Can I walk to the place or do I need transport ? Next time you are here be forewarned.
I will endeavour to find more of the hyderabadi quirks.Stay tuned. In the meanwhile get hold of that local movie called Angrez .Trust me that is hilarious.
Signing off with
"Wo nakli scent tera baba lagata"
And please its called Yellow.There is no god damned word aello.
cannibal"istically" autists
Have been thinking on writing this up for aeons now.
I live in hyd which has its usual complements of autisms.
Hyderabad is biryani country. From the birth of the infant to the grave the number of chicken"s" an average hyderabadi"y" consumes in biryani can feed somalia for decades.What escapes me in totality how can one have the hallowed dish for brunch,lunch,dinner and supper. Beats me.
However the case in point is not about biryani.I just love the way hyderabadis sell chicken.Everyday I pass through this road en route to office. There is a poultry ki dukaan (shop i.e.) that says live skinned chicken. Yes i accepted that this means they skin the chicken live and the available product is live. With a great deal of pepper , salt and irani chai i accept that.The average clientele of the shop I guess are more than swayed by the public exhibition of the butchered birds than to fall for the firang calligraphy.
What did it for me was the caterer at the office.(Food I cant complain about .. judge yourself).
One fine day I reach the cafeteria and was looking at the menu under "A La Carte".Yes they used the word without a spelling mistake.The first innocuous entry read : LIVE CHICKEN CURRY. Oh I get it they butcher it live, skin it live, curry it live and serve it (yuck) live.Nobody it seems spared a thought about my poor appetite.The same stayed on the menu for a couple of months and the coward that I was ,I never had the heart to talk to the guys.Well it was fun while it lasted.
My latest tummy turner is : CHICKEN ROGAN JUICE.I am off liquids for a couple of months now.
I live in hyd which has its usual complements of autisms.
Hyderabad is biryani country. From the birth of the infant to the grave the number of chicken"s" an average hyderabadi"y" consumes in biryani can feed somalia for decades.What escapes me in totality how can one have the hallowed dish for brunch,lunch,dinner and supper. Beats me.
However the case in point is not about biryani.I just love the way hyderabadis sell chicken.Everyday I pass through this road en route to office. There is a poultry ki dukaan (shop i.e.) that says live skinned chicken. Yes i accepted that this means they skin the chicken live and the available product is live. With a great deal of pepper , salt and irani chai i accept that.The average clientele of the shop I guess are more than swayed by the public exhibition of the butchered birds than to fall for the firang calligraphy.
What did it for me was the caterer at the office.(Food I cant complain about .. judge yourself).
One fine day I reach the cafeteria and was looking at the menu under "A La Carte".Yes they used the word without a spelling mistake.The first innocuous entry read : LIVE CHICKEN CURRY. Oh I get it they butcher it live, skin it live, curry it live and serve it (yuck) live.Nobody it seems spared a thought about my poor appetite.The same stayed on the menu for a couple of months and the coward that I was ,I never had the heart to talk to the guys.Well it was fun while it lasted.
My latest tummy turner is : CHICKEN ROGAN JUICE.I am off liquids for a couple of months now.
we peculiar indians...a cab in a nutcase
Ho and a lot has been said about the way we pickle the english grammarye...
No wonder then Mrs Mountbatten preferred Nehru ... Anybody read the discovery of India..
Anyways I am no big fan of history.So for starters ; found this on a(n) ad space:
As Is Customary, All Drivers Are Provided With The Cars. All Of Them Are In Uniform And Presentable In Terms Of Neatness. We Ensure That All Drivers Are Literate, Have Comprehension Of The English Language And Can Communicate In It Too.
Oh yes the other cab companies send in the chauffeurs (uh em drivers) without the cars. Fantabulous service.
No wonder then Mrs Mountbatten preferred Nehru ... Anybody read the discovery of India..
Anyways I am no big fan of history.So for starters ; found this on a(n) ad space:
As Is Customary, All Drivers Are Provided With The Cars. All Of Them Are In Uniform And Presentable In Terms Of Neatness. We Ensure That All Drivers Are Literate, Have Comprehension Of The English Language And Can Communicate In It Too.
Oh yes the other cab companies send in the chauffeurs (uh em drivers) without the cars. Fantabulous service.