The Horny Indian

No matter how much we try to hide a coupling couple by moving the camera away from the bed as they settle beneath the flower printed bed sheet or by bringing two flowers shaking vigorously suddenly in front of the camera, we cannot snuff out our Kamasutra connections. We are 1.21 billion people who have not been dropped by storks or erupted from the ground. We have been reproducing like eggs lying Godzilla and it somehow seems that chasing the British away was a mistake. We seem to have taken Aryabhata very seriously after he invented zero and are busy including it in our population count as a sign of flattery, which brings me to the point – ours is the horniest nation in the history of mankind.

Think about it. 41.6% of our population fall below poverty line. Of course they haven’t heard of “precautions” and the only source of entertainment is having unprotected sex and producing causalities called babies. Now, I must not put the whole blame of India turning into a dangerously tilted overcrowded bus on the poor. Laluji is not poor. My 10th standard maths teacher was not poor whose production line produced six girls before it was abruptly discontinued after manufacturing a boy.

We have a lot of anti-population plans in place. Our government is trying its best to stop Indians from mating by showing them 1-3-2 (Fayde Ka mantar) family planning adverts in which a lustful couple dwells into something which borders very close to soft porn. Hell, we don’t even have the live-in concept. We have balding, pot-bellied, in their 30s males living with their parents (I am one of them. Thick hair. 8 pack abs). We have people living in rooms smaller than prison cells. We have Khaps, religious groups, cricket, prehistoric parents and a very nosy society structure in place to cater population growth but none of this seems to be working.

Why?

It’s our Horny genes. We love bed sheets with elephants printed on them. They turn us on.

Look at the statistics. Raping women is as popular as learning cricket. Horny men are rampant on the streets just like those zombies in Resident Evil. Delhi is famous worldwide for its horny men who achieve the impossible feat of raping women in moving cars. We have also tried both the ends of the spectrum – from an 80 year old to a two year old. We love eve teasing also. We have the courage to address a rotund middle aged mother of two as Chikni. It comes naturally to us. Controlling our hormones is against our culture.

Our movies inspire us a lot. Latka, Jhatka, Thumka and of course the patented moving-breasts-up-and-down is something our visionary directors have to create to quench the thirst of millions of horny citizens. Small time theatres which showed desi porn movies are on a decline. We don’t need them anymore. Who wants to see fat women curling around fat moustached men like two tangled hippos when our John and Bipasha can do it? Has anyone tried connecting Munni, Sheila, Jalebi and Chameli to the Eve teasing graphs? I’ll bet my porn collection that there is a connection. Of course I am not blaming Bollywood. It’s a sophisticated sex toy for the horny underprivileged.

And while I am on this topic, I find us horny in another sense also, which in truth, was the real reason to write this post – It is the fact that we are a horn friendly nation. Horn friendly, horny, got the drift? We love to honk. We honk egoistically at poor pedestrians who are like those pesky cockroaches and have no right to salsa in the middle of the roads. We honk at rickshaws pullers who desperately try to move their sole bread earning rickety vehicle out of our way before it gets mowed down. We honk at other cars specially if there is a big red L pasted on them. And traffic signals? They are just disco lights. They turn us more horn(y). They remind us of dance bars.

We are horny for speeds also. How else can you explain the recently created racing tracks with cars and stray dogs competing in Noida when the other developed nations are shunning the sport? How else can you explain the speeding Mercedes and BMWs which end up in a pile of scrap and dead bodies being scrapped off roads?

Do I need to mention money? Money turns us on like an eighteen years old who has popped 10 pills of Viagra. We are on a collective hard on from the last 60 years.

Well, in India, being horny is good. It’s cool till it is done under veils. We have the art to cover it up, even if it includes covering up the women in real life and dis-covering them in every other medium. We encourage it. We are not apologetic about it. We are always turned on.

We, are the incredibly horny Indians.