Mechanophobia minus Matrix

image from here

image from here

No, I am not going to rant about the impending doom of humanity because Terminators are here. Neither am I going to convince you that we live in the Matrix. And no, my laptop did not transform into a Transformer and attack me.

What I am going to tell you is that I am suffering from mechanophobia. I fear machines. Not the imaginary machines whose fear Hollywood have instilled in millions of us over the years, but the real machines that surround us all day. It is strange how that fear is instilled by small minor incidents that stay with us and grow their inky black tentacles in our brain as we grow up.

Take for example, the ceiling fan. A very harmless machine, you might say. Not for me. I remember my grandfather telling me years ago how a man was decapitated by a ceiling fan that suddenly decided to part from the ceiling. I was a kid and the story stayed with me and every time someone would switch on the fan, I would look at it with fear as if this was going to be the last swirl of air to hit my face. Till date, winters is my favorite time of the year. A few days after my grandfather told me this story, a ceiling fan fell over my uncle’s massive and turbulent tummy as he was sleeping. It is another story that the fan just bounced off him because of the fats he had accumulated over the years. He lived to tell the tale.

A few days back, a guy died in our locality because he had left his laptop switched on to download movies in the night as he went to sleep. The battery developed some problem and emitted some sort of a poisonous gas. The poor guy did not even knew what hit him. Now, I have this habit too and ever since I have heard this story, I have developed a fear of leaving my laptop switched on at nights. I do not want to wake up in heaven without even knowing what happened. I have started sniffing my laptop and I look very suspiciously at it.

Whenever I am using the grinder in the kitchen to chop onions or garlic, I have this fear that while I am putting them in the grinder, it might get accidentally switched on and I will lose half of my finger. Every time I operate this machine, I imagine half of my finger finely chopped with the chopped onions while the other half squirting blood like a fountain. I just can’t shake off the image.

The machines that carry us places terrify me even more. Whenever I sit in cars or buses, I keep wondering if this is my last day on Mother Earth. What if the car explodes in flames or one of the tyres of the bus burst while the driver is over-speeding? What happens if the Metro fall off one of its pillars? What if the train I am travelling in collides with another one and I am stuck with entangled metal and dead bodies with an iron rod jutting out of my shoulder? I can’t sleep at nights in a train. I keep imagining that all of us are going to DIE! Whoever came up with the bloody idea of running this crazily heavy machine on two thin metal tracks was a fool.

And ever since that Malaysian flight has vanished, my fear of flying has multiplied. Think about it. There is this huge machine made up of a million part flying thousands of feet above the ground and you are encased inside it. Thousands of things can go wrong. One small part stops working and that it it. You will end up screaming to glory, falling to Earth in a huge ball of fire. Or worse, end up as shark food.

And don’t get me started on lifts. Every time I hear that slight creaking of the lift as it fills, I keep imagining that the metal wires that keep it dangling are going to snap and we will all experience zero gravity before splattering to our death. I hate confined spaces that does not give you any chance to save yourself.

I fear the drilling machine too. Every time dad brings it out to drill a hole in the wall, I get all panicky when he switches it on. I keep imagining that the drill bit will fly out of the machine any time and head straight for my head. You can’t imagine how many deaths I die before that machine goes back in its box. I keep imagining the drill bit embedded halfway in my forehead.

And I can go on and on. What if my mobile phone explodes? What if the room heater catches fire while I am sleeping? What if the CFL falls on my head (It fell off once in my room and shattered to pieces. Thankfully, no one was standing beneath it)? Sometimes I feel like a walking Final Destination. All Parts.

Of course, I do not let anyone around me know of my fears. I behave as if I don’t care and am perfectly normal like every one else. They have no idea about the storm raging inside me. But then what do I know about the kind of fears other people are living with? On a basic level all of us are the same. Phobia is a part of our psyche. There was a time when I thought that I was going mad, fearing things that are a part of our every day life. I thought I needed some help. I realized it is not the fear of machines per se. All the phobias stem from our fear of death, of losing something. If you ask someone what they fear, you will always get a couple of things – Dads, Bats, Lizards, Darkness, Men, Women, Loneliness, Sea, Company, Self etc etc. So, I think I am all right. I am not falling to pieces. Not yet.

Now if you would excuse me, I need to go and kill a cockroach. I am the only one in the house who is not scared of them.

10 Commandments of driving in the country of Uttar Pradesh

crocodileThe prosperous and vibrant country of Uttar Pradesh holds a special place in my heart. I am now officially a resident of this high on testosterone land. In such a short span of time, the Gun Ka Achaar, the poems of Ma Behen, the misty winters of cold shoulders and the daredevils on the pot-holed race tracks have taken my heart away.

The citizens of this country are a class apart. They work tirelessly towards bringing to life what the rest of the Indians consider unachievable. There are times when I have tears of happiness in my eyes while driving as I see everyone following the following 10 commandments of driving in this amazing country with such seriousness.

Thou Shalt driveth as in America

The citizens of this great nation realized long back that the fastest way to develop the country is to flip the way they drive. Driving in the wrong lane is not taboo here. In fact you will be amazed by the vehicles running in the wrong lanes. It gives you an instantaneous feeling that you are in America. It is a sign of progress. In fact any tourist who visits Uttar Pradesh immediately gets comfortable seeing the roads here after jumping from their hotel windows.

day-dream-while-driving-funny-quotesThou shalt smirketh at the followers of the substandard rules

Now smirking and making fun of people who try to apply the rules followed in India is considered a privileged activity in the country of Uttar Pradesh. Outsiders are advised not to take it negatively. You really have to understand the emotion of the citizens behind this act. Try to drive in the wrong lane for a resounding acceptance. In fact, educated and well placed Delhiites who buy posh flats in NCR here end up following the American rules of driving. It is a matter of pride.

Thou shalt honketh for brotherly prodding

The enthusiasm with which the citizens of this great nation drive might drive an outsider crazy. The honking is like a symphony that reaches a rhythmic crescendo especially near traffic signals. Try listening to Beethoven’s 5th symphony while driving here and that might be the closet you will get to achieving nirvana. Honking is nothing more than brotherly prodding. It is a way to tell you that a bullet is always faster than the speed of your car.

Thou shalt achieveth orgasm jumping signals

The adventurous zeal with which the citizens here drive is commendable. It keeps the heart healthy as it keeps pumping at the rate of 150 bpm. It is a fantastic alternative to exercising in our busy lives. So, the next time you see UP-ites stopping at a signal not because it has turned red but because they are going to die otherwise, try to understand the smart logic behind it. Almost everyone (except a few sissies) in this great nation has a habit of jumping signals. Multiple jumps lead to multiple orgasms.

sign board 2Thou shalt haveth no fear of traffic cops

The traffic cops are a non-existent entity in this great country. After living here for a while, it is evident to me that the country really don’t need them. The citizens take great care of each other in all sort of road related issues. There is so much caring and sharing that people have rods, bats, fists, honks and swearwords ready in case of an emergency. On exceptional occasions, even if there is a traffic cop standing next to the lamp-post remotely trying to streamline the traffic, he is royally ignored. He is similar to the lamp-post, only less useful.

Thou shalt enjoyeth pot-holed racing tracks

No matter how badly damaged the road is, the citizens of this great nation never take it to heart. Mostly, the speed of their cars is so high that they fly over the potholes. The act is therapeutic in nature. The constant flights and occasional jolts rejuvenate the body. Also, the mind remains in an alert state when so many cars are racing in the same direction. It is very similar to a computer game where rickshaws, cows and pedestrians are added to attain higher difficulty levels. Sometimes potholes are filled with sand and a few days later you might see a plant sprout out in the middle of the road.

Thou shalt decorateth the roads in red

Where else in the world will you see such ardor in the citizen of a nation where they can achieve the frightening feat of opening the door of a moving vehicle to spit on the road? In fact the citizens are so hell-bent on decorating the roads and give the nation a colorful appearance that at any point of time, you can see multiple doors opening on a road and paan flying out. It is almost like a synchronized performance of children sitting in a stadium with colorful placards.

Sign boardThou shalt useth traffic signboards for personal use

Since the country has such compassionate citizens, it is not surprising that the traffic sign boards are used for the benefit of the common citizens and politicians. So, you can see a ‘BOYS PG’ poster right over a ‘NO PARKING’ sign board. There might be a colorful mega posters of politicians draped on overhead sign-boards on highways. It is heart warming to see people using government resources for the benefit of all.

Thou shalt stopth anywhere you fancy

The citizens of this amazing nation do not believe in parking areas. Outsiders might be surprised by cars parked at unimaginable angles and in no parking zones but it exhibits the adjusting nature of the citizens. There are auto-rikshaws parked at busy intersections while their drivers pull helpless pedestrians inside. They even pull in men watering the walls midway in the act of donation. These acts (the pulling ones) restore my faith in mankind.

Thou shalt be fearless

Of course, despite all the brotherly love the citizens shower at each other, there are terrible accidents almost every day on the roads. It is a very common sight here to see weirdly crushed vehicles. Over the years, the citizens have developed a heart of steel and carry on abiding to the 10 commandments with the zeal of a warrior. They are the true heroes of the nation of Uttar Pradesh.

And in the end, I promise to follow the 10 commandments with all my heart.

I am proud to be a part of the brainless brotherhood.

driving quotes

My other posts on the same topic that might interest you –

A country called Uttar Pradesh

Traffic control gadgets for the ASIRW (Average Stupid Indian Road Warrior)

[Images from 1,2,3,4]

Strike Daddy is hiring!

Strike Daddy

Wanted – Strike Care Executives (SCE) to carry out systematic and methodological strikes of varying degrees in India and abroad.

Company Profile – Strike Daddy is a reputed firm that has an elite list of clandestine clientele who firmly believe in strikes and its positive outcomes. Our clients include prominent political parties, businessmen and unions. We specialize in organized strikes and are an OSMMI (Organised Strike Maturity Model Index) Level 5 company. Our success rate is 100% with a variance of +/- 5%. Our annual turnover (not including the black money) is 2000 crores per year which makes us the Number One Strike Specialist of India. We have been awarded the coveted Best Strike Organizer award by the ISU (International Strike Union) 4 times in a row from 2008-2012.

Job Details

SCE-TV (Trainee Vandals) We are hiring inexperienced staff for our operations all across India. Field experience in an established company is not required. However, the aspirants must provide proof of roadside squabbles/fist fights/gun fights etc. Applicant should have failed in at least one class in his/her school. People who have not completed school and who aspire to become politicians will be preferred. Please do not apply if you look like Bollywood actor Imran Khan. Experience : 0-6 months

SCE-AV (Associate Vandals) : Applicant should have relevant work experience in a reputed Strike Organization (SO) firm. It is mandatory to carry a copy of all the FIRs lodged against the applicant. Applicants with more than 5 FIRs will be given preference. Applicant should have at least 1.5 years of field experience which must include one or more of the following activities – burning of public vehicles, smashing windows and doors of offices, manhandling/beating common man, shouting slogans, clash with police. Genuine photographs showing the applicant indulging in the above mentioned acts will be accepted. Men can also submit proofs of molestations/rape charges. Experience : 6 months – 3 years

SCE-SV (Senior Vandals) : In addition to a relevant work experience in a reputed SO firm, the applicant should have a field experience of at least 5.5 years. The applicant should have spent at least one year in jail (need not be a continuous one year term). The applicant should be a political aspirant and should have at least 2 rape charges (NA for women applicants), 10 molestation charges (NA for women applicants), 5 murder/kidnapping/black-marketing/dacoity/corruption charges pending against him/her in various courts in India. It is mandatory for the applicant to have bashed at least 2 policemen. Must have lead to the death of at least 5 people by a traffic jam or a train delay. Experience : 3 years – 7 years

Documents required – Applicants should bring substantial proofs like photographs, newspaper clippings (containing name or a clear picture of the applicant), hospital bills, television report clips (showing applicant in a clear view), FIR reports, Court case documents, Jail term proofs etc. Please note that witness accounts are not acceptable. Please do not bring broken teeth/chopped fingers/skin fragments/ears/tongue/eyeballs of your victims as proof.

Selection Procedure – We use advanced SST (Simulated Strike Tests) to evaluate the applicants on a point based exam. We use cut edge technologies like SSM (Scream Shrillness Meters), FCM (Fight Capacity Meters), AC (Animalism Capacitors), PE (Pyrophobia Evaluators), ECBCM (Effigy Creation & Burning Capability Model) etc to judge the capacity of the applicants to become a reputed Strike Care Executive. There will be group discussion rounds. Dummy Knives, stones, tree stumps, hockey sticks, swords and pistols will be provided for the same. Please do not bring any personal equipment.

Training Details – Our various level of SCC (Savage Creation Certifications) are specially designed to give you the required boost in your career. Based on your relevant years of experience, you can get a certification from Level 0 to 5. In addition to regular theory classes in strike procedures there are practical coaching by celebrity Strike Care Executives (SCE) as well. In the end of the induction course, there is an internship for 2 weeks with a reputed SCE before a final evaluation and project assignment.

Job Application Details – Walk-ins on 4th and 5th March 2013 in our headquarters in Noida, which is the best location for hands-on experience. If you are not able to attend the walk-in, please send your resume to fire&ash&guns&cash@strikedaddy.com.

Handsome salaries available. Opportunity to work in various locations in India with reputed clients. Onsite opportunities also available.

Chocolaty boys and Chui-mui girls need not apply. If you have been rejected in the last 6 months by us, don’t push your luck and make us come after you by applying again.

[image from here]

Indian Idle

Indian Idle“Hello everyone! I am Nitin Haddkari and you are watching a very special episode of Celebrity Indian Idle! Please welcome our judges for tonight’s show. Our first judge is our very own number 2, Mr. Raul Gandhi…..” 

“What does Raul know about dance?” Mrs. Shukla who was sitting in the crowd whispered to her neighbour.

“Does it matter? What do Sajid Khan, Karan Johar and Mithun Chakraborty know about dance?” Mrs. Taneja replied.

“And why is Haddkari even hosting this show?” Mrs. Shukla asked.

“What else is there to do now? Besides, his hairy legs are turning me on,” Mrs. Taneja replied.

“Ummm. Me too.” 

“….Our second judge for tonight is Asaram Beg-u, who has taken out time from his busy schedule to be on this show. We had to beg for his presence because that is what he likes to see people do……”

“Christ!” Mrs. Shukla gasped.

“……….Our third judge is my driver Mansukhiya. Mansukhiya has been a loyal servant of our family from the last 20 years and is the CEO of one of my companies. So let’s have a round of applause for our judges and let’s begin the show!!”

The judges take their seats. Raul and Asaram Beg-u have quite a tussle for the centre seat but then Raul points at Rob-us Wadra sitting in the audience. Beg-u mumbles somethings like ‘bloody national calamity’ and sits on one of the side seats. Mansukhiya sits on the floor before Haddkari comes and yanks his arm and say something like ‘Are you Chu*iya?’ and pushes him on one of the seat. 

“Our first contestant is the very gorgeous Sonak-chi Sinha! She has done some amazing award-winning work last year in movies like Rowdy Rathore, Joker, Dabangg 2 and Son of Sardar! Please welcome!” Haddkari announces.

sonakshi_sinha_in_red_saree-1600x900All 130 kg of Sonak-chi Sinha enters the stage in a bright red sari. The song Po-Po-Po-Po-Po fills the auditorium and Sonak-chi gargles to the tune. The audience cheer her loudly. Shatru-gun Sinha is in tears to see his baby girl do him proud.

“That was a perfect performance! Judges what do you have to say to this?” Haddkari asks the judges as Sonak-chi stands next to him chewing her finger.

“I loved it! Sonak-chi, your performance reminded me of our scams. The gargle step is so much like the way we have gargled the citizens of the nation and spit them out. Outstanding!” Raul beamed.

“It was a beautiful performance. Sonak-chi, will you come to my camp and dance with me?” Asaram ji asked shyly.

“Rubbish performance! Ye koi dance hai (Is this dance)?” Mansukhiya mumbled. There is a collective gasp and everyone stares at him. Haddkari throws his mike at him.

“Saale harami! Nikal bahar! Bahar nikal! (Bloody illegitimate! Get out! Out get!)” Haddkari screams as he drags Mansukhiya out. Sonak-chi is bawling by now.

“Khamosh!” Shatru-gun Sinha screams from the audience podium which makes Sonak-chi instantly stop and shudder.

“Sorry ladies and gentlemen! Mansukhiya will be replaced by Kanta Ben who is my maid and the Chairman of one of my companies,” Haddkari announces. Kanta Ben comes and sits next to Raul. She smells of phenyl which makes Raul dizzy. He looks at Asaram Beg-u and is alarmed by a cockroach stumbling out of his beard.

“Our next contestant is our very own silencer MaunMohan Singh!” Haddkari announces.

MaunMohan Singh enters the stage and waves at the audience. He then proceeds to stand in the exact middle of the stage and stares at the audience for two minutes. He then looks at Haddkari and says – done. Raul is in tears by now.

“What a wonderfully poignant performance! Judges what do you have to say?”

“This was by far your best performance MaunMohan Ji. I am short of words,” Raul says wiping off his tears using Kanta Ben’s pallu. He almost faints in the process.

“You remind me so much of all those silent movies I have watched as a child. You have revived my old memories,” Asaram says wiping a sole tear with his beard.

“Aigo! Mast performance! After all, you have been practicing from the last 9 years.” Kanta Ben says.

ramdev“It seems MaunMohan ji have won the heart of our judges! Our next performance is a belly dance by the one and only Baba Rum-de! Please welcome!”

Baba Rum-de enters the stage and performs a unique belly dance called Kapalbhati where he flips alternate coins on his belly. He then makes the coins jump in air as the dance becomes fierce and his belly quivers alarmingly. One of the coin lands in Asaram’s beard and kills the cockroach residing there.

“That was one sexy performance Babaji. Lets ask the…..,” Haddkari said.

“You killed him! You bloody killer! You killed Abhimanyu!” Asaram was up on his seat before Haddkari could complete his sentence.

“Who in seven hells is Abhimanyu?” Raul asked.

“The cockroack,” Asaram said sobbing.

“Why did he name his pet cockroach Abhimanyu?” Mrs. Shukla whispered.

“Maybe it was his beard. The poor thing might have been lost in that chakravyuh for years,” Mrs. Taneja whispered back.

“What do you have to say Raul ji?” HaddKari asked.

“I loved it. It was very arousing,” Raul replied.

“Oh! You haven’t seen arousing yet *wink wink*. Kanta Ben?” HaddKari said.

“Mast! Mast! What a stomach! Jusht like the utensils after I clean them”

“Thank you Rum-de ji. It was an honour watching you dance. Our next participant is the sexy, the seductive, the pole-bearer Sunny le-nahi. Please welcome!”

SharonStone-GadkariA pole is fitted in the center of the stage and Sunny enters wrapped in a plastic sheet. The pole dance starts amidst wide eyes and rising trousers. Haddkari crosses his legs like Sharon Stone. Mrs. Shukla sighs and faints. Beg-u hides his face with his beard. Kanta Ben whispers deva-re-deva and covers Raul’s eyes with her pallu. He thrashes desperately for fresh air but chokes and faints. During the dance, the plastic sheet covering Sunny gets entangled in a nail on the pole and comes free. Kanta Ben faints too. Sunny keeps dancing. Haddkari is on all five begging for mercy. Rob-us Wadra whistles and fires shots in air from his expensive gun. The audience thrust their children under the seats. Bachelors are busy making video of the once-in-a-lifetime event. Married men stare at the ground as their wives study them intensely. Suddenly the programme goes off air.

There is an uproar on Twitter and internet about the way the programme turned vulgar in the end. A committee is organised. It is found that PoleMeBaby, the company that provided the pole used in Sunny’s performance is at fault as all this happened because of the nail. The licence of the company is cancelled.

And, of course, Sunny le-nahi wins the first prize of Celebrity Indian Idle. 

[images from 1,2,3,4]

Results of the study of Rapes by KHAP – IIIIM

KHAP – IIIIM (The KHAP Institute of Insufferable Inane Immutable Men) is a premiere institute functioning in India ever since Adam and Eve reproduced without marrying. The institute was established with the sole purpose to put a check on the luscious & lascivious activities of young men and women of Haryana so that they do not repeat the mistakes of Adam and Eve. Over the years the KHAP IIIIM has established itself as an unparalleled institute that deals with a plethora of activities like organizing murders, beatings, boycotting, passing illegal ridiculous laws and carrying out research. The research wing of KHAP IIIIM has been a crown jewel of the institute which studies various issues around rapes – why they happen, how they happen and what preventive actions should be taken to reduce them.

Last month, after a series of 19 rapes happened in a span of 30 days in Haryana, KHAP IIIIM came into action and launched a new study to understand the sudden rush of testosterones in the men of Haryana. The initial reports around screening of ‘Jism 2’ last month were thumbed down.

The results of the study were shocking. A lull spread all over the nation. People gasped and rapists grumbled. Here are the top five reasons which a panel of 5 KHAP IIIIM members disclosed in a press conference:

5. Government apathy towards gay marriages

The study concluded that a prominent reason why men lurk on the roads of Haryana in search of an outlet is because of hazy laws towards gay amalgams. “A hole is all they want” – a senior KHAP IIIIM member stated. “When Hurricane Katrina struck America in 2005 and pictures of it came on internet, a lot of men took printouts and the rapes came down in the state that week” – another member clarified. KHAP IIIIM is of the view that if gay marriages are allowed in the state, it will drastically reduce the unfortunate incidents of rapes.

The Hurricane Katrina

4. Burgers and Chowmein

This was one of the most shocking revelations of the study. When the journalists questioned the members of the institute, they patiently explained the following scenario, which made perfect sense.

“Suppose, a group of bulges boys went to Mc Donald’s and while they waited for their burgers, they see a girl eating her Chicken Mc Grill and going mmmmm. She mmmmms again and again. Mmmmmmm Mmmmmmmm Mmmmmm. And then she gets raped. Now imagine an ice-cream cone in her hand or the Chowmein. Slurrrrp Slurrrrrrp Slurrrrrrpp. What can the boys do when the girls incite them like this?” – The KHAP IIIIM member explained.

* At this point, one of the members of KHAP IIIIM got up and left the room holding a folder near his trouser’s zipper*

Slurrrrrape!

3. Gurgaon

The study revealed that the creation of this 5 star mega slum city in Haryana was too much for the men of the state. Suddenly, there were women running around in spaghettis (which reminded the men of Chowmein) and shorts and skirts all over Gurgaon. The women were working in malls and pubs and call centers and software companies. They drank, they danced. It was too much for the Haryana male to bear. After all, his idea of a woman is someone who makes cow dung cakes and slaps them on a wall. He tore his hair in passion, ripped off his shirt and then bundled the girls in moving cars. “I wish we could raze this city to the ground and put a cluster of villages here. Those were the golden days.” – An eminent KHAP IIIIM member said with sadness in his eyes.

2. Pigeons

According to the study, there has been a flurry of pigeons in Haryana in the past decade which has turned the youth completely horny. With all that ‘gutargoo’ happening all day and pigeons flapping on each other doggy style and kissing with their beaks, who will not have desires? “We have sent a recommendation to the Haryana government to kill the pigeons in the state to stop rapes. This way, the police force will also have something to do. The government’s response has been positive.” – A KHAP IIIIM member explained.

Much too much kissing!

1. Despoina – the 5th moon of Neptune

According to the study, this has been the top reason for rapes in Haryana. In the primitive Greek myth, Poseidon saw Demeter, the Earth mother and desired her. To avoid him, she took her archaic form of a mare, but he took the form of a stallion and mated with her. From this union Demeter bore a daughter Despoina and a fabulous horse Arion (from wiki).

Despoina – the bane of mankind

When the KHAP IIIIM members explained this in the press conference, the journalists were perplexed. They could not understand the link. The KHAP IIIIM members exclaimed that they had no idea journalists were that dumb and collectively rolled their eyes.

During the question hour, one of the journalist proposed that maybe the study should have also looked into the possibility of including ‘mentally unstable men’ and ‘lazy law enforcement’ as a reason too. The members were furious and walked out stating – “How dare the press has the audacity to question the report?”

And so Despoina revolved around Neptune, oblivious to the fact that she had lead to a landslide of rapes in Haryana – a tiny piece of land on planet Earth. The Indian leadership is mulling over destroying Despoina with a nuclear device to tackle the problem.

[images from 1,2,3,4]

My first Guest Post

I know this is a bit late in the day and most of you have already read the post but if you haven’t, then hop on to the blog of The Girl Next Door to read my guest post there. Thank you TGND for giving me this opportunity.

The post is titled – The Singer, the nurse and the brick.

And what better words to describe The girl Next Door than a few words from her own blog? She is a 30-something working wife who lives with her Other Half (OH) in Bangalore. She is creative, loves her family, loves reading and writing and considers cooking therapeutic. Romantic, Optimist and travel enthusiast are the words which define her some more.

This was my first guest post and I was scared. Thankfully it turned out all right (this is what the people who read it told me). So go on, read the post and I hope you like it too. 🙂

How about a visa for every state of India?

Yes, I am serious and I do not understand where the problem is? It is such a golden opportunity for increasing the revenue of various states, not to forget that it will also streamline the influx of foreign Indians (The Indians who do not belong to a particular state) in every state. I am not in favor of splitting India like USSR because lets face it, if that happens, some of the newly created countries will end up worse than Congo, Zimbabwe and Burundi. Let us look at a few incidences and headlines to understand why a Visa is such a good idea:

– Uddhav Thackeray and Raj Thackeray are fighting like two cats trying to snatch the limelight for who will declare Maharashtra as a Maratha only zone. They have this specific problem with Biharis and they have done everything from beating them up and now asking for a permit for them to work in Maharashtra. According to them, the Marathi manoos is capable of handling their state and they do not want external Indians taking up their jobs just like a lot of Maratha people have taken up American and European jobs.

Uddhav Thackray – Jai Maharashtra! Fu*k India!

– Now we have a vague idea about what happened during the partition of India by looking at how 30,000 Chinkis (as we fondly call them) ran away from various south Indian cities (and Pune) to save their lives. There were trains loaded with Chaptas (as we again call them fondly) stacked over each other leaving Bangalore as they were attacked for being working in the wrong state.

No.No. These are not tourists from China who are here to see Taj Mahal.

– The Northie and Madrasi conflict is as old as Zohra Sehgal. Madrasis do not like Northies because the Northies always have their nose up in the air, they spend like idiots and think that they are some superior race. The Northies do not like Madrasis because they wear chappals to work, start every sentence with an ‘Aiyaiyoo’ and collect gold as if they will spend the rest of their life sitting on it like a dragon.

A Madrasi dragon sitting on his gold

– The Kashmiri Pandits ran for their life in a mass exodus during the 80s and the 90s from Kashmir. They have sprinkled themselves all over India and are working in states they do not belong to.

– Mullaperiyar dam row between Kerala and Tamil Nadu lead to Keralites and Tamils thrashing each other and almost 2000 Tamilians fled Kerela to save their lives. Yes, they are both Madrasi states. Don’t ask me to explain. I am a Northie and it is complicated for me. This basically shows that even Madrasis can fight with each other and so can Northies.

– Karnataka (which is turning into Mini Afghanistan) had a recent incident of 98 labourers from West Bengal, Orissa, Rajasthan, Bihar being dragged out of a train and assaulted allegedly by Akhil Bharatiya Vidyarthi Parishad (ABVP) members. The activists probably thought that the labourers were from Bangladesh because they looked like Bangladeshis (?). Anyone with a hue somewhere between wheatish and black is a Bangladeshi.

After all these wonderful incidences of brotherly love we can very safely recommend a Visa procedure for anyone who wants to enter a state in which he was not born for work or pleasure. This will definitely reduce the attacks on the helpless immigrants who, like idiots, start working anywhere in India thinking that it is their birthright. This will also increase the revenue for various states in the form of Visa processing fee. Each state can have an embassy in every other state in India which will also provide employment to the locals there.

We can also have something like a Schengen visa in which an Indian will have the freedom to visit a group of states. So, we can have a Madrasi Visa which can be used to visit Kerela, Tamil Nadu, Karnataka and Andhra Pradesh. We can have a Chinki Visa for a visit to the North East, a Bloody Northie Visa to visit any state above Karnataka, a Bangali-Bihari Visa to visit West Bengal, Orissa and Bihar.

Platinum Jai Maharashtra Visa for Pappan Jadhav from Bihar to work for 1 year in Maharashtra.

Of course there will be a Platinum Jai Maharashtra Visa which will be exclusive and will not be combined with any other state. Yeah! Call the Maratha Manoos a snob but tell you what, it’s their fuc*ing state. So stop rubbing your nose to get inside it. Go to Gujrat instead. Their Visa norms will be next to non-existent.

The first step towards realizing this goal to build up a modern India is to accept the fact that we are extremely racist. We cry foul when someone beats up an ‘Indian’ in Australia. We don’t care whether that ‘Indian’ is a Madrasi or a Northie. We beat our chest and dare the Australians to do that again if they are asli Maa ke Puttar (Son of their mothers) and then back home we ask for permits for people from one state to work in another. Punjabis think Bengalis are idiots and snobs. Bengalis think all Punjabis do is make Aaloo Paratha. We cannot point out Mizoram on the map of India but have the audacity to ask a Mizo whether he is from Korea. So, basically, we cannot see beyond our own way of living and have no idea about the ‘Unity in Diversity’ which we are so proud of. We hate each other.

This is where all the Japanese come from

Once we get over this fact, the process of setting up a separate visa entry for every state will be easy. The states have to setup fences and put up force to make sure there is no illegal immigration otherwise they would end up like Assam where half of Bangladesh now resides. There have to be specific entry points on Airports, Railway stations and Bus stations.

I am sure this activity will give us ample reasons to stop all the violence, lead the Thackerays to spend the rest of their lives in the Himalayas and make all of us immensely proud to be an Indian. Yet again.

[images from 1,2,3,4, 5, 6]

Sex Education in a Madhouse

The year was 1997. It had been a year since my father had brutally picked me up from my pampered public school pillow and dropped me in the fires-from-hell of a government school. It was the top government school in the area but a cultural shock awaited me there. Draconian was an understatement. Boys were not supposed to talk to girls in front of the teachers and sit separately. And you could be given a third degree that would put Uttar Pradesh Police to shame. 

The teachers in my new 1857 era school were a terror. If technology would not have advanced enough, Steven Spielberg could have used them in Jurassic Park and nobody would have noticed.

My Physical Training teacher had a fascination for throwing mischievous boys on a wall behind the principal’s office. So, like a Nazi, he would just pick up a boy with both his hands and throw him on a wall. I believed that the Principal was aroused by the thud of boys colliding rapidly one after another with the wall behind his seat. Once I saw him enjoying grapes from a huge bowl with his feet up on the table as the boys thudded behind his back.

Thud. Chew. Thud. Chew. Thud. Chew.

My Biology teacher had a fascination for young girls. Somehow, he was not able to stop his right eye from fluttering like a bloody butterfly the moment he turned his head towards the row in which the girls sat. Then he moved his neck towards the boys and the fluttering would stop.

Flutter. Stop. Flutter. Stop. Flutter. Stop.

My Chemistry teacher would never face the class. He would enter the room facing the blackboard and leave the same way. He loved copulating with the black board and all he did was write till we could not differentiate where he ended and the chalk dust started. He entered brown and exited white. I hardly remember his face.

My Physics teacher too never looked at us. All the while he was blabbering (he jumbled up sentences and then scratched his head to figure out what he said and then started all over again), he looked outside the room as if India’s next satellite was to be launched from our school playground.

My Math teacher had a recurring habit of suddenly walking out of the class making horrible sounds and then spitting in the school gardens. The moment he would walk out in the middle of an equation, the whole class would go – Chhhiiiii!!! And then there was silence when he returned.

Aaarrghhhhghhaaarrrr! Chiiiiii. Silence. Aaarrghhhhghhaaarrrr! Chiiiiii. Silence. Aaarrghhhhghhaaarrrr! Chiiiiii. Silence.

The principal reined the kingdom with a whip in his hand. The students were equally crazy. The principal hated that the students would stand in the corridors and chitchat between two periods. He would come out with his whip and smash them like flies and students would scream and fall over each other to get back to their seats. It was a scene straight out of Sholay when Gabbar attacked the village with his goons.  And it happened again and again. The students enjoyed this.

It was in that school when I got my first slap for something I didn’t do. It was there when I was made a murga (where you have to touch your ears with your hands coming out of your butts) and humiliated. The topper in me wanted blood.

It was a crazy two years living in that madhouse.

And during that period, one fine day, it was decided that the students of class 12th needed sex education. Thankfully it did not involve all the crazy teachers to do a Full Monty in front of the whole class but a man and a woman (from some external education group) to come and talk to the students and tell them about AIDS and babies.

The girls were taken to a separate room and the boys were left with the guy who enlightened us about various aspects of sex and female arousal techniques (indirectly) and AIDS. The boys looked at each other and giggled and asked him all kind of stupid questions like the capacity of sanitary napkins and producing babies by kissing. Since I was the topper of the class, I kept my nose high up in the air and maintained a dignified silence complimented by my glowing hot red ears (My ears go a shade of lava when I am embarrassed). The guy somehow took it for ignorance and thought that my vital organs were still in the process of development and all this was Hebrew for me.

“Don’t worry. If you haven’t started shagging yet, it will begin very soon. Some boys start late”, he said giving me a quick look.

My ears caught fire. I wanted to stand up and yell the names of all the porn movies I had seen with my best friend sitting right next to me. But then I turned around and saw the Principal, Physical Training teacher, Math, Biology, Chemistry and Physics teacher all huddled in the window of the classroom and peeking inside like girls eavesdropping in the room of a newly wed.

The lady who was educating the girls soon came in and told the man that the girls were shocked and embarrassed to the point that they look like a sack of tomatoes. He consoled her and sent her back and ask her to show them the condom.

And then he took out a condom from his pocket and started pushing it on his index and middle finger to show us how to wear it. He pushed it the other way round by mistake which emancipated a smirk from me. Watching a man wearing a condom on his fingers in that madhouse was the last straw for me.

In the end, after we said goodbye to the man, the girls returned to the classroom. They behaved as if they were not wearing anything. I had never seen my classmates so quiet and nobody spoke for an eternity. Days passed and it seemed that the man and the woman were always in the room in spirits, hovering near the fans and wiggling their condom covered fingers mischievously at our faces. It took a mega Diwali bomb which went off in our classroom despite the Principal’s warnings to bring things and laughter back to normal. The bomb was so powerful that by the time we knew what hit us, the ceiling fans were swinging violently and plaster was falling from the ceiling in perfect lines. The spirits were nowhere to be seen.

And then the Physical Training teacher picked up my classmate who set off the bomb and threw him on the wall. Thrice.

Thud. Chew. Thud. Chew. Thud. Chew.

All of us (including the classmate who thrice slid down the wall like tomato ketchup) threw our head back and laughed. The madhouse was back to normal.

[images from 1,2, 3]