Baba Rand Dev: Inner Peace

Yo! My loving follower’s how are y’all today? Do you feel the peace? Do you feel the love? Do you feel the frigging summer heat? If you do, then you are getting closer to a stage I call, ‘nowhere’. Keep it up, and keep at it.

Today I will be addressing a very important topic in the growth of your spirituality. I will be speaking on how to achieve and maintain Inner Peace.

Baba Rand Dev’s Ways to Achieving and Maintaining Inner Peace:

1. 1. Wear good quality, nice-fitting underwear:

Inner peace involves being at peace with everything that is inside, including ones inner garments. One cannot expect to maintain peace if one is constantly disturbed with violent thoughts of adjusting, scratching and shifting. The right underwear must let in ample air, must provide adequate space and must not itch, scratch or bite.

2. 2. Dont Murder:

One cannot maintain inner peace when one murders other people. This is because then one will have to be like a marathon runner, always on the run. Inner peace can never be achieved when one has to get rid of the body, hide the evidence and avoid getting caught. Try pick-pocketing instead.

3. 3. Meditate on the right things:

A lot of people have lost their inner peace because they have not meditated on the right things. One must learn to meditate on the finer things in life such as: Hot Babes/Hunks/Paro(depending on sexual preference and whether your name is Devdas), Sports cars/Designer clothes(depending on gender) and Martini Cocktails. One has never got inner peace by suppressing these thoughts. People who suppress these thoughts become suicidal depressives, for example Devdas.

4. 4. Shut your conscience up:

It is ok to murder one’s conscience because one cannot feel guilty once one’s conscience is killed. Once your conscience is dead you are free to eat as many dark chocolate cream filled doughnuts, without something inside you going, “uh-oh! Someone broke a dieting promise.” You can also lie, steal and be evil to people and still feel as happy as a person whose just slept with a filmstar! This is the key to inner peace. Kill your conscience and peace shall follow.

Peace.

Love and Hugs.

Take Care.

Ciao.

BRD.

Tabasco Sauce... by Nachos

Life's Like That: Picking the right curtains

It was that time again, when I realize that my curtains need changing. It usually happens once in ten years when I see that the curtains I had put up a decade ago are now reduced to shreds of cloth hanging on my windows.

Anyway the time had come to change my curtains and I dreaded it deeply. I consider the picking of curtains a very important event in my life, behind brushing, staring at cows and eating chocolate chip cookies. I give it so much importance because I believe that curtains are like girlfriends, once you pick them you’re stuck with them.

Anyway the point is, I desperately needed the new curtains because the shreds that I had hanging from the window sill were very inadequate in keeping the kid from the opposite building out. let me explain. You see I live on the tenth floor of my building. On the tenth floor of the building opposite mine lives a 15 year old pimply teenager whom we shall call monty. Now monty has a queer habit of using a telescope, in the daytime, and directing it at my house, while am changing. Its really embarrassing to have a 15 year old BOY, peeking at you with a telescope and my ragged curtains don’t seem to deter this voyeur. Now I know what it feels like to take part in Bigg Boss.

My favourite colour is red. My curtains are old and yellow. You may ask how? You may think that I have the intelligence of a mongoose, for knowing my favourite colour and then choosing something totally different. And I would have agreed with you had I picked yellow curtains. But the fact was that I chosen red curtains and right after the first wash they had lost all their colour just like a person loses all colour when faced by a hungry lion. In three washes it went from red to orange to creamy red to yellow. And then it got old and looks like see through dress hung up to dry.

That's the other problem with it, its too flimsy and transparent. When I buy my curtain am going to make sure its thicker than the skin of an adult water buffalo because my current curtains let in far too much. Neither does it keep out the sunlight nor does it keep out that pesky kids prying telescope.

I wouldn’t have made such a fuss over my curtains if it weren’t for the main problem that I face every time I go looking for curtains. Before I go into my problem a few quick questions...

Q1. What would you do if you had vanilla blue pants?

Q2. What colour of shirt matches with vanilla blue pants?

Q3. Wouldn’t Govinda look good wearing vanilla blue pants?

Q4. Is there really a colour such as vanilla blue?

Q5. Why are there so many irrelevant questions on Vanilla Blue?

The reason I asked you so many questions on the colour vanilla blue is that my walls are vanilla blue in colour and am not qualified enough to know whatever the heck colour of curtains matches with Vanilla blue. All I know is that red, orange, creamy red and yellow curtains do NOT go with Vanilla Blue walls. If you know what goes with it, do let me know. Till then maybe I could ask the kid with the telescope, when he comes over for dinner later tonight.

By Editor Man

Sweet Chillies- Episode 4

Part 1

Rachit Vohra was fuming. He was so angry that had he met someone smaller than 4 feet and weighing less than 35 kgs, he would have surely tried beating him up. Alas he met nobody of those dimensions so he wrote a poem expressing his pain and anguish instead.

That's when the idea to take revenge on that rascal, Siddharth Mallvya! Rachit got up excitedly and hurried to the canteen. It was 7 o clock in the evening, the time when the canteen became the Adda! He entered the canteen a bit scared. Sitting on one of the tables was the girl he was looking for. She sat cross legged on the table, in a purple saree and a green blouse, with her eyes closed having 7 hefty boys who each looked like they could swing a buffalo by its tale and throw it in a pond 40 feet away, around her.

She was the Saree-don! Her name was actually Pushpa Gokhale, but her colourful language, tapori attitude and sharp and evil mind had made her the official Don of the college. She was always surrounded by these 7 future Mr. India contestants who worked for her in conducting contract beatings, extortion, spying, drug and booze trafficking and other shady deals for monetary and other incentives. She was called Saree-don because she always wore a nice navari saree each day, which showed off her rippling muscles.

When Rachit entered the canteen the hefty boys looked at him and started laughing. One came up to him and asked him what he wanted, “Fuck off, dickhead!” were his exact words.

“I.. I... Want to talk to Saree-don... gulp!” said rachit.

“who wants to see me?” said the saree-don, taking out her earphones and opening her eyes.

Part 2

Aditya had followed Siddharth’s advice and had called up prity and told her that he wanted to break up with her. Half of her started crying while the other half of her personality insulted him so much, that his accounts professor’s screaming seemed like pleasant conversation in comparison. But he didn’t give in to either of her personalities. He had always dreamed off a threesome but never in his wildest dreams had he thought it would involve him and two split personalities.

Prity was already split in her mind, but when she heard Aditya wanted to break up, she couldnt handle it anymore. She began weeping uncontrollably like a 5 year old girl who’s just discovered that her puppy got flattened by a truck. It was in that moment that she sunk into a depression greater than the one that had rocked the financial world. She decided to take a drastic step.

Once she had had a big fat black rat that looked nothing as cute as mickey mouse, come in to her room and make her jeans into 3/4ths and her t-shirts into sleeveless. During that time she had bought a bottle of rat poison. The rat had dies in half a teaspoon itself so she still had quite a bit left.

She went to her desk, wrote a letter, blaming everything except global warming and child labour on Aditya. She signed her name below. Then she picked up cell and called Aditya. She told him she was going far far away from him. He told her to pack well, to take a fresh set off underwear and not to forget to pack her toothbrush. She said she wouldn’t forget and kept the phone. Then she took a glass poured the poison into it, put in two ice cubes and had it slowly, On the Rocks.

Why Sachin Touches Himself...

Sachin Tendulkar is a great guy. He is one of the greatest sportsmen ever and definitely the greatest Batsman in the history of cricket. Among his other Great achievements, which include getting the most test runs(13,447), most one day international runs(17,598) and most runs in a single one day innings(200), sachin is also the greatest batsman to have constantly touched himself. He also has more crotch adjusts(15,716) and genital scratches(15,634) than other Batsman. Records that few are ever going to beat, let alone attempt.

So what is that has helped the master blaster achieve these incredible feats? What is the secret behind these mind-boggling statistics of self-touching?

Here are the reasons why Sachin Tendulkar is miles ahead of any batsman in his or any other generation, when it comes to crotch adjusts, and genital scratches:

1. Lucky Charm: Sachin considers the act of giving the pecker a quick peck, a lucky charm. Just one touch or adjust and he believes he will be dispatching those incoming balls to the other side of the fence. The funny thing is it works! Other Batsmen would have tried it but this ritual kind of has a tendency of ruining all the reputation you build by scoring those countless centuries.

2.To check if its still there: When you are facing bowlers like Brett lee, Shane Bond, Shoaib Akhtar and the fast dude from west indies, all of whom are faster than Japanese bullet trains, there is a chance that your balls might end up in your mouth. Sachin cannot afford to show any signs of fear(though he might feel it) on the pitch. So he tries Keeping calm and ensuring that his balls stay firmly in their place before deliveries. Also when you have a voice like his, you have to keep checking if you are still a man.

3. Itching : just because he his Sachin Tendulkar, the greatest Batsman in the world and a God in most parts of india, doesn’t mean he isn’t affected by things that affect human beings. Namely itching. Everytime you see him reach for crotch and adjust his legs you get a feeling that there is something inside his pant that urgently requires the attention of Itchguard dermatological cream. You just know he is just waiting to score his 100 and then get in that changing room and scratch “The AREA” to his hearts content. P.S. scratching with gloves on is DAMN tough.

4. Tight Underwear :80% men adjust their private part because of tight underwear. Who knows maybe the Great man has been wearing the wrong size of underwear all these years. Maybe his ‘little master’ isn’t that little and he doesn’t know his actual size and has been wearing one size too small all these years. This has probably led him to adjust his ‘thing’ during the match so that he can focus on scoring his century rather than how uncomfortable he feels in his tight underwear. Sachin isn’t the only Hero to have faced this problem. The other great men to have had problems with tight underwear are Superman, Batman, He-man and Spiderman(who had his underwear covering his entire body!)

5. Optimizing Performance: there is nothing like a slight touch to the self, to get the blood flowing and have the testosterone pumping through your veins. This might be the secret trick that sachin uses to help him get that extra energy that is needed when his score is at 99 and he has to push to that 100, once again. Everytime he needs that little extra bit, he just reaches down and gives his ‘little master’ a pat to arouse it into performance and help him ensure that his bat does the talking ;)

Sachin Tendulkar we salute you! You have made your country proud by holding the records for most crotch adjusts and genital scratches! You truly are a legend and may your legend never fade!

By The Matador

Hangovers

The first thing I think about when I go out drinking is ‘What’s my schedule tomorrow?‘ or more specifically ‘Is there anything I have to do tomorrow that can’t be done with a nasty headache?’. If you’ve read some of my other articles you’ll know that the answer to those questions is usually no. But everyone is not that lucky and hence hangovers are a bigger problem than world peace.

Apparently people understand less about hangovers than about female psychology. Hence we have no sure shot remedies. Drink water, eat green chillis, have lemon... all that simply doesn’t work. The only known way to avoid a hangover is to stay drunk.

Apart from this the Fly Thought of the Day:

Rock is overrated. I know a lot of people will kill me for saying that but it is true. Look at diamond for example. Is it really worth the price?

By The Fly

Kahaan Kab Kaise?-Ep 8

(In the last episode you saw the small daughter-in-law(choti bahu) of the house, Gori, feeling jealous by Champi’s resounding ugliness. Gori then goes and bitches to Sassu-Maa about Champi and whispers many lies in Sassu-Maa’s ears. Sassu-Maa being a gullible old cow believes all that she is told and the two of them begin plotting against Champi)

Aur Ab Aage(AAA)

Many days have gone by and Gori and Sassu-maa spent their time waiting, plotting and hosting kitty parties.

Finally they decided to strike. One day they meet Champi while she is coming out of the bathroom after having had a bath...

Gori: psst... Champi, come here, we have some bad news for you.

Champi: what is it? What happened?

Sassu-maa: tell her gori...(turns her face away and gives evil smile.)

Gori: We have just found out that Bachhu is actually having an affair with 21 girls. (DHANA DHANA)

Champi: thats Impossible!

Sassu-maa: Did I tell you that my son’s nickname is Tiger Woods.

Gori: We have evidence as well.

She takes out a white shirt with freshly made lipstick stains, a ball of hair fresh from the bathroom and a letter saying “I love you too, Neelratan”.

Champi: NAHIIINNNN! What should I do now?(sobbing slightly)

Sassu-maa: Kill my son!

Champi: No, I don’t feel like just yet.

Gori: Why don’t you also have an affair?

Champi: hmm, ok I’ll try...

Their plan was working. They wanted Champi to have an affair and then they would gather evidence against her, possibly make a videotape and expose her, quite literally, in front of the entire family. MUHAHAHA.

Champi tried very hard to get someone to have an affair with but alas she was only 8 years old and there were no paedophiles in the village. Only one old, old man called Talwar Singh agreed to do it, but his Talwar had grown to rusty and wasn’t in working condition. Besides he took the phrase ‘sleep with me’ too literally and was fast asleep even before the clock struck 9, having taken his diabetes tablets and sleeping pills.

When Sassu-maa and Gori found out that no one wanted to have an affair with Champi...

Sassu-maa: damn!

Gori: lets just kill her off and finish it once and for all!

Sassu-maa: but how?

Gori: I’ve already thought of that...

And she took out a small bottle.

Gori: this bottle contains the poison of a rare south American frog, which is very lethal and cannot be detected. I bought it from a Russian arms dealer called mendelov.

Instead of getting alarmed about why her daughter-in-all was in contact with Russian arms dealers...

Sassu-maa: Brilliant! Now what?

Gori: (mission impossible music) This Champi is very fond of bournvita, she has it twice a day, once in the morning, once at night. The next time she has it we dump the poison in it and then watch her as she flops around and dies!

Together: MUHAHAHA.

Champi was in the kitchen making bournvita, when Gori enters...

Gori: what are making Champi?

Champi: bournvita...

Gori: look dancing squirrel!!!

Champi: where where???

While Champi is distracted gori empties out the entire bottle into the bournvita...

Gori: nevermind, it went away.

And Gori walks out of the kitchen acting like a dancing squirrel. 15 minutes later a cry rings out in the Chustia household. Everybody rushes to Champi’s bedroom and there they see Champi’s husband Bacchu, flopping about on the floor like a dying fish!

Sassu-maa: OH MY GOD! BACCHU! Champi YOU BITCH, THAT POISON WAS MEANT FOR YOU! NAAHHHHIIIINNN!

Champi: there was poison in my bournvita? No one this happened. All this while I was thinking that he was dying because of my awful cooking.

Gori: Yes there was poison in your bournvita! I had put it there! YOU RUINED MY PLAN! WHY DID YOU GIVE IT TO HIM! YOU SHOULD HAVE HAD IT YOURSELF!

Champi: If you had told me before that you wanted to kill me, I would have told you that I was going to make another cup for myself later. Tcha! Now look what a mess you’ve made.

The police were called and Sassu-maa and Gori were put in jail and sentenced to 20 years imprisonment for successful attempt to murder. Champi was inconsolable over the loss of her beloved husband. She wouldn’t talk to anyone in the house for 65 whole minutes. She began wearing white clothes(jeans and shirts) and started living the life of a widow, only going out to play 3 times a week and she also started going to school. Champi continued to live in the Chustia household and by and by time went by. Little did she know how her life was going to change Bees Saal Baad(BSB)...

END OF SEASON 1.

(to see life grating Champi’s brains on a cheese grater, tune in next season! Till then hope you enjoyed the ride! Adieu! Take Care! Ciao!)

Rotten Mangoes

Like it or the summer is here to stay and with it comes the disgusting summer heat. But the only thing worse than the stinking, scorching summer heat is a crate of rotten mangoes. Especially when you’ve paid more money for it than you would pay a hooker for a blowjob.

It really is a disgusting feeling, to be sitting in this killing heat, paying attention to the sweat trickling down your back and feeling in general like some dirty farm animal. It is in times like these that your mind battles its urges to use the nearest rope and fan to rid yourself off your suffering by thinking of the most pleasurable thing at hand: The crate of mangoes you bought from that persistent fruitwala for a sum of money that could make your grandparent’s heart attack them.

So in a move that will make all the sweating and sweltering in this heat worth it, you open the crate. Inside are sitting big, juicy mangoes, all nice and yellow on the outside, lying seductively on their bed of hay. You reach out your lusty hands and grab two of the finest and give them a gentle squeeze. And to your disgust they squash in your hands and a dirty smell oozes out of them as if the mangoes had farted.

You think its a one off incident. So what if two mangoes were rotten you still have a whole crate left, you think. So you pull out two more and dump them on a plate. Then you fetch a knife and then with the love of a plastic surgeon operating on Pamela anderson’s breasts, you nicely cut the mangoes up. You lovingly pick one peice up. your mouth is watering like a cloud on a rainy day. You take a bite. And your taste buds suddenly roll over and die. The thing tastes worse than a dead rat. If you were a crow you might even have enjoyed it but alas you aren’t.(are you?)

You slowly realise that the persistent fruitwala made a sucker out of you. All the magoes on top are rotten, like fish caught from a pond which is used as dumping site for industrial waste. You suddenly realise that there are only 12 mangoes on top, when it is a box of 24. You frantically throw around the straw to find the remaining 12 mangoes, but there are none! Suddenly you find a note at the bottom of the crate, “ENJOY THE MANGOES! SUCKER!- WITH LOVE, YOUR FRUITWALA” and then you finally decide to use the rope and the fan.

By Editor Man

Tabasco Sauce... by Nachos

Tabasco Sauce , based on our all new soap, Sweet Chillies is out!!! For all those readers who are too lazy to read, you can catch our characters in action right here in visuals!!

Baba Rand Dev: Stories

Yo! Is the peace running through you’ll my loving followers. Do you feel the peace? Do you feel the harmony? Do you feel like scratching your left groin? Today am going to enlighten you my loving followers about the Way To Lead A Purposeful and Meaningful and Awful Life(WLAPAMAA) through a little story, but right after I finish my drink.

Aah, I have quaffed my drink and for those who were wondering what it was let me make it clear that it was an orange juice.

Now for the story. Once upon a time there lived two friends. Let us call them “Himesh Reshamwala” and “Padmabhushan Puraskar”. They were both gardeners and they both lived next to each other. Himesh lived next to Padmabhushan and Padmabhushan also lived next to Himesh.

Everyday Himesh would peek over the small fence they had erected to separate their gardens and to practice hurdling with, and he(Himesh) would see that the grass was indeed greener on the other side. For Padmabhushan’s grass was a bright luscious, rich and aromatic green while his own grass looked more like something between hay and little red pimples.

He grew very jealous of his ‘good’ friend, Padmabhushan, and so his inner peace was getting eaten away like wood, infested by giant wood-eating termites. Soon he couldnt take it anymore and came hurrying to me and he told me his problems. After hearing him out patiently and at the same time clipping my toe nails a solution struck me.

I said to him, “Himesh, my son, you are confused and lost. You have strayed off the normal path. That is why the first thing I suggest to you is that you learn to read a map. However the answer to your troubles is very simple. If the grass is greener on the other side then it is because you are not using the correct manure. Remember that grass is like a woman, if you don’t give her make-up she will look ugly. Manure is the make-up of grass. I recommend you use manure manufactured by Raja fertilizers and Company. And it is not because they have paid me Rs. 300 crore to recommend their brand to you, nor is it because they are giving me an all expenses paid trip to the Bahamas. So go now and buy Raja Fertilizers today(preferably 3 packets, because if you buy 3 you get 1 free!) and make your grass as green as the other side!”

So remember my disciples if your grass is not as green as your neighbours, then its probably because you are not using the right manure. May the peace be with you. Love. Hugs and Kisses. Take Care. Ciao.

Sweet Chillies- Episode 3

Part 1

It felt so good nowadays not to have that stupid Sarah D’mello, whispering cute things in his ear. Damn! How he hated listening to that brainless girl going on about how he was her cuddly little beach ball! Thank god it was over. Prity was so much more sensible and nice to talk to. In fact he felt like calling her and listening to her logical voice.

He dialled in the number. “Helllo? Hi prity!” he said when the phone was answered.

“Aye!” came a dirty voice from the other end. “Who the fuck is this? You bastard. You peice of shit. Dumbass. Whore? Who is this!? I told you I don’t want to talk to you! Why don’t you take a rod and shove it up your elephant size ass.” It sounded like Mr. Mukherjee, the accounts professor taking out his frustration towards Aditya in his Harsh Croaky voice.

“umm... is Prity there?” he asked like a scared little tadpole.

“who prity? I FUCKED HER! HAHAHAHA! She is in the garden with me! HAHAHA!” and then the person cut the call.

“oh shit!” thought aditya. Something was drastically wrong! He dialled another number, “Hello, Siddharth, I think Prity is in deep trouble. Meet me in the garden RIGHT NOW!”

When siddharth and Aditya ran to the garden they found prity sitting on a swing.

“WHO WAS THAT? WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU? ARE YOU FINE?” asked aditya frantically.

“yeah. Who was who? What are you talking about?” asked Prity innocently and slowly she began swinging her swing.

“wasn’t there someone with you?”

“No.” Said Prity. Then she her swing went up, “YOU BASTARDS!”

“what?” said aditya and siddharth together.

The swing came down. “what?” asked prity. The swing went up, “AYE CHU*TIYA!”

The swing came down. “why are you staring at me?”. The swing went up, “HAHA! GA*NDU! C*CK SUCKERS!”

Part 2

Siddharth Doshi had advised Aditya to break up with Prity at once. She was a schizophrenic looney. She was loonier than Daffy duck and bugs bunny put together. He felt bad for worried Aditya felt but now he had worried of his own.

He hadn’t sat for a single lecture and there was no chance he was going to pass the test next Monday. He could have passed if he had their class topper, Rachit Vohra’s brains or atleast his notes. BINGO! What if he had Rachit Vohra’s notes?

10 minutes later he was standing outside Rachit’s Door. He knocked a couple of times. No answer. He tried the handle. It was’nt locked. Slowly he opened it and sneaked in.

The room was so bloody tidy. It was so spotlessly shiny that it nearly blinded Siddharth for a second. After he had gotten accustomed to the neatness he looked about. There was no one in the room. On the desk were bunch of neatly stacked notes. Immediately he rushed towards it behaving like a sexually starved man on seeing a strip club.

He had just gone through them and found the notes that he needed when the bathroom door opened and Rachit Vohra came out Stark Naked, whistling, “its my life” while shaking his butt to the tune. It was such a scary sight to see Rachit Vohra’s naked body with his Jiggling tyres and huge quivering stomach, which was bouncing up and down that Siddharth couldn’t help screaming out in fright. Seeing him even Rachit began screaming and quickly covered his crotch, but not before Siddharth was subjected to the torture of seeing his uncut private hair down there alongwith the extra small instrument that hung from the centre.

“uhh... Rachit can I borrow your notes?” he asked quickly not looking at that ugly ass.

“NO!” screamed rachit.

“Ok then.” said siddharth and ran out of the room. Rachit came screaming out after him but then ran back inside crying when he realised that the whole corridor had seen him running after a guy completely naked.

Understanding Art

I hate the shit that is being passed off as Art nowadays. It just sucks! You just cant understand it, because guess what? IT MAKES NO SENSE.

I simply hate those pretentious idiots who claim to be making High-Class Art when all they are actually doing is stringing together one lump of their ridiculous imagination with another. The funny part is that they actually feel pride over work that looks like its been done by a drunk, handicapped, mentally challenged baby chimpanzee. It is not Art, it is Bullshit!

That's why I have devised my method of identifying stuff that is pretentious and ‘Arty’ and then staying the heck away from it so that I don’t have to suffer experiencing another peice of illegible, incomprehensible rubbish, made by some talentless person who thinks its art. I am going to share with you the few tricks that I have learnt, in spotting a Arty peice of rubbish so you too can escape with mind and balls intact:

1. Classy Art always looks like a mangled carcass of some ugly dead animal.

=

2. Classy Art will be tougher to understand than Chinese algebra.

3. Classy Art will always leave you frustrated and wanting to break public property and some furniture.

4. Classy Art will smell. Because it’s full of shit.

Another worrying trend which I feel is dumbing down culture till we will actually find Ram Gopal Verma films entertaining is the amount of rubbish lyrics that musicians are writing to match their equally rubbish music. Clearly the songwriting process for most of these musicians must be something along these lines.

1. Get piss drunk.

2. Get stoned out of your tiny inconsequential minds.

3. Get hold of pen and paper.

4. Scribble furiously.

5. Thats it.

The outcome of these incredibly sloshed song writing sessions are songs that make as much sense as Navjyot Singh Sidhu speaking. I think the worrying trend took off when The Beatles took to drugs. Just Imagine what you get when you put the biggest band the world has ever seen and narcotics together.

The Beatles + Drugs= I am the Walrus + every band henceforward getting inspired to come up with exactly such shit.

Here is a glimpse of the amount of rubbish that is filled in the song, ‘I am the Walrus’

I am he as you are he as you are me
And we are all together
See how they run like pigs from a gun
See how they fly
I'm crying

.....

I am the eggman, oh, they are the eggman
Oh, I am the walrus, goo goo g'joob

Goo Goo G’jooob, indeed! Makes a heck of a lot of sense to me! The least these dimwit musicians can do is atleast READ the rubbish they’ve written before mindlessly recording it.

Oh and a lot of these pseudo-intellectual artists actually defend their trash by saying that it has a very profound meaning known only to them. Do they forget that their ‘Art’ is for MASS consumption? Does it just slip their mind that the 100 million people out there who will be viewing or listening to their tripe have no idea what the shit is this profound meaning because the dumb freaking Artist just didn’t bother to do his work in a more UNDERSTANDABLE MANNER!

And yeah all you pretentious snobbish asses who actually like all this arty crap, Give me a break! I know for a fact that you posing losers don’t understand a rats ass about the so called Art that you keep raving about. You must going to sleep at night weeping into your pillows, complaining about how hard life is because you have to keep faking that you actually LIKE and UNDERSTAND bullshit, when you actually hate it! You losers should realize that just by making something difficult to understand and interpret you are not necessarily making it any more art-worthy than a ball of elephant dung.

I am not targeting merit and talent in the Art fraternity. That is of course respected, loved and the reason Art moves forward. My wrath is more directed towards those imbeciles who believe Art is created not through thought, merit, Talent and Years of Toil and Hardwork, but through the use of a thesaurus, by using Imagery when description would be enough or by dipping a brush in 3 different colours and then splashing it on the canvas while doing the salsa. If that was the Case then every 3 year old is an artist.

Peace.

The Matador

Words

Words can mean different things to different people. Which is why you should be very careful about what you say.

One man’s bless you is another man’s fuck off.

For example-

You know

Saintly Guy : Always remember that you know a lot less that what you don’t know.

Normal Guy : I was thinking you know, how about, you know, a couple of beers or something?

Like

SG : I like holy scriptures.

NG : Why don’t you, like, fuck off?

Ass

SG : The ass is a hard working animal.

NG : Your ass needs a whipping.

Come

SG : Every time I come back home, I feel amazing.

NG : Every time I come, I feel amazing.

Do

SG : Judge me by what I do, not what I say.

NG : Judge me by who I do, not who I flirt with.

Laid

SG : I was laid low by a bout of fever last week due to which i could not complete my work.

NG : Angelina got laid four times in the last week.

Fuck

SG : ......

NG : Where the fuck have you been, you fucking half-witted fuck shit ass fucker?

Love, Sex

SG : When two people are deeply in love with each other their spiritual connection gets transformed into physical attraction which culminates in an intimate interaction called sex.

NG : I love sex.

by Mr.Fly

Kahaan Kab Kaise?-Ep 7

(In the last episode you saw Champi and her now Husband, Bacchu Chustia during their Suhaag Raat, where Champi was carrying Bacchu on her shoulders and moving in and out of the room because they thought sekus(sex) was about the man being on top of the woman and moving in and out.)

Aur Ab Aage(AAA)

It is the day after the honeymoon. Champi Taklampanchi is now taken to the Chustia house and introduced to the entire family. The Chustia’s are a large family. In fact they are so large a family that many consider them to be one of the main causes of the population problem in India.

Champi was forced to bend and touch the feet of everyone in the family, including a newborn baby, three dogs and all their 45 cows. She was even kicked in the abdomen by an angry cow named Gopal. Most of her in-laws had really smelly feet, and none of them wore socks. The smell was so bad that Champi fainted 11 times during the feet touching ceremony. At the end of all the bending and stretching Champi’s back was hurting so badly that it began swelling and she began looking like a camel.

Unknown to Champi the Small Daughter –in-law(Chotti bahu) of the house, Gori, married to bacchu’s evil twin brother Chappu, was feeling very jealous. She couldn;t swallow the fact that there was another girl in the house for all the men to ogle, beat up and make passes at. She was also very upset that Champi always managed to look uglier than her.

You see Gori was very proud of her ugliness. She was Dark, Short and Fat. Her parents had named her Gori as a practical joke, when they saw that there girl was darker than The Black Hole. All her life Gori was used to being the centre of attention for her awesome radiating ugliness. She would often receive compliments like, “You are by the ugliest girl in the world!” and she would give her disgusting smile and say, “Why thank you!” and she would blush. But now with Champi coming to the house her dominance was being challenged.

So she went to her mother-in-law, who was also Champi’s saasu-maa.

Gori: Saasu-maa!

Saasu-maa: what happened? Why are you howling like a dog who’s tail has been stepped on.

Gori: Did you hear what Champi said about you?

Saasu-maa: no, I didn’t! You forgot or what, I cant hear to well...

Gori: arre she said that she hated your aloo ke parathe. She also said she hates Sanjay Dutt. She also said that she hates, Amar Singh, Rakhi Sawant, Bobby Darling and she said that Laloo should trim his ear hair.

Saasu-Maa- WHAT! SHE HATES ALL THE THINGS I LOVE! AND SHE SAID THAT LALOO SHOULD TRIM HIS EAR HAIR! NAHIIII! That is what gives laloo his masculine charm! I HATE THIS GIRL! COME MY BAHU LET US PLOT AGAINST THIS STUPID GIRL!

(evil music- taaoouunn... s..ss...sss..saazish!... taaooounnn)

Gori- just what I wanted to hear! MUHAHAHAHA! Aaack!

To be continued....

(To see life repeatedly play basketball with Champi’s brains, tune in next time!)

Rape

What does a woman think of when she sees a harmless dark alley? What does a woman think of when you see a serene, empty ladies compartment after 10 o clock in the night? What does a woman think of when she sees a peaceful group of men standing and talking under a street light, when the roads are empty? What does a woman think when the Taxi Driver innocently makes a wrong turn? The first thought that crosses her mind is RAPE, and quite rightly so, because in this day and age rape is running rampant. The choice flavour of fear on every woman’s mind.

I feel sad for rapists. They are the men that evolution left behind. They still continue to act on their every smallest, sad, animal like instincts. They sure don’t understand anything as complex as laws especially when it has complex wordings as IF YOU RAPE YOU WILL SENT TO JAIL. That statement is too much information for their minuscule underdeveloped brains. Its a miracle how they get by in their day to day life without setting themselves on fire, or walking off a cliff. Their whole thought process functions something like this:

Rapist: eat, sleep, breathe, scratch. Look, WOMAN! SEX! WOMAN! Me want woman.. ooo....ooo...ooo...! wait me hungry again. Tough choice.

Rapists are most often very poorly educated when it comes to living in normal human society. They never really treat woman as anything more than objects to be ogled at, believing God put woman on earth only for their mental and physical satisfaction. This notion of theirs just shows you how ill equipped they are to deal with living in this day and age where woman are as much an equal as in every field, illustrating yet again what cave men they are.

Usually rapists are also victims themselves. Victims of a poor upbringing, poor education and a level of self confidence that resides somewhere below the bottom of the ocean. They are the kids who see their father’s mistreating their mother’s, treating her like a ragdoll, beating her up at will and hurling a dictionary of abuses at her at the slightest provocation. This in a way inspires them to take up the family business and continue their father’s legacy. Education does little to change their views that woman are meant for their gratification alone. And it is an obvious fact that no girl is going to give them a second look if they themselves think that they are talentless ugly bandicoots, especially when they also harbour thoughts of a woman being a plaything. ITS NOT YOUR LOOKS THAT MATTER IDIOTS ITS YOUR PERSONALITY!

These are indeed troubled times for women. When faced with the nightmare of rape whom can they turn too? The sad part about our police system is that: It is male dominated and clearly they offer as much sensitivity in handling such cases as a hunter offers a bear. Usually when a rape victim comes to them to lodge a complaint she is humiliated further by the police when they conduct absolutely stupid and needless interrogations into the event.

Victim: I want to lodge a complaint of rape.

Policeman: committed by you or on you?

Victim: obviously on me!

Policeman: Are you sure you were raped?

Victim: What sort of idiotic question is that? Why don’t you just file my complaint.

Policeman: maam we cant do that. We will first have to make sure that you didn’t ask to raped yourself. That is to say if you deserved to raped or not. we will have to see what clothes you were wearing and what time of the night you were wandering outside.

Victim: How stupid are you? No woman ever deserves to be raped you bastard. A woman asks to be raped as much as you ask to be rolled over by a steamroller or get shot in your genitals! And how does the clothes of a woman matter on a case of such brutality, you old fashioned ass?

b) But far worse than the insensitivity faced by victims is that that there have been instances when a victim has gone to the police to lodge a complaint of rape, the police have ended up raping her again? Where can she turn too for aid, when the help itself is the enemy?

The physical act itself is just the tip of the iceberg in the long list of atrocities carried out on women. Top among them is sexual harassment at the workplace. Woman have broken into the corporate jungle in style, rightfully sharing what was earlier only a male domain. Men now take recluse to sexual harassment of their female colleagues to deal with their own pent up frustration and jealousy at seeing them perform at an equal and often better level. Lewd comments and jibes are but the passing arrows of a jealous, empty and frustrated male mind. If only these thick skulled corporate cavemen used more of their tiny brains in work rather than at thinking up of cheap lines to tell woman about his sad sexless existence, then they probably would not be such a losers. Then they might just get that promotion, the bonus and might even improve the company’s profit along the way, not that that matters to them much.

The pain of rape will not be understood by pea-brained, testosterone controlled perverts, because God has unfortunately given them two heads to think from and they always end up using the wrong one. But I hope that one day these idiots pick on a female wrestler, by mistake, one with biceps capable enough to lift a car. And when she gets angry and gives them back similar treatment, I hope they grasp what mental and physical torture their heinous acts really are.

Tabasco Sauce....by Nachos!!!

Tabasco Sauce , based on our all new soap, Sweet Chillies is out!!! For all those readers who are too lazy to read, you can catch our characters in action right here in visuals!!

Why Facebook is worse than a Vivek Oberoi film.

Here is why Facebook is worse than a Vivek Oberoi film.

1. Facebook is the place where friends put up embarrassing pictures of you. Its embarrassing if people put up pictures of the time you probably got too drunk and fell face first in a toilet pot. You don’t even want those pictures to exist let alone be shared with everyone on your friendlist including prospective girlfriends and your mother. Vivek Oberoi is much better than Facebook because he doesn’t tag you in any of the million embarrassing stunts that he does. Mostly in Prince.

2. You have a million friends on Facebook and you don’t know or cant remember half of them. That's 50,000 unknown people on your list! But thats bound to happen when you begin to add people who sat next to you on a bus, just once. Vivek Oberoi films are better than Facebook because there is nothing like, I know this Vivek Oberoi film but I cant remember it. You either don’t know about them or you can’t forget them because they are so bad. Like Prince.

3. Facebook applications are a bigger waste than 100 feet tall pile of Dog excreta. Whoever cares if you took a quiz and found out that you were secretly a flying squirrel? Whoever cares who your friend of the day is or the friend you will save from a crocodile infested swamp of the day is? Answer: Nobody Cares. Vivek Oberoi will never put you through the torture of applications, because he never applies himself. Like he did in Prince.

4. Poking is one of the most idiotic of all Facebook features. If in real life, someone whom you have not met for a long time and wish to forget ASAP, comes along and randomly pokes you just below the ribs, would you happily tell them hi! or smash their bloody face in? Vivek Oberoi never pokes his audience. He cant afford to let the few fans he has get pissed off. Vivek Oberoi only pokes the villain. Like he did in Prince.

by Editor Man

Sweet Chillies- Episode 2

(continued from episode 1)

Part 1

Aditya Balani was waiting near the Shalimar Groove, pacing about anxiously. The Shalimar Groove was this nice quite park with 2 Shalimar trees in the Panchgani Institute of Commerce and Economics campus. It was a favourite of all the lovers in the institute. But Love was not on Aditya’s mind.

That bitch must be burying herself under her avalanche of make-up, he thought with disgust. He was just thinking about how ugly her face looked without make-up when suddenly two moist hands clamped down on his eyes as someone lunged at him from behind.

He was about to shout RAPE RAPE! But then a female voice whispered in his ear, “Guess who it is, my pet?”

“Sarah! You crazy, psychotic mongoose!” he barked leaping away from her clingy form.

He should have guessed those wet sticky hands were hers. Sarah D’mello had a taap under her skin that someone had forgotten to turn off and as a result her palms were always wet and slimy like the back of a fish.

“You sound so cute when you insult!” she squealed.

“oh, do i? You want to hear some more?” said aditya angrily

“ no jaanu, I want to hear, the reason why you called me to such a romantic place on such a romantic evening.”

“ok. As you wish. Sarah I want to break up with you.”

“what? Surely you’re joking sweetiepie”. Damn she was so stupidly cute that he felt like pucnching her in the face.

“no am serious.”

“thats not possible. My shonu cant do this. Why would my rabbit do this?” she wailed.

“well he just did. Live with it. And there is someone else”

“NOOOO!” she cried and she turned around and suddenly bursting into hysterical sobbing, she began running away from him. Clearly she was running with her eyes closed because she banged into a lamppost and fell flat on her back.

Part 2.

A few days had past since the break-up. Sarah had still nnot recovered from the shock. She still had that stupid expression on her face which made her look like an ant-eater. She had taken to listening to sad songs on her I-pod all day. songs of the calibre of “Every night in my dreams” and other assorted Himesh Reshamiyya songs. Along with that she would often randomly burst into tears and scribble ‘I still love you’ on chits of paper, her hands(but it would get smudged due to the moisture) and desks and wherever else she could find place. Clearly she had not taken it in the right spirit.

One day she was sitting in class, alone and sad as usual when someone came and sat beside her. she looked up to find that it was Satyavardhan Singh.

“Hey what you up to?” he asked

“nothing much. Am just thinking whether hanging myself from the fan is better than swallowing poison.”

“swallowing poison anyday” came satya’s quick reply, “but why would a beautiful girl like you want to think about such ugly things?”

“you think am beautiful?”

“oh, hell yea! I think you’re quite a package!”

Sarah Began laughing, “some people don’t think so...”

“forget them” said satya, “give me a chance. Sarah, I have a HUGE crush on you. Go out with me please.”

Sarah laughed. “we’ll see.”

2 weeks later they were a couple.

Big Bazaar Sucks!

All those dimwits who think that Big Bazaar is the supermarket equivalent of heaven should have their head examined. Big Bazaar is NOT the best place to shop!

Keep in mind that I am not saying this because I work for Reliance Fresh or own the small shop outside Big Bazaar, I say this in my full senses as a buyer alone. Big Bazaar gives you as good a shopping experience as a Nazi Concentration Camp, minus the gas chamber.

For one thing the Goddamn place is ALWAYS packed to capacity. There are more people at Big Bazaar at any given point of time than there are in Eden Gardens, Kolkatta when Sourav ‘Dada’ Ganguly is batting. Its just a hideous amount of crowd! It is only when you shop at Big Bazaar that you realize how out of hand the population problem of India is and you really begin to think that something ought to be done to curb it. So if you want to feel like your travelling in a dombivili fast every time you go out shopping, then Big Bazaar is the right place for you.

I don’t know about you, but all I usually ever need and want is a bottle of Coke, a bag of potato chips and some underwear. Apparently Big Bazaar lives up to its name. It is so freaking BIG that it totally pisses me off. I really don’t feel like walking 42 kilometers and take part in a treasure hunt just for a Bottle of Coke, A bag of Chips and some underwear. Especially not in that kind of crowd.

Yet these issues, I can probably overlook if I tried really hard but what always frays my nerves till the point where they look like shredded cheese is that stupid woman on the Public Announcement system. Oh lord! If they had to give the Public Announcement system to a chimpanzee then they should at least give it to a chimp with a decent voice! The lady they have there is singularly the MOST IRRITATING woman I have ever heard. You cant find such a brainless specimen if you search. Not only does she screech on the mike but she also thinks that she is being funny when she rhymes every sentence that she speaks. To make matters worse she always announces offers on things that I don’t buy.

Irritating Woman on Public Announcement System: Welcome Shoppers, its the season of grasshoppers! We have an offer for you, not one but a few! Buy 14 Kg Brinjal and you get a basketball! Buy 4 hawaiin shirts and you get a garland and a skirt! Buy one handkerchief andyou wont miss a sniff! Happy shopping and I better be hopping!

Me: yeah you better! Thanks bitch, for singlehandedly ruining my shopping experience.

And when you do overcome all these physical and mental tortures what do you find waiting for you? A line longer than one you find at the buffet counter at all Gujarati weddings. My heart sinks as it sees the endless stretch of shopping baskets extending in front of me. The first thing I do is start looking for a nice warm and comfortable spot somewhere in the store where I can sleep, because by the looks of it, by turn will only come in the early hours of the next day. I usually pick the spot near the Ice-cream section. Its nice and cool.

I can see some of you ignorant souls whining already. You think that Big Bazaar is the best thing to happen to mankind ever since he discovered fire, because it’s so cheap and you end up saving so much! I think thats rubbish! Especially if you are a buyer like me, or at any rate if you’re a normal, mentally sane shopper, because when you buy anything around the range of 3 to 27 items, you will save not more than 5 rupees on your purchase. I speak through experience for I only save 14 paise each time I shop. So unless you buy in bulk, for example if you have a large family which is contributing to the crowd at Big Bazaar or you are buying supplies for your small store opposite Big Bazaar, you are not going to get any benefit out of shopping at Big Bazaar. If you still want suffer all of the above mental and physical damage to save 27 paise(which will you not be returned by the way) then all I can tell you is Happy Shopping and Best of Luck!

The Matador

Indian and Chinese Films

Hindi movies (and Chinese movies) defy the laws of physics (and common sense) in a way only they can. They are also ridiculous to an unparalleled extent. People and things do stuff which er... how do you put it... is ridiculous. It’s not as if they intend to make a futuristic-2157AD kind of movie or a superhero flick, they just end up with a movie where cars fail to follow parabolas when they fall, people fall forward when shot from the front and even 15 bullets aren’t enough to kill the hero.

Hindi movie fight scene – One hero. One villain. 30 subordinates of the villain. Everyone except the hero has a gun. They all shoot at him as he runs (slow motion) towards the villain (who has hero’s girlfriend hostage). They all miss. Then hero beats up villain while some friend of his tackles ALL of the villains subs. Friend dies. Villain dies. Girlfriend and hero survive. ALWAYS. Oh and I almost forgot, before the villain dies, the hero gives him a 15 minute lecture on how he will finally have revenge for the murder of most of his family, friends and neighbourhood.

Chinese movie special – 25 people surround the hero to have a go at him and then wait in line as he tackles them one at a time. They will NEVER attack together. EVER. And as in Hindi movies, the hero will never lose.

As modernisation sets in, only the weapons change. The stupidity remains the same.

by Mr. Fly

Kahaan Kab Kaise?-Ep 6

In the last episode you saw, Champi Taklampanchi getting married to Bacchu Chustia. They were taken to their honeymoon suite so that they didn’t embarrass all the other guests with their rampant and wild love-making and also so that this channel doesn’t get into trouble over censorship issues.

Aur Ab Aage(AAA)

The two lusty lovers had to be lifted by two body builders who happened to be present at the wedding for some odd reason with no one remembering calling them. The reason the two lovers had to be lifted was that they were too busy making out to bother about things like where they were doing it. It was finally the conservative Bhau Taklampanchi who decided that he had seen enough public display of affection from his daughter and instructed the body builders to do their job.

And so the newly married couple was dumped into their honeymoon suite, in Pappu’s Hotel. The whole village was pushing and shoving for a place next to the door so that they could get aroused listening to the love making going on inside.

Inside the room the couple lay on a bed with a hard mattress in a cockroach infested room. Champi had never been with a man before and so could not tell that the thing pinching her ass was not her husband but a gigantic black rat. It was pleasurable and that was all that mattered to her.

After a long while of kissing, during which the whole village had left from the door disappointed.

Champi: Now what do we do? Issshhhh.

Bacchu: well, I guess we should do it.

Champi: Do what? Issshhhhh.

Bacchu: Arre baby, lets get dirty. You know what I mean? ;)

Champi: EEEH no! I just had a bath. I am not getting dirty again. Am sorry.

Bacchu: No stupid! Let us have Sekus.

Champi: What?

Bacchu: Arre, Sekus! You know what the village dog is everytime doing with the village bitch and we are throwing stones at? Arre, Sekus! From which everyone is having children like us!

Champi: oh you mean SEX! Ok lets start.

Bacchu: Arre, but I don’t know how to do. I bunked school to play gillidanda when they did sex education class. You know how to do?

Champi: no. I didn’t go to school itself.

Bacchu: Wait wait, I am remembering older boys teaching me about Sekus. They are saying that that the man have to get on top of the woman. So now you bend down and I will get on top of you.

Champi bent down and Bacchu climbed on top of her and then Champi got up and hoisted him on to her shoulders. He was very heavy.

Bacchu: then they said you should move in and out.

So Champi with Bacchu on her shoulders started moving in and out of the room.

Bacchu: They are right! Sekus is a lot of fun!

Champi: Mummy was also right, she told me, the first time will be very painful.

Said Champi as she continued moving in and out of the room carrying her husband on top of her shoulders.

To be continued...

(to see life repeatedly using Champi as a boxing bag, tune in next time!)

In Defence of the Fat, Bald Man.

Dearest Sheetal,

I am sick and tired of your constant nagging about how I have let go of my appearance. How I am not the man you married. How my paunch has grown more out of proportion than the IPL controversy and how my hair has disappeared like the ozone layer.

The fact of the matter is I have done all of this out of my eternal love for you, my pet. Being fat, bald and as ugly as a mountain gorilla, are all defense mechanism’s to keep those, slim, sexy, seductive women off my back so I can remain ever faithful and in love with you, my darling.

Really sweetheart. I am what I am today only because I love you so very much. With my exploding waistline, receeding hairline and bulldog like wrinkly face, you can sleep peacefully knowing that no sane, girl with a relatively decent eyesight is going to sleep with me.

You keep complaining about how I smell so awful and that I don’t maintain any hygiene and how I never wash my armpits. But sweety you must realise that it is this very odour, that warns a woman from a good distance away, that I am a married man and I do not want anything to do with them. The fact that it tells this to my boss, colleagues, friends and relatives too is something we shall discuss later.

You say that I have the largest stomach in the world. Clearly you haven’t seen Yuvraj Singh lately. But there is a reason why my stomach is expanding like vijay mallya’s business empire. If you didn’t make such amazing food then I would probably have still looked like someone below the poverty line. But alas, your oily parathas, paneer makhanwala and irresistible butter chicken are too much to resist for a man of my sensitive taste-buds. And as you know(and repeatedly remind me) I don’t communicate very well, so I tend to show my appreciation by farting every once in a while. And you instead of thanking me call them smelly and say that they are the only cause for global warming!

And if I have grown bald then it is only because I worry so much for you. The days when you are ill and bed-ridden I worry who is going to make my food. When you are overworked I worry about how the housework will be done. When you say you have a headache, I worry if you will be in the mood to make love or not. it is all this worrying about you that has taken its toll on my brittle hairs. But in my defence, my worrying shows I care.

I have become what I have, only because of my love for you and to protect our lovely marriage. If I didn’t care at all about you then I just might have been Slim, Handsome and full of hair, just like I was before marriage!

Regards,

Your Husband.

(Reproduced Faithfully by Editor Man.)

Tabasco Sauce... by Nachos

Introducing Tabasco Sauce, by our Ace Cartoonist Nachos, a new and exiting series based on the characters of our written series, Sweet Chillies. Tabasco Sauce(for those too lazy to read Sweet Chillies) is based on the students of The Panchgani Institute of Commerce and Economics. Do follow it to know the characters better! Enjoy! Oh and do let us know what you think of this new series!

LOVE IN THE TIME OF MALARIA

Namaskaar Pahuna!!!!

Sorry haan… I had to take a long break… I had got malaria, dysentery and chicken pox all at the same time… that is not a nice combination to have… believe me… imagine sitting on the pot and spurting out horrible smelling liquid, but while you are shivering, so it sends the jets of liquid in all directions… and now imagine scratching itchy red sores all over your body at the same time…

But don’t worry re… I am fine now… mi khup rest ghetla… and now I am better… so anyways… while I was away, my mailbox filled with mails from you all… some of them were the usual proposals… please haan… how many times to tell… I AM MARRIED…

But some were nice questions… so I will tell you what they were:

1) My girlfriend has a weird fetish for balloons. It is really weird. She can’t get excited without seeing one. What do I do?

ANS: Aree… don’t worry re… the answer is really simple… just blow up your condom before you put it on… but be careful… if you blow it up too much, it might burst.. and then you will have some very unwanted results…

2) I am a very nervous person. I jump with every loud noise. My boyfriend hates it. What should I do?

ANS: aree… there is nothing wrong with being jumpy… in fact, you can use it to your advantage… tell your boyfriend to make loud noises during sex, so that you will jump more… and after that, believe me, your boyfriend will never hate your jumpiness… ;-)

3) My husband beats me up everyday with a cricket bat. What should I do?

ANS: Don’t worry jaan… we are all with you and are cheering for you… all you have to do is hit his balls for a SIX!!!! Chhaka bana de!!!!!

Chala, am going now, keep sending in your doubts, queries and good homemade food, they are all much appreciated!

Sweet Chillies- Episode 1

Part 1.

How someone could get that sticky, Aditya Balani, just didn’t know. In his opinion she was stickier than a lizard stuck to a glass smeared with a tub of fevicol! He was of course sharing his opinion on his girlfriend, Sarah D’ mello, that sticky bitch! She was the limit of how clingy a human female could possibly get. She called him, 15 times a day even though she met him every single day, and it wasn’t just the calls, she was actually physically clingy as well, hugging and sticking to him every single time they met. ARRGH what a leeching sea slug!

He would have tolerated all that rot if she had any sense in her. but its just not possible to stick with a girl who calls you Kabootar, JaanuRabbit and Peanut. She was one of those excessively sweet girls whose brain was coated with sugar and candyfloss. He felt like strangling her everytime she called him Kabootar and then stuffing a kabootar up her shapely ass!

That was why Aditya Balani had fallen for Prity Sanghvi. She was everything Sarah was not. Aditya first saw her in the accounts class. She was sitting ahead him solving her sum. Quiet, intelligent and so freaking hot. Especially when she wore those backless dresses. And when he spoke to her she never once said something as stupid as what sarah used to say every time she opened her big stupid, Kabootar spewing mouth!

Thats why he had gone ahead and gotten cosy with Prity, even while going out with Sarah. And that is why he found himself in front of her right now,

“Prity, will you go out with me?” he asked in as husky a voice as possible

“sure, where do you want to go?” came her reply.

“No, you idiot!” said Aditya, “I meant will be my girlfriend?”

“Oh! Ya sure. Anytime.” Came the giggly reply.

“how about now?”

“ya alright!”

Part 2

The Panchgani Institute of Commerce and Economics, located in Panchgani and specializing in Commerce and Economics was a grand place of great repute. It was so famous that kids from all over the country came there to study. It had magnificent huge hostels, sprawling grounds, and pleasant weather. They also had a watchmen called Ram Singh.

The institute had 4000 students at any given time and its fair share of characters. One such character was Satya, short for Satyavardhan Singh. On the face Satya was as normal as you make them. Well-built, fair, squeaky clean expression and looks bordering on average. The one problem with was that he was a compulsive liar. It wasn’t his fault that he lied about everything from his name to his age, to his shoe size and even the colour of his underwear. He lied about EVERY goddam thing.

Today he was sitting in the economics lecture and Mrs. Das was checking if everybody had done their homework.

“Satyavardhan did you finish the answers?”

“yes maam”

“show me” came the inevitable. And then Mrs. Das saw satyavardhan’s spotlessly empty notebook.

“liar you didn’t do it!” she was angry, “what is your roll no. Boy?” she yelled.

“42.” Answered satya quick as lightning

“LIAR! In the register its 56” thundered Mrs. Das

“oh” said satya, "Quite possible."

To Be Continued...