From Commas to Full Stops.

Every year around this time, you may notice a considerable increase in the number of nostalgic posts and links to sad songs from the 80s. Mostly, it’s because Game of Thrones comes out around this time, but it’s more so because a batch just got done with this thing called college. Talking about Game of Thrones, one can draw a few similarities between the two things. Both of them suck the life out of you, make you despise those in charge, teach you not to get attached too much and finally leave you with a feeling of “WHAT? THAT’S IT? THAT LASTED FOR LIKE 14 FEMTO SECONDS”.

If you thought I was this generic blogger who absolutely cannot find any inspiration whatsoever to write about fresh topics and explore new and exciting lanes, you were probably right. I’m going to waste valuable megabytes on the internet to post something about the end of my college days.

Moving to a new city is always hard, just like the incredibly bad actor from the Nokia smartphone advertisements had told you. Moving to a new city for college is even harder. You are programmed by your brain to hate the educational institute you study in for your entire stay. Having a town that adds to the list of these complaints is far from ideal. Thanjavur never failed to provide these woes. Besides imparting me with valuable information on where to use the word ‘femto’, college was no lesser than one crazy ride. Any respectably good blogger takes on a topic and paints a vivid imagery of the subject using his control and command over the English language to cast a spell over your mind. Since I am not even mildly any of those words, I am going to tell you just how I managed to not die in the past 4 years.

Pretty much every middle aged friend of your father will flock to you after your board exams are over and ask you what your plans for the future are. Your answer is about as important to them as the brand tag inside their underwear. Regardless of whether you want to become a Electronics and Communication Engineer or a PET Bottle Service Engineer, you will always have that ‘scope’ if your plan involves the word Engineering. Some wise old football manager somewhere once said that a football match starts 2 hours before the actual match and ends only 2 hours afterwards. I don’t know the deep underlying meaning behind that statement but I know that it applies to the engineering process as well. The engineering circuit starts from when you’re in 11^th or 12^th and isn’t really over until you finish your MS/MBA or get comprehensively fed up of your IT job.

I don’t have any clue about the other courses and how the colleges for them are in India, but when it comes to engineering, almost the entire process is the same. Sure, there would be a few tweaks depending upon the leniency of your college, but the experiences all are the same. You start out like an enthusiastic boy in a race and fall face first within 2 minutes. The rest of the race is just you crawling in the expectation of a divine reward after finishing it. Ironically, despite the uncanny similarities college shares with organized religion, college usually makes people lose faith in any kind of god.  It must take a deluded, downtrodden, defeated and mentally unstable person to say that they will miss life in an engineering college. Unfortunately, most of those adjectives describe the average engineering student perfectly.

Stuck in an aggressively orthodox Brahmin college, there are two ways you can get through. One way is to be a poster boy and dance to the whims of the other set of mentally unstable group of people who run the college and the alternate way is to just stay away from it. Like the BJP or any religious institution there is, you are branded as a threat to harmony if you choose against conforming to the way the administration wants to do things. This may also involve the mere act of wearing a black shirt to college because black is obviously the color of the devil and you are a devilish human being if you are wearing that shade to college. For those who choose against passionately caressing the rears of the professors, college basically turns into a tedious struggle to not get chucked out. Unfortunately for me, I didn’t particularly find the glamour associated with doing retarded things like organizing a techfest very appealing. This meant that my 4 years were just a drab routine of commuting back and forth from college and doing enough to keep my neck above the water.

Let’s look at this objectively. Would normal, sane, straight thinking, non architecture pursuing people want to bust their rears into drawing side views, top views and rear views of random shapes 2 times a week for 3 hours? Would anyone want to voluntarily sacrifice whatever of their social life remains in exchange for night outs for an exam they only have a 30% chance of passing? Would you want to sacrifice your life to an orthodox institution that stopped a pro night show because the performer was wearing a tank top? No? Thought so.

Given a choice, I would say no to every single one of those questions again but where’s the nostalgic spirit in that? So apart from all the irrationally stupid things a Brahmin guy running a college tries to shove down your throat, it’s the irrationally stupid things the other guys around you do that makes this worthwhile. However, things have an expiry date and you’re branded some sort of a Rahul Gandhi if you continue doing that long enough. College life may pretty much just signify the end of that. In light of the allowed stupidity quotient coming to a halt, the sub standard generic blogger expresses his nostalgia into moderately long words to seem culturally relevant.

Here’s to 4 years of cutting class for a sitting and sitting down for a cutting. To the advanced mathematical prowess exhibited in calculating my attendance lag. To the various times I’ve been ripped off in the name of Breakage Dues and Personality Development fees. Here’s to 4 years I’ll probably think twice about wanting back but never actually getting back. Here’s to leaving this place with a heavy heart and about 74 mildly abusive expletives.

Obligatory Nostalgia

As of today, I have 21 published blog posts and over 60-70 followers. I can most definitely call myself a blogger if I just make myself do intellectual stuff like attend literary festivals or read a book without crying at how few pictures it has. Couple a blogger with the fact that he was born between the 1990 and 2000 and you stumble upon the obligation he faces to write an article about how the 90s was the best time frame the universe had experienced and how nothing except the Swat Kats riding triples with Johnny Bravo on a flaming RX100 will ever hold a candle to it. Fortunately or unfortunately, I am not very big on politics or the BJP, so I don’t face the obligation of telling you incessantly how Modi is going to bring back the 90s. Although, if he fails bad enough, there may be a repeat of the 2000s. Here I am, doing what I do best and giving in to obligations set by society as I write an article about nostalgia.

Maybe just a handful of people have the luxury of saying that their childhood was amazing. I thankfully fall into the right category this once and can say that without a speck of doubt. A lot of that can be attributed to the fact that I was a child who’d get impressed by something as stupid as a leaf that looked like potato, but I shall continually insist that the 90’s was what did it for me. You know how people think the earth is positioned just at the right distance from the sun in order for life to exist on this huge swirling landmass? Being born in the 90s had that sort of effect. Had I been born in the 80s or something, I would have been a teenager by the time I made it to the invention of the computer. That means there would have been no google by the time I would have been in college, which in turn means that I would not have gotten any college degree at all. If the latter had happened, and I would have been a 2000’s kid, I would not have found time to rant over nostalgia because I’d have automatically been born into a house with a decent Wi-Fi speed and uTorrent.

As a 90s kid, I sometimes feel I have a sort of responsibility. I have a responsibility to sit down with my laptop and surf the internet, which is basically a database of all the information in the world, to visit social networking sites and construct carefully worded statuses about the 90s. While I hit random mechanical keys and light up pixels on this mystery box of technology I call a laptop, I must think about instances from my childhood which remind me that how world was much simpler without the onset of all these technological breakthroughs. About how the current generation is messed up and how they are spoilt by the luxuries they possess. I must not leave out any points when I tell you how unnecessary these things are. How you basically just need a stick and a cycle tire to have a blast. I am obligated to do all of those things. If only the Internet service provider mega company was competent enough to provide a fast broadband connection to every single person living in every corner of the country, I would have found the time to wax about how technology is ruining us.

A slight side effect of sarcasm is that, not everyone gets it. Every time I see anything even closely related to the 90s, the ‘average Buzzfeed article reader’ part of me shouts out the entirety of his her known vocabulary and goes “OMG THAT IS TOTALLY ME”. I wish I could promote myself to the level of providing you with meaningful journalism in the form of “43 GIF IMAGES THAT DEFINE YOUR CHILDHOOD” or “13 WAYS HOW YOUR SHIT PATTERN DESCRIBES YOUR PERSONALITY” but unfortunately, I am not as talented as the folks at that revolutionary organization. The problem is that, everything that can be said about the 90s, has already been said about 17,342 times. An additional problem is that all these 17,342 times have talked about the same thing. Because most of the articles I have read have been Indians spurting out GRE Essay inertia on the internet, I’m pretty sure nobody really understood what that poor animal was trying to convey. A teary eyed smiley face with a semi emotional quote took care of their obliviousness. So, in my quest to continually seem like a smart person, I shall again attempt to sound like a pretentious asshole with a socially different opinion on a famous topic.

I am proud to be a 90s kind in the same way I’m proud to be an Indian. I had nothing to do with that procedure and I find it extremely hard to be proud of probability. I would say that I am extremely lucky to be a part of that magical time. I’m pretty sure that I would have turned out to be a completely different person had I been born in any other period. Clearly, that isn’t such a safe bet if you consider the fact that I could have lost out on the sarcasm and self-proclaimed wit while being stuck with the same appearance.

Being a 90s kid didn’t simply give you perks like good music and the negligence to your fashion related crimes, it also held up all the awesome things for when you were of an optimum age group to enjoy it. I have witnessed most of the peak years of Sachin Tendulkar and AR Rahman, the rise and fall of the CD, Floppy, Nickelodeon, Cartoon Network and Atal Bihari Vajpayee. Okay I didn’t actually watch the rise and fall of Vajpayee but I did watch jokes about him during the time I saw the brief rise and fall of a certain comic called Shekhar Suman.

A lot is romanticized about the 90s. The simpler times and how it was not very easy to screw up colossally. How it was almost ritualistic to play cricket all day despite summers which could give an Australian a heat stroke. How tight my schedules would be, despite not having 74 tuition classes for the 4^th standard mock preliminary primary examination that counted for 0.34% of your final marks at the end of the 32^th hexamester.  How birthdays and get-togethers maintained this awkward balance of being formal and generic with the cake cutting/return gifts while being informal and batshit insane in a different way every single time. How festivals meant a jolly family get together after months of being away.  All these romanticized parts of the 90s fail to explain how much of a high-octane struggle these petty things actually were.

Forget the Malaysian flights, do you have even the slightest clue what you would have done if you lost your kid in the 90s? Forget the United Nations peace council; do you even know how to keep relations stable when you get a Charizard card in your pokemon pack while your friend gets 6 Energy cards? Don’t even talk to me about wars on terrorism man. Do you know how one had to strategize their way through cricket matches all without losing 75-100% of their friends? Bro, if you have stayed calm and composed during your birthday without opening any of the gifts until the party is over, you need to put that shit in your resume. Forget acid attacks for a minute here and focus on how you would get mortally wounded and whiplashed by your teacher in school while still trying to control your tears because of the girls around. Don’t even talk about dilemma if you haven’t had to hurriedly sort your priorities tediously everyday at 5pm because of the cavalcade of amazing shows that were on multiple channels then. Domestic violence can take a back seat my friend. Have you ever been the youngest sibling amongst your cousins? If the answer is no, I’ll just say that you do not have physical scars that need recovery. The 90s are way too romanticized and someone needs to tell these people the truth.

All said and done, I was a pathetic example in braving through these struggles in the 90s. I’ve gotten lost at a park; I’ve been chased around and beaten up by my teachers while my tears left a snail stain along the path I took; I’ve been the shameless kid at a party who shakes his gifts and immediately claws into them when I receive it and much more. If any kid now were to do either one of these things, he’d be branded as a bad influence and sent to a corrective facility somewhere in Slovakia. Besides all the amazing tv shows, endless cricket and the cycle races, I am most grateful for the fact that I didn’t experience the prime years of my childhood in a corrective facility. That, for me remains the real magic of the 90s. Now, excuse me while I check out 17 ways how my rolly chair is actually trying to kill me.

The Banned-its

DISCLAIMER: This article is a light hearted expression of my views on general stupidity and if you are a human living in the 21^st century, there is a pretty high chance that you will most certainly find some parts of this offensive to your kin. If you do not enjoy attempted satire and casual jibes at redundancies in the society, I suggest you read this article fully and blow up in a murderous rage rather than stage protests and riot like its 2002.

It’s finally the start of a new year, which means an entire avenue of new opportunities and chances has opened up for us to conveniently ignore while doing the same stuff from the previous year. It is that special time where we look back and reflect upon the mistakes we made in the previous year and concentrate on typing out a strongly worded Facebook status that conveys the same. The human population has seen loads of these kinds of new dawns and has promised to make amends to their troubled lifestyle. Annoyingly enough, with every passing year, there is just a steady increase in the general pansy nature of people. Ironically, I’m going to be ranting about the people who seem to be complaining a lot these days.

You would have thought the ‘angry young man’ trend would have died down considering that the man associated with it, now has 2 grandchildren and a son already going through mid-life crisis, but this is when the world decides it’s a cool image to don. There used to be a time where there existed three kinds of people – the supportive, the reprimanding and the neutral (i.e. – the guy who tells you to down those 4 shots of tequila, your mother and the bartender). Trends took a massive detour and now the only kind of person you’re most likely to come across is the guy who got offended because of something you did. The news has gone from being the source of information about the happenings all around the world to just being the forum for broadcasting the stupidest thing said in the past 12 hours.

Everyone wants to be famous. It is a globally consistent behavior amongst everyone. I write this blog because I want people to read it. If I wanted nobody to read my work, I’d write self help books or have a steady job in the Times of India. People will continually try to oust each other to reach the zenith, and the funny part about that is that they are not concerned about the competition. They just want to win it. Like how a group of people created an imaginary friend called Jesus and made a religion out of it, we Indians made our competitive intentions clear by making around 4 million imaginary friends, 2 holy epic stories which we continually insist were true, and laws protecting the story tellers. Or like the time the Muslim community got offended over a movie? I bet there were Maharashtrian Hindus across the world calling their respective Vijays and Deepaks also across the world asking for which movie they could protest against. It’s like we’re Dubai when it comes to competitions that don’t matter, and in competitions that matter, we’re Bangladesh or something.

Every week you see someone actively trying to get their 15 seconds of fame by saying something incredibly stupid. Take for example, this one fellow called Abu Azmi. I’m pretty sure none of you would have known his name unless his goat went missing or his 14^th wife ran away but he got his fame by expressing his opinion on the Delhi rapes. How many of you even knew that Pranab Mukherji had a son before he made his famous remark on the character of women who get raped? Akhilesh Yadav, Bill O’Reilly (Firangi Sardesai) and most of these babas are actively using their stupidity to plate food in their house. They must have brainstorming sessions with an orthodox lady holding a glass and hold a press conference for the statement that made her drop it in disbelief.

All said and done, we have grown accustomed to stupid statements but there are a few instances where the pansy nature of people’s sentiments takes a dirty, ugly turn. Obviously, since I said it takes a dirty, ugly turn, religion had to be involved in this process. Take this whole cinema banning franchise which recently opened by the crème de la crème of the annoying members of the religious crusade. I remember a time during the release of a Kamal Hassan movie when all of them teamed up like the Avengers to boycott every movie that was released. The Muslim community apparently felt offended at how the movie portrayed Taliban camps as ruthlessly violent and strict as opposed to the love picnics with care bears and chocolate fountains they actually are. In response to the Muslim community getting a foot ahead in this ban race, the other religions came along and did their thing. This is an actual conversation I had during that week.

ME: Dei. So when is Vishwaroopam releasing?

Friend: Don’t know da. Muslims are protesting against its release.

ME: Oh. What about the other movies? David?

Friend: Christians.

ME: Aadhi Baghavan?

Friend: Hindus.

ME: ….damn it.

I don’t remember a time when the old movies created this much of a controversy even though they used to tackle some pretty touchy issues. One would argue that the onset of the world wide web and its immense power to shape someone’s opinion would be one of the reasons why everyone has turned into a hyper sensitive ball of hormones, but I cannot possibly say that without irony taking a glorious turn into an endless pit.

The latest movie to make its rounds around the protests and uproars is one particular Rajkumar Hirani masterpiece called pk. It ventured into the topic of mass religious institutions and obviously, you cannot go there. You know the drill when you offend a right wing North Indian from Mumbai .There has to be a commendable degree of violence involved along with some broken English and a tilak. The main argument was about how the movie poked fun at Hindus and didn’t sufficiently insult the Muslims. Believe me, there would be around 16 Ashutosh Gowarikar movies, Bill Maher documentaries, 5 John Oliver feature shows and 5 days of continuous podcasts from Bill Burr if the Muslim community didn’t 9/11 anyone uttering 3 syllables closely resembling the prophets name.

More than an attack on the movie, the protests are a raging reflection on the general nature of people who take part in these protests. I’m pretty sure there were Delhi jaats who protested the release of the movie and then updated their Facebook status a week later to – ‘Boss charlie hebdo ke saath galat hua. 2.5 men mei kya todu tha. #FREEDOM OF SPEECH #Jesus is Charlie’

On the minimal bright side we can find here, we can rejoice the fact that Rajkumar Hirani and several others have tried to speak out about the obvious problem religion poses in the country. I see atheist populations rising and hopefully, within a few generations, we would have a place where people don’t need 4 million gods, a man on a cross and [obvious name but censored because I don’t want to become a tangdi kebab] tell us the difference in morality. Until then, we have the woeful pleasure of being stuck in this ugly transition with the riots and the protests. Like Aamir Khan said in a movie that didn’t get banned for offending several sections of the society, we have a choice. We could either ignore everything that’s happening around us and let it happen or we could take a step towards fixing it. You’ve seen what happens when someone sets out to fix a problem like this in our country, so let’s just sit back and watch this entire fiasco implode while we watch critically acclaimed non offensive masterpieces like Son of Sardaar.

(Yes, I was sarcastic)

How to Get Away with Murder

Every newspaper circulating across india has almost the same general pattern with respect to its contents. The sports column is pretty much the “Here’s what is going on in sports aside from cricket, the greatest sport to have ever been played on the face of the earth and also the only one that counts.” It will feature the highlights from all sporting events covered in the way an engineering student would answer a 15 mark to which he has no clue about. Next comes the part of the newspaper which is responsible for actively striving to make a difference in the country and bring about a revolution against evil. This part of the newspaper feeds us all sorts of important information like what Sanju baba ate for breakfast or the detailed breakdown of Suzanne Roshan’s alimony amount correct upto 8 decimal places. We reach the front page after skipping what is essentially the Telebrands of the newspaper industry, which usually contains one of two things- Heart breaking Disasters or Politics. Off late, I’ve been coming across too much of the former topic on the front page, which is saying a lot when you’re living in a country whose political system resembles a badly done reality show like Bigg Boss or the News Hour.

Of course, after events that just unfolded yesterday, one does not need to rewind his memory too much to think of heart wrenching events that happened. The ISIS and Taliban have collectively made it easier for us to recollect acts of inhumane terror. It is pretty rare for an event to be of such a large scale that it creeps onto your timeline rather than stay desolately positioned in a corner of your newspaper page. For those of you who don’t know what I’m talking about, let me elucidate.

Religious fanatics have a knack for taking things way too far. Think of them as the dumb geeks in the front of the class. They are usually not as smart as the other first benchers but they have an ego the size of their Golden guides. They will indulge in any form of ass licking to get a grade comparable to the smarter first benchers. The Taliban are the religious version of these faggots. Since they cannot follow the less vocal path of peace and tranquility to acquire a good name in the eyes of the imaginary guy in the robe, they will resort to hateful acts of terror in the name of god to proclaim their badassery. Discontent with merely the atrocity, they feel a compulsive need to justify themselves by contorting the facts into their own version of it. In their latest debacle, one of the members from this organization thought it’d be a good idea to enact out a Tarantino movie inside a school with children.

130. That is the rough estimated count of the children who died in that school yesterday. Here is where the stupidity of theTaliban becomes obvious. For an organization to shoot down students in a country whose GDP and literacy rate soars dangerously close to my CGPA, this is absolutely stupid. This however does not mean that I endorse the genocide of students in Norway, fellow keyboard warriors across the globe waiting for an opportunity to type out a rebuttal rant. I don’t want you to Taliban up what I’m saying here into your own contorted version of it.

Although this article is mostly fuelled by the more recent acts of terror in Syria, Sydney and Peshawar, I want to talk about a more underlying problem with terrorism. You know, besides the fact that it’s taking an uncomfortable number of innocent lives. My main beef with these shit stains is the fact that they cannot be reasoned with. They are not psychopaths who have a mental problem; they are rationally thinking humans who plan out this course of action without ever flinching once. My problem with terrorism is the aftermath of all these events where politicians come and give us excuses about how intelligence failed and how the police were too slow to act. My problem with this entire organized crime is how the policemen would rather beat up couples in a park than find their morality and do the same to the grandmother glasses wearing politicians with a tilak giving them orders.

I remember after the 26/11 attacks how the entirety of the news channel network in India focused on how the Anti Terrorism cell drew out a timeline complete with 3D renditions of the path taken by the terrorists and their strategies. There was a 1 hour feature on how they resorted to eating dry fruits because it was high on energy and easy to carry, complete with expert opinions from dieticians. Manmohan Singh would come to the press with his statements and excuses as compiled on Sonia Gandhi’s macbook.  Arnab would write down his 5 word debate and call on Sanjay Jha and some bearded retard from Pakistan and say how terrorists are cowards.  All this while Ajmal Kasab put his feet up inside his air conditioned cell while his chicken biriyani arrived at room service.

If you closely analyze any issue, it would always closely boil down to religion, general stupidity or the annoyingly clerical nature of the government. There is absolutely nothing keyboard warriors like me and you can do about this. I can act like a concerned citizen and pen down various articles and euphemize them into shit like ‘open letters’ or ‘response to responses by a response to a response of an open letter’ and share a few other articles that will move you. I will never come close to eradicating or even getting a terrorist to read what I have to say about him. Given that most terrorists wouldn’t figure out how the buttons on this machine make the lighted screen change, I wouldn’t expect them to do anything except preach their religion or have carnal intercourse with a camel.

But by all means, send Barkha Dutt and her crusade of journalists to the school to analyze what the kid from 6-B got for lunch that day and how his father works at a construction mine at minimum wage. Go ahead and tediously describe how you would mutilate and torture an ISIS member if you ever found one. Share and retweet open letters by famous personalities and call them a brave comrade for sharing their feelings. Debate on Quora, comment violently on YouTube videos, pick up a fight with the closest muslim in sight. Participate in widespread candle light vigils and wear a black arm band so that terrorists watching the news broadcast on their iPhones can shed a tear and proceed to kill another 150 people. Not a soul is going to stop you. But remember, not a soul is going to stop them either. This is what disturbs me the most when I see these events. This is how one gets away with murder.

Like it or not, the entire fiasco will eventually stoop down to the age old blame game where someone genuinely expressing his concern on the issue will be branded a racist pig for the wrongful portrayal of a religion and end up facing more government punishment than the guy who has the blood on his hands. I can loot, murder, embezzle, conspire and rape for all I care but god forbid I like a status on facebook. It’s time to stop reading your fictional books about god and get on with your own sense of morality. It’ll be quite a while until everyone puts their toys away, but unfortunately, there is no catalyst to this process. In the mean time, let’s just go back to things that actually matter. I heard Sanjay Dutt had masala Omlette today.

Greed, Chocolate and H2O

India is a nation that is now well accustomed to random politicians making stupid statements. Or stupid politicians making random statements, whatever. You can actually use any derogatory adjective in that string and still make sense out of it. If I wrote a blog on the detailed deconstruction of each and every stupid thing our beloved politicians would have said or done, I’d have more content in this free domain than the entirety of Arindam Chaudhuri’s IIPM scam database. Hence, I decided to highlight just this one issue which really disturbed me. Funnily though, it isn’t an Indian who’s saying funny things and being a jerk now.

My facebook feed off late has been concentrating on one common topic- Water. From the ALS Ice bucket challenge, to the seemingly righteous posts about how it’s a waste of water, I have been getting regular updates. This stands to prove a few things about the basic nature of humans on social networks. Mainly, it illustrates the fact that people can get annoyed for basically anything. Be it a funny photo or an awareness program for a life threatening disease. Suddenly, everyone is concerned about the water shortages in Africa. To get one thing clear, EVERYTHING is scarce in Africa. Except for widespread diseases and vegetation maybe. I could probably take a photo of a shattered bulb in my living room and get responses like –

YOU UNGRATEFUL PRICK! HOW CAN YOU JUST TAKE PHOTOS OF BROKEN BULBS? YOU SHOULD HAVE JUST DONATED THAT TO AFRICA INSTEAD OF WASTING A PERFECTLY GOOD BULB. THEY DON’T HAVE ELECTRICITY AND USE TRAPPED FIREFLIES AS LIGHTS OVER THERE. UGH.

I love how everyone is against the challenge but is completely okay with the concept of Holi and La Tomatina. But that’s how bandwagons function. You cannot have a bandwagon without equal support at both ends. Brushing that aside now, I should probably get to the actual topic I wanted to write about. For the 3 of you who follow the news, Nestle recently just made the biggest dick move in the history of dick moves since the mandatory set top box installation notice. Nestle wants to privatize all the water resources in the world. Suddenly, ALS seems like something fancier doesn’t it?

What may sound like some evil plan from a James Bond movie, is actually something your 23^rd favorite chocolate brand has been up to for quite some time. Similar to James Bond villain plans, Nestle has been trying to continually piss off people in the world in order to gain some money and attention.  Peter Brabeck, the chairman of the board of Nestle has gone on record to say the following- “The one opinion, which I think is extreme, is represented by the NGOs, who bang on about declaring water a public right. That means as a human being you should have a right to water. That’s an extreme solution.”

That’s right. Peter here thinks that water being openly available to everyone is somewhat of an extreme and unnecessary solution. This whole fiasco is doubly shocking for us to hear now because we had gotten used to words like free water and Aam Aadmi during the reign of a Mr. Arvind Kejriwal. While he is probably holding rallies in Chandini Chowk elaborating how Nestle is actually a conspiracy started by Reliance, the normal population are just distraught over the level of ignorance shown by this multinational conglomerate. This isn’t even the entire villainous story of this company. Apart from telling people that they don’t really need water like they need rights, Nestle has a record of going pretty dirty in their marketing strategies by manipulating women in lesser economically developed countries into using their baby nutrient powder over natural breast milk. That’s a new low even for these bureaucratic knobs.

There are two kinds of marketing bullies in the industry. One are the actual geniuses; the Don Drapers and the Steve Jobs of the marketing world. They will use sly mind games to get you to buy their product, but once you see through the plot, you will applaud their method. The other type of bully you will usually come across are the C.I.A fellows who will barge into your face and use brute force to make you buy their item. Nestle is basically the douche head of the C.I.A. They actually took the time from their busy schedule involving meetings and cocaine to cram in a flight to some village in Africa whose name sounds like a frog choking on a boulder, just to convince a bunch of pregnant ladies to not feed their children natural nutrients. This is the maximum level a salesman can aspire to go to. This is basically what you would get if you crossed Suresh Kalmadi with some the owner of a textiles shop from Gujarat.  Basically, Narendra Modi on steroids.

The fact that more than several lakhs of infants have died because of improper nutrition doesn’t seem to pose a concern as big as a downward profit graph for these people. We’re talking about Africa here, by the way. Everything in Africa is continually trying to end you. In the midst of these real life Hunger Games (No pun intended..not intentionally at least) , for an organization to gain the upper hand and indirectly kill hundreds of thousands of infants seems like something that should have come up in the news.  Instead, we see Arnab Goswami shouting at inanimate objects like Sanjay Jha and that autistic son of the president.

EDIT:  Abhijit Mukherjee is apparently not autistic, but actually that dumb. Sorry, Autistic people. I’m sure you found that offensive. If you found that at all..but okay.

Unless you can create a space-time portal that enables you to magically transport yourself to Africa within 10 minutes, it may seem like you can’t do anything about this. Fortunately for us, the internet intervenes and makes life a tad bit easier. Since you’ve reached the end of this article, it is safe to assume that you weren’t doing anything productive anyway. Go ahead and sign the petition to join the many people who thought this was wrong. The Nestle Boycott is also a movement that was started way before any of us were born. Evidently, people have been taking a shit on this company for quite a long time. Join the boycott movement too, it’s not like you’re losing out on any great nestle products anyways.

 

This is the Uday Chopra of chocolates and you should be ashamed of even manufacturing this, Nestle.

While I’m dishing out orders to you anyways here, also Like, Comment and Share so that I can get up every morning and not hate myself. Come on guys. Be grateful that you can read these articles at the comfort of your home while kids in Africa have to kick rocks at deer for fun while trying to not get kidnapped by Joseph Kony. Or Branjelina.

 

Petition form link : http://action.storyofstuff.org/sign/nestle_water_privatization_push

 

 

My Favorite Things

 

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens

Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens

Having the Indians being stripped of their wings

These are a few of my favorite things.

 

Times Now and NDTV covering Sanjay Dutt’s routine

Ignoring gruesome rapes of girls aged fifteen

Media censorship rights just hanging by weak strings

These are a few of my favorite things.

 

Nation in debt sanctioning statues for crores

Raja and Kalmadi and Kanimozhi still wanting some more.

CBSE describing Rahul Gandhi like he’s some king

This is definitely my most favorite thing.

 

China and Pakistan taking turns on Kashmir

Starving at one end, while the other feasts paneer

India still thinking there’s a brain in Digvijay Singh

These are a few of my favorite things.

 

Shooting down people like they’re some worthless pigeon

Culture fanatics and this shit called religion.

Sarcasm and satire flying over the head

Those are the favorite things I highlight in red

 

Brain deads with Tilaks going and beating women

Humiliated and raped and still called the villain.

Dowry is right but jeans give a sting

These are a few of everyone’s favorite things

 

Murderers, embezzlers and frauds all run free

Portraying themselves as just makers of tea

Anu Malik judging people on how they can sing

These are a few of my favorite things

 

Playing the dogma card and conforming to society

Belief in some god in whole and in entirety

Faith is just lost but stupidity is maintained

The favorites list just cannot be constrained.

 

Commercializing and ruining sportive traditions

Having your marriage date dictated by petitions

Honor killing, child marriage and section three seventy seven

So many favorite things here, I’m sure this is heaven. 

The Rape Rant

“I’m almost out of controversial topics to write about in India”- Said nobody ever. Having said that, we now look at one of the most shocking wave of events that publicly displayed the ugly side of Indians. It involved the humiliation and degradation of people while a minority sat and enjoyed the show. Although that may sound like the movie review for Kick, this article will deal with a topic I actually didn’t want to write about ever. The Rape show in India.

There is nothing funny about rape. Well, I couldn’t think of anything funny at least. There is a risk with doing jokes on rape that involve the rapid wrath of the violent feminist and the ‘understanding male compatriot’ (also pronounced as – guy attracted to a violent feminist) sections of the society. Apart from the nonexistent humor quotient in this topic, I also try to maintain the little class my blog has by not incorporating profanity in my articles. I have cruised past the culture articles and Sheila Dikshit jibes like a classy gentleman but when it comes to people like Mulayam Singh Yadav or his orangutan of a son, it becomes harder to not open that other dictionary.

India isn’t particularly renowned for the way it treats its women. We have this incessant knack for following whatever our ancestors did, no matter how stupid they were. This unquestioned respect given to the elders swings both ways. When it swings good, we have deserving professors and workers getting a gold watch on their retirement day. When it swings bad, we have Digvijay Singh and those folks at that party with the rising sun. So this blind path we follow in the name of culture has pretty much wrecked the stance of women in the society. There are women who are accustomed to this bullshit and then there are other women who are beat up and forced to be accustomed to this bullshit. The media and all those elders from your father’s office parties seem to have everything figured out with this situation. It’s almost always the generic answer for every question you ask.

Question:  Uncle what do you think about these rape things happening nowadays?

    Bullshit:  Beta all this is normal only. It’s because of western influence. This entire western hemisphere no, spoiling our Indian culture!  You leave that now beta. Tell me, are you going to US or not for studies now?

Over the course of this rape saga, there have been quite a handful of eloquent responses and views on this topic. As is the case with most things in this country, these responses range from mind numbingly good to Rahul Gandhi level. We continue to have powerful and inspirational speeches given by intimidating masculine personalities like Amitabh Bachchan and Kiran Bedi. On the flip side, there are also blokes like Abhijit Mukherji who read out random words from the dictionary in an attempt to sound like he is from an educated family. People like him make Arnab Goswami love his job.

Just like every article you read about rape, the next part will usually proceed to highlight the stupidity of our current batch of politicians. It will incorporate some smart ass insults. It will provide innovative ways on how to castigate these rapists, including a fully detailed thesis on how one can be tortured the best. Then I will end it gracefully by saying that rape is bad and the usual generic rant about how we can instill a nation of millions blah blah blah.

Let’s be brutally honest, all of that is complete and utter bullshit.

We are not going to change. The rapists will not understand any of those creative genital mutilation techniques you tirelessly described. They will continue raping because the overall IQ level of Uttar Pradesh and Bihar amounts to about 2 or 2.5. In a predictable statistic, most of our bright politicians hail from Uttar Pradesh only. There will be domestic violence, murders, kidnappings, rapes, honor killing and everything you would expect from a pea brained masculine figure high on Indian Culture. You, as an inconsequential being reading a random blog on a laptop will not be able to do jack shit about it. For every candle light protest you conduct, there will be this macho Indian dude from delhi or Haryana saying that candle light protests are an effect of western cultural influences and must be stopped. The balance is tipped to the side of the stupid Indian culture fanatics.

Western culture did not invent dowry, sati and your caste system. Western civilization didn’t construct caves with animal orgies. Westerners don’t worship a blue man’s penis. Stop blaming the shortcomings of a flawed system on another community because you’re too much of an uptight little bitch. The rape culture arises from the fundamental notion that women are pieces of property every man has a right to. That fundamental notion is the doing of our great ancestral heritage. You can give women 75% reservations in the parliament; tend to every whimsical demand made by angry feminists; castrate and torture the rapists all you want and do everything that is within your power to satisfy yourself, but every one of your attempts will be cancelled out by that one Subramanian Swamy of the society who thinks Chowmein is the primary cause of rape. If there is one thing worse than things like this being preached, its the fact that these things are being followed.

There is a regular influx of a rape report everyday in the newspaper. If I sat to cover every aspect of these events, this rant would go on forever. If I didn’t know any better, I will find more people offended by this article than the actual rape cultures in India. One step forward, Two steps back. Welcome to India. Enjoy your stay.

 

The Culinary Repercussions

With one bunch of loud egomaniacs shouting at each other coming to a halt after the elections, we have the next season of ‘shout and swear till someone takes you seriously’ starting with MasterChef USA. Don’t take me wrong, I have nothing against the show. I actually love watching Gordon Ramsay conjure up new swear phrases and slam everyone on the show. It serves as my second favorite pastime. First being, watching Arnab Goswami conjure up new swear words and slam everyone (Mostly Sanjay Jha) on his show. Fine dining was never a popular concept in India. The definition of fine dining in European and Western countries is given as – Full service restaurants with specific dedicated meal courses. Décor of such restaurants feature higher-quality materials, with an eye towards the “atmosphere” desired by the restaurateur, than restaurants featuring lower-quality materials.

Fine dining in India is when you use a fork instead of your spoon/hands to eat rice. MasterChef has changed that. For the better or the for the worse, I don’t know. It just led to people wanting boiled lentil soup instead of Dal Tadka and the rise of a new breed of arrogant customers who go like – Shit service man. I wanted SLIGHTLY seared tandoori. This is ABOVE AVERAGE seared tandoori. I hate this place.

Let me elucidate the underlying plot of MasterChef for those who are unaware of it. It’s basically a cooking contest where some dramatic underdogs cook for this judging panel. Akin to most reality shows in India, the judging panel consists of one highly talented veteran in the field, one soft spoken confidence booster and another wannabe expert who does something worthless for a living. Honestly, how is wine-tasting even a profession? I’m slogging with 30 exams in one semester for an engineering degree and there are professions where you have to basically just drink alcohol and make faces to earn money. He gets to judge other peoples work and I have other people judge me for not working. There is a difference between a person who criticizes you and elaborates on your shortcomings and the person who just says you suck in a senseless manner. That usually leads to insults like- You look like um.. some big thing that’s really big. Let’s be honest here, we watch the shows only to see how the bad dishes are received by the judges. Here is the basic template of every bad food review on the show ever.

Knowledgeable judge 1 : What is wrong with you? You can do better. Just do this, this and this and use this instead of this next time.

Soft spoken Judge no.2  (Usually Gay for some reason ): I love your spirit. You never give up. I kinda maybe sorta didn’t not hate that one small thing which you managed to not screw up. Kudos to that.

Stupid judge no.3: Basically you are a suxxxx. This dish tastes like um.. toilet. Worst. Totally not oolala.

 

I had made it clear that the concept of Masterchef isn’t what made me write this article. So what’s my rant about the food now? I’ll tell you.

Fine dining came up in the world because they thought they needed an Anna University-esque standard for grading food. Due to the lackluster life decisions made by the world, we are stuck with flamboyant chefs claiming to be masterminding the art of cookery by simply serving us boiled rice with a 54 page long description. With the monkey see, monkey do attitude, my facebook and instagram feed looks like:

“Pan fried stuffed Indian bread infused with various herbs and spices from exotic forests in Gujarat accompanied by a mouth watering exemplary mixture of moderately sweet yoghurt in boiled rice, brought directly by pink unicorns from the heavenly rice plantations in Puerto Rico slightly seasoned with a marinated sauce made from lemons and Heaven Jizz. Ah my dinner. #MasterChefUSA”

Yes, this is my dinner.

It’s freaking thepla with curd rice, pickle and kara sev.

So, with the western hemisphere coming up with a widely popular TV series involving day to day tasks, the Indians were ready with pen, paper, a big name actor and a large sum of money to make an exact rip off and act like the Leonardo Da Vinci of modern television. MasterChef India was sanctioned within a heartbeat and Akshay Kumar went from making bad movies to hosting knock off TV shows, a big step in his illustrious film career. Star Plus led the race among the other mentally dead channels to secure rights for MasterChef India. Which in India, implied the clearing of 10-12 hours of broadcast time usually occupied by soaps and telebrands to make room for re-runs.

“Oh wow, a repeat of MasterChef India. I’ve seen this episode but let’s watch it again because I like it”, said nobody ever. Hopefully.

You know how when a monkey tries to build something perfected by humans, it fails miserably because it tries to monkey-fy the item? Yup, MasterChef India gets summed up within that one line. The Indians know that they are never going to make risotto and penne pasta unless Maggi gives them the packet with masala, so why even try? They stuck to their roots and made stuff like rasagulla black forest cake. Yes, you heard that right. In addition to garnishing rasagullas onto a black forest cake, the task involved baking the cake with the rasagullas inside it. And we wonder why India leads the race in Diabetes.

I’m assuming all of you have already seen MasterChef USA or Australia and are familiar with the Mystery Box challenge. It is a task in which all the contestants are given the same base ingredients and it usually turns out to be something very unexpected like pig brains or liver or something. Considering the fact that most of the contestants on the India version are middle age housewives, I understand that the creators could not take a chance and give them some meat related dish in fear of it being a Tuesday or Wednesday or whatever stupid day they don’t eat meat.  Naturally, the Mystery Box challenge was dumbed down to typical Indian standards and this is what it finally looked like. After around 15-20 minutes of suspense, 700 different adjectives and 60,000 zooms and pans on various faces, this was the dreaded mystery box.

A corn cob, an apple, Amul Dahi, A dry coconut, flour, red mirchis, peanuts and that moon shaped thing that always is out of stock in Pazhamudir Chola. Wow. Gordon Ramsay would have killed a baby after seeing those set of ingredients kept on the same table. That was less of a cooking challenge and more of a “Um so we had these few items lying around and the sponsors refused to give us money to buy any more things, so cook with this” challenge. You would be surprised to know that MasterChef India is actually on its fourth season now. I bet they’re making bread butter jam in the elimination round for lack of ideas.

As is the case with most of our shows, sports or states, Pakistan wanted some of it. This led to the conception of MasterChef Pakistan. Although not the worst show, this version sets the bar so low that one of the invention challenges involved some guy making omlette and toasted bread. Obviously you don’t believe me.  I came ready for that reaction.

All these things just serve to prove one basic thing. Even coughed up hairballs will seem like fancy five star meals if you set them up on a rectangular-ish plate. Come back if you can make a visually appealing dish even when it’s on a stainless steel round plate which makes more a louder sound than an exploding Boeing 747 when dropped. I’m just throwing punches into oblivion here. Obviously people aren’t going to stop acting like Gordon Ramsay or that weird guy who wears multicolor pants on MasterChef Australia. Let me just get back to watching MasterChef Pakistan. There are only 4 people left in the competition now! I’m in the 3^rd episode.

 

The Gentleman’s Game.

I may have covered a wide variety of topics up until now but there is one highly controversial topic I have left out on. You may have guessed what it would be. I’m going to talk about the most corrupt bunch of clerical egomaniacs to have ever lived. No, I already did politics last time, I’m talking about cricket now. As the IPL just headed to its curtain call, let’s honor the game of the gentleman. Of course, I use the term gentleman in a highly broad sense. So broad that gentleman actually translates to a shameless and shrewd illiterate. I understand that shrewd and illiterate do not go in the same sentence, but neither do Gentleman and cricket. At least not since when Rahul Dravid retired.

They say that sports bring out the character of a person. If that’s the case, the entirety of the Indian cricket following crowd is headed for a certain doom. Well, so is Pakistan, but I’m sure that’s not only because of this. Cricket was a sport resonant amongst everyone while I grew up. Hence it formed a generation of cricket fanatics of which, I was once a proud member of. I used to leave home at around 10 in the morning with nothing but a cricket bat and return home by around 6. I don’t know what part of this routine made a mould of a general class of ignorant hypocrites, but I seem to have escaped that part. Lucky for me, the 2004 Euros happened and I got out of this cricket loop before it turned ugly. I have come home from school to see my brother watch a re-run of some stupid test match between two third world countries for the second time. Things cannot possibly get any uglier than that. It wasn’t long before he too got out of this loop, but lets address the community that still watches test match re-runs.

Hypocrisy and stupidity walk a thin line that often merges. Not with cricket fans. With cricket fans, Hypocrisy and stupidity share an apartment. As there exist some smart fans for every 10 stupid fans in any sport, the trend is continued in cricket as well. If there are 100 stupid fans in cricket, only around 4 of them would be unbiased fanatics. Call me old school but I grew up watching cricket at a time when the advertisements and the commentary were mutually exclusive. I didn’t have to sit through the torture of people like Sanjay Manjrekar and Shoaib Akhtar being pundits. The sad part is how, people like watching these minutes of mental Guantanamo Bay. Fans are people who admire a game for its beauty and history. Fanatics are those who ardently follow every single detail of it with utmost interest. Lunatics are Indians who watch cricket and make snarky remarks to wage imaginary wars. Let’s take a few case studies on the overall hypocrite behavior of the Indian Cricket watching audience.

So, the ICC T20 world cup took place in Bangladesh a while ago. This was imperative for two main reasons. One being the fact that, the influx polarity was reversed when the Bangladeshis in India snuck back to Bangladesh for this tournament and the other being that, India and Sri Lanka were to meet each other in the finals. I know many of you would have gotten bored of India and Sri Lanka cricket finals, but this holds some importance as this encounter between the two countries did not lead to any civil wars or assassinations. Small steps guys, small steps. Evident by the fact that Star Sports isn’t still showing re runs of the match and in depth analysis of every blade of grass on the field, we lost the finals. In India, we don’t simply lose a game because we are outplayed. We lose a game only because someone obviously screwed up. Ignoring the exemplary death bowling by the Sri Lankans, we chose to point and blame a certain Yuvraj Singh for costing us the finals. He apparently slowed down the pace of the entire team and was subsequently the cause for our downfall. Lucky for him, there are just a handful of understanding cricket fans in the country. The rest are just people who run pages like ”Troll Cricket” on facebook. I’m okay with banter but when it goes to a point where there are death threats and stoning, it just speaks about the overall stupid Jatt nature of people. I am pretty certain I saw some status on my feed saying “Yuvraj singh should have just died of cancer; that way at least Suresh Raina would have batted up the order and won us the game.” I’m pretty sure the same person would have put up a status like “Wow Yuvraj Singh is back to form in the IPL! I always believed in his ability.”

Hypocrisy aside, cricket has always been the attention seeking teenager of all the other sports. It has taken all the selling points of the other games in the world and has tried to create its own corrupt version of the same. Take the various cricket leagues in the world for example. Cricket has taken the idea of a system that promotes young talent from the country on a stage set by the competition between teams from each district (English Premier League) and made it into a reality drama show called the IPL.  It has taken the challenge system from Tennis and the Free Hit/Bowl Out (now shelved) concept from football. It has gotten the Exxtrraaaa Innings concept from the Match Day in football and has murdered it. You can see in Tennis or Football how the commentators use complex idioms and phrases to frame a sentence to pump more adrenaline into the already tense situation. They will bombard you with mind blowing facts about the history of the clubs and what had happened when those two had met earlier. Then you have cricket. Commentary in cricket sounds like a Roadie trying to read a question in his English arrear exam. Of course, you have the exceptions in the form of Harsha Bhogle who actually do justice to the sport but for every Harsha Bhogle, you have 800 Ramiz Rajas. This leads to a vast difference between commentary lines where Indian commentary is just like “Ohhh what a DLF maximum through the Tata Nano covers into the Pepsi VIP box. This is surely a Star sports Kanna keep calm moment in the Pepsi IPL 2014. Micromax micromax nokia reebok srini mama, haha what do you think mate?”

Ear cancer.

Apart from those abhorrent pieces of sound you are subjected to, there are also certain aspects that make you wonder if there is a thing called negative IQ. Apparent from the fact that Arvind Kejriwal made it to the CM post in the national capital, we know that Engineers will somehow find their way into every field. There was a time when the entire statistics involved in a game gave you just the strike rate of the batsman, the economy of the bowler and the run rate achieved and required. It was then, that computer graphics and mathematics came together in the same ugly fashion as English did with Pakistani players. There are now around 50134 graphical representations of minor useless details like how many times the particular player has scored something between 10 and 30 while playing in that turf while wearing his favorite jockey underwear as compared to when he hasn’t. These systems also glitch sometimes and these glitches provide us with some funny moments like these :

 

All said and done, cricket will continue to get commercialized and boring. There will be more Sanjay Manjrekars and Ramiz Rajas. There will emerge another 500 brands who will fling crores at each other to get advertisement time. There will be more scams, more fixing, more corruption and more of everything. There however, will also be that one moment of magic. That one magical over or one magical spell in a match that will be worth watching. That one player who would make others look like toddlers in a ground. That one Sachin Tendulkar or Don Bradman who will inspire a generation to watch cricket no matter how bad it gets. That one performance that will make you shell out a standing ovation at home. Until these moments of unadulterated adrenaline continue, so will the cricket craze in India. We may even forget how cricket functions, but we will not let go of our innate Indianism when it comes to cricket and that is commendable, to say the least.

 

The Fine Print

When I set out to start a blog, I asked myself : What distinguishes me from the rest of the fish in this contaminated pool of students that is engineering? Then it struck me. I was amazing at offending people. People talk about how easily a particular subject or a sport comes to them and believe me, I’ve tried my hand at most of those and you can guess how they ended up, considering I’m not a 9.6 GPA student or a renowned sports personality. You must be wondering why I am rambling about these random facts when I should just go back to my original content and make fun of Culture, Iyers, Gujaratis and people in general. So here’s why this post is digressing from the usual

Recently, after the most recent post that is, “The Hypocrisy Chronicles” I received a lot of mixed reviews from friends and family about the overall content filtering I must incorporate in my articles so as to stop life threatening repercussions from people I offend. So this article is the much needed disclaimer my blog needs. Think of it as the Shah Rukh Khan scene from most of the movies nowadays. No, not necessarily from his films- I’m talking about that anti tobacco ad in which his lungs make a special appearance and exude more tar than the entirety of Kodambakkam.

Now there are two ways I could tackle this disclaimer notice. I could either go through it fast like that mutual-fund-investments-are-subject-to-market-risks thing or I could convince people using logic and reason into not taking any offence. I’m going to use the less traversed path of logic here because stupidity has already been maxed out in this country. Let’s get right to business now with the general disclaimer points

–          This blog is in no way in support or against any particular political party. It has been created just to make fun of them. Don’t blame me if your party or constituency has indulged in a higher amount of stupidity than the rest. We understand how much of a task it is to sound the least stupid. I do Engineering.

–          As an atheist myself, I do not bias myself towards any religion whatsoever. All of them are equally screwed up if they are inadvertently responsible for a group of stupid extremists acting like overenthusiastic English teachers and deriving their own interpretation of the fairy tale they believe in.

–          So obviously this blog was not made for entertainment purposes, I could have made Vine videos or posted links to Koffee with Karan episodes for that. This blog was written with the sole intention of putting out my thoughts irrespective of how you feel towards it. Nothing I have said on this blog has any ‘wrong’ content, just maybe crudely put offensive content. Taking offense over some content here is purely your fault, and in no way mine.

–          Unless you’re mentally still stuck up in 896 BC, you would know that you cannot survive in this world without embracing your stereotype. If you’re from Andhra, you’re probably the kid who mugs up the calendar. If you’re from Delhi, you’re probably a dude-bro who says stuff like- “what bro menchester unity losted yesterday. Shit ya dimaag kharab hua hai”. Stop blaming me for highlighting the most popular product from your factory.

–          There will be no edit outs of any sort unless I’ve gotten my facts wrong. I don’t really spend my time researching on much data and if I’ve said any facts wrong, please tell me and I will correct it immediately. However, if something offends you or makes you uncomfortable, try opening the windows of that narrow path you call your mind.

–          Lastly, if you got offended for anything I said about Sonam Kapoor or Rohit shetty, I would kindly ask you to just close this page and give up whatever you feel. Like your pulse or something. (For lack of a better phrasing to “haha kill yourself”)

–          Just because we are in India, I will have to make this bullshit disclaimer stating that I do not endorse suicide because of my previous comment. I don’t want India TV at my house the next time some teenager commits suicide.

I could brandish the “I AM AN INDIAN AND I HAVE A RIGHT TO FREE SPEECH IN THIS COUNTRY” card anytime but we’re in India and the only thing that can be brandished here is your caste and your money. The closest we are to free speech is, Arnab Goswami and funnily, he has gained this level of freedom by denying the people on his show their right to speech altogether. Having said that, I’m actually pretty lucky that, most of said politicians wouldn’t be able to comprehend a sentence like- The existing strata of fraudulent excuses for life who masquerade as the harbingers of contentment and glee must be castigated with punitive measures such as watching Dabbangg 2. Their reaction would probably just be like “hehe dabang bola”.

Also, most of our leaders are from a different generation. Mostly around the cretaceous period or something. Finding something offensive is a far enough goal for them considering they would spend 73 hours finding the dot after www. It is to you mediocre IQ population that I send out this humble plea to. Stop being such a stuck up L.K. Advani and start having an open mind about the content here. I may have come off a bit rude in this article but I want you to know, I love it.

 

P.S – Obligatory Culture joke : What is the difference between Jesus Christ and a photo of Jesus Christ?

         ..You only need one nail to put up the photo

P.P.S- Don’t be a smartass about it if you’ve already heard the joke.