Country anxiously awaits SRK's next hamming performance

Bombay (28th Aug): Reports indicate that Shahrukh has become the topmost obsession with the country as of today. Riots broke out in Bombay and Bangalore as his fans went on a looting spree after watching SRK's extraordinarily mediocre performance in Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna (KANK). This kind of mob behaviour has only a few precedents, such as the sacking of Manchester after Man United won the English Premier League and the plunder of Buenos Aires after the Argentines lifted the World Cup in 1986. Everywhere, SRK's fans displayed scenes of ecstasy and total satisfaction, with a sexual equivalent of a hundred orgasms per fan. Adultery on screen was never sweeter, it seems.

In the movie KANK, Shahrukh plays the role of a failed footballer with the characterstic ease that has now become a part of his persona. Eating ham and cheese for breakfast all these years has finally paid off, as he juggernauts his way into the movie, doing complete justice to a cheesy role with his hamming mega-performance. For the lazy (and intelligent) readers who haven't seen the movie, here are some gory details.
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As soon as the movie starts, we are treated to a football match in which His Highness King Khan is a striker. Taking a kick, he displays his ever familiar feminine grace, as his eyes are captured by the camera and shown on the stadium screen. Sigh! if such an amount of optical zoom was available in the Pakistan-England test match, the world wouldn't be tearing its Hair apart right now. Ok ok, I am done with the cheap puns for now. But, as usual, I digress.

A few minutes later, much to the delight of Shahrukh-haters, he meets with an accident and is forced to retire. Rumors say that he was replaced by a kid called Wayne Rooney. Anyway, so he is forced to live at home, watch TV all day, drink beer, make sarcastic remarks and get some action with Preity Zinta at night. So far, everything is going to his plan you would say. He is living the great Indian male dream. But SRK thinks otherwise.

For beneath the thin veneer of cynicism, lies a void. No, not the void in his brain, but a void in his heart. Which no amount of Budweiser and free marital sex with the hottest dame in Bollywood can fill. So he goes ahead and starts flirting with poor Rani a.k.a. Maya. Now Rani, with her brusque masculine voice, has no chance against the coquettish charms of Shahrukh, so she promptly falls for him before the audience can say "What the ...!".

For a while, both the newfound lovers compete in the game of "Who is the silliest?", as exemplified in the furniture-shop fake-sex scene, plagiarized (or "inspired") from the famous diner scene in When Harry met Sally. However, things start getting serious soon. No, not the "main tumhare bacche ki maa banne waali hoon" type, but that their adulterous relationship is soon exposed. The exposure happens when Amitabh (who plays the awe-inspiring character of 'Sexy Sam') discovers the two canoodling in front of Grand Central.

So now, poor SRK, abandoned by the hot-hot Preity, and separated from Rani, is very distraught. This was definitely not something in his grand plan of free Sex in the City! Totally devastated by the lack of female attention, he makes the daring move to Philadelphia, the city of brotherly love. But after enjoying brotherly love for three wholesome years, he realizes that the void is still there.

What happens after those three years? Did SRK take a strapping African American dude as his lover? Did he finally come out of the closet? I am afraid I am gonna leave you hanging here. Go watch the movie and enjoy your two hundred minutes of masochism!
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Back to the real world now. As of today, there is only one question that the common man has. Will SRK be able to essay the role of The Don in the movie with the same name? Or will his dimples betray his boyish charm? That, my friend, only time will tell. Time and SRK.

There and back again

Shortest post ever. Back to Bombay today! :) Immense joy results. Highest density of happiness per word. Will miss Delhi a lot but a few dozen beers should take care of that!

Blogger disappointed with the performance of his blog

In an exclusive interview, area blogger Rahul Gupta (juvenile nickname: Asterix) told us that he isn't satisfied with the progress of his blog on any level. In this newspiece, we cover an extensive 'analysis' of the past, present and future (if any) of his blog.

The blog was started almost an year back on 30th July under immense peer pressure and the fear of non-conformity. Midway, the blog's name was changed from the zero-information phrase of "Rahul's blog" to an equally useless "A blog about nothing" after watching an episode of Seinfeld, which is called "The show about nothing".

While the blogger can take solace in the fact that he hasn't blogged about what he had for breakfast yesterday (yet) or what colour is his toothpaste, he hasn't exactly become an epitome of blogdom either in the past year. His forte lies in covering jaw-droppingly awe-inspiring news like the Rakhi-Mika fiasco and the Prince debacle or making self-indulgent posts on the lack of tags or girl friends.

With tasteless subjects like these, its no wonder that he cannot cross the physical barrier of 21 comments on any post of his. We talked to him about what makes him go on and on, punishing his readers every week or so.

We: So is writing about such topics the only reason you blog?
Asterix: Err...no. There was an ulterior motive.
We: May we dare to enquire what that was?
Asterix: Well I thought that some female readers would visit the blog and get impressed by my awesome writing skills and would sleep with me.
We: Hmm...your 'awesome writing skills' you say.
Asterix: Well I did get 90 out of 100 in English in Class 7th-A and I was voted the person most likely to memorize all the entries under Q in the dictionary.
We: Ooookay! Well we looked at the profiles of the people who comment on your blog and there indeed are a few single female readers. How that happened is beyond our comprehension but any leads from there?
Asterix: Well they are single, and they are looking. But I guess they aren't looking in my direction. What a sad irony! I feel so used!!

Apart from such pathetic attempts at losing bachelorhood, the blogger also faces allegations of plagiarism. His writing style (if you would call it that) reeks of 'inspiration' from Onion. With such dark clouds, his blogging future looks bleak indeed. On asking about any possible policy changes in his blog or any modifications, he chuckled and replied, "Well lets see how long I can hold fort. And there always are the breakfast/toothpaste posts!"

It would be interesting to see if the blogger runs out ot topics before he runs out of readers. And that if his blog-code turns into a reality. Until then, lets pray that he doesn't write about the Owl-in-the-temple story.

A hole in one

How does one earn quick money? If you are a dumb moron like me, chances are that you would put in nine hours every day at the office. And get a few measly lakhs per year as the compensation.

Or if you are really smart, you would fall into a 50ft deep hole. Thats what a five year old chap named Prince did in Haryana, although he didn't have money on his mind at that time. Now Prince (not to be confused with the arrogant "all-rounder" from Kolkata) was just playing around when he fell into a hole that had been dug for a handpump. Immediately, fecal matter hit the fan and the whole village surrounded the magic hole that had swallowed the child. Fortunately, Haryana's ground water table is as bad as Delhi's, so the kid was safe and dry.

Soon, the press reached the village, with the army and the honorable CM of Haryana in tow. People prayed all over the country for Prince's survival and his story was on all the news networks for 40 consecutive hours. Even our dear old Moneymohan Singhji ordered that the kid be speedily rescued. Such a reaction was missing when 200 people were killed in Bombay a few days back, but we will let such trifling details pass.

Prince, on the other hand, was heavily paying for this sudden fame. Along with food and water, a camera had been lowered into the hole to continuously monitor him. Now I like to think about all the possibilities of a particular scenario, so I couldn't help thinking how on earth would he answer the calls of nature in the invaded privacy of his new habitat.

Anyhoo, to poop or not to poop wasn't the question. Rather it was a question of waiting for the army to dig up a tunnel. That happened after around 45 hours and a scared Prince emerged from his subterranean abode. The quick money thingie happened soon after that. Star TV offered a sum of five lakhs to him, Zee News promised two and another channel announced that it would sponsor Prince's studies.

Well I am sure I can fit into a hole. Not one dug for a handpump but surely one made out for a tubewell. And I promise to look shit scared after my 'ordeal'. And some people have claimed that my mental age is five too. And I need someone to sponsor my PhD so that I can study fulltime. Seen any nice deep holes lately? One with an attached toilet and a DSL connection would be preferred.

Zen helps me strike back. With a vengeance.

A 14 hr flight makes you ponder about stuff. Hardens you and builds your character. They try to break you and snatch your very soul but you resist and fight back. You learn and zen it out.

The flight in question is the long-haul Continental flight from Newark to Delhi which included yours truly as a passenger. The completely full flight also included hordes of tiny tots, ranging from zero to twelve years old in age. And in order to make every passenger's life miserable, Continental had sprinkled the little devils uniformly across the economy section.

Now I usually am not a big fan of kids and normally wish that they should STFU, and this time was no exception. With frequencies ranging from ultrasonic, which would make a dog cry out loud, to the cracked voices of the adolescents we had them all in the flight.

The first half an hour is the easiest because you are optimistic that would indeed STFU and go to sleep or something. The next few are those of intense agony and anger as you wish that their parents had used protection while fornicating. And then you enter the state of Zen when nothing can touch you. More like when Neo dies in the Matrix and becomes the super overlord of the domain. In the Zen state, you have absolute control of your body and mind and you become one with the universe.

" 'ssup dawg? You live in India or what!", asked an ABCD kid with a horrible accent and an even more horrible vocabulary.

Now a lesser man would have recoiled at the question, slapped him a couple times and not answered but I had attained Zen after three hours of torture that violates all rules of the Geneva convention. So I was unfazed.

"Na man, I just chill them niggers out back in the hood with my homies.", said I with my best possible Afro-American accent, before making a "peace" symbol with my index finger and my pinkie. He fell for it and assumed that I was indeed from Harlem and hence, a real badass. I didn't hear from him throughout the remainder of the flight. I felt like Neo did after he killed Agent Smith in the Matrix. This took care of the eastern defence.

The real power of Zen comes from the fact that it helps you do stuff without you having to lift a finger. Some kinda weird psychokinetic stuff. Real scary shit if you ask me.

There was this kid playing in the aisle with two other kids, generally screaming, talking loudly and making life generally miserable for his neighbours including me. So I decided to take the matters in my own hands, but not literally. Remember Zen! It so happened that he was in the middle of one of his generic screams that we happened to lock our eyes. One cold lifeless stare from me, devoid of any emotion and empathy, threatening to suck the very breath out of his lungs was enough to make him STFU. For the rest of the flight, he became deathly quiet whenever he used to pass me. The western front was won without lifting a finger.

But the real challenge remained in the north. Where there was an infant crying incessantly for hours altogether. A pre-Zen Rahul would have committed suicide, or worse, started watching the in-flight entertainment system. Staring coldly or rapping at the infant won't have helped. However Zen came to my rescue again, but before that, a simple mathematical fact begs to be explained.

In a 14 hr flight with three meals and many drinks, there is no way that you won't go. To the restroom. Even Zen won't help you there. Its a cold mathematical fact and you cannot beat maths.

Back to the crying monster. So I had succumbed to my biological need to go to the restroom and had gotten up from my seat. Generally surveying the neighbourhood, I zeroed in on the family in the next row - the one with my crying arch enemy. Naively trying out the stare at the kid won't help. So I turned 30 degrees and stared at the mother. Not one of those lecherous stares that we Delhites are world-famous for, but one of those "I will wipe out your family if you dont pay heed to my order" stare.

The young mother was no match for me. She had no chance. Kinda like when Voldemort vaporized Harry Potter's mother except that I am way better looking than Voldemort. Really.

With that, the area was secure. Peace reigned all around me. As a sign from the Gods, food began to be served. Wherever I looked, grateful eyes of my co-passengers greeted me. Some of them had tears of happiness. Maybe it was because of my deeds or the food really sucked. But anyway, no amount of Zen was enough to make me ignore that. I nodded in return and went into a dreamless sleep.

Status Update

Been a hectic last few days here at Pittsburgh. Came here on the pretext of attending a Machine Learning conference, but my achievements have been elsewhere. Be it a visit to Lake Erie to meet a friend, or to Niagara Falls (like a true desi) at the drop of a hat, or eating tuna dishes (3 meals in 3 days) - which is a mean achievement for a veggie like me.

The conference has been good, a little more down to earth than I expected, but thats ok. Got to meet some of the famous names in this area, whose papers I had read for years now. My blog backlog is huge now, with bloglines showing a list of more than 100 blogposts to be read. So I guess I will put the wireless internet to good use, while nodding and pretending to appreciate all the talks.

And I will answer this one question all of you may have -- I expect myself to take around 7-10 days to undo the effects of the conference and refill my cynicism tank. Postings on completely inane topics are expected around early to mid-July.

Asterix

The case of the stolen kiss

In American Beauty, the character of Ricky Fitts had said - "Sometimes there's so much beauty in the world I feel like I can't take it, like my heart's going to cave in". But it took me almost six years to realize the meaning behind this dialogue. Well not so much about the beauty as about the "heart caving in" part.

A few days back I was hanging out at my home with a friend and generally flipping through channels when I stopped at IndiaTV's announcement of its latest exposé. The anchor, visibly excited to the extent of hyperventilating, shouted about IndiaTV's hottest news of the hour. And yes, you guessed it right, it was about the issue that had rocked the entire nation that day - Mika kissing Rakhi Sawant in front of the cameras.

Now, maybe it was the carpal-tunnel in my hands from playing so much video games that I couldn't change the channel, or maybe it was the beer that enhanced my judgement abilities, but I knew that I had struck gold.

Although I was shocked at knowing that this was THE "breaking news" of the hour, but I like low grade gossip as much as the next person, so I was hooked. To our joy and amusement, that breaking news was discussed at length for around thirty minutes and less important things like the FIFA World Cup had to wait. I will refrain from saying anything about this, but probably Rakhi Sawant's beauty was too much to handle for a simple Punjabi boy like Mika, so his heart probably caved in. Rather than missing the kiss, he decided to kiss the Miss. Little did he know that one smooch (and that too lousily done) would leave such a bad taste in the mouth, cheap pun intended. One small smooch for Mika but one giant lawsuit in his, uhh, you know where. Word on the street is that he has gone underground to evade any arrest (much on the footsteps of his elder bro Daler Mehendi). I can almost imagine the conversation between Mika and his fellow subterranean dwellers:

Mika: Paaji, whom are you hiding from?
Javed: I committed a triple murder a week back. The police of two states are trying to hunt me down. Why are you hiding?
Mika: O koi nahin, main Rakhi Sawant nu ek chummi de ditti. (Oh nothing! I kissed Rakhi Sawant)
Javed: Really!!! Oye Shukat, Arun, sab suno, this man kissed Rakhi Sawant. Wow man! you are like our hero and everything!!

When the chips are down, its high-quality news and low-grade actions like these that help cheer me up. That prod me to see that indeed, there is so much beauty in this world. Although I had found the world to be pretty, but not heart-caving beautiful yet. But little did I know that I was an impatient fool. That the last half-hour was only a build-up to bigger and better things to come. Much like "Fellowship of the Ring" was a trailer for "Return of the King", but I digress.

So after extensive coverage of the unholy smooch, IndiaTV tried to play mediator between the warring parties. The 29" screen of my TV was split in three parts - occupied by Rakhi, news anchor and Mika respectively. For those who play video games, this felt like Mortal Kombat except that in the game, the only thing the mediator says is "Round One, FIGHT!"

After much mud-slinging, colorful usage of vocabulary by either parties, and an exemplary display of impromptu thinking (mostly by Mika), the anchor realized that he is supposed to mediate and not laugh his ass off. So when Mika said that he has "full support from his true fans, who believe him", Rakhi was asked the same question in the most hilarious way:

Anchor (spoken with a straight face): "Rakhi, aapke bhi kaafi fans hain. Jo aapke item songs pasand karte hain, jo aapka.....(long pause).....kaam pasand karte hain, woh bhi to aapke saath honge?"

Needless to say, my day was made. This outstanding show of journalism had egged the total amount of beauty to beyond what my heart could handle. The cave-in was complete.

Asterix