It’s been sixty years since the first light of freedom shone down upon our sleeping nation, causing irritated citizens to draw the curtains and go back to sleep. Keeping this patriotic spirit in mind, I’d like to talk to you about how to optimise our ratio of GDP to fiscal deficit, with a special emphasis on agrarian reforms.
Haha, just kidding! I’ll stick to my usual modus operandi and talk about something that I have no idea about, something like say, seduction.
Throughout history, men have tried to seduce women and given our population, I’m sure a lot of them succeeded.
The prehistoric-era techniques of seduction did not have much to offer in terms of variety and class. It was always “Hey baby, want a ride on my big, woolly mammoth?”, followed by a whack over the woman’s head if she refused. This technique is still popular in many parts of North India.
Then of course, we had the cities of Harappa and Mohenjodaro, where women frolicked freely in public baths. This caused a lot of engineering colleges to be set up in the area. Things were fun for a while, but the civilisation declined when all the engineers flew to the US.
Cut to the present. We may not have public baths anymore (except when it rains), but I still think we’re better off than our ancestors, and the reason is cars. Yes, cars are the ultimate seduction weapon and give us advantages that the Romeos of yore never had. Those guys had to rely on horses, often with embarassing consequences. For example, picture the following scenario:
It’s sometime in the nineteenth century. A fair maiden steps out on to a dark road. She’s missed Ye Olde Call Center Pickup, and is wondering how to get home, when suddenly two horse-drawn carriages, manned by two gallant youths, race towards her, reaching her at the same time. Wondering which one to climb into, the fair maiden is jolted out of her thoughts by a big, fat *PLOP*. The pleased-looking horse on the first carriage has just made a deposit, if you know what I mean.
“Ewww!!”, she says, and climbs into the second carriage.
The man in the first carriage goes home alone, spends some time tinkering around in the horse shed, and invents the world’s first car.
Ok so that’s not how it happened, but do you really believe that the inventors never thought of using their cars to score with those prissy, overdressed women? You think the backseat was invented to take whiny kids to school? Ha!
Figuratively speaking, a car adds about seven inches to a man’s trousers – it makes him feel like more of a man. So I completely understand the need for our kind to show off. After all, it’s in the noble name of seduction. But every once in a while, you come across a man who deserves to be sodomised with his own gear shaft. Last week, I met not one, but five such men.
My friend and I were driving around in his car, indulging in the classic Navi Mumbai sport called Driving Around Aimlessly Just Because We Have Good Roads. Suddenly a car cut across from the left, hitting our front bumper as it did so. Furious, my friend sped up behind it, and when we were close enough, I yelled out salutations to the five guys inside, suggesting that they were too close to their female relatives. Pissed off, they stopped by the side of the road and so did we. They were drunk and a full-blown session of “AYE!, AAAYE!!, KYA BE!, KYAAA BE!” went on for about ten minutes. In the meantime, my friend and I continued to sport our angry-henchmen-from-bad-mafia-movie expressions. Then came the moment that I shall tell my children about. One of the drunk guys, in an attempt to intimidate us, exclaimed with full emotion (I swear this is true):
“(I’m so tough) bullets come out of my ass!”
Of course, he said it in Hindi (“Mere G se G nikalta hai!”), which made it even funnier. We got into our car, dropped our henchmen expressions and had a good laugh.
While women claim to not judge a man by his car, how many ugly chicks have you seen inside a top-end car? I’m guessing none. Of course, the only thing more seductive than a car is a good humour article *wink wink*. However, if humour writers are not your type, then I can fix you up with a guy who shoots bullets out of his ass.
This article was published in JAM Magazine, dated 15-29 Aug 2007.
Ashish Shakya 
I am a fantic fan of your writing technique..And hey ..would wish to meet the guy who cut shoot G with G…and will complain GOD why he din made us like him…no licence would be required then..just killin person would be so easy..won’t it be??
Dear A da 1,I think you have not hung out with a bunch of guys after a beer and chinese chiken session…extra spicy edition. Trust me, there are poeple who can cause more damage from the G(as) from their G. And yes, sadly enough, there is no licensing regulation pertaining to such chemical warfare. Even Mr. Bush wont go there. After all, he himself had a lil tiff with his colon.As for the drunken guys getting pissed at the salutation pertaining to their closeness to their female relatives, the actual words uttered by Mr. Stupidus (why not Stupid’o’us?) were pertaining to their linear linkage and not ancestoral/parental linkage. And that I think is what set them off. They were a typical case of the odepious complex and such blatant disregard to their ‘closeness’ to their ‘maternal’ linkage was not taken lightly by them.And what Mr. Stupidus fails to mention here is, the G shootin (shitting?) guy was a G.U.J.J.U.See, now when you combine the dialougue with the stereotype, that makes much for fun sense…doesnt it.V ‘I dont like it when someone other than me “bangs” in my car’ S