An amazing sex query

Here, I'm going to paste a query that appeared in 'Ask the sexpert' column of Bangalore Mirror, November 20 edition. The tabloid owns the following content and I claim no copyright. It's just so funny! Here, go through it:

Question: I am 19 years old and my husband is 32. We have sex every morning. When he was out of town for a few days, I masturbated with a banana. Once, the cook saw this. I was too excited to control myself, so I had sex with him. His penis was much larger than my husband's, so I enjoyed it. During the process, we got wild and I bit his penis hard. Is there a possibility of it breaking? If yes, is there a home remedy for it? Since his penis was larger, is it possible that my vagina has expanded?

Answer: Your vagina will not expand. You really cooked the cook's penis. Fortunately, there is no bone in the penis for it to fracture.

Hahahaha... It's just so damn stupid and funny! One of those things that really make you LOL, i.e. laugh out loudly. 

And, don't assume that I go through that Sexpert column. Some friends showed this question to me. They claim another friend of ours had sent that question to the tabloid. Now, this friend who reportedly sent this question—this friend, a girl, denies sending it—is famous for her childlike/childish antics. That's why this amazing query gains even more significance if it comes from her. She has been vehemently denying it, but I'm not gonna give her the benefit of doubt. I mean this is heights of vellapanti! Banana, for God's sake! Hahahaha... And cook, biting his member hard, broken organ, home remedy!! Oh my God! Dumb-stupid-wild imagination. Hats off to the writer. Hahahaha... Reportedly, this cute li'l girl who has been accused of sending that query had written a four-page description of the steamy act. I'm trying to get hold of the uncensored, detailed description. Didn't know this side of the baby girl's personality. It's such a revelation! I'm in awe of her. Hahahaha... Amazing creativity!

P.S. It's only the question-writer's creativity and imagination that I'm impressed with. I do not approve of using banana. Or cook.

Fair criticism amid undue eulogy

I was so glad, and relieved, to see The Hindu publishing articles criticising Bal Thackarey in its November 19, 2012, edition. As journalists, we have been taught to tell the truth. After his demise, hardly anyone spoke of how he engineered hatred against immigrants. Targeting them, promoting hatred, espousing communal politics... I am not a great fan of these. Be it his anti-Pakistan statements or the routine acerbic articles in Shiv Sena's mouthpiece, Saamna,...

Well, I don't feel free to use the sharp words I'd have used without having to think twice for any lesser man. And I'm so glad that I'm not on Facebook. Had I not deactivated my account, I too might have posted something on the lines of what a Mumbai girl wrote, and attracted the wrath of Shiv Sainiks and police. His fleet of Shiv Sainiks knows it can run a riot, safe in the knowledge that it enjoys total impunity. Bal Thackeray's nephew Raj Thackeray is just carrying forward this hate politics. The strong, intolerance-reeking statements of the uncle and nephew in the media always irked me. Just who they think they are! They are not the government, but act as if they are superior to the government. How else can they say that they won't allow Pakistan cricket team to play in Mumbai! Just who are they to allow or not allow? Shiv Sainiks can run a riot any minute they want, anywhere they want, with full impunity. Shiv Sena and MNS mock at the very concept of democracy.

I can go on and on about this, but I don't have to. The articles that appeared in The Hindu yesterday are awesome. They say everything. One article was on the edit page and another was an opinion peace by Justice (Retd) Markandey Katju on the op-ed page. Another article that appeared today in the paper also presents a more realistic portrait of the man. I'll just paste the links towards the end of this post. I was relieved and grateful to see these articles, for the stream of undue tribute pouring in baffled me. I don't need to say much. I'll just paste the links of The Hindu articles.

The news item: 'Mumbai shuts down due to fear, not respect'
Opinion pieces: A troubling legacy
Why I can't pay tribute to Thackeray
An authentic Indian Fascism

Dhoom macha le

Today is Diwali and I'm glad my office is not closed. Hate being alone when everyone else is celebrating. Ummm, that's not the point of this post. I was speaking to a school-wala friend a few days ago and he reminded me how he and I were behind a huge, loud, principal-agitating, student-exhilarating *BOOOOOOMMM* during a morning assembly when we were in class XII. Ah, the sweet memories.

It's baffling that I had forgotten this great deed of mine. Usually, I don't forget a thing, have a razor-sharp memory (which freaks people out, by the way). Until the final year of my college life, I had been nursing the deep regret that I could never muster courage to do BOOM-BADAAM in school. This just goes on to show how modest I am; did an act of bravery and forgot about it as if it never happened. It was when my friend reminded me about it that I realised that modesty, like greatness, is inherent in me. You see, it wasn't immediately that I could recall that I had indeed lit the fuse of the bomb that made the principal blast. My friend had to narrate how he and I had come early that day—with agarbatti, matchstick and a couple of bombs—had gone to the toilet, peeled the paper off the fuse, attached it to the incense stick, lit it and came out with the most innocent expression on our face.

After the morning assembly started, off went the Sivakasi product: *BBOOOOOOOOOMMMMM*. What happened next was so gratifying. The bomb was pretty loud. And that it went off in a small, concrete enclosure ensured that echo added to the sound. A wry smile crept on our faces—my friend's and mine. The collective (appreciative) gasp of the students and the anger on the principal's face told us that we had achieved what we had set out to achieve. We felt proud and content. We felt complete. At peace. A deep sense of satisfaction descended upon us. Now, we were something. No one knew who did it, but there was respect in the air from the students for whoever had done that. Respect. I could smell it. It was wafting, just like the baarood. We were basking in anonymous glory. I am grateful that God let me do this.

What's even better is that our principal thought (he was convinced) that one of our juniors was the one who did it. That guy was notorious for being notorious. The principal kept grilling him for quite a few days. He would tell that guy that he knew it was him and he would not rest unless he got proof. The princi made the guy's life miserable. (That chap is not so innocent; he was behind some other blast.)

Hahaha... I  remember how the principal went ballistic about the blasts. One morning, after we did the routine prayer and took the oath that "all Indians are my brothers and sisters", the principal took the mic. "You people are terrorists! School me bomb phodta hai... Yeh sab kya hai, bhai!" Oh, the anguish-to-melancholy shift in his tone was such a delight!

Oops! I Did it Again
Despite having achieved so much, until the final year of my college, I lived with the inferiority complex of never phodoing a bomb in school. Just because I had forgotten. But it has its own benefits. When I perpetrated the 'terrorist attacks' in my college, I believed that these were my first. Felt the first-time-thrill all over again.

In the third year of my BBA at IMS, Dehradun, we were shifted to a new building. I was behind quite a few blasts, did it with friends. One of the bombs was so strong that it shattered a portion of the commode! Hahaha... And then all the guys who had classes in that building had to cough up a fine of Rs200. Yes, IMSians, I was behind it. Wait! I was behind at least one blast, if not more, in the old building too. When the loudest of those bombs went off, my partner-in-crime and I were crossing the corridor of our juniors. Both of us felt that the juniors could tell from our face that we were the bombers. Maybe our countenance was screaming "WOOOHOOOOO!!" even though we maintained a straight face. Rebel streak has a way of getting noticed.

Last year, I was thinking if it would be a good idea to phodo a bomb in the office toilet, but decided against it. Plus, I've nothing left to prove. This Diwali, I thought aaj kuch toofaani karte hain. I took a bath.

My super-infested room

My friend with whom I live here in Bangalore (a guy, FYI) has got a mobile phone with a nice, 5 megapixel camera. I'm glad he has got that, for, now I can tell you stories I couldn't have told you otherwise. Even I owned a camera phone for a short while (it got stolen) and have shot manyyy candid pics and videos. Oh, I love my collection. The point is, it's good to have a camera.

Today, I want to take you to the place I live. Actually, there is something particular about where I live that I want to show you. So, let the games begin...

 

A colony of cockroaches was breeding under a small stone slab kept near the sink. I was like, "Eeeekss!" Next picture. So, you see, I'm not complaining about a cockroach in my room. I'm talking about the entire clan of the cockroachdom. It's too much, even for a loving and accommodating guy like me.

This is the view of a baby lizard and a cockroach that died a premature death when I, or my friend, closed the kitchen door. The cockroach's body has almost decomposed/fed ants, but the lizard's body is still stuck there. Been a month or more, I guess. I find it too yucky to scrape it out.

It was this cockroach whose death evoked sympathy in me. This dude's leg got crushed when I or my friend closed the door. Think of it, his leg was squashed, but he was alive. What's even worse is that he couldn't move; his leg was stuck, it was not severed. He kept trying to get away for about a couple of days and then, alas, he died. RIP, dear friend. I really feel sorry for you. I couldn't make up my mind—should I severe his leg and set him free or should I crush him and relieve him from pain forever? Before I could decide, he passed away. I really felt sorry.

After seeing the following picture combo, maybe you'll understand why I declared a war against the cockroaches.

Yeah, the biggest picture is of a small, caterpillar-ish worm that was inside a french bean. I noticed it floating on water in the cooker, just before I was about to close the lid and start cooking. Phew! Got saved in nick of time. The next picture, of a cockroach floating in my cooker... GRRR! That was the one that pushed me over the edge. That cockroach was in the packet of red chilli powder. When I sought to sprinkle some chilli powder into the cooker, the cockroach tumbled out. That did it and I decided to annihilate the entire cockroach species in my room.

What happened next was captured on video. There is a small enclosure kind of thing near the sink in the kitchen, cockroaches' haven. When I return to my room after work at night and open the kitchen's door, they'll be there, gorging on my tomatoes, bananas and what not. Nobody steals my food and goes scot free. Beware the fury of a patient man. After seeing too many cockroaches all around, I put some sheets of a newspaper in that enclosure and set them afire. The idea was to suffocate them so that they come out from there and then I was to toss them outta my kitchen. However, looked like I put way too many papers and the cockroaches got burnt. But I don't feel the least bit guilty about it. I didn't object to them living in my room without paying any rent, but I can't tolerate them eating my food. Without my permission. Not that I'd have permitted them had they asked. So, some cockroaches got burnt unintentionally. You could tell some got burnt from the smell. One lucky chap emerged outside, alive. I called my friend. He beat up that cockroach with his slipper. But we were not done. We thought that maybe there are some more cockroaches who are out and maybe they would return later. To send them a message, we took the carcass of that slippered cockroach, put it on a note and put the entire thing in the cockroach's 'home'. Here's how it looked:

 

Wuhuhahahahaha... (my 'sister' taught me this 'devilish laugh'). Ever since we left this warning note with poor Mr Roach's body in the Roach colony, I haven't come across another cockroach in my kitchen. The plan worked. Offence is the best defence. Survival of the fittest, baby.

Yeah, there still are small cockroaches in my kitchen. Yesterday I found one in the packet of daal and today saw half a dozen of them in the rack where I keep utensils. But I think they haven't left the kitchen because they are too young and can't yet read, maybe that's why they couldn't make out what's written on the warning note. I hope they get lost from my kitchen soon, otherwise I'll have to unleash my fury again.

And if you think cockroaches and lizards are all I have to deal with, you are so wrong. We have shot a video of how a pigeon entered our room last week and patiently stood outside the toilet, which was occupied, for some time. As the person inside the toilet took his own sweet time to come out, the pigeon shit on my friend's white bedsheet, among other places in our room. That's not all. Moreover, pigeons don't just rest on the window pane of our room (it's on third floor), they often enter our room! Just because I feed them rice grains, they are taking such liberties! Seeking to use our toilet, wanting to rest under fan on a hot day. 

And I don't know if I should talk about our suspicion that a snake has died in the drain pipe of our kitchen sink. We are not sure, so I won't speak of it.