111 Hai Bhai! (Hint: Binary for Bond)

"You know how it is, don't you? The first few weeks of a job are always a struggle. One has to find potential clients, advertise one's skills, put out special offers and all that. The worst part is when sometimes people do not even understand what I'm talking about! So I have to sit them down and explain my job. Nothing is more infuriating than that."

"Yeah, that can be very irritating. What is it you do again?"

"But who can really fight fate eh? One has to do what one is destined to do. One should simply be glad that one has found what was one was destined for."

"Unlike two?"

"Vocation and avocation. That's the words. Where the twain shall meet, apparently all is fine."

"Not to mention, its needed at this point in the world isn't it? Everyone seems so lost, in dead-end jobs and fixed emolument schemes, not knowing which direction to go or what to do with life."

"The trappings of society, alas. We get so wrapped up in pursuing what is kept dangling ahead of us that we don't even stop to think if we really even wanted it. How few people ever stop to think about what they want to do in life! They stay just like that always, stuck in a workplace they don't care for and which doesn't look after them."

"The funny part is, this isn't even restricted to the ones with dead-end jobs. I know many high-flyers of the yuppy generation who are minting money, thanks to oodles of IQ and sharp acumen and what not. But are they happy? No!"

"The meaning is missing. The meaning for life, the thirst to reach for more, the satisfaction after having found it. People have lost their way. Thank god I found mine. I can't tell you how satisfying it is to be where I am. Helping people, truly helping people."

"You didn't tell me what you did."

"Even though right now I'm struggling a bit. The market is looking up, and its a growth industry. I'm hoping to capitalise on the recession boom. A wise man once said, supply creates its own demand. He was so right. You wouldn't believe the number of people who need this done professionally!"

"The recession...boom?"

"Yes, its a strange world isnt it? The recession works well for my industry. The more the number of frustrated people, the better the playing field. They look for me. So often I've explained my work to them, my art really, and seen a look of joy come into their faces! They spread the word, sometimes, at parties and events. I've been getting more calls of late. I'm keeping busy."

"That's good, that's good. What kind of job is this?"

"Oh, I'm a Babypuncher. Freelance Babypuncher. My card."

Peace And Nothing But

In a fresh bid to end attrition between the two countries and get on with life already, India has put to Pakistan the offer of Lata Mangeshkar in exchange for putting an end to terrorism and surrendering POK, recalling the famous Pakistani cry of the 70s - "Kashmir rakh lo, hume Lata de do!"

Prime Minister Manmohan Singh, after a particularly exasperating summit with Pakistan PM Gilani, who insisted on playing peek-a-boo and wouldn't come out from behind the sofa when the topic of cross-border terrorism was broached, offered to fulfill this decades old demand of the Pakistani people.

"I remember when these cries first rang out. Lataji's voice ruled the radio-waves and cinema-screens. The Indian government failed to appreciate the good bargain they were drawing. As a move towards achieving peace and ending his relentless demands that I join him in peek-a-boo, I ask the Pakistani Prime Minister to stand true to his nation's old offer", said Manmohan Singh in an official statement.

The Pakistan government has not yet issued an official statement, although excited muttering was audible in the background when they were informed over the telephone. It is believed that the government will take some time deliberating over the matter, issuing at least 2 to 3 false statements to the press before confirming their stand.

In a comprehensive dossier, with color pictures and large font so nothing is misinterpreted, India has lined up a list of complementary gifts to "sweeten up the deal" as one insider puts it. The list is said to include such national sand-bags as 80s'-almost-made-it-big-hero Jackie Shroff, nasal artist Himesh Reshammiya and a T-shirt worn once by Salman Khan.

"The T-shirt at least is practically unused! It can't be a fairer deal!" exclaimed Foreign Minister Pranab Mukherjee.

With escalation of civil terrorism in Pakistan, it seems India is making drastic moves in order to ameliorate its position with both sides of the war-torn nation and become the good guy in the picture.

The Indian parliament is pondering over the ethical dilemma in condemning its citizens with such a transfer. Talks are being held with Ms. Lata Mangeshkar and Mr. Jackie Shroff to sound out their position, especially considering the stale-mate position of their careers.

"It is not like they're really doing anything at the moment anyway," said Home Minister P Chidambaran.

The PM & parliament both refuse to comment, however, on the selection of Himesh Reshammiya. Rumours abound of the government looking to make it a general policy - of dumping its toxic waste in Pakistan. Several sources claim that the nasal virtuoso may be a spy on India's side, to gradually destroy the morale and sap the energy of Pakistani terrorist elements. That all or any of the rumours are true, we cannot yet ascertain. But much may be debated on the humanitarian rights of innocent Pakistanis who would collaterally suffer the consequences of Mr. Reshammiya's singing.

Whaat Aee Joke!

"Alright then. I'm off."


"Really? Why? What's the hurry?"


"Well, I'm not feeling very well. I think it's heart palpitations. Like a bit of a fluttering, every now and then. I don't feel very right. No, your hand across my neck and waist is helping much."


"Huh? Why is that? Did you eat something wrong last night? Maybe you should stop thrusting your hips like that."


"I don't know. I'm just afraid ... of things. People, maybe? I don't know. My lifestyle? Maybe. Maybe, myself. Does that happen? Can I really scare myself?

Is this love? Is this the romantic feeling I'm supposed to embrace, this flutter and discomfort? Really, I think I should just go."


"That's just nonsense! You can't be in love if you're afraid of yourself. The two don't work in tandem at all. Look at my horses prancing about. No, seriously listen. Stop jumping on the bales of hay. If we are going to solve this, we need to discuss things properly. I'll get my face out away from your navel. Want a hug? There. And I've even put aside my sling. Happy?"


"Look. I don't think it's working out, stable boy. I really also need to change out of this blue, frilly dress. Maybe then I'll be able to breathe! Alright? Off I go then."


"What? No! Wait! What's your bloody hurry, bitch?"

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And here you are --> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sfe341YugZ8

I Demand A Remake

The three men, in dark suits, gulped as they stepped off the helicopter. He smoothed his own suit and led the way into the cave-like opening. A tall, gaunt guard at the opening of the cave checked them for weapons. He snickered malevolently and let them pass through. Not that they dared carry anything in with them even slightly dangerous.

Inside, the cave floor was lined with large blocks of stone. The walls were smooth and painted white. More guards walked about in procession, armed with automatic weapons and grenades. With additional daggers and darts, the weaponry was on the ostentatious side, but considering the operations involved, it was difficult to trace the line which marked sufficient from extraneous arsenal. He understood all too well, wishing he didn't need to come here so often.

A guard came up to them, and gestured curtly for them to follow. In single file they proceeded deeper into this cave, this stronghold of the most dreaded terrorist ever to infiltrate Indian jurisdiction.

As they walked, they could hear the constant beep of information being processed and exchanged, pertaining to matters they could only wonder at the nature of. More guards, more weapons and several more gates, each with a towering soldier for protection. Ostentatious, he thought, but also powerful. Very powerful.

The final door opened when the guard pressed the code on the keypad in front of him, and they entered into a vast hall with white pillars and a throne at the opposite end. There, he sat, watching them with his hawk-like eyes.

Was it anger he saw in those eyes? He couldn't tell from this distance. He hoped it wasn't. Once again, he gulped.

They were walked up to half the distance of the hall, until they stood in a line in front of him. Ready to be praised, he thought, and also ready to be shot.

But he had good news, which he knew would save him tonight. He knew that, but it couldn't stop the sweat from pouring down his forehead.

Now, the man sitting on the throne in front of them. Dressed in gold tasseled attire, he was regal. His hair was in locks, and when he stood he cut a mighty, majestic figure, ruthless in bringing order and obedience to his business of bringing chaos to the world. He rested his left hand on the arm-rest of his throne, at the end of which was a globe of the world. His fingers, ornamented with heavy gold rings, tapped the globe's surface - the symbolic gesture was not affected, he really did dance this world on his fingertips. The man, this lord of chaos, looked at the men before him and nodded, allowing them to speak.

They blubbered over one another, in getting the words out. The grain stores had been adulterated with stones up to half in weightage. They would be selling poor qualities of rice to the Indians for exorbitant prices. The entire nation's food supply would soon be controlled to his plans. Weapons had been supplied to the various insurgent groups in the country, with strict instructions as to their usage. Knowledge of IEDs was being disseminated to them. Soon the entire nation would explode in communal violence. Riots and bloodshed would drain the nation of all its unity. India would be his for the taking. They spoke about their misdeeds under his orders, each seemingly disconnected but essential to the overall scheme he was executing through them and through hundreds of others.

The man smiled. They could see his approval and they felt glad. They would all be alive to return home tonight. He smiled and he tapped on the globe at his fingertips. He looked at them with razor-sharp eyes, now liquid with malevolence and an embodiment of evil.

He looked at them, as they exhaled in relief and exhaustion, and he said - "Mogambo khush hua."