JOCKEY BUTTCRACK, THE INCOMPLETE MAN

Everybody in India has seen Raja Hindustani and the Raymond ads. The film's remake is still faraway, but the ads have constantly kept changing. One suit says it all. The Complete Man.
However, the urban scenario is evolving. Beer belly and a fat butt are the norm, especially for the men. Jockey in jeans are the preferred attire. Plus, with the low waist phenomenon, the brand name Jockey is visible for everyone to see. Jockey has cashed in on this. It has printed in big bold letters. It is no longer the "andar ki baat".
Not everyone can carry this off. Especially guys who forget to apply the face whitening cream to their butt. The maxius gluteus split is laid bare, although the surrounding scenery is pitch black.
Yes sir, the buttcrack is your fashion statement. Every hard working college goer who bends to repair a puncture, pick up heavy shopping bags or just plain peeing on the campus ensures his choice of undies is known to everyone. It is a question of pride and the boys take it seriously.
Getting caught with your pants down is no longer something to be ashamed of, as long as your butt is facing the world. Red, white, yellow, green or even pink (if you support the rights of gay people, or wore your girlfriend's in a hurry the morning after) are in vogue. All you need are loose fitting pants and short T-shirts/shirts or going topless, like our Sallu bhai.
Move over Gucci, or even better, bend over. The Jockey Buttcracks' are inheriting the world. From villages to malls, from parks to campuses, from laborers to obese B-grade film stars, showing how your butt cracks and splits exactly in the middle is a bling thing. It's a guy thing, and the girls are catching up too.
Just remember to apply Nivea or any face cream for men to your butt too, and see it shine like a dime in a stream on a sunny day.
Here's to the arrival of Jockey Buttcrack, the Incomplete Man.

GRUHA SHOBHE AND OUR LOVE FOR FREEBIES

My sis and i decided to kill time by dropping in at Gruha Shobhe exhibition. The venue was Maharaja college grounds. Ample space for free parking with a measly entry ticket.
We decided to skip the lucky draw coupon. There was a long line of people, some frantically scanning the ground. They had lent their pens for filling the lucky draw and lost them in the process. Pen thieves were back in action. Parker and Reynolds were not spared.
Inside, the walkway was very narrow and the heat was unbelievable. But, the sight of pretty lasses and damsels provided relief. My sis decided to hit the stalls where free samples were given. From puliogre to vanilla, we tried everything. We did not spare the chips either. We joined the Mysore crowd in the "free-for-all."
Next were the vegetable dicers. Somebody had the common sense to put a blade between two cubes and apply pressure. VOILA! chopped vegetables in an instant. It's perfect for the lazy, yet impatient Mysorean. Th next stall had an electric tandoor, with its very own chef. Naans and rotis were dished out, and everything in between. No one bothered about the price. It was served hot and free, exactly to a Mysorean's delight. This was in perfect harmony with the roti maker. Put the dough, press and get a hot fluffy roti.
I even suggested that we should take the chopped vegetables from the dicer stall, use the stove exhibition stall to cook and take some rotis. Free dinner!
I was turned down by sis.
But, having said that, more women flocked these stalls than men, with questions ranging from service to electricity bills. There was hardly anything for the men, except the belts and purses. At the end of the exhibition, there were imported sofas and cushions. People made themselves comfortable and recommended others to do the same. The owners frowned at the sweat and grime on the pristine covers.
Obviously, the food stalls were packed. The kids gave a taste of the menu to everyone. Some had them on their shirts and some on pants. It was quite an evening for those who love freebies.
Don't miss the next season.

Your chef for free naans and parothas

Fatafat food using Zatpat

THE WORLD IS OUR TOILET

I just love the fact that Indians answer nature's call amidst nature.
Any foreigner visiting India for the first time, travelling by train or on a morning job in the countryside, can see the "Crouch-with-a-mug" aasana. I bet they don't teach this in yoga classes. This is something to be learnt from our country boots. The NRIs are nostalgic about it.
In our expanding cities, where McDonalds is more in number than public toilets, any open space is prime real estate for relieving yourself. From business honchos in Mercedes to the milkman on the cycle, everyone gets a lion share of the pie, or more accurately, pee.
The World Bank did come up with an interesting project. A toilet in every rural village. Again, Karnataka was the pioneer in implementing it, or so i'm told. Inspite of corruption, the project saw the light of day, but it never saw the buttocks pouring in.
The villagers still prefer to use the fields. It's free fertilizer. Neighbor helps neighbor. This is brotherhood at its best. The toilets became store houses, or show pieces. Alliance from neighboring villages was decided on the basis of toilets. Photos were taken and sent to distant cousins. If it had a flush, more dowry could be demanded. It was a matter of pride and nobody, literally, had the right to shit on it.
The Indian way of doing business and our jugaad, is world renowned. Tatas have acquired Jaguar and Land Rover. But people look down upon our civic and hygienic sense. True. Our unmentionables should not be displayed in public like KFC softee machines. But, this is just our way of life. Another day in the office. We understand the importance of water and respect paper. You get the point my friend.
Throughout India, we share this common thread. We are bound by it. It's in our DNA and maxius gluteus. And we shall pass the gift to the next generation.
The world is our toilet. And we are loving it.

THE BEST TIME TO BE IN THE UNIVERSITY OF MYSORE

It is the season of exams and admissions. Naturally, Freshers' parties and Send-Offs' are in the air. Laughing on one side and crying on the other. The best times begin and in the other case, Life begins.

Scenario 1: Send Off party
Throughout the year, you have stared at your senior, especially the girls. You have blamed your parents for not being born a year earlier. The damsels have guided you, shared notes, teased you and tied you rakhi. The last part you do not appreciate. But, in the end, only happy memories remain. The senior boys remind when they forced you to part with your pants, and revealed the undies brand you wore. They made you realize the importance of Under ki baat hai. They also stood up for you when you scored back papers on your results, not to forget taking you to the hospital when you got beat up by the rival college.

Scenario 2: Welcome party
Suddenly, the senior on whom you had a crush pales in comparison to the new chick on the block. A few clicks of her eye lashes and it seems that Masters was totally worth it. A few dance moves later, you attempt a lame move to get her phone number, only to be politely told "Not now, ANNA". The battle lines have been drawn. You have to fight your friends and your juniors to get her attention. RAGGING is your secret weapon and you make the best use of it.

But, a few handshakes and giggles later, you have found your long lost brothers, current sisters and future life partners. Life has never looked so good. Its back to sharing tea in the canteen and looking at each other in shock at Cafe Pascucci's bill. But you know what they say. "Har ek friend jaroori hota hai".

If you are a resident of Mysore, or studying in the University of Mysore, here's your free meal pass. Take an early morning walk in the campus. You'll come across students setting up decorations, aranging flowers and drawing rangoli. Ask them to which department they belong. BINGO! All you need to do now is show up in formals at 1 PM. You will be thought of as a lecturer or someone from the admin. Or show up in some ragged clothes and speak aloud in local dialect, with a few cuss words thrown in. This is to give you a feel of attender, or gardener, who have contacts with the whos-who in the campus. DO NOT WEAR A T-SHIRT. You'll be kicked out, as a show of macho strength for the lass in class.
The menu ranges from North Indian delicacies to North Karnataka spread, chillies included. Mahalaxmi sweets and Joy ice-creams are desserts, and the variety is impressive. After the heavy meal, you can burp out loud and enjoy the dance programs, oogling and whistling or even dozing off. FYI, the season lasts from May-June (Send Off parties) and again in August-September (Welcome parties). It's a free for all, provided you know how to play your cards right.
Its the best time to be in the campus, whether you are a student, incoming or outgoing, or just a guy in need of a free meal pass.

My Farewell Party

"GENERALLY" SPEAKING, AND PAYING

General category? Pay more.
General? Better luck next time.
Yes, your marks are more. But you are General category. Try somewhere else.

A wise speaker on a talk show once said that India is the only country where we fight and demand to be called "Backward". True. Being born to General category parents is the opposite of being born to poor ones. But the problems faced are the same. Shell out more for what is rightfully yours.
I suppose it is assumed that General category are "generally" rich, live in bungalows and drive the latest models from Honda and Volkswagen. From application fees to colleges to getting the Transfer Certificate and the marks cards, everything is charged more for us.
Most of us in the General category think twice about going to McDonalds and prefer second hand Maruti's. Price rise, whether in Petrol or Onion, pinches our wallets. I have seen students of "the other categories" splurging on multiplex and IMAX; fun even we could have enjoyed, had our fee been reduced. Most of us settle for Gandhi class.
General class do not ask for laws to be bent or broken. But, we do need the same rights and opportunities  And to be treated as normal citizens whose earning does not come in the way of his/her aspirations. Recognition in terms of merit and our hard work. General class wants to be treated as general, not extra-paying people. We do not have that much cash.
Perhaps its time we stand up for our rights, demand sops, ask politicians to represent us; its time we raise our voice.