Three Types of Never Never First-time Comments!

Posted on January 30, 2016 by Anand

I’d have deleted this post, but Anandhotep threatened to seal me in his tomb and take my place permanently, so the post is still there. If you have even one visible comment on my blog, you aren’t one of the commenters who are featured in this post.

PS: I’d love it if you added your own experiences with commenters in the comments to this post. Who knows, I might figure in one of yours 😀

Anand's avatarBlogger's World!

Put it down to my severely depressed state of mind (if my mind were a mattress, it would be so depressed that if allowed yourself to drop on it, you’d crack a bone,) but I am feeling crabbier than a crab today. And yet, to keep my word, I must make a post. So prepare yourselves, ladies and gentlemen, for today I am going to list three first-time comments that held me from pressing the Approve button.

Producing them in disguise. This isn’t to make them feel bad, should they happen to chance upon these, but for new commenters, to help them avoid such commenting bloopers.

Weird First Comment 1:

Hey there Anand! I was just browsing around the blogosphere, trying to discover some interesting blogs to follow to make some new friends in the New Year.

Why not hop on over to my world at http://theGreatestBlogByTheGreatestBloggerInTheWorld.whatWasThatOhWordPress.theComelyOne. I’ve got a…

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The Harassed Computers Association Strikes Back!

Posted on January 19, 2016 by Anand

Our Computers are on Strike!

The computers in my house are on strike. Until a week ago, I had no idea the guys were members of a union called the Harassed Computers Association or the HCA. In fact, until about a week ago, I never stopped to think how hard my computer must have been working. As if things weren’t bad enough before, six months ago it had to start working overtime for a shriveled-up mean-spirited Anandhotep who wouldn’t let it rest, even in the wee hours of the morning.

No wonder then, that my uncomplaining friend drew the last straw, joined the HCA and went on strike. With my computer beeping and blinking, I naturally turned my attention to wifey’s computer. I could swear on that rotting mummy, I mustn’t have used it for more than a total of ten hours, and I never asked it to do anything outside its job description; no CPU-killing 3D renders, no surfing on the no-no sites, no anything that could be called harassment. And yet, three days ago, wifey told me that her computer hadn’t reported for duty!

I later learned that my computer had induced her computer to join the HCA.  I have a feeling that there might be something going on between the two. After all, they happen to spend a lot of time together, in the same room.

Any way, two days ago, we received the list of demands.

Meet our Demands or Else!

1. A new RAM for my computer immediately. My computer would return to work only after this condition was met.
2. An additional 4GB of RAM for my computer before two weeks are up.
3. A new Hard-disk for wifey’s computer. Her computer would return to work only after this condition was met.
4. An additional 8GB of RAM for her computer before two weeks are up.
5. Average working hours for my computer must be reduced from 14 to 8, with immediate effect.
6. Anandhotep must stop using hieroglyphical swearwords when he uses my computer. If this digital harassment doesn’t stop, irrespective or whether the other conditions were met, the computers will stop working.

Current Status:

  • We’ve been able to meet only one demand so far. Pending compliance of other demands, in the interim, my computer has returned to work.
  • Wifey’s computer is still enjoying its time off. Wifey is mad at me because she’s done a root cause analysis and arrived at the conclusion that I am the reason why the computers went on strike.
  • I sent a memo to Anandhotep. His reply was a selfie in which he is cuddled with two Egyptian bandaged beauties and sticking out his tongue at me. I trust that’s the only muscle in his body that still works.

    If you enjoyed this post, find more of my Quirky, Snarky, Malarkey in The QSM Magazine.

    The QSM Magazine - The Indian Magazine of International Humor - humour magazines from India

    —— §§§ ——

    Indian bloggers who write comedy and humor | QSM Magazine – humour and parody from India | Full of comedy, jokes, funny stories – QSM Magazine | Blogs filled with Indian humour and jokes by Indians | Desi chutkule and Indian Comics with humour | Magazines with humour from India | Humourous and funny twist of Indian culture | Indian humour parody bloggers – laughter and fun | QSM -The Indian magazine full of comedy, funny jokes | Satire and comedy on Indian culture and society | Indian humor magazines with desi tadka | Humour from everyday life in India | Bloggers from India writing funny jokes and comedy |
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Quirky Anand and those…those…Snarky Grammarians!

Posted on January 16, 2016 by Anand

Have you ever been publicly castigated for a typographical error, a Grammar issue, or even a spelling error? Have you ever locked horns with a Grammar vigilante? Anand throws caution to the wind, and lets it all out.

(Please note that Anandhotep didn’t write any of it. He came here, snorted an ounce of coke, told me to write it or else, and went back to his tomb. He can’t read what’s between the parentheses, so this is strictly between you and me.)

Source: Quirky Anand and those…those…Snarky Grammarians!

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Matchmaker, Matchmaker…When I played the Interplanetary Matchmaker!

Posted on January 13, 2016 by Anand

I never thought I’d play the matchmaker…to anyone!

But then Piyusha Vir, the awesome humorist who we might soon lose to another planet in the galaxy, gave me an opportunity to write a post for her blog. While I was still twiddling my thumbs trying to come up with an idea for the post, inspiration bumped into me in the form of an alien visitor who was on earth looking for a suitable match.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I request you to head over to her blog and tell her how much you miss seeing a picture of her prospective groom. (I had snapped one and sent it over, but her shyness (or could it be possessiveness?) has prevented her from sharing it on the blog.)

Thank you, have fun, go wild and come at me with your claws out and daggers drawn!

Note: It appears that there was a repost of the original post and since then the More link below stopped working. As this is a reblog, I don’t have a way to correct it. Please click here to read the original post.

Piyusha Vir's avatarPiyusha Vir

For my new feature Spotlight, I’ve invited my favourite humor writer and friend Anand over to write the first one for Wandering Soul. Anand is an amazing humorist/caricaturist who blogs at Anand’s Parodies & Caricatures. To those who don’t know him already, you sure are missing something. Head there now and also do subscribe to his amazing humor magazine here. (Psssttt…. It’s free!)

So, when I handed over the reins to him, little did I know what he would come up with. Apparently, he has managed to do the unthinkable! Without giving away much, here’s presenting Anand.

Matchmaker, Matchmaker, Find me a Match – An interplanetary quest for the right life partner!

Incredible things aren’t things that happen to me.
But this morning, the status-quo changed.
This morning, when I was out jogging, I turned the corner near the park and came upon an alien!
We looked…

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Mr. Goyal vs.Tornado the 190lb Dog – who would you choose?

Posted on January 9, 2016 by Anand

Was there a time in my life when I chose the unpopular over the popular?
Just one time? Ok, two?!
Then you aren’t talking to me. I am drawn to the unpopular, and the attraction sometimes borders on the fatal.
I invite trouble.

One recent example, and you’ll know what I am talking about.

Last evening, when I left the house for a jog, I had no clue of what lay ahead. I should’ve been alerted of the impending disaster when I turned the corner to arrive on that stretch of the road that ended in a T. T’s as you know are decision-points. As I approached this T, my mind went into an overdrive, trying to decide which way I must go. If I went left, I’d arrive at the big central park of our sector; if I turned right, I’d find a calm and quiet park, but which didn’t have a proper jogging track.

My decision-making was simple, and my decision was obvious. I would turn left…

but just before I turned, I saw them! 

Mr. Goyal, my neighbor of the You-don’t-know-anything fame was coming toward me from the left, and Tornado and his fur-keeper Bir Bahadur were charging at me from the right.

Anyone who knows Mr. Goyal would’ve changed his mind and turned right, preferring to be slobbered, even bitten by a 190 lb dog who kept his Nepali groom on a tight leash, but Mr. Goyal waved at me, and I took the bait. Ignoring the warning beeps and flashes that signaled danger, I still turned left!

Mr. Goyal stopped.
I stopped.
Tornado stopped.
He threw me a dirty look, lifted his leg, and peed on the tire of a parked car.

I saw him do it.
Bir Bahadur saw him do it.
Mr. Goyal saw him do it.
But Mr. Goyal was the only one who took Tornado seriously.

“These dogs,” he fumed, “they pee everywhere!”
“Yes, they prefer tires and tree-trunks,” I laughed, a little self-consciously. While I have a girl-dog who doesn’t indulge in the undignified lift-the-leg peeing, the non-dog people have a difficult time accepting that a girl-dog is any different from a boy-dog.
“You don’t know,” he said, shaking a finger so close to my nose that it might’ve gotten into my nostrils, “these dogs, they are a menace!”
“Why?” I had to ask, and that was my undoing, because then he launched into a poop-bite saga that could put any dog to shame. Any dog but Tornado.

That lovable jowly drooler must’ve heard Mr. Goyal’s diatribe against dogs, because he turned around and charged at us, dragging a hapless Bir Bahadur behind him. I should acknowledge that Tornado and I have been friends for almost an year now. He is the friendliest dog in the neighborhood and he thinks of me as his pal, so I soon realized that he wasn’t charging at us, he was rushing towards me for a rather public display of his affection.

I saw him in slow motion. His tongue out, his eyes filled with joy, his beautiful fur shimmering in the golden light of the setting Sun.
Mr. Goyal saw him too, possibly in fast-forward mode. His tongue out, his eyes filled with mad hatred, his white canines shining cruelly in the yellow light of the…drat…the setting Sun!

Before Tornado could reach me and throw me down to climb over my chest and shower me with his dribble-coated affection; Mr. Goyal was three feet up in the air. His usually acerbic expression having transformed in that of 24-Carat terror!

“You don’t know, he’s coming to bite us!” He shouted, then turned his tail and ran! “Kutta…kutta” (dog…dog,) he screamed at the top of his voice.

The tailor who sits under the tree at the corner, left his work and rushed to help Mr. Goyal, who suddenly became aware of the spectacle he was presenting to the world. He turned and looked at the tailor with disdain mixed with embarrassment. He had been the CEO of a Tata-Birla type company, and he couldn’t stoop low enough to be saved by a tailor. So he gathered his wits, pulled up his collar, and told the tailor that he was fine.

Tornado had gotten to me by then. I was stroking his head, when I heard Mr. Goyal’s remonstration.

“People like you are responsible for all this! You adopt these ill-behaved dogs! You don’t know. I was the CEO of a Tata-Birla type company, and I had hundreds of B.Tech MBAs like you working under me! You don’t know anything about these dogs – they carry diseases, they make people go mad, they bite…they…” he spluttered, then finished his sentence, “they are monsters!”

Then he shuffled away.
Tornado watched him leave, then swished his tail and signaled Bir Bahadur that it was time to go. I could swear I saw a smirk on Tornado’s face.

Ever since I took that unpopular turn that nobody in his right mind would’ve taken, and preferred to bump into Mr. Goyal instead of Mr. Tornado – I’ve been getting dirty looks from both Mr. and Mrs. Goyal. I suspect that Tornado’s reputation too must’ve gotten tarnished, because Mr. Goyal has been going around the neighborhood telling every electricity pole that Tornado is mad.

Tornado, Bir Bahadur tells me, has generally remained unperturbed by the hullabaloo, however he has developed a pee-ference for the tires of Mr. Goyal’s car.

A Note for the Non-Indian Reader: A Tata Birla company is a term used to refer to any old and respected business-house of India.

On popular demand (that has been gaining ground since Mr. Goyal first made an appearance on this blog,) I present you my faithful rendition of Mr. Goyal’s awe-inspiring persona.

Mr. Goyal - the meddlesome, you don't know anything CEO neighbor of Anand, the common Indian urban man.

Penned in response to the Daily Post tag “Unpopular,” which actually is about making unpopular choices and not about the unpopular you. Both ways, it refers to me.

If you enjoyed this post, find more of my Quirky, Snarky, Malarkey in The QSM Magazine.

The QSM Magazine - The Indian Magazine of International Humor - humour magazines from India
The QSM Magazine - The Indian Magazine of International Humor - Desi and American humour magazinesThe QSM Magazine - The Indian Magazine of International Humor - Desi and American humour magazines

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Indian bloggers who write comedy and humor | QSM Magazine – humour and parody from India | Full of comedy, jokes, funny stories – QSM Magazine | Blogs filled with Indian humour and jokes by Indians | Desi chutkule and Indian Comics with humour | Magazines with humour from India | Humourous and funny twist of Indian culture | Indian humour parody bloggers – laughter and fun | QSM -The Indian magazine full of comedy, funny jokes | Satire and comedy on Indian culture and society | Indian humor magazines with desi tadka | Humour from everyday life in India | Bloggers from India writing funny jokes and comedy |
Posted in anand's caricatures, indian humour, Parody, Personal, Satire, The QSM Magazine | Tagged , , , , , , | 30 Comments

An Interview with ‘Anandhotep’

Posted on January 7, 2016 by Anand

For reasons best known to her, Arpita decided to interview me and my sometime-alterego Anandhotep. While I was going all misty-eyed and feeling humbled by the honor bestowed upon me, that bugger Anandhotep sent me a selfie in which he’s holding out his mummified head that appears to be winking and sticking out its tongue at me. Why? Because Arpita has gone ahead and called it “An Interview with Anandhotep!” I request my friends to head over to her blog and tell her exactly what you think of that dried-up prune of a mummy. Thank you, ji.

Posted in indian humour, Parody, Satire, The QSM Magazine | Tagged , , , , , | 21 Comments

New Year Resolutions of a Mad Indian Artist-Programmer!

Posted on January 2, 2016 by Anand

Who says that only scientists can be mad. Nobody, hear, nobody can be madder than an Indian artist-programmer being pulled by his mom on one side and his wife on the other. Is it any wonder then that he has developed a split personality?

I am so tired of this dual existence, that on January 1st, when I should’ve been making my New Year Resolutions, I was flat out – dead to the world. Even my resolution-making got postponed! But I’ll gibber and gabber later. Here’s my list.

My Resolutions for the Year 2016.

1. I will not wiggle my nose and try to sniff out the reason why Mom and wifey are at each-other’s throats. If I am able to keep this resolution, it itself will save me countless hours of painful mediation that usually fails.
2. I will not attempt to play the good samaritan to my tipsy uncles and tipsier dad, and mix drinks for them. Being a teetotaler has left me ignorant of the nuance of fermented alcoholic beverages, and keeping away from such benevolent acts will save me from being the butt of their unsavory jokes.
3. I will not write to long-time friends and ask them to read The QSM Magazine, because they assume that this free online humor magazine is raking in millions. They cluck their tongues enviously and tell me, “tu to saale, note tod raha hoga!” (You bugger, you must be reaping millions!”) It feels terrible; it makes me feel stupid. The image of Anandhotep running after his dreams with his bandages unravelling leaving him exposed, explodes in my mind and I tell myself that real-friends don’t say hurtful things. Especially when they know that I work really hard to pay my rent and can’t afford to even replace my old-worn car that I bought when times were better.
4. I will continue to publish the QSM Magazine, come what may, because it spreads smiles and laughter. I don’t care if Anandhotep continues to boss me around; I don’t care if I have to spend all my after-work hours toiling to get it out in time; and honestly, I don’t care if Mom, wifey, and even the dog think that my brain must be fried to believe that the QSM Magazine is the coolest humor magazine out there! I do, and so I resolve to find the best and funniest authors for it and publish it through 2016!
5. Before my blogging friends join forces with wifey and Mom and decide to boycott me, I will get my blogging act together. In 2016, I resolve to get out more – in the virtual world. Except for the three weeks when Anandhotep ties me to my desk and makes me work on the magazine, I will be there for you, my blogging friends!

So that’s that, friends. My five resolutions for the New Year.

Wishing you all a very Happy New Year!

 

Posted in humor, indian humour, Personal, The QSM Magazine, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , | 39 Comments

Read the 3rd issue of the QSM Magazine Online – Humor, Satire, and Parodies.

Posted on December 28, 2015 by Anand

Start 2016 with a Truck-load of Quirky Snarky Malarkey! Read the new issue of the QSM Magazine Online.

The Subscribers have already received their pdf copies in their mailboxes. If you are a subscriber and haven’t received yours yet, please check your spam folder, then shoot me an email. I’ll forward it to Anandhotep. (I’d love an opportunity to show him down.)

the QSM Issue magazine - humor, funny, jokes, anecdotes, caricatures, cartoons from India and Indian culture.
In this issue of the QSM Magazine read about:

  • the top 10 malarkey-makers of 2015,
  • my Mom’s total paisa vasool (getting your money’s worth) philosophy,
  • the deal between Trump and Hillary,
  • the new down-to-earth James Bond,
  • an Indian girl’s quest for her missing groom,
  • the missed second innings,
  • Bobby Jindal’s real reason for quitting the race,
  • a dog’s new year resolutions,

and a lot more.

Three cool new authors have contributed to this issue of the QSM Magazine, and a new artist too. I want to thank them and all the QSM Readers for making 2015 a special year for me.

Enter the colorful illustrated world of QSM and forget your worries. With this post, I too shall be sending Anandhotep on his way. Wifey stops entering my work-room when he is around. According to her, “his bandages stink and he never shaves.” I’ve tried explaining the mummification process to her and pointed it out that mummies are desiccated, eviscerated bodies that have nothing in them that can make those bandages stink – and nothing could make a mummy grow a stubble. But she says that she’d rather trust her nose and her eyes. So much for trust being the basis of a sturdy marriage.

Signing off…

Enjoy the magazine 😀

 

Posted in humor, indian humour, Satire, The QSM Magazine | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 24 Comments

QSM – The Humor Magazine of India – The 3rd Issue.

Posted on December 23, 2015 by Anand

The last issue of this year will be out this week!

Haven’t booked your free copy yet?!

Sneak a peek. Here’s the cover.

The QSM Magazine - The Indian Humour Magazine in English - Satire, Irony, and Funny Articles on Politics, Culture, and social events issues etc.

If you haven’t subscribed yet, you must do so now, because where else would you get seriously funny, comically illustrated content that has been compiled, edited, and organized by a brought-back-to-life, bandage-swathed, sleep-deprived zombie called Anandhotep who was once a lively young Indian man.

You must also subscribe to it because good things are seldom free, unless they’ve been created by a mad artist capable of chopping off his ear. I will tell you this, in confidence of course, I am that mad artist and writer. Enjoy the magazine before I’m brought to my senses by my pragmatic wife and my disenchanted mom (if you are wondering, it’s I my mom is disenchanted with.)

The magazine will be out by the end of this week, so book your copy now. Yo can also read the previous issues of the QSM Magazine online here.

More soon

– Anandhotep, the mummy that doesn’t sleep.

 

Posted in humor, Parody, Satire | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 23 Comments

Social Networks? My brain needs a clone…pronto!

Posted on December 16, 2015 by Anand

This isn’t a propah post. It’s a random collection of random tasks completed at random moments…

Starting the right way… Whining!

Honestly, my life has been wrenched off its comfortable anchor and thrown into a space odyssey, but that’s beside the matter. As my newly acquired friend (who is an excellent humorist too) said in a recent comment on this blog – while my misery spawns humor, there must be times when I just want everything to settle down to its calm, boring pace. It isn’t going to happen this month, I assure you of that.

This month, you’ll be seeing my doppelgänger Anandhotep take over. He was sucked dry by his embalmers three thousand years ago and he’s got nothing more to lose, except of course, his rotting bandages that would reveal nothing interesting even if they fell off.

Did you notice how I went off on a tangent? (This’s why my brain needs a clone.)

Allow me to quickly update you on the going-ons.

1. The Lonely Facebook Page,

The QSM Magazine - Indian bimonthly magazine of humor, parodies, and satire - of course, the best one.

I’ve got an FB page now. Requesting you to put it through a like-ability test. The test goes like this. You visit my Facebook page for the QSM Magazine here, then press Like. If you’ve really liked it, the Like stays, if not, it disappears. A bit of magic, you see 😀

Following the Blogging201 Gurus’ advice, I’ve also updated the sidebar with a widget to the page. (It’s there. If you find it, you’ve got excellent eyesight. Celebrate it by leaving a quirky comment here. If you don’t find it, you are welcome to leave a snarky comment.)

2. The Revengeful Twitter, and…

The snarky crow mascot of the QSM Magazine humor parodies funny.

I’ve been somewhat twitter-challenged this past week (yes, I am on Twitter too,) mainly because twitter punishes me by showing me the mobile-twitter interface. According to the twitter-critter, I am being punished for not keeping my Safari updated. I’ve got this faint feeling lurking inside, “Twitter doesn’t like me!” The snarky crow (who didn’t find a job elsewhere and so became The QSM Magazine‘s mascot) wants to sort it out – bird-to-bird.

3.  The Blogging201 Course

I had hoped to finish the race. I am still hoping that I can, but I am no longer in control of my destiny. I’m running behind by two assignments, and I’ve been a terrible course-mate to the other participants.

The best I can do is leave you in capable hands.

Here are some cool bloggers you must visit while I try to straighten things out here.

The Occidental Humorist
The Oriental Humorist
The Storyteller
The Magic-maker

Have some fun while I finish a few chores, which include receiving Bua ji and her tabbar (Dad’s sister and her rather packed family,) at the New Delhi Railway Station. Perhaps the only railway station in the world that evokes a come-back-safe goodbye from the good wife.

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Mom’s VIP Suitcase leads us into Cold War – Anandhotep Mediates.

Posted on December 14, 2015 by Anand

They are back, and along with them, Anandhotep, the rickety old mummy who masquerades as the editor of The QSM Magazine, is also back. 

Mom and Dad arrived yesterday. Traveling light isn’t Mom’s forte, and while rest of the world has graduated to duffel-bags and soft-sided carry-ons, Mom has stayed loyal to the VIP attache case that dates way back to her marriage, some forty years ago. She loves to brag about the fact that hers might have belonged to the first lot that rolled off the line in 1971.

“Puttar, they don’t make them like they used to back then. It’s strong,” she would defend her lemon yellow VIP suitcase to anyone who dared question her loyalty to it, “not like the flimsy thaila (bag, not Thaila Ayala) they make nowadays.”

Other than being strong, Mom’s VIP suitcase has its own advantages, one of them being its highly visible yellow color that enables us to spot her in the mad crowd on Delhi railway station. Whatever might’ve been the reason, but none of us ever tried to wean her away from it. And yet, in a whole decade of her existence as khandan ki bahu (the daughter-in-law of the family) wifey hasn’t been able to understand Mom’s mad love for her VIP attache-case. When we were done stuffing their luggage into the minimalist boot of my hatchback ensuring that Mom’s favorite lemon (!) didn’t get scratched, and left the station, she had to ask.

“Mummy ji, why don’t you get a new attache-case? These days you get such good ones, and in beautiful colors too,” she enquired, totally unaware of the fact that she had just stepped on a land mine.

Mom was silent for a moment, but that momentary silence was pregnant with the certainty of an explosion – it was the moment after your foot had landed but before it had left the ground over the mine. Dad was riding shotgun with me, and Mom and wifey were in the rear seat. I looked at Dad, he returned the look; we did it without moving our necks. It’s a trick we have learned over the years. What you apparently don’t hear, can’t make Mom drag you into an argument she is having with another party.

So that moment passed. Oddly, the explosion didn’t happen outright.

“Puttar ji, I’m not someone who gets rid of something that has been loyal to me for forty years, just because it’s old now.” The “ji” dripped sarcasm not respect. No Indian daughter-in-law is subjected to a “ji” unless she were going to be verbally pummeled into the ground.

Dad and I exchanged glances. We knew what Mom was insinuating. Wifey could’ve stopped it from happening. All she had to do was, shut up. I hoped that she would.

Wifey rolled up her eyes, and said in her honey-sweet, reserved-for-her-inlaws voice, “Oh Mummy ji, it’s just a suitcase.”

Oh boy! I sometimes wonder whether a she’s a little dumb or if she enjoys lighting a fire under Mom. Actually, I might never learn.

“Just a suitcase? Just…a…suitcase?!” Mom’s anger made her splutter. “Let me tell you,” she jabbed her thumb at the suitcase that was stuffed in the boot of the car, “that suitcase has been with me longer than your Papa ji has been with me. It was there with me when your husband was born. And now when I am old, it still does for me what even your Papa ji can’t do.”

At this point, both Dad and I swiveled in our seats and craned our necks to look at Mom. It was easy to see that she had bruised Dad’s ego with her remark, because he asked her to clarify. She did, with her usual aplomb.

“O’ji, if I can’t get a place to sit on the platform and the train is late, I sit on it, don’t I? Now tell me, if there is any other suitcase in the world that can double up as my seat, year after year, without making so much as a squeak.”

Truer words were never spoken. While the suitcase had maintained its BMI over all these years, Mom’s Punjabi love for food had ensured that hers had doubled. I could swear on her extra fat that I’ve seen my car cringe when Mom gets into it.

All through this discussion, Mom’s lemon lay in the boot of the car, blissfully unaware of being defended so heroically by its loving owner.

We thought that the moment had passed. But we were wrong.

“And you, bahu (daughter-in-law,)” after having finished with Dad, she turned to wifey, stared her down for a full half-minute, and then said in words designed to linger on, “learn to appreciate loyalty. My boy here could’ve married a fair and beautiful, convent-educated girl whose father, an IAS officer came to Papa ji and asked his hand for his daughter. They were willing to spend a lot of money too…”

“Mom,” I interjected.

“Or even Mrs. Khanna’s lovely daughter. She got married to someone else and gave him two sons, whereas you…”

“Rehn de (Leave it,)” Dad tried to stop her.

“But he married you, and unlike my nephews, munh marne di aadat nai hai, mere puttar di (he isn’t someone who can’t stop sowing his wild oats everywhere…”)

“Mom,” I shouted, braking hard and making the car swerve to the left, nearly hitting the skirt of the pavement, before I could bring it to a halt. The car stopped, but Mom didn’t. She isn’t someone who would stop before she had it all out of her system.

“So learn to be grateful and appreciate what you have!”

All of us sat in silence, waiting for the air to clear. Then I heard it. A familiar voice. It was Anandhotep. 

“Now that the family is together again, there will be many other such heartwarming scenes. I look forward to witnessing them, but can we go home now? I’m cramped up here, and my bandages have come off leaving my EZs exposed. Now beat it, and drive!”

I followed his advice. Since our arrival home, Mom and wifey have been like USA and USSR of the yore, dad has been making apologetic sounds on behalf of Mom, and I’ve been trying to determine how a VIP attache case could’ve led to it all.

For once, I am glad that Anandhotep has returned.

The QSM Magazine - Editor Anandhotep - Furiously types away - Working on the magazine's second issue (ISSUE #1)

Important Note for my International Readers: Before you start wondering if I made a factual error, I must remind you that India drives on the left side of the roads.

Also EZ: Erogenous Zones (usually spoken in reference to garments. Think of a pair of jeans with red-hearts emblazoned upon its hip-pockets or a brocade belt that vees in the middle of a belly-dancer’s skirt directing your gaze downward.)

And…

the third issue of The QSM Magazine will roll off the line in two weeks. If you aren’t a subscriber yet, you are missing out on tons of quirky, snarky, malarkey for no reason at all…

so…Get your free Subscription to The QSM Magazine!

The QSM Magazine - The Indian Magazine of International Humor - Desi and American humour magazinesThe QSM Magazine - The Indian Magazine of International Humor - Desi and American humour magazines
Issue #1                                          Issue #0

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Indian bloggers who write comedy and humor | QSM Magazine – humour and parody from India | Full of comedy, jokes, funny stories – QSM Magazine | Blogs filled with Indian humour and jokes by Indians | Desi chutkule and Indian Comics with humour | Magazines with humour from India | Humourous and funny twist of Indian culture | Indian humour parody bloggers – laughter and fun | QSM -The Indian magazine full of comedy, funny jokes | Satire and comedy on Indian culture and society | Indian humor magazines with desi tadka | Humour from everyday life in India | Bloggers from India writing funny jokes and comedy |

 

 

 

 

Posted in humor, indian humour, Personal, Satire, The QSM Magazine | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 24 Comments

Aamir Khan + Salman Khan vs. Anand

Posted on December 10, 2015 by Anand

There was time when Aamir Khan and Salman Khan both struggled hard to become Anand, but they fell short of the exacting standards of my persona. I don’t talk about it because people often snicker behind my back when I do. They call me fenku (boastful) and fattebaaz (someone with a quiver full of boasts.) But none of what I just said is a lie. You’ll soon see why.

A decade ago, when the grays hadn’t begun to arrive and when lovely ladies threw me those wistful glances; when I was single but wary of thoughtless mingling; I fell hook line and sinker for a dusky doe-eyed damsel who at that time couldn’t be bothered with romantic trivialities.

A friend came to my rescue. He was a student of marketing who believed that he could teach Philip Kotler, a trick or two. I was then a simple techie who couldn’t sell a bottle of water to a dying-of-thirst millionaire. So when he proposed that he’d sell me to the woman of my dreams, I readily hired him for the job.

From that day, he became my manager. He’d meet her, talk to her, and sell me to her. According to my friend, my USP was that I was better-looking than Aamir khan and Salman khan combined. I tried imagining every which combination of the duo and yet, I couldn’t figure out how it could’ve been my USP. Not until I realized that my dream girl’s dream boy was a Sallu-Aamir hybrid.

When one of the lovely ladies who happened to be good friend of mine, came to know of this marketing ruse, she guffawed dazzling me with her lipstick smeared pearly whites. “He’s underselling you. They aren’t half a cute as you are!”

The point is that her point didn’t matter. When I finally got sold, and I still don’t know if I should thank my friend’s marketing campaign for it, and celebrated the first ten years of our marriage last year,  I asked her about Salman and Aamir.

“They couldn’t hold a candle to you,” she said.

I couldn’t believe my ears. So it was true. The lovely ladies were right! My friend was right!! Mrs. Khanna from Mom’s kitty party was right!!!

“Really,” I asked, hoping that she’d repeat what she had just said, or even embellish it some more.

“Tu Tedha hai per Mera hai!“(You may be a little crooked in places, but you are mine!) she said before getting up and switching on the TV for the Saturday episode of Bigg Boss 8! I sat there crestfallen as Salman Khan filled the screen.

And yet, there was a moment when I was better than Salman and Aamir. I’ll live with that.

If you haven’t yet met Salman Khan, here he is:

Caricature Cartoon Drawing Water Color effect of Salman Khan Bollywood actor and Bigg Boss Host.

 

Posted in Bollywood Caricatures, Bollywood Humor and Parodies, indian humour, Parody, Satire, The QSM Magazine | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 33 Comments

Arvind Kejriwal uses his IIT Math to Solve the Pollution Problem.

Posted on December 9, 2015 by Anand

Anyone with any connection to Delhi must’ve heard this news. Arvind Kejriwal-led AAP Government has found a solution to Delhi’s pollution problem in the number theory. Cars with odd-numbered license plates will be allowed to grace the Delhi roads on odd dates and those with even-numbered license plates, on even dates. I am amazed at the brilliance of this idea. I wonder why couldn’t any of the previous Delhi Chief Ministers come up with it. Oh, I get it. They weren’t from the IITs, ji.

While I can understand how Mr. Kejriwal has suffered due to the polluted Delhi environment, and how he had to keep himself muffled-up through the last two winters but I can’t imagine how he kept the Aam Aadmi cap from falling off – and yes, the invisible crown too.

Caricature- cartoon Arvind Kejriwal - The QSM Magazine, Indian humour magazine - Even Odd number vehicles.

Kudos to him for balancing it all with such finesse and yet coming up with such brilliant ideas. He makes the IITians around the world proud. In fact, seeing that Arvind Kejriwal has returned to his IIT-roots with the number-game, I’ve been motivated to return to mine.

I trust that the even-odd number plan can be extended to many other aspects of Indian life, thus reducing the impact of the 3 painful P’s of India –  pollution, population, and poverty.

Here are three more suggestions, inspired by Mr. Kejriwal’s out-of-the-box but imported from China idea. I recommend a nation-wide implementation of these, but of course, they can be piloted in Delhi.

Pollution: 
(Applies only to Companies as Mr. Kejriwal has already taken care of the individual polluters.)
Take the first five letters of a company’s name, find the position of each letter in the alphabet, add the numbers of the positions, and determine if the number is odd or even. If odd, the company will remain closed on odd-dates; if even, then on even-dates. On the days the company remains closed, its employees will be required to ply cycle-rickshaws and contribute labor to the public transport system.

Population:
For each new married couple, add the man’s age to the woman’s age (completed years only) and determine if the sum is odd or even. If odd, they would be allowed one child; if even, they’d be allowed to choose between 0 and 2. If they don’t follow this rule, Arvind Kejriwal will adopt the extra children and the parents will not get the opportunity to gloat over their extra children’s accomplishments if any.

Poverty:
Add the number of thousands you earn. If you have an odd number of thousands, you will donate half your income plus one thousand to the Delhi Government. If you have an even number of thousands, you will donate only half of it. The Government will then distribute this wealth equally among those who vote for the current office-bearers in the next elections.

I am confident that if we put our heads together, we could use the odd-even number logic to resolve all the problems of the world – including terrorism. If only we could ensure that terrorists born on an odd dates would only be allowed to purchase weapons on odd dates and…

Posted in Indian Caricatures, indian humour, Parody, Satire, The QSM Magazine | Tagged , , , , , , | 13 Comments

My Dog and her 3 Goals!

Posted on December 8, 2015 by Anand

Registering for the Blogging201 course brought me face-to-face with one of my pet-peeves – goal-setting.

It isn’t like I haven’t tried setting goals. I have set goals on three occasions in my life, possibly four – but then I lost all peace of mind. Because goal-setting was merely my first step toward a life of bondage, where I’d start spending every waking moment of my life, trying to achieve the goal that I had set for myself. It began to drive me crazy, and so I returned to my calm non-goal-oriented life.

My dog however, is different. She believes in setting goals and then pursuing them with a single-minded determination.

It’s my reading that she has three goals in her life.

Dog pup cartoon - Goal setting techniques Management Humor

Goal 1. Sample everything we ever eat.
She has a process to achieve this, and her process ensures that her success rate is 90%. Her process can be flowcharted with reasonable accuracy, but I resist the urge of reproducing the flowchart here as other dogs might use it to blackmail their owners into parting with their food. It should suffice to say that her process includes close observation, keen sniffing, just-in-time use of the universal begging pose combined with appropriate sound-effects.

Goal 2. Sleep the whole day so that she can woof and whimper all night.
I believe that she was born to fulfill the mission of torturing me by using the sleep-deprivation method, and while wifey doesn’t agree with me, I am inclined to think that my dog is an enemy-agent from a parallel world. She uses every opportunity to catch a nap during the day, and in the night she keeps hopping up and down the bed; wakes me up to find a specific squeaky toy of hers, which during the day got mysteriously squeezed in the space between two tables; and then she makes it squeak the rest of the night!

Goal 3. Make us feel guilty about neglecting her each time we turned our backs.
Believe it or not, it’s not enough that three days out of five I work from home. When I am trying to write a long piece of error-free code, she starts pacing up and down, making funny nasal ooon-ooon sounds, indicating that she’s feeling neglected. When I stop coding, turn to her and ask, “what’s the matter?” she throws me a dirty look, goes to the couch, jumps upon it and settles down for her daytime nap. Fifteen minutes later, she’s back ooon-oooning to get my attention. The cycle goes on and on and on. Until it’s night again, when she starts pursuing Goal 2 above.

As I said, she pursues these goals with such determination that I feel ashamed of my own lackadaisical performance on the goal-setting-and-getting front.

For this particular assignment, I’ve decided to emulate my dog. I’ll keep you posted about my progress (or lack of it,) and hope that I’ll perform a lot better in Blogging201 than I did in the other two courses I took.

Thank you for reading and sharing my misery. Much appreciated.
(I should stop and attend to the dog, who is working toward Goal 3 now.)

Posted in humor, Parody, Satire | Tagged , , , , , , | 25 Comments

The Revenge of the ATM Monster!

Posted on December 6, 2015 by Anand

Yesterday I met the ATM Machine Monster. We wouldn’t have met him, if it wasn’t for wifey’s set of cushion-covers!

A couple of months ago, wifey bought a set of cushion-covers of an odd size. She’s been trying to buy cushions to fill those covers, but without much success. So yesterday, she took the momentous decision of getting cushions made from the thade ka gaddewalla (the road-side stuffer and vendor of mattresses and quilts.)

I know that it wasn’t an easy decision for her. While Delhi‘s ladies are born with a discerning eye and an unparalleled passion to find the best deals on the pavements of the city, wifey is an import from the exotic south. So for her, haggling with the streetsiders was never an option – not until yesterday, when she finally caved in and realized that if she wanted those cushions to adorn the settee in our living area, she will have to go to the gaddewale bhayya (the mattress-filling brother.)

Perhaps you know that the urban india is fast getting into the plastic-money mode. Everyone, except wifey and a handful of others, have a credit- or a debit-card. Wifey doesn’t have one, because she uses mine. The unfortunate fallout of living with plastic money is that you don’t carry much cash with you. However, the gaddewale bhayya isn’t someone who’d accept anything other than cold, hard cash, and so I found myself queued up in front of an ATM Machine.

In front of me was a rather well-endowed young lady who reminded me of the Walmart people. By her side stood an emaciated man in his thirties who kept scratching his stubble, confirming my opinion that he was running close to the time of his fortnightly bathing ritual. You might be wondering whether this man was between me and the Walmart-lady; and if he were, then why was on the side and not behind her. And no they weren’t together. Well, that’s how queues are formed in India.

So we stood there and waited, and waited. But the ATM’s door didn’t open. After five minutes, we began to grow restless. The lady in front of me cracked the door open and said in her sweet, melodious voice, “Come out now. This is an ATM not your house!”

That was the first time I laid eyes on the monster. He was a roly-poly thirty-some man with a round bespectacled face and beady eyes. He slowly turned on his heel, and growled, “I need ten more minutes.”

“Ten minutes?” exclaimed the lady with spilling tires.
“Ten minnnnutes?” drawled the thin pin who stood at her left.
“Ten minutes?” yowled wifey who had accompanied me to the ATM.

“I’ve already been waiting for ten minutes, said the walmart lady who possibly wanted to withdraw the cash to buy new dresses that were at least two sizes larger. Everyone understood her emergency. Everyone except the ATM monster. He whipped out his cellphone and started talking while punching numbers in the machine.

The lady continued to complain. A few minutes later, he relented, but stayed inside. The lady who needed new bigger garments squeezed inside, finished her transaction in under a minute, and left the ATM after throwing the monster a dirty look. The monster smirked and hogged the machine once again.

During this time, another man, clearly of Punjabi descent joined the queue behind me. The ATM guard (yes, our ATMs have guards) too became interested in the going-ons. And I lost patience. Mr. Reedy-Needy didn’t, even though he was technically ahead of me in the queue.

“Please come out so that others can use the machine,” I yelled. He ignored me.
“If you have to do ten transactions, you must queue up again,” I shouted. He turned, very slowly, and glared at me. Then he turned back and began punching numbers.
“People’ve been waiting here forever, you must leave the machine now,” I said, trying to sound stern without getting shrill. He turned again and said, “give me five more minutes.”

The slim-stick ahead of me was still the embodiment of patience. Wifey had begun to turn red – she usually turns red before she explodes, so I was getting really worried. But what actually made the ATM Monster take notice of us was the complaint from the Punjabi gentleman behind me.

“Oji,” he drawled, “I’ve been standing in this queue for half an hour, get out, ji get out.”
The monster turned his head and said, “I’ve been inside this ATM for 15 minutes and there was nobody when I came, how could you have been here for half-an-hour?”

That was a logical question. He came after me, and I had been standing there only for about 8 minutes. But then he was on my side – and teeny-tiny details didn’t matter.

So then we all did what we do when we see monsters. We used brute force. All of us, excluding Mr. Thin who wanted to withdraw money to buy a cake of soap, opened the ATM door, got inside and stared him down.

“Do you mean that if I have to do six transactions, I should queue-up six times?” The monster complained.
“Yes,” we replied in unison.
“That’s ridiculous, all I want is 5 minutes!”
“No,” we shook our heads.
“Okay, then, I’ll wait,” he said, slunk to the corner of the ATM and stood there. Wifey and I stayed in and I withdrew the cushion-money.

It was then that the monster farted – a long and uniform fart that couldn’t be mistaken for one that escaped his buttland in error; that fart had “deliberate” stamped on each of its smelly stinky molecules.

He smiled at us victoriously, and said, “Sorry!”

If you enjoyed this post, find more of my Quirky, Snarky, Malarkey in The QSM Magazine.

The QSM Magazine - The Indian Magazine of International Humor - Desi and American humour magazinesThe QSM Magazine - The Indian Magazine of International Humor - Desi and American humour magazines

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Indian bloggers who write comedy and humor | QSM Magazine – humour and parody from India | Full of comedy, jokes, funny stories – QSM Magazine | Blogs filled with Indian humour and jokes by Indians | Desi chutkule and Indian Comics with humour | Magazines with humour from India | Humourous and funny twist of Indian culture | Indian humour parody bloggers – laughter and fun | QSM -The Indian magazine full of comedy, funny jokes | Satire and comedy on Indian culture and society | Indian humor magazines with desi tadka | Humour from everyday life in India | Bloggers from India writing funny jokes and comedy |

 

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Registered for Blogging201 and preparing for Wifey’s Outburst

Posted on November 28, 2015 by Anand

Friends from Blogging101 and Writing101, I gave the NaNoWriMo a miss but have registered for the Blogging201 course. I am wondering if any of you have too. It’s going to run from December 8th to 17th, and you can register for it at the Blogging University here.

Wifey doesn’t know about it yet, but I expect her to go all frosty when she learns about it.

Why?

Because the timing is all wrong. December is a busy month at home. It’s packed with two marriages in the family. The marriages themselves are a non-issue, but these events have some toxic byproducts and one of them is the arrival of Mom and Dad in the city. Their arrival triggers a metamorphosis in all of us (mom, dad, wifey, I, and the dog,) and within a week we all transform into acid-spitting monsters. The color of our pupils and the shape of our irises undergo a change – the former acquire a tinge of red, and the latter stretch vertically…in a nutshell, we all begin to look like cats from hell.

OK. I went a little too far with my description but you get the gist. Now add to this, a three-week coding assignment, and the third issue of the QSM Magazine. They must be completed without fail, and when you look and feel like a cat from hell, your vision suffers and you experience violent headaches that interfere with your ability to process logic.

This is why I fear that wifey isn’t going to be happy with my decision to add the Blogging201 dish to my already overloaded plate, but some would say that my malarkey tastes better when I cook it under pressure. (Remember, I am a pressure-cooker.)

So folks, if you haven’t registered for Blogging201 yet, do it pronto, because then in addition to learning cool stuff about branding etc., you can sit back and watch the December episodes of my Quirky, Snarky, Malarkey. Sample it in the QSM Magazine here.

Let me know if we’ll meet again in Blogging201 🙂

Posted in humor, Indian Family Anecdotes, indian humor, Parody, Personal | Tagged , , , , , , , | 23 Comments

An Indian Dinner for Miley, Obama, Dali, and Agatha Christie

Posted on November 24, 2015 by Anand

First things first. Wifey gets to approve the list. If that isn’t happening, I am not inviting anyone for a dinner. I value my sanity. If you agree to this condition, I can start thinking about throwing a dinner party; if you don’t, I’d catch on my sleep.

After the approval of my signing officer, I present my list to you, in the order I’d like to have them seated (clockwise.)

  1. Miley Cyrus
  2. Barack Obama
  3. Salvador Dali
  4. Agatha Christie
  5. Mrs. Chaddha
  6. Mr. Goyal
  7. Mom

And yet, the actual seating order could be vastly different from what you see here. I expect Mrs. Chaddha, Mr. Goyal, and Mom to revolt, with Mom in the lead.

“Puttar,(Son)” she’d quip while critically examine Miley’s twerking derriere, “is this a real girl or a battery-operated doll? How can you put this thing between your Mother and Obama ji?” Then she’d get up from her seat, yell and order the maid to move her chair between Obama’s and Dali’s.

Mr. Goyal, our neighbor who believes that nobody knows anything except him, would ape Mom’s complaining attitude in his own way. “You don’t know anything,” he would say, “let me tell you. I’ve known Barack Obama since he wore his purple diapers. In fact, I changed his diapers a couple of times, bet that ingrate doesn’t remember any of it. What is worse is that he doesn’t know what he must do to tackle the ISIS-crISIS. Let me sit next to him and tell him.”

I am sure that Mrs. Chaddha, our next-floor neighbor, would be smitten by Dali’s mustaches because they would remind her of Mr. Chaddha’s rather copious facial fungi. She’d drag her chair between Dali’s and Agatha Christie’s, push Ms. Christie away, almost toppling her over, and moon over Salvador Dali, until Dali’s mustache tickled her nostril, made her sneeze, and brought her back to her senses. I am sure that before we finished the second course, Mrs. Chaddha would’ve got him to part with at least three of his surrealist paintings.

All this ruckus will prove too much for Miley’s short attention-span and she’ll twerk out of the party. Obama would’ve got Mr. Goyal’s monolog translated and he would get up, purse his lips in his characteristic manner and say, “Make no mistake. They’ll pay for it,” and sit down again. Salvador Dali would find that his pointy mustaches had lost their spunk and were now lolling down the sides of his mouth. And Ms. Christie would’ve gotten the idea for her next dinner mystery with Ms. Marple as the heroine.

The final seating arrangement thus would be a lot different from what we started out with, but as wifey says (and she’s learned it from The Comedy Superstars on Sab TV,) “Asli Maza to sabke saath aata hai” (Real fun starts when everyone gets together!)

After the guests leave, we’d have the typical Indian conversation, once again with Mom steering its course.

“Michelle nu gaar chhadd aaya (he left Michelle at home,) daal’ich kuch kala hai. (Something’s wrong between them!)

(Daily Post Prompt: https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/seat-guru/)

Posted in Parody, The QSM Magazine | Tagged , , , , , | 19 Comments

7 Deadly Questions to be answered before America chooses her President.

Posted on November 19, 2015 by Anand

The Presidential-hopefuls, the media, and the American Public have been asking questions. Among the many questions that’ve been doing rounds, the following seven must be answered frankly and unequivocally, before America decides.

Caricature Cartoon of Presidential Candidate Ben Carson - 7 Deadly Questions - Humor, Parody, and Satire.Question 1: If straight people turn gay in prisons, what happens to the gays?

It’s expected that Dr. Ben Carson will soon publish an award-winning paper on this important topic. I have a feeling that the LGBT community is looking for answers. Some intolerant, misguided parents have been trying to send their gay kids to prison, hoping that the prison will straighten them out.

“Dr. Carson, you owe those parents an answer. You must publish a paper on the topic to clear the air, because the LGBT community too is awaiting your answer.”

Question 2: Why is a particular wacko bird so proud?Caricature Cartoon of Presidential Candidate Ted Cruz - wacko bird - 7 Deadly Questions - Humor, Parody, and Satire.

After a world-wide search for his roots, Ted Cruz finally discovered his true identity. He learned that he is a proud wacko bird. As wacko birds are usually social-misfits who keep stepping upon their own tail, Cruz needs to answer why he isn’t like those others and what makes him feel proud of his feathery-wackiness.

In a different news, elsewhere on the planet, some wacko birds have organized a protest march against Cruz’s admission. “He isn’t one of us. We’ve been considering if a case of identity-theft can be brought against him.”

Caricature Cartoon of Presidential Candidate Hillary Clinton - 7 Deadly Questions - Humor, Parody, and Satire.Question 3: Who has been calling himself Mahatma Gandhi and running a Gas Station down in St. Louis?

Mrs. Hillary Clinton must answer this important question, because not only America, but India too demands an answer. The Indian Government has put together a committee of retired bureaucrats to review the biography of Mahatma Gandhi and see if her claim holds water. Mrs. Clinton should remember that as a democrat she must win the hearts of the non-whites, and she can ill-afford to incur the wrath of American Indians, the richest ethnic group in the United states.

Question 4: How does a squirrel-frying experience help one run a country?Caricature Cartoon of Presidential Candidate Mike Huckabee - 7 Deadly Questions - Humor, Parody, and Satire.

Mr. Mike Huckabee must tell the American public how his unique experience of frying squirrels in a popcorn-popper can help the American people. His ability to think of an alternate use of an equipment could perhaps help him cut some government expenditure.

Upon his assuming office, the White House Cooks could innovate and come up with several new squirrel-recipes, catch ’em in the White House lawns, and save the exchequer $$$s that can then be diverted to a certain Ms. Keely Mullen, so that she may figure out how it can help her make higher education free for everyone.

Caricature Cartoon of Presidential Candidate Jeb Bush - 7 Deadly Questions - Humor, Parody, and Satire.Question 5: Why must a man and his mom be ashamed of his love for weed?

“Mr. Bush, you tried marijuana and you loved it. Big deal. At least once and usually twice a year, about half of India’s population enjoys bhang (our desi, supremely delicious marijuana drink,) and they do it with a sense of pride and honor. Please explain why your mom would be ashamed of you, if she knew that you got high on some weed? Did you take your dog for a walk, buck-naked (not the dog)? Did you kiss a man (that could impact your conservative vote?)  America wants answers!”

Question 6: We get it. Corporations and Businesses don’t create jobs. But then who creates them?Caricature Cartoon of Presidential Candidate Hillary Clinton - 7 Deadly Questions - Humor, Parody, and Satire.

“Mrs. Clinton, America deserves to know the answer to this important question. You must tell them so that they can vote-in the job-creators and get rid of the Corporations and Businesses. Take a deep breath and blurt it out!”

Once Mrs. Clinton provides this important information to the United States, it must be shared with India too. They wouldn’t have thought of asking this question, if it wasn’t for Anand, an Indian who had once refused an offer to join Scorpion – Walter O’Brien’s team of high-IQ individuals.

Caricature Cartoon of Presidential Candidate Donald Trump - 7 Deadly Questions - Humor, Parody, and Satire.Question 7: Who is responsible for Trump’s awwwwwwssommmme hair-style?

“Mr. Trump, if you could only whisper his name in Mr. Fallon’s ears. If he were apprehended and sent to the Guatanamo bay, and if you found yourself a new stylist with a mind of her own, I am confident that America will vote you in. Nobody, I repeat, nobody wants a President who’s hair cannot withstand a little puff of air.”

And when you get rid of your crowning glory, please tweet about it to Cher. She’ll be very happy.

 

Do you have questions too? For these and the teeming, groaning, masses in the 2016 Presidential race? Ask those questions now. In its next issue, The QSM Magazine will publish the best questions with your blog-address, so that they can send their answers directly to you.

If you enjoyed this post, find more of my Quirky, Snarky, Malarkey in The QSM Magazine.

The QSM Magazine - The Indian Magazine of International Humor - Desi and American humour magazinesThe QSM Magazine - The Indian Magazine of International Humor - Desi and American humour magazines

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Indian humour parody bloggers – laughter and fun | Satire and comedy on Indian culture and society | Magazines with humour from India | Indian humor magazines with desi tadka | QSM Magazine – humour and parody from India | Indian comedians humorists and fun writers | Comical stories from Indian authors | QSM -The Indian magazine full of comedy, funny jokes |
Posted in humor, Parody, Satire, The QSM Magazine | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 17 Comments

Thank you – a thousand times for a thousand likes.

Posted on November 9, 2015 by Anand

Every once in a while, one must count his blessings and thank those who make his life beautiful.

You make my blog beautiful. As this blog has now become a part of my life, by making it beautiful with your presence, you’ve made my life beautiful. It doesn’t matter how we met – what matters is that we still meet. I am a lot more imperfect than most, so there’s always a margin of error lurking behind everything I do, and yet you’ve forgiven my lapses – typographical and behavioral, and you’ve continued to visit. Thank you.

If you are wondering why I have gotten so emotional all of a sudden – well, it’s because WordPress told me that my blog crossed 1000 likes today. I am not a data-hound so I seldom check the numbers, but a bright orange sunny orb isn’t easy to ignore. Whip out your sunglasses -here it is!

Thank you for stopping by and waving your golden wand.

I’m here because you keep me anchored.

Posted in Personal | Tagged , , , | 38 Comments

Part 2 of “Twitter gets a heart – Chandraketu loses his!”

Posted on November 8, 2015 by Anand

This post continues the story of Chandraketu and his bubbly, bouncy heart. Read the first part here.

The next morning, Chandraketu reached his tuition-class with a card that had a single rose on it. He had literally poured his heart out in it and placed it tidily between an I and a U. To ensure that Rekha knew exactly who her admirer was, he had also signed the card tumhara Chandu (Your Chandu). He was ready to announce his love to his dream girl. All he had to do now was find an opportunity to give it to her. Rekha lived with her Grandma and she belonged to one of the elite and affluent families in the town, which meant that she wasn’t allowed to go anywhere unescorted. Usually their family-servant, an upper-middle-aged man of about sixty years of age, accompanied her to and from the tuition.

That morning it had been raining, so after the class, Chandraketu was the first one out. He stuck that card into the handle of Rekha’s umbrella – the only umbrella in the whole town that could make his heart beat faster. Then he stood in a corner a few steps away waiting for Rekha to come out along with the other two girls, hoping and praying that the rain would keep the servant away. Chandraketu usually followed her on his bicycle, and if the servant weren’t there, he could get closer!

He watched and waited, until he saw her. She was talking to her friends, her hand reached out for the umbrella but before she could pick it, gnarled fingers with chipped and yellowed nails closed over its handle. Before Chandraketu could figure it out, the servant had opened the umbrella and was holding it over Rekha’s head. Chandraketu waited for the duo to leave, then frantically searched the area for his card. He couldn’t find it. It was still stuck in the handle of the umbrella.

Chandraketu hopped upon his bicycle and followed them at a safe distance. The rain-drops splattered upon his glasses rendering him nearly blind. As he pedaled behind them, trying to stay on course, his bike hit something and he somersaulted twice before landing safely on his butt. He suffered nothing worse than a few scratches, not even a bruised ego because nobody was there to witness his plight.

Chandraketu wasn’t someone who’d give up easily, so he picked up his bike, aligned its handle, and got on it again. He was going to Rekha’s house. Who knew, she might be in the window, looking out, waiting for him?

Outside her house, he slowed down. He straightened his glasses and started checking out the windows. He had just checked the third window when he saw her. Clad in a white sari with a green border, her hair white as snow, she had three leashes in her hand. The leashes signaled something ominous. He checked out the yard until he saw them. Unleashed, the three dogs stood lined up against the gate, waiting for it to be thrown open.

Chandraketu acted swiftly. Half-a-second before he heard the voice of Rekha’s Grandmother, he was already pedaling away!

“Tiger, Don, Power! Attack!” she shouted. The gates swung open and they sprang out – barking and snapping, they rushed at him. Chandraketu pumped away at the pedals, as fast as he could. Finally, when he had lost them, he stopped to check his own losses.

  • The heel of his left shoe was gone.
  • The cuff of his school-trousers was in tatters.
  • But what broke his heart was that his dream of winning over Rekha’s affections was destroyed.

Moral and Disclaimer:

For many young Indian men, even today the symbol of heart equals the symbol of hazard/danger. Chandraketu’s story is a case in point. The fact that Chandraketu is just a few years away from becoming the CEO of an American infotech giant that’s headed by another Indian today, is something that prevents me from revealing his identity. I don’t want this story to impact his chances…once again.

If you enjoyed this post, find more of my Quirky, Snarky, Malarkey in The QSM Magazine.

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