Social Schadenfreude



If there is anything I struggle to understand more than the convoluted structure of relationships in the Indrani Mukerjea case, it is how the hell did Rahul Roy become the spokesperson of celebrities? He has somehow, because I see him on Times Now, whenever there is some celebrity-related outrage, and I wonder if it’s because he has a body double like Saddam Hussain, or whether it was because he had a song in Naughty Boy which went “Iske kabhi room main taake, to uske bedroom main jhaanke, kabhi kaheen durbeen lagake, kabhi kaheen parda hatake” that he is considered to be knowledgeable on celebrity scandals. Whatever it be, the great man, brave as he was in Sapne Sajan Ke to make love in a tabela with well-hung horses prancing about, himself does not sound too convinced, repeating ad nauseam “In my twenty five years as a celebrity” as if trying desperately to convince himself of his fame.

What’s a disappointment even bigger than his presence is that he does not say anything scandalous or insightful. Not that I want to pick on just him. The phalanx of Botox  that Times Now has assembled  are as placid, uttering obviousities like “when you are in a committed relationship you should be honest ” and the rare gem like ” I don’t support this murder”. With no one to shout down, and not even a pretense of a “debate”, even Arnab is muted, and he drones on and on about the same thing, trying desperately to create excitement through the use of hushed tones and flaming graphics, like a polite woman feigning orgasm for the satisfaction of her partner.

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Lassie Come Home


I had tweeted this yesterday after Rajnish, a reader, sent me a reference to this Punjab Kesari story which I am sure you shall all agree can definitely be called disturbing.

Titled descriptively as “Nirlajj Ne Nashe Main Luti Kutiya Ki Izzat” this piece informed us of a horrific act of man-beast interaction that cannot be described in English, an act that led to the dog refusing to eat or drink and ending with the police assuring concerned citizens that the said kutiya will not be produced in court.

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In the Future


Commentator 1: Welcome to the first game of the Kalashnikov cricket World Cup, 2015 brought live by the Lashkar e Toiba, who proudly tell you to “Live and LET die”. We are at the Kasab stadium in Karachi and the atmosphere I have to say is just electric.

Commentator 2: Who would have thought that after the whole world stopped touring Pakistan on the basis of some unfortunate minor incidents involving players from Sri Lanka in 2009 that we would be hosting an event like this—the World Cup? Of course India, Sri Lanka, West Indies, Australia, England, South Africa have declined to come and the ICC has refused to recognize this as a World Cup. Just like the world refuses to recognize what our textbooks tell us—that we defeated the Indian army totally in the 1971 Bangladesh war and that India is responsible for terrorist attacks in Pakistan and that India is a failed state. But really who cares what they say? It is the World Cup if the avaam say so.

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Caesarian Section


Noida Police Makes Arrests In Murder of Julius Ceasar

By a staff reporter:

Noida police (the world’s foremost investigating agency famous for cracking the Aarushi  Talwar murder case in mere hours), who had been called in to solve the sensational murder of Julius Caesar, the Roman emperor, made their first arrest today. In a sensational early morning swoop in front of television cameras, Julius Caesar’s wife Calpurnia Pisonis was taken into custody by the Noida police.

Sardar Stroke Singh, supremo of the Special Task Force, in front of a packed press conference revealed that Calpurnia Pisonis had been having an affair with Ceasar’s trusted lieutenant, Mark Anthony. And that Caesar had been murdered because he had come to know of this scandalous secret. Earlier the police had said that this murder could only have been done by a doctor, a butcher or a wife.

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The Day of the Nasal


December 13, 2001.

Indian democracy was assaulted by Jihadi cowards.

July 26, 2007.

The Indian way of life itself came under attack, with catastrophe being barely avoided through some judicious phone-tapping.

Himesh Reshammiya, the Voice of the Nation and the Janooo of the masses narrowly survived an assassination attempt by Ejaz Lakdawala’s gang, thus proving again, the age-old adage: “If God loves you, no-one can kill you or make your movie, no matter how crappy it is, a flop”.

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The Idiot's Got a Gun


What makes it so hard is not that you had it bad, but that you’re that pissed that so many others had it good.

 As Good As It Gets

As I laboured through Cho Seung-Hui’s final video testament of how all those rich kids with their trust funds and Mercedeses and their debauchery had brought this divine retribution on themselves and how he like Jesus Christ was going to inspire generations of the weak and defenceless, I felt revulsion and pity for that asshole in equal measure.

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