The quiz that became the talk of the entire global bugger blogger community was:

What one word makes a man lose his hair, sleep, mental peace, potency and money?

Notice how painstakingly and surgically the quiz was created. It says ‘word’, not a ‘person’, ‘thing’, ‘event’, etc. In the sense that it is a word as used in speech or language.

But, first, a short story. It was a splendid evening at the club. Dark, cool and rainy. I was stuck, standing under a shamiana/awning, surrounded by dense sheets of rain. I was just trying to go out to my car when the downpour started. I was dressed in skin-fitting gym shirt and shorts, with plenty of rippling muscle fibers on display. It so happened that the same Guy, resident somewhere north of Mars and its ice-breaking satellite, who manufactures and gives away rain water as an open source venture, had also decided to send forth to me a pretty young lady, who also was in similar attire. Except that in her case, what was bristling was not muscle, nor moustache, of which she was singularly deprived, but designer-class deposits of fat and glandular tissue over the pectoral muscles.
Now you might wonder what is it with me that these women keep bumping themselves into me, as those who regularly read this blog know. All celestially created. In scientific terms, they say it is the fifth law of thermodynamics: ‘Whenever you are hot and alone, there will come a hot and comely lass’. I should not forget to mention the sixth law, which goes, ‘Whenever hot lad and comely lass get together, the excess heat given off attracts the wife or mother-in-law, leading to a condition known as absolute zero’.
Digression over. Back at the club, such Olympic-quality specimen of womanhood appointed herself close to me under the shamiana, flashing smiles as for a toothpaste ad. As the Rainmaker above continued to be kind to me, I liberated my bottled-up, pheromone-driven intelligence on my companion. I spent a good five minutes being charming, humorous and, even, chivalrous (“Shall I scoop you in my arms and take you inside my car where you can dry off and change, so that I can then drop you off?”).
All this while, she looked at me, nodded, threw her head back in laughter (her hair almost catching the corner of my right mouth, the right corner of my mouth), and looked specifically delighted to have met me. She said as much. Here:
“Thanks for being so nice, Uncle!”

UNCLE?! I looked around, but found no one.

And THAT is the illegally fornicating word that is the answer to this illegally fornicating quiz.

You know the rest. Thanks to all of you who read this and some more to those of you who commented.

18 responses to “AND THE ANSWER IS….

  1. I think this word is applicable only in India (and I am told, in China).

    This side of the Prime Meridian, I believe, the word is “commitment” πŸ˜‰

  2. How does being called Ungle cause a direct loss of money?

  3. That is my question too.

    Perhaps you should lose the moustache to look a few years younger? πŸ˜‰

  4. Ahumanbean, Marc:
    I knew you would ask that. It is linear: Upon being called Ungle (as Beano has so cutely put it) dude (clean-faced as always) tries to find various escape routes from Ungle Alley. These may (theoretically) include facials, new clothes, hair colors, even facelifts or Botox and hair transplants. All, of course, hypothetical. I, personally, am free of such insecurities.

  5. Shefaly:
    As a committed flirt, I don’t have a problem with the c word.

  6. he he.. good post.. ur blog seems to be aligned with our blog ( we r 3 girls sharing our secrets ! )

  7. “ur blog seems to be aligned with our blog “
    What are you smoking?

  8. Doc, you are the greatest. As they say, surgeons must be great comics, because they always have their patients in stitches.

  9. Naren:
    Thanks. You know how much I admire your sense of humor!

  10. At last the suspense is over! The blogosphere was losing sleep over this one word.

  11. Darn, I never win anything!
    Don’t feel bad, doc.
    The neighbor girls thought my BF was my father, although we attended high school together.
    Perhaps you should act more immature πŸ™‚

    The quiz was fun!

  12. Umm.. despite all those gym visits? Tsk Tsk.

  13. I have known for a while now that it’s nishabd forever after, when Lolita calls me “uncle” πŸ˜‰

    Too bad, I missed the quiz in all the din over the conquest of Half Dome! Well, life is… win some, and then lose some.

  14. Hello, my name was Maami. Young men called me Auntyji. On one hot day in Chennai Vijayakanth called me , ‘Andy’.

    Now I am dead.

  15. Lakshmi:
    Tsk, tsk, indeed!
    Long time, no see!
    You are maami only to put off cyber-romeos. I have no doubts that you are probably a southern variant of Mallika Sherawat with brains.
    I know! πŸ™‚
    Shame on you for marrying that old fogey! But then I always knew bleeding heart liberals and environmentalists are wont to make the wrong decisions! πŸ™‚ πŸ˜›

  16. Now now, my writing is not as funny and to-the-[point as Maami’s but I submit for your consideration:
    BF is not a spouse, but we did meet in high school. He is only two years older (which for most men means they are 20 years younger than they think πŸ™‚

    Social and poliktical liberalism is not entirely accurate either but yes, I’m leftish.

    So no one won this contest (a new car,was it? Perhaps you’ll have to repeat it in the future.

    Enjoyed all the responses!

  17. I got called that when I was only 24 years old (note the word ‘only’). It left me in a state of shock for days and weeks. I tended to avoid standing near kids at the railway station ever since. But your story is more entertaining for sure… hehehe!

  18. Oh you know, she could not see you, the handsome hunk, in the rain, and it was so dark… Had she seen, she would have said, β€œThanks for being so nice, Bhaiya!”

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