Category Archives: Blogroll


In one of those infinitely crazy moments that have always exemplified His Non-existence, the Great God overseeing the Virtual World (Webramha) decided to amuse himself by putting together a bunch of virtual people and getting them to interact with each other, with each taking up the last thread of a mad conversation. Some of these folk may resemble familiar people, but you alone are responsible for assuming any resemblance. The following is the excerpt from the BBC WordPress Report.

Dirtymindoc: Hi, gays, I mean guys! How are you feelin’? Heh, heh, if you know what I mean? My old girlfriends always had hard feelings for me, you know?
Pal’s Coughing Phallus: I had a late night thought: do feelings go through your hands and mind at the same time? And if my Hand’s feelings are due to Hormones, are my Mind’s feelings due of Mormones?
Dirtymindoc: Yes, more moans, Pal! That is our religion.
Kool Karni Nita: In India, according to the last Special Committee on Religions Report, there are more than 743 of them. Of this, there are 733 variations of Hinduism.
Flabbydoc: There are 733 variations of the push-up. Would you like to see one where I keep the scapula protracted?
Dirtymindoc: Interesting. Can you keep your scapula protracted when you are, you know, pushed up? Heh, heh!
Pal’s Coughing Phallus: I had a late night thought: Can Don do push-ups?
Kreema: I saw Don 23 times and blogged about it 24 times. Did you read them, ki na?
Litterabuse: I have don something akin to it 42 times. :-p
Shefolly: Why did Michelle Obama smiley at the Queen? Read my latest blog post over at my other blog. Just make sure you are wearing a tie. And please don’t go beyond smiling.
Flabbydoc: Smiling is an aerobic exercise. As research has shown us again and again, it is anerobic exercise which can burn fat in 7 days. I challenge you to smile intensely for 7 days and see the difference.
See-smut: It was the difference that caught her eye. He was so strikingly unsmiling. She thought, a warm summer breeze would freeze near him. The river stood silently beside her. Brooding. Grim. Cold.
Shefolly: It is cold in London today, as brilliantly shown in Penniless Dope’s latest blog post. However, many (less intelligent, hélas!) deny this, while the Pope….
Pal’s Coughing Phallus: The Pope is (according to the Authority on Authoritarians) God’s Weapon of Mass Distortion. I had a late night thought: is Distortion of Reality part of Reality or a part of Distortion?
Cracked Nippil: You get Distortion of Reality if you drink too little beer. I would normally drink real fucking beer back home, not the kind of donkey piss that I am forced to have now that I am stranded in Mumbai with a stacked chick and that I am suffering from what my fucking doctor calls as ‘Nippil Distortion, that perverted jerk!
Kreema: Distortion was one of my exam questions this year. As you know, I am one of the most awarded bloggers in here. I even did an award-winning tag on ” Eighty Distorted Things in My Life” where I had 127 smileys in the main post and 289 of them in the 66 comments that followed.
Kool Karni Nita: Me too don’t like too many comments. That is why I have made a limit of 15,000 comments for each post. That way, I don’t have to answer too many comments, and I get more time to devote to my hubby and my freelance work.
Dirtymindoc: Yeah, I like ‘free lance‘. Heh, heh!
Rada: He…he… he was actually trying to touch my feet, imagine that!! Thinking he could get pubbed in Dishypundit, but am so not into all this, you know?! I was with my daughter when this…
Danish Bobby : You know, my daughter asked me, “If you get free speech in the US, where do you get a free lunch?”
Shocki: It was a free lunch where Kavita met him. His manly looks instantly got her attention, but it was when he smiled that her heart went fluttering. Subconsciously, she fingered her wedding ring, while the baby in her belly gave her a smart kick. Choking her tears, she looked away.
Flabbydoc: Looking away is a great way of exercising the sternomastoid muscle. If you really want to develop six packs in the neck, you must look away and up, and hold it for ten seconds. Repeat a hundred times in one set, and four sets of this will give you great results in a few years. But you will look different (though in a weird direction)!
God: I am the One giving Directions here. Cut (the freakin’ crap)!


Long post alert!

Many of you may not have realised (as I have not) that this blog has become one of the most Googled sources of fat loss info in the web.

Oh, sorry! I had initially set for this intro to the post to appear in 2025, so let us not move that far ahead. Restart (not you, moron)!

I am writing on fat loss because of the insistent demands of many of my wild-eyed fans like her. “Rambodoc”, they say in different accents, “When will you shine the light on my fat? When will I lose that handle around my waste waist so that I can start looking as young as you, you delishius hunk of meat, you..” And many, many words to that effect. No, Rads did not say any of this, but we can all expect her, as a mark of her eternal gratitude for this post, to send me one of her used 7-series BMWs or, if she feels cheap, the keys to a property in Manhattan (such low prices these days!) or somewhere. Anywhere, actually.

Okay, let us now get serious here. Restart.

Fat loss stops after the initial effort in a program of diet and/or exercise. This is common knowledge. Let us first see what are the reasons for the fat loss plateau:
1. You are not working out the right way.
2. You are working out the right way (maybe you even have a great coach) but you are not eating right.
3. You are eating less calories, working out long, but your metabolism is too slow, i.e., your body burns calories slowly. A common ‘note to self’ by women, men, older men and women, hypothyroid men and women, post-menopausal women, and some other groups we may have forgotten about.
In the next few thousand words (kidding!) I will give you the juice from the research of around 935 (again!) research articles without boring you to death with the sources.
(Fat people are easily seen everywhere even in India)

Let us simplify issues: if your body needs 2000 calories as its basic metabolic demand (known as BMR or Basal Metabolic Rate), and if you spend another, say, 400 calories in your activities, then you would need to eat less than 2400 calories a day consistently to run a calorie deficit. Right? Many of us know that you will lose a kilogram of fat if you run up a calorie deficit of around 7000 calories. So, a 500 calorie deficit a day should result in the loss of one kilo of fat in two weeks. A pound a week. Clear?
There are lots of compounding issues to this simple equation, but you still have to keep touching base with this simple reality to achieve fat loss:
Calories burnt must be greater than calories eaten.
The most important way to accelerate fat loss is to eat less calories. Not in working out. Trainers are fond of saying that “you can’t out-train a bad diet”. Very true. Unless you are Michael Phelps who, at last Census, was not known to have met a fat loss plateau.
“Oh, no! He is going to talk of diets? Not again?!” Was that you saying that? Can you see me nodding my head sympathetically, like a politician at election time?
Some more basic truisms:

All diets work. But only for some time.
Diets don’t work by themselves in the long run.

What do we do then? Studies show that only 5 percent of people on a supervised diet manage to sustain weight loss. The rest fail. That includes you and me. Let us, therefore, rephrase this:

Diets don’t work; lifestyles do.
If you do lifestyle, you never feel that you are doing something special or stressful. It comes naturally.
What is this stupid, airy, hair-splitting, you ask?
(a typical dinner of mine, and ALL mine!)

Many people (author included) follow a lifestyle where you mimic the lifestyle of primitive man (an animal who probably did not have obesity). Which means:
* Eat whole foods that are available in nature.
* Don’t eat processed foods (meaning colas, diet colas, bread, cake, pasta, noodles, biscuits, etcetera).
* Avoid grains (rice, wheat, corn, etc.) and artificial sugars.
* Don’t eat meals at a religious rhythm (like 3 meals a day or 6 meals a day).
* Mimic the movements of primitive man (imagine Caveman Rambo with a pointed object hunting a bore boar): sprinting, waiting, sprinting again, crawling, pulling, pushing (imagine wrestling the boar before killing it finally), lifting heavy weights (taking the hunt back to the cave) and then eating it. If he fails to kill it or find some other source, he starves till the next time.
How will you do this in your 9 to 5 life in the US, UK or India?
Easy. Try these:
1. Don’t jog or walk. Sprint (as if chased by a wild dog in heat) for a few short seconds (take 20-30). Rest for a while (as many seconds as you ran or even a minute). Repeat ten times, or six, depending on your ability. That, ladies and gentlemen, is called High Intensity Interval Training (HIIT) or the Tabata workout (Tabata kept a work:rest ratio of 2:1).
In other words, stop wasting time on those cardio machines in your gym or at home. Four to twenty minutes of hard effort (including the rest periods) is enough cardio for you. A month into this, watch yourself improve your stamina and reduce the inches gradually (remember, you have to give your body time- think of one or two years, in many cases).

2. Push or pull your body weight in major, compound exercises like pull-ups (most women I see are unable to do this unless they are well advanced in fitness), push-ups (keep doing ten more than yesterday), squats, and burpees (the best of them all, I think).

3. Stop doing machine-bound training. In other words, don’t waste time in isolation exercises like biceps curls, preacher curls, pectoral decks, ab trainers, etc. You are not going into a bodybuilding competition, are you? If you want maximum bang for your buck, do the bodyweight exercises above, and also do weight training (squats, deadlifts, or anything that involves pulling or pushing a free weight against gravity).

4. Don’t waste time on ab exercises. Do a couple of planks, holding on till you die. You will have done more than enough for your abs and core stability.

5. Didn’t I say ‘crawl‘?! Yes, I did.
You can do mountain climbers, which is not really crawling, or you can actually go on your hands and feet and climb the stairs, first straight up (head first) or reverse (feet first). This would double as a great cardio workout as well.

Anything else about these exercises? Lots, but suffice it to say that you should train harder than you think possible, and not merely go through the motions. Only then can you see results! Each workout should have a decent volume, which means you could do, for instance, three sets of ten reps for each exercise, with 30-60 seconds rest in between sets. Be strict with the rest periods, avoiding chatting and vacantly meditating.

Let us now move on to nutrition, the cornerstone of fat loss management.

Most people are eating way too much to see results. They are also not eating enough proteins, which reduces their muscle building abilities.
One way to address a fat-loss diet is to cut down on carbs (carbohydrates). This is one of the most tried and tested ways of achieving fat loss. Most of the benefits of a low-carb diet accrue from a total caloric deficit. If you are given the liberty of eating loads of fats and proteins (as in the Atkins diet), you won’t be able to eat all that much for too long. Result: lack of variety in foods leading to weight loss. Someone even lost weight on one month’s continual fast food (McDonald’s, etc.) diet!

Low carb diets are often difficult for many people to follow, for cultural and habit reasons. In such a scenario, losing weight is more difficult, but a caloric deficit needs to be created.

Eating six meals a day (a popular advice for most people) is largely impractical in the long term, not least because designing a diet with such low calories is difficult. Imagine a meal with only 300 calories, for example (if you need to eat six meals within a caloric budget of 1800)! In this regard, a more doable lifestyle is IF: Intermittent Fasting.
In IF, you fast through the day, and then eat within a four hour window. You can choose to fast once a week, or every day, for 15 hours, or 24 hours. Your choice. One of the big things going for IF is that celebrities (like myself) endorse it. I fast for 24 hours once a week, and 15 to 18 hours one or two more days in the week. IF is a lot of posts on its own merit, and check my resources at the end of this chapter post, if you want to learn more. Suffice it to say that it reduces blood insulin levels, is a great way to eat ‘normally’ and yet maintain a caloric deficit. I have found that on the days I fast and then eat in the four hour window, I can’t exceed 1400 calories (I don’t pig out with junk food)!

Does when you eat matter in your fat loss plateau?

Is fasted cardio better than cardio in fed state?

Is breakfast the best meal?!

Dinner is the best meal, and you should avoid breakfast like the plague!

Controversies, controversies! Forget all this, and stick to the basics:
eat clean, work out hard, and be happy. Get enough sleep. Drink less. Be active physically. Read fitness articles and blogs. Enough!

So, if we can sum up, how does one overcome the fat loss plateau?
Reassess your diet (definitely keep an online food journal like FitDay), start IF, train harder than you ever have, change the way you are training, avoid long duration aerobic cardio in lieu of High Intensity Interval Training. Take adequate rest and get enough sleep.

Blogs on Fitness/ Primal Living I silently follow (in no particular order at all):
1. Turbulence Training
2. Fitness Black Book
3. Brian Devlin
4. Health Habits
5. Tom Venuto
6. Caleb Lee
7. Straight To The Bar
8. Mark Sisson’s The Daily Apple
9. Muscle Hack
10. Go Healthy Go Fit
11. Alwyn Cosgrove
12. Son Of Grok
13. Robertson Training Systems
14. The Nate Green Experience
15. Gym Junkies

IF Resources:
1. Brad Pilon
2. The IF Life
3. Leangains

Science-based Nutrition/Fitness sites (heavier stuff):
1. Lyle Macdonald’s Bodyrecomposition
2. Alan Aragon
3. Dr. Michael Eades

I heartily recommend any and all of the above, and I think they contribute hugely to the needs of the public seeking help over the internet. I am also very grateful to them for their advice and availability for people like me and you. I am quite sure I am missing out on some of the others I read, but I hope I can include them later.

Disclaimer: I am not a Fitness or Nutrition guru. I use my medical knowledge and apply it to my personal quest for health and fitness. If you feel the need to heed my advice, you are welcome to, at your own discretion and risk. If you suffer from any physical or mental disease or infirmity, please consult your doctor and get properly (mis)guided!


I have probably (almost) never used this blog to post random thoughts to voice my personal thoughts, or express my angst at various issues in my personal life, this being an inherently happy blog and all, but this is as good as any a time to show that we can do it, too.
No, I am not going to expose to you my dietary secrets (like how I eat around ten egg whites a day on many days of the week), or to allow a thought to lingerie in your mind that I wear red underwear (I don’t need to). You get the gist.

So, politicians and humans, here is a CT scan of my mind: a rear glimpse of a genius.

* I have suddenly had my bank account frozen because my Chartered Accountant ‘forgot’ to show in my income a large (by my BPL standards) sum of investment (ironically in bona-fide Government bonds) in my income tax returns. On top of that, he offended the IT Officer by not attending the summons in person. I had no idea, and bang! Yesterday on, I am frozen out of access to money! Did I hear some asshole write about how money was no longer a defining aspect of his life? If you see him sometime, tell him he is just that. I am not going to ask you to cough up a bit of your old family jewels fortune, so relax your sphincters!
In the meanwhile, life is very on-the-edge, almost like a battle for Chief Me-jester of Maharashtra. I am fuming, once more, about the essential brutality of the Government apparatus: it never gave me a warning or notice. It seems it is not required by Indian law. Perhaps not in any law. The motto of Government is ‘Pay your taxes, and then breathe. If you stop breathing, do likewise.’

* I am actually thinking of spanking my CA for being such a bad boy: he has had all my bank statements showing the course of the funds (all from my income, my savings, FDs, etc.), but he ‘simply forgot’ to show it. I have a feeling he did this to screw me, so that I end up paying a hefty bribe to the ITO, with whom he would then share the spoils. A classic bureaucratic trap for the sucker!

* I have had no time to respond to the several interesting comments on my previous post on Another Kind of Evil, including Shefaly’s ‘You Are Better Than That, Doc’ remark. Provocative, that, I tell you. Even Indians have a right to respond, though you wouldn’t know it if you go by our history.

* WordPress has taken a toilet break after coming up with the breathtaking new 2.7 version. If you see this blog resembling a wall of the Taj Mahal hotel in Mumbai, with gaping holes in places where your world-famous blogs were proudly linked, despair not, for I have alerted the Blog-wizards.

* I found a great site for listening to music: Songza.

* In the festive season, I am doing a great job of staying motivated in my eating patterns. I don’t deny myself any treats, but I have cut portions immensely. A nibble of cake, half a sandesh, one cookie, etc., all the while cherishing each particle of food in my mouth with my eyes closed. Satiety comes quick when you savor each morsel of food, with your mind single-mindedly (clever, that!) minding the flavor, texture, aroma, and overall experience of the food.

* Yesterday was the first time I saw a Punjabi wedding. What I found so remarkable was how sexist modern Indian society still is. The groom’s family kept the bride’s on tenterhooks by coming in 90 minutes late, while I was chafing at the hungry delay. Soon after the groom’s arrival, those of us from the ‘girl’s side’ were respectfully asked to let the groom’s (large) party sit at the tables. The latter then wasted no time to complain forcefully to the authorities how unacceptable the service was: apparently, the reason was there was no one to serve the jalebis! I wanted to offer my services, but certain people suspected that I would ensure ample spillage of jalebi juice on the expensive sleeves of the complainants, and my offer was gracefully and drily turned down.

* I was on a TV talk show late at night on, I kid you not, Maradona! My role was to lie to the gullible public how much I admire Maradona and football, and then talk a bit about his weight loss surgery and stuff. You know how it is: flanked on either side by two journos who have spent their lives chasing the God of Football, I was off-side, all at sea while the two guys kept boring holes in my brain with anecdotes on how close they were to him, yada, yada, yada. I literally begged the anchor to pull the red card on me, and I slunk off the studio at 1.30 am. The show continued till 3 am, when the anchor ensured that Maradona was safe in his hotel room and had moved his bowels for the first time ever on Asian soil.

* After a very long time, two posts on one day, one mourning morning actually!

Want more? Oh, yeah, I don’t miss no groans or howls! I hear ye, I hear ye!


Many of my readers are exercise freaks: they freak out whenever they have to do some strenuous exercise. Like turning the orbits 5 degrees to the right and scroll down two inches to check into the blogroll of authors whose glorious names are enshrined forever in the posteriority posterity of the internet. These readers have no energy for mousework beyond that required to just get into this blog (pant, pant)! Some have dispensed even with that. They get their fix from emails. Now, it is my singular intention to drive those readers into reading the exciting blogs of my friends.
Since I cannot anticipate exactly what these folks will post next, I am imagining how the next post could be like. If you get interested, then do visit my friends.

    Is the Nightie going to disappear?

According to this report prepared by the Indian Association of Garment Retailers, sales of the nightie (the single garment that covers the body from neck to toes favored erstwhile by urban Indian women) are falling. Indian males, according to this report, are very conservative, and 105 percent of them think the nightie is too revealing when their own wives, daughters and sisters are wearing them. Even my milkman told me that he threw out his wife for wearing a nightie. At the same time, he does not mind roaming around in his lungi at home. Typical male double standards, huh!
Women, on the other hand, this study reveals, don’t agree. 35 percent think the Burkha is too revealing and vulgar.

(two paragraphs skipped)

According to the World Negligeé Research Center, the statistics from other countries are startling.
Kenyan women and Kosovo’s women have something in common with ….
Picture copyrighted to me.

To read more, visit Nita‘s record-breaking (in terms of readership/research/comments) blog.

    Another Award!

Randy, Dandy and Arancini-Blogsmith have all, for some strange reason, awarded me an award of Overwhelming and Profound Blogger. I am in two minds: part of me asks, like Nagasaki Haragawa asks in his profound blog, where do I show my profundity? I never mean to intimidate people with my PhD and sundry other degrees. I merely ask people to think like B-school graduates with additional capabilities in French and Cambridge Inglees.
The other part of me, busy as it is in creating Hawt Posts, spearheading research projects to slim down residents of the EU, increasing the profitability of certain charitable Banks in Geneva and Zurich, and completing another PhD on ‘Communicating with Unfathomable Giants of the Post-Modern World’, is pleased that serious readers, among them Alex Allergia and Constant Horsense, are now regulars….

For more of Shefaly‘s unique brand of blogging, click here.

    Title Does Not Matter

I often wonder, while I lay by the side of Caroline, Betty and Paris, “why does man need to have sex?” Isn’t it so much more comfortable to be just, well, asexually confused?

Next post:

Andy Borowitz says white supremacists will not vote for Obama because he is black. Now, it seems Borowitz is himself a sort of KKK fluke without the hood. Obama, of course, is not black, he is a victim of advanced melanosis…..

Next post:

I met an old friend in a coffee shop where I tried to find shelter from a couple of overly friendly women who were chasing me. My friend was torn apart in conflict. Or at least his underwear was. One leg wanted to go to the bar, and the other to church. I wondered, does God understand this important fact: that one’s underwear needs to be free of tension and conflict? And do we need to wear underwear to Church? What do you think?

For the intellectual aroma of Cafe Philos, click here.


I went with my two dogs, Jai and Veeru, for a walk to the Tughlakabad Fort which is near my million-dollar residence. I have never been to the Fort, and I was pleasantly surprised to see how beautifully it was kept by the monkeys of the Fort and the Government. I thought of an Urdu shairee by ghalib:
“Dard ho dill mein to dawakijay
Dill hi jab dard ho to kya kijay”.
I know the couplet is irrelevant, but we Dilliwallahs are like this only.

For Prerna’s interesting blog, walk in here.

    Neologism of the Day

Sal-sa-va-tion n.
(modern American ‘Salsa’– Mexican sauce with chillies and tomatoes + ‘saliva’– spit + ‘salvation’– you know what it means).
The state of bliss when there is a spurt of saliva in the mouth following a mouthful of spicy salsa.
“The remark fell on deaf ears, as Rambo was in a state of intense salsavation“.

For more inventive English, click here.
I realise there are lots of other blogs I need to lead you to, but let us stop here for the moment. That way I get to retain at least some of my friends in the blogosphere!


I am known to be nimble with a bra and undies but, somehow, Shefaly forgot to press the space bar, and it so happens that I have to talk on, no, not even brandies, but brands.
I might have married a branded wife (handsome young stud that I was am), but I did not. The one I did nearly branded me with a hot pressing iron for lateral winking, following which I signed off my right to liberty and pursuit of happiness. Whatever is left is called life, at least as per the pieces of paper written by Father figures like James Madison and Benji Franklin.
As for material objects that rule our lives, I am ambivalent about brands. Some are awesome and to-kill-for, while others are overrated, and many unbranded things are outstanding.
I will take this meme my way. Because it is my brand of blogging.

At daybreak, I get into the standard Nike/Reebok gym gear and drive my car to my gym, which is not Gold’s Gym. International gym gear is outstandingly high class. It allows one to stretch one’s limbs so far away from each other that it seems inconceivable how they manage to come back to status quo ante. My shoes create no ecco when I move, because I wear quiet, red shoes, which means they scream “I am sexy, look up!” However, it is alleged in certain quarters that only street dogs hear that particular scream. Jealousy has its own brand, doesn’t it?

ON return, I scan The Times, both Economic and Indian. Stardom Levis its own price, depending on the sign of your Zodiac, I think as I dress up, looking at the Flor sheimfully. I exit for work, leaving a trail of sarcastic exclamations: “Dior me! He is going Higher, a Huge Boss. Will you return by 212?”
At work, I see the unbranded and unwashed poor who come to me. At surgery, it is important to Image One self as a medical Stryker, though not in the Indian communist sense. I Proceed through a mesh of cases in Harmonic motion. Thank God, I am spared a pile of trouble in the hospital bathrooms.
Back home, I am the Apple of my own iSight, and get Bourdeaux watching the Sam sungs on MTV in my den. In no time, I sleep. Unlike the Citi which I don’t bank on.
You can be happy alone, but misery is contagious. I propose to inflict this meme on Bikerdude and Marc.


I bow to her meme (such girly things, I tell you!).
Please consider this as my virtual autobiography. If I write any more, I risk being Pulitzered.
Answers have been deliberately toned down and made to sound banal to reduce the excitement levels of certain young and nubile female readers. Readers are advised to laugh at the serious comments, and ignore the dirty dainty ones, much like the Finance Minister looking askance at the Government’s oil companies’ impending bankruptcy.

I am: a Jack-off-all-traits.
I think: on my knees.

I know: that I know little, but can live with it.
I want: to stop responding to memes.
I have: holistic desire.

I wish: I had more muscle in my brain, and more brain in my muscles.

I hate: politicians, unethical people, exhibitionist belchers, and men with women I have the hots for.

I miss: Miss Mississippi sipping misty pee tea. Distasteful, depraved, disgusting and divine, this wordplay, is it not?
I fear: losing my professional independence.

I feel: with my hands. I have eyes on my fingertips. One of my strengths as a surgeon.

I hear: the silence of sound. Profound, I know!
I smell: do I? Nah! If there is something classy about me, it must be my body odor, always trailing a fancy name on a bottle. I smell things too (like food and women) before I, well, have a free intercourse with them. I am using the words in a very innocent, broad context, of course.

I crave: for Manuka honey, deliciously spread on the hot, juicy thighs of roast duck.
I search: for my intelligence.

I wonder: “how does the computer know so much, and I don’t?” I have been around longer than it has, after all.

I regret: not having seen much of the world.
I love: smart women and honest men.
I ache: dip inside.

I care: I am a hard core care giver. And I get paid for it.

I am not: 
a womaniser. Neither am I a layer liar.
I believe: in free willy.
I dance: 
when everyone is too drunk to realize I am dancing.
I sing: when bitten in the butt.

I cry: “Free this country of cuntrols!”
I don’t always: feel funny. Just ridiculous. 

I fight: addiction,
mostly to respond to impossible memes.
I write: No, I just imagine, and my keyboard responds like a woman with sensitive earlobes. What do you think?
I win: heads. And tails.
I lose: my way at night.

I never: say always.
I always: say never.

I confuse: myself, sometimes. Others, never.

I listen: to my wife.

I can usually be found: in, on, or by, a bed.
I am scared: of lung cancer. Not really. I am pretty much fearless, I realise.

I need: ten million dollars. A few years back, it was one. With inflation and the dollar going in different directions, I am not being greedy, am I?
I am happy about: being an honest man. Though I could do with some wits about me.
Oh, I forget! I have to do my duty to spread this obnoxious virus. Very well. Usha, Prerna, Nita and Shefaly, of course, are immediate candidates. Poor girls!


In a previous tag, Usha had accused me of twisting things beyond recognition, and masochistically, then got me into this meme on table talk. Tells you something about women in general, as her husband might care to testify, if we could get his jaws unwired and surgically separate his tongue from the palate.
Now, bozos and bazookas, this is about as straight as I can talk. It doesn’t get easier or simpler than this. Be warned. Mind it!

What’s your favourite table?
My operating table, but that is where I make my bread and butter. That is different. Like how one of my old girlfriends used to have sex on her kitchen table. This gave a different twist, if not aroma, to food. I gave her up for her awesome oweful table manners, believe me.

What would you have for your last supper?
If I am able to eat: Indian sweets, chocolate cake; if I cannot swallow but liquids, then Milkmaid.

What’s your poison?
Sugar. I have a strong addiction to it. It is only recently that I am controlling it. Rather like how Mr. Chidambaram is doing such a splendid job controlling our inflation with his poisons.

Name your three desert island ingredients.
Nicotine, wine, and chocolates.
All to be served by cheerleaders, or Kingfisher Airline hostesses. Do notice the class it took not to scream “I want Penthouse centerfolds” when it came to choosing.

What would you put in Room 101?
Cheerleaders carrying the above.

Which book gets you cooking?
Pasta: author?

What’s your dream dinner party line-up?
Usha, Lakshmi, Shefaly, Nita, Prerna, Maami, The Rational Fool and Paul.
The rest of you: stop shouting “Liar! Flatterer!”

What was your childhood teatime treat?
Nice biscuits. White bread, thickly layered with Amul butter and coated uniformly with sugar. This, future historians will attest, has affected my psyche on a permanent basis.

What was your most memorable meal?
Too many, and too painfully in the past to revisit. I, Indian accent in tow, have many fond mammaries of people I have shared dinner with.

What was your biggest food disaster?
Cooking an Italian dinner (lemon pasta, spaghetti carbonara, Moussaka-not Italian, really, etc.) for a group of elderly women (friends of a MIL) who, horrors, loved it to the extent that they invited themselves over for their next meeting! It almost led to a divorce, I tell you.

What’s the worst meal you’ve ever had?
I don’t eat what I don’t like. It is rather similar to how ladies don’t do it with men they don’t like. Except their husbands, of course. Husbands cannot be similarly accused, as we know.

Who’s your food hero/food villain?
For every man, it is his mother. For me, too, but if you think of a hero as a person who snatches the heroine in victory, then ME.

Nigella or Delia?
Do I need to eat them? Are they names of cheese? What exactly, I wonder, am I supposed to do with them?

Vegetarians: genius or madness?
Madness is an old cow-eaters’ disease. Vegetarians are genial asses. Ass far as generalisations go.

Fast food or fresh food?
Who’s treating?

Who would you most like to cook for?
(Background noises: “Liar! Flatterer!!”)

What would you cook to impress a date?
Starters: gnocchi, fried cheesy potatoes with Italian herbs, insalata caprese.
Soup: Cream of mushroom.
Entree: Fusilli with walnuts, Fettuccini Alfredo, mushroom risotto, roasted veal with olive, lemon and sage relish.
(Pun-lovers: try my take on pasta.)
Dessert: Walnut cake with butterscotch ice cream, double truffle chocolate cake.
Alcohol: mostly a variety of wines.

Make a wish.
And risk it coming true: are you normal-crazy or a Minister?


I have watched with a certain degree of perplexity this tagging business in Blogsville. I have previously been tagged by Shefaly, Nita, Mahendra and Prerna, but I escaped most of the time by procrastinating. If you notice, most of them are ladies. We men are trapped in a world that is controlled by women. Publish or perish. Well, I tried and tried, but I got cornered by another one by Purnima, a delightfully candid girl whose moods fluctuate slightly according to the lunar cycle.
I decided to quash this tagging phenomenon forever. By writing one so crushingly odious and torturous that people will sputter (or is it splutter?) into their pink champagnes whenever they think of tagging me.
So, ladies and laddas, here is the ultimate tag-crusher.
No takers, mind it!!

1. Last movie you saw in a theater?

2. What book are you currently reading?
None. After my failed efforts to read the Holy Koran (seriously), The Kike Runner, The Shamesake and sundry dirty books, and after my successful entry into modern gym-toned studhood, I am more looker than booker.

3. Favorite board game?
Overboard. Especially when it comes to favorite women and favorite food.

4. Favorite magazine?

5. Favorite smells?
Babies after their bath and powder. Food and ovulating women in heat cooking in the kitchen. Please forgive me if my pun tuation is not up to the mark here.

6. Favorite sounds?
Purnima: Baby laughter.
Me: Ditto. Babes laughing, too.

7. Worst feeling in the world?
P: Being deprived from internet and having to choose between loved ones.
Me: Being deprived of love and a clean bathroom, not necessarily in the same order, and having to choose between love and internet.

8. What is the first thing you think of when you wake up?
P: I need to pee.
Me: I check my mail. Which makes me want to P.

9. Favorite fast food place?
She: Don’t really like fast food. Call me a snob!
Me: I treat food and sex in the same platform: the preparation must be fast, the consumption must be slow. And the place: anyplace that is unaffordable.

10. Future child’s name?
She: girl- Raja, Rajinder, Rukhsana.
Me: I am generally not informed by the mothers, for some reason.

11. Finish this statement. “If I had lot of money I’d….?”
She: Invest it. Seems logic right?
Me: Use hundred-rupee bills to freak out in vests made out of them.
Not of much better use these days with inflation and taxation taking off most of my marginal income.

12. Do you sleep with a stuffed animal?
She: He’s an animal alright … the stuffed part is what troubles me.
Me: Some like being staffed before being stuffed. Not me. The only stuffed animals I know are for eating, not sleeping with.

13. Storms: cool or scary?
She: If we have to believe Ella, neither. I stick with Jazzy!
Me: See, I told you she was a little, you know? I don’t even know if that was Inglees, our official language.

14. Favorite drinks?
The nectar of earned love. A drop of honest sweat (mostly my own). A chilled glass of ON. A 21 year-old, unearned single malt.

15. Finish this statement, “If I had the time I would….”?

She: Write all the novels I have dancing around in my head, cut my toenails, clean my room, answer all my emails, update my blog, tell Lallopallo one more time I adore him, save the world, solve world famine, paint my room, finish the books I still have to read, go to the barber.
Me: I would settle for the barber: it takes a lot of time to grow hair these days.

16. Do you eat the stems on broccoli?
I am not sure if this is a loaded question that actually means “Do you eat the stem on Brocco Lee?”
To which my answer would be in the negative.

17. If you could dye your hair any color, what would be your choice?
First, you grow the hair. If that miracle actually happens, you love any color you get.

18. Name all the different cities you have lived in?
Sin City, Perspica City, Menda City, Tena City.

19. Favorite sport to watch?
She: Chess.
He: I agree. Provided the contestants are Communist Party leaders and the audience is allowed to throw eggs at the contestants for every wrong move.

20. One nice thing about the person who sent this to you?

She: What I say? They are horrible, horrible people! Horrible I tell you!
Me: She was dropped on the head when she was so little, so it’s not her fault. And she paints well, too.

21. What’s under your bed?
I believe that a bed defines a man: some have baggage with them. Mine is solid. The only thing beneath is the floor, which is a trifle slippery, though.

22. Would you like to be born as yourself again?

She: Yes, again again and again.
Me: Here I disagree. Never again will I be born thus. I would like to be reborn as an American President. That way, you don’t need to get things right all the time. People will still treat you as the last word in success and want to be reborn internally and eternally as you.

23. Favorite place to relax?
She: Beach, next to, under or on top of a loved one.
Me: I couldn’t better that answer. Mountain. As also a good city moment of success.

24. Over easy, or sunny side up?
She: Ugh I don’t even know what that means… I think it’s not good for a girl to say she’s easy let alone over easy so I stick with Sunny side up!
Me: Whether in the stock market, the bed or the kitchen, a roll-over is crucial to a successful climax. The upside is sunny, but there clearly are no downsides to getting it hot both ways. I am talking about eggs, of course, as others know.

25. Favorite pie?
Pie-in-the-sky. The American Pie.

26. Favorite ice cream flavor?
Sultry Siren, Longing Looks, Butter Lick.
There are really no flavors I know of with these names, but if there were, I would make them my favorites.

27. Of all the people you tagged this to, who’s most likely to respond first?

Let’s see: I tag Maami, Paul and Usha. And one highly deserving candidate to crush this phenomenon: Naren.
No, I don’t have any idea which of them will come fast first.


Regulars in ‘this’ blogging community (for there is no name for the loose association of bloggers and readers I come across) might have noticed some quietness creeping in from the sides.
Bloggers are becoming silent, one by one. Nothing has been as pronounced as Mahendra‘s quietness. He seems to have decided to throw in the towel, for his own reasons. I have reasons to believe that he is alive and otherwise well. Arun, Oemar, Madhuri are some others who have gone quiet. Xntric Pundits has been blocked by WordPress due, probably, to some problem with their Terms of Service.
Bancheese has just announced a period of silence till January, feeling a writer’s block.
Which brings me to me. I have no dearth of comments, nor do I lack the passion to bore you people with my pontifications or upset you with my singular lack of conventional morals, tact and niceties.
However, I am getting very little time these days. Increasingly, I am resigned to a quick look at my Dashboard, and then pack up. This makes me a bad blogger. I managed to write my last post only because I was out of town and was waiting at airports with nothing else to do.
A creepy voice inside me says, like Moaning Myrtle to Harry Potter, “So shall we assume this is the beginning of the end? Will your blogging end with a whimper, like the rest of your pathetic life?”
To which I am tempted to strongly respond in the negative. My life may arguably be described as pathetic, but it will not end with a whimper. It almost certainly will end with a rasping, orgasmic gasp. I, however, reflect on this again, and cannot but wonder, “Is Moaning Myrtle’s voice the voice of truth?”
MM continues to purr in with a sickly sweet voice, “You could do with some exercise, you know that? And are you forgetting that you have not read a page of the last ten books you bought?”
Which is true. I could do with exercise, and I could do with some reading, some listening to music, and maybe some more academia. If I write, I will probably not stop at less than a thousand words, and eradicate every spelling mishtake or poor punctuation, or missedspacing.But not write right bad English.
That said, things are tough. Look at tomorrow. I start operating at 7 am. I have twenty cases, almost all major procedures. I will mostly trudge back home at around 7 pm. This leaves me time in the evening, but not enough to really do justice to writing.
Doing the inner voice thing (exercise, reading, etc.) will spell doom to my promising car-rear as a word-winning blogger.
MM tells me that my not blogging will not change anything. Is she right? I can only say that not blogging might make a difference to me, if no one else.