Tag Archives: love

Ask Doctor Ill-Advised.

Have you ever wondered about people (with names like Agony Aunt, Girl Shrink, Dr. Love and Bejan Daruwalla) who write relationship advice columns in newspapers? I always thought it was a miserable excuse for a career until I saw the fun part of it: stupid people get themselves into stupid situations, then write about it to major newspapers hoping for a solution in 200 words or less, thereby making their embarrassment public to millions of amused readers everyday. Come to think of it, it’s funnier than any comic strip that the newspaper might run anyway.

This is my attempt at recreating some of the typical letters and typical replies.

Dear Dr. Ill-Advised,
My boyfriend is hopelessly perverted. His complete moral corruption is just plain scary. Just the other evening, we were out on a romantic stroll on the beach when… when the bastard tried to hold my hand! Thankfully, I was well equipped to deal with this situation. I twisted his arm, dug my heel into his solar plexus, and then delivered a powerful roundhouse kick to his temple. When he collapsed to the ground, I took out my stun-gun and immobilized him. I might have overreacted, but the freaking pervert had it coming didn’t he? I was later arrested for attempted murder, but I feel the police force is full of biased male chauvinist pigs that turn a blind eye towards such potential crimes against women. The legal proceedings begin next week. What do you suggest I should do? – Chun Li.
(P.S.: Sorry, forgot to mention that I shot him twice with a sawed off shotgun that I carry in my purse too.)

Dear Chun Li,
All men are bastards, yes, and so what you did was totally called for. I’m no legal expert, but I think his being alive doesn’t help your case. You go ahead and slash his jugular vein right away because it’s the only way out. Look at Kasab: he’s killed people but he’s still chilling, isn’t he? I suggest you should hire his lawyer and do the same. All the best!


Hiiieee Dr. Ill-Advised,
So this is about my close friend whom I’ve known for 20 years. Of late I’ve been getting this feeling that he is interested in me. Like he keeps dropping these subtle hints, you know? I mean like he turned down a seat in IIT-B and instead took up commerce in Ruthumbara college just to be in the same class as me. Then like he turned down an offer to work for Google just to join Tribhovandas Bhimji Zaveri Jewelers where I work as a receptionist. Then like he comes over to my home every weekend with flowers and stuffs and gifts, you know? He’s also turned down marriage offers from many beautiful, intelligent girls from respected families for years now. I mean it’s crazy! I don’t know what to make of it! Then on my birthday this year, like he got down on one knee and was about to say something when my phone rang and I HAD to take it because it was my bestest girlfriend Dipshita calling me literally like after AGES, yeah? And like by the time I hung up, he had left. Well that was a bit rude of him, but I’ve forgiven him because he had left a diamond ring on the couch. So anyways, do you think he likes me or something? – Needs A Clue.

Dear Needs A Slap,
This could easily be the most predictable Sherlock Holmes mystery ever written.


Dear Dr. Ill-Advised,
My boyfriend tends to lie about things, or exaggerate them. This year, he forgot our anniversary, my birthday, and my dog’s funeral citing the following reasons:
1. “I was abducted by a mysterious inter-planetary intelligence that held me in a spacecraft and interrogated me through the weekend and dropped me back to Earth on Monday morning.”
2. ”The weather department has predicted a violent cyclone to sweep across the city and has instructed everyone to take shelter in the nearest sports bar.”
3. “I was suffering from a strange high grade fever that made me go out and watch a comedy movie with my friends completely against my will. And then it made me go to the nearest sports bar against my will too.”

Do you think he’s just making it up? – Truth Seeker.

Dear Truth Sucker,
It’s just horrible of you to doubt your innocent boyfriend like that. How could you? The poor lad is going through a disastrous phase and the least you could do is be a bit supportive, you get me? Here are the facts, in your face:
1. Alien abduction is a well-known, widely acknowledged fact that has been conclusively documented by credible sources such as Aaj Tak, India TV and Scientology. Haven’t you watched the X-Files series? Do you think Scully and Mulder, FBI agents no less, are lying about the aliens and the obvious government conspiracies? The truth is out there. (whistles the X-Files tune)
2. And again, are you out to question the Meteorological Department? Your boyfriend’s life was at risk there. He was only following the Met department’s storm-safety protocol by hiding in a sports bar. You should be proud of him for being such a law abiding citizen.
3. Yes, a certain strain of the fever virus is indeed known to make people go out and enjoy themselves against their will and remember nothing about it later. It’s basic patho-biology, for Alexander Fleming’s sake. I bet you don’t know who Mr. Fleming is. He was the one who discovered the famous antibiotic penis in 1928.


Dear Dr. Ill-Advised,
My girlfriend is an extremely loving and caring lady. She pays close attention to all of my needs. For instance, she picks out my clothes, decides what I should wear and when, instructs me how to behave in front of her friends, suggests what topics I should and should not speak on in public. She always makes sure that nobody harms me. She has helped me in choosing a career, advised me to stay away from my dad as he is a “negative energy in my life force” and also prepared a schedule for bi-weekly telephonic conversations with my mother. We never fight. Whenever I make a mistake, she gently points it out by shaking her head and patting me on the head and saying, “No! Bad boy! Bad boy! That’s not what a good boy does!” That makes me realize my mistake and I don’t do it again.
Despite such a perfect relationship, some of my friends have been hinting that something might be very wrong here. They used mean terms like “dominatrix”, “dictatorbitch”,“Taliban”, “Robert Mugabe” and “Kim Jong-Il” to describe my girlfriend and extremely negative terms like “pussy”, “fucking coward”, “pushover”, “monkey on a leash” etc to describe me. Thankfully, my girlfriend had already warned me that they were a bunch of jealous, cynical losers who couldn’t accept my happiness. How do I make my friends understand this? – Lucky Dude

Hello Fucked Up Dude,
Before proceeding with the attempt to resolve your problem, I would request you to take this simple test:

1. Move both hands behind your back.
2. Touch the center of your back with your fingers.
3. Move your fingers slowly up and down your back and check for a bony structure.

All creatures belonging to Kingdom: Animalia, Phylum: Chordata, Sub-phylum : Vertebrata possess a vertebral column or a “backbone” that distinguishes them from the invertebrates. Invertebrates are those creatures that lack a spine and are hence forced to crawl on the ground, often getting trampled upon in the process.

If your test results indicate the presence of such a vertebral column, then you must abide by the rules of evolution and learn to stand up for yourself instead of mimicking a fucking invertebrate earthworm that wriggles throughout its life before getting crushed under someone’s shoe. If not, then you are doing a great job of being a spineless earthworm and you must continue doing so.

Tired of being an invertebrate? Then eat calcium-rich foods and grow a backbone.

Hello Dr. Love,
I have been married for 12 years now. Back then, we were madly in love, fiercely inseparable and had committed lifelong loyalty towards each other. 12 years later, everything has fallen apart. We no longer love the same things that we did, have lost the mutual respect and trust that was once the foundation of our relationship, we hardly speak anymore. I can’t remember the last time we laughed together or enjoyed the other’s company. I knew my marriage was going downhill when we were having frequent fights, but now we don’t even bother with that. Apathy and silence have replaced anger and arguments. We live under the same roof as strangers, barely acknowledging the other’s presence. When I look at my wedding photos, I cannot believe that I was once that person: laughing, loving, happily married. I don’t know where things went wrong. I feel like I’m sinking deep within the waters and desperately gasping for breath every minute. Please help. – Depressed.

Dear Depressed,
Oh God, that is the saddest thing I’ve read all morning. Well, the second saddest. The first being my stock portfolio. Man am I losing money like a bitch. Maybe I should sue the BSE for Sensex-ual harassment. Bwahahahahaha.

Erm, sorry, this column isn’t about my clever wordplay, but about your problem. So we’ll get right down to it.
As I see it, there are 3 things that have gone missing in your relationship:
-Initiative/attempt to change

Let me illustrate to you how these 3 points hold a relationship together with a real life example: Barcelona FC.

Just look at the magic quartet of Messi-Xavi-Busquets-Iniesta. Communication isn’t necessarily all about talking – what sets them apart is the surreal telepathic awareness of one another. Xavi doesn’t need to shout “hey Messi dude I’m going to put the ball over there, so you run and get it ok?” before passing. He just spots a gap and knows that Messi would make a run, and weigh his pass accordingly. Likewise, Messi times his run to perfection, beating the offside trap. Busquets, on the hand, stays back and holds fort, and occasionally runs and dives inside the penalty box with the grace of an Olympic swimmer. This kind of unspoken bonding takes months of patient understanding and acceptance of each other’s game.

Apart from this, Barca place a lot of trust in their youth system, much like Manchester United, delivering fresh crops of talented youngsters who understand the club philosophy and carry forward the same passion and love for the game as their predecessors.

And of course, most of all, it’s the initiative taken up by individual players that makes them world class, formidable, nearly invincible. No matter what the situation, it’s the desire that drives them to come back from seemingly impossible positions to trounce the opposition. Now that is something that Russian or Middle Eastern oil giants can’t buy or infuse in their multi-million plastic squads.

Unfortunately, the time to revive your relationship is long gone. It looks a bit like this now:

Hey Asshole,
What the fuck do you know about relationships to play the armchair love-expert? Have you any clue what it’s like to love somebody? Do you know what being in love means? Do you even have a girlfriend? – Gotcha There.

Dear Gotcha Where?,
Ah, the age old “do-you-know-what-it’s-like” argument. Great work.

Did Eratosthenes go into space to accurately prove that the Earth is round?
Did Copernicus leave the solar system to predict that the sun is at the center of the solar system?
Has anyone actually been to the core of the sun or seen atoms to understand nuclear fusion?
Do you need to be Jewish to abhor the despicable acts of the Nazis?
Does anyone ever need to sit through a Shahrukh Khan/Salman Khan movie to know that it’s a pile of shit?

Sometimes, observation and intuition are enough to reach approximately accurate conclusions.

If you feel that you are a part of some mystifying, magical, exclusivist movement then it’s time to come out of your delusion. Sorry for bursting your cozy bubble. Good luck with your love life though!


MTNL: The Long Road Home.

This post marks the fourth anniversary of my lovingly cherished relationship with one of the most prominent organizations of Mumbai: MTNL. For the uninitiated, MTNL is this passionate, thoughtful, dedicated group of people who have been faithfully serving the citizens of Mumbai and Delhi over the years. Their major services include passionately digging up roads to put in wires, thoughtfully digging up roads to take out wires, dedicated-ly digging up roads to take out Airtel’s/Reliance’s wires, sending pan chewing assholes to your home to tell you that your telephone line is permanently fucked, charging you 250 bucks for conveying this message, and so on.

But the most romantic part of this relationship is how it all started. Sit back and grab something to eat as I reminisce the beautiful memories of the 4 golden years.

The Application Phase

Since the dawn of time, no living human has EVER got through this phase without a hitch. The Indian government has in fact announced a grand prize for any citizen whose application doesn’t get rejected in the first try – they will be awarded the Param Vir Chakra (posthumously, if that is the case) and felicitated on Republic Day. They would get to share the elephant ride with kids who have won the Bravery Award probably for passing their Board exams in the first attempt, and wave at the President who is blissfully sleeping on the chair.

The Reapplication Phase

So now, like the rest of us, you drag your sorry ass back to the MTNL office because your application got rejected due to any of the following reasons –

1. You used black ink, whereas only blue ink is permitted.
2. YoU DiDn’T FiLl ThE FoRm In AlTeRNaTiNg CaSe.
3. There was a slight crease on the form. How can a CAT scanner or a Large Hadron Collider process your form if it has a fucking crease on it?
4. You didn’t sign it using the blood of 666 fallen angels.
5. Because kuch kuch hota hai asshole, tum nahi samjhoge.
6. You are supposed to fill the form only in Sanskrit, Hebrew or Ancient Gaelic.

Raise A Hue And Cry Phase

By this time, you feel like you’re in a Christopher Nolan movie, getting lost at every turn, unable to figure out what is going on, losing your grip on reality. Finally, the confusion and the anger get the better of you and you scream out in frustration, only to be chucked out by the security.

Regret The Previous Phase And Get Down On Your Knees And Beg For Mercy Phase

MTNL staff show no mercy. You pleas for help will be laughed off with a Nazi-Taliban-esque grace.

Nothing Worked, So Use The Trump Card Phase

I remember the day back in December 2006 when my friends and I went to the MTNL office to personally talk to them about our pending connection. We were asked to meet a certain Fat Aunty about our problem.

Mrs. Fat Aunty was the branch-deputy-information-something-manager. In short, the person we were looking for.

We nervously entered her office and waited. She was talking to someone over the phone (what are the odds of that?!). 5 minutes passed with no change in status quo. 10 minutes passed and the impatience was growing. We politely cleared our throats to get her attention. She never even looked up at us. A few more minutes of audible throat-clearing yielded no results. We increased our pretend-coughing to the point that her colleagues suspected us to be Whooping Cough patients and started covering their faces, but Madam Fatass just continued to orally pleasure the phone.

Finally, some 450 hours later, she hung up. She motioned us to come over and take a seat.

“Problem?” she said.

My friend spoke rapidly: “Madam, we applied for an internet connection 3 months ago but still haven’t received a word from you… actually we needed internet ASAP to blah blah blah- ”

Fat Aunty cut in: “Not possible. There are about 85,588 people who are ahead of you.”

My friend was nearly in tears: “But but… it’s been 3 months…I have to…”

Fat Aunty: “NOT. POSSIBLE.” (makes a full stop with her eyes)

The other friend tried his luck: “Madam, please try to understand. We have been coming here everyday since the past 3 months. We are students-”

Fat Aunty scowled: “If you are students, you should go to college! Don’t hang out at MTNL office and complain about low attendance! This is not a youth hang out joint!”

(silence, crickets chirping)

I stood there, tongue-tied like a nervous boyfriend in front of a girl’s Hitler reincarnate mom.

My friend composed himself and tried again: “God hasn’t been too kind to us, Ma’am. We come here and stand everyday, sun or rain, summer or winter, weekday or weekend, in sickness or in health, with a bright hope, an undying belief that you would just look at us once and listen to our story. Look at us, Ma’am, we’ve been greeted with only withering bouquets of rejection every time. We are falling apart just like the plaster on the walls of this building. We have nowhere else to go, no one else to talk to. We are the middle children of history, Ma’am. No purpose or place.”

3 of her colleagues and 2 security guards had broken into tears.

My friend had nailed it. He had hit the second most vulnerable part of the female anatomy – her heart. We could see the sympathy welling up inside her. We had lived the dream.

“Arrey Ramesh, come here!” she yelled at the clerk.

“Yes madam?”

“These 3 students need an internet connection urgently. How soon can it be arranged?”

He looked at her as if she had asked for his father’s hand in marriage. “You mad?!! No way… no more connections till the first bird chirps in autumn next year.”

Madam cranked it up. “Shut up! Don’t give me this bullshit. I’m not the general public. Get them a connection this week and if you dare say no…”

Ramesh gulped and murmured something under his breath and ran away. The 3 of us looked at Fat Aunty quizzically.

“And so it has been written,” she said with the mysticism of an Indian Yogi, “your internet would be active before this Friday.”

We immediately fell to her feet and cried, for our emotional rollercoaster was finally going to come to a stop.

Post Acceptance Installation Phase

True to Aunty’s word, a guy came to my place that week, armed with wires, CDs and the symbolic screwdriver.

15 minutes of sorcery later, he spat: “Installation complete. 500 bucks please.”

I asked: “Is the connection working?”

“No. It will work only after you call the customer support and ask to reset the password after which a virtual connection needs to be established after which an I.P. needs to be assigned after which you would need to prove that you are the son of the noblest blood.”

“And how much time will that take?”

“Should be done in 10 to 15… light years, I think. Now, the 700 bucks please.”

“You said 500 a minute ago.”

“Consulting charges extra.”

Post Installation Traumatic Stress And Eventual Suicide Phase

This is the time after the connection becomes active, when you start getting weird problems and such frequent disconnections that your life becomes an unending nightmare. You live in the paranoid fear that the internet would suddenly stop working one day and the visits to MTNL office would start all over again. You feel like a war veteran who has come back home after long years of conflict, but still hears the sounds of guns and bombs, cries of compatriots, horrors of the battlefield. You want to leave them and switch to another provider, but are left with no energy or guts to fall into the routine once again. So in the end, you quietly curl up in your seat and stare at the modem, clinging to a fleeting hope that the lights would keep on blinking, keep on blinking…

EX-Men Origins: Breakups Before Beginnings.

Every superhero has a past. A past that speaks not just of the days they’ve saved, the bad guys they’ve slain and the sequels they’ve made, but also about their failed relationships.

This summer, superheroes from all around the world will unite to face their past… and take on humanity’s biggest nemesis ever : love. For there doth not exists a burden heavier than a lovesick heart, a crisis bigger than a fucked up relationship, and a Kryptonite deadlier than an estranged lover’s fury.

In an age where nuclear warfare threatens the annihilation of mankind, 6 superheroes find a bigger problem on their hands. This is their journey – from X-Men to Ex-Men.

Only in expensive theaters.

Professor Charles Francis Xavier | Professor X

Professor Charles Xavier is the founder and the dean of the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning. Not the Churchgate one, silly – that’s for Lower Learning. This one’s for mutants, and there are no SC/ST/OBC reservations here.

Powers: World’s most powerful telepath, capable of astral projection, mind control, illusion casting, memory manipulation, psychic blasts, as well as sensing the presence of other mutants in a limited radius.

Breakup story:

Xavier is blessed with a power that every guy on the planet would kill for – he can READ, CONTROL AND MANIPULATE thoughts. Just think! He is the only man on Earth who’s capable of figuring out what his girlfriend is really thinking, and actually dictating her thoughts.


Prof X: Evening honey!

Girl: Hey, love. I was thinking that maybe today…

(Prof immediately reads her thoughts)

Prof X: ..that you want to watch Notting Hill with me?

Girl (amazed) : Oooh, it was like you read my mind there!

Prof X: Yes, and I can change it too.

(Telepathically erases her memory and derails her train of thought.)

Girl: Oh Proffie, chuck Notting Hill. Let’s watch football instead. Wait, I’ll get you masala sing dana and beer. And how about having wild, raunchy sex after the match?

Girl (scratching head): Did I just say that? Funny, I don’t remember…

(Prof X zaps her memory again.)

Prof X: Much better. Make sure the beer’s cold.

However, this didn’t last for too long. Just when Prof. X was beginning to think that he had it all under control, prime time T.V. shows came in to ruin his party. To his pleasant horror, he discovered that : a confused woman + even more confused woman on Star World + retarded self-help advise = catastrophe.

Girl: Xavier, you lying controlling freak!

Prof X (telepathically sensing a rebellion): What’s wrong, babe?

Girl: Don’t babe me, asshole. I know that you’ve been messing with my head all this time.

(Prof X tries to quickly change her thoughts.)

Girl: Ha! That won’t work anymore, bastard! I took expert tips from Oprah and Dr. Phil, and now you no longer control me. I’m a strong, independent woman who doesn’t need a man like you. I’m a strong, independent woman…

(Prof. X attempts mind control and psychic sabotage.)

Prof X: Oh shit, I – I can’t..damn I – I. It’s like a force field inside her head.

Girl: I’m a strong, independent woman who doesn’t need…

Prof X: Aaah stop it.. my head.. aaarrggh I can’t take it anymore…

Girl: Now you know how I felt. I’m a strong, independent woman…

Prof. X has begun frothing at the mouth.

Girl : That’s right. I’m breaking up with you. And this is for everything you did to me.

*picks up a chappati rolling pin and starts hitting him on the head with it*

Now you know why Xavier uncle is bald, permanently confined to a wheelchair and always carries an indignant expression on his face.

Scott Summers | Cyclops

Scott Summers is one of the veterans in the X-men line-up, but has had his share of relationships woes. Mostly due to his impaired vision.

Powers: Cyclops possesses the mutant ability to project a beam of heatless ruby-colored concussive force from his eyes, which act as inter-dimensional apertures between this universe and another.

Breakup story:

Scott met his then girlfriend, Rupali Gajanan Bhavathankar, at a college DJ party. It was truly love at first…’sight’ for them. As he fell head over heels in love with her, his friends cracked sly jokes about “love being blind”. However, that did not deter them and their relationship blossomed faster than plants in a greenhouse.

Until that one fateful day, when he accompanied her to a shopping mall.

“How do you like this top, sweetie?”

“I dunno. I’m blind.”

“Do you think these bangles go well with the colour of my eyes?”

“I dunno. I’m blind.”

“Ah hey! See this? Garnier’s new under-eye-over-eyelid-beneath-earlobes highlighting cream. I’ve been looking for this for days!”

“B-L-I-N-D. Get it? No?”

“Ooooh look! This beautiful Chinese porcelain vase is on sale for just Rs. 10,000! And they’re giving away free peanuts too.”

“Oh crap. I wish I was fucking deaf too.”

“What’s that sweetie? You said something?”

“Yes, I did. I hate this relationship and I want out! I’m the leader and headmaster of X-Men, not some Pappu Chutya who tags his chamiya to shopping malls. You hear me? I fucking hate you, you piece of trash!”

“I understand, love. But do you think these earrings make my ass look fat?”

“Alright. That’s enough of this shit. I’ll no longer look at the world through my ‘rose tainted glasses’. Die, bitch!”

*Scott takes off his glasses and incinerates her to ashes with his laser beam vision*

“Chapter closed. I’m moving on, man.”

James “Logan” Howlett | Wolverine

Logan a.k.a. Wolverine is the team’s most senior and probably the most unshaven member. He’s arguably the toughest guy on the team, but when it comes to relationships, he’s more of a bheegi billi than a wolf.

Powers: Healing factor, enhanced senses, and retractable bone claws. Has the indestructible metal Adamantium bonded to his skeleton, allowing for enhanced physical attributes and razor sharp metal claws.

Breakup story:

Mr. Wolverine is sitting at the table one Sunday morning, reading page 3 of Mutant Mirror and sipping on his adrak tea. His girlfriend, Parminder Kaur from Patiala, strides in.

Wolverine, who has extremely well developed senses, smells trouble.

Wolverine (to himself): *sniff sniff* Strong perfume…a hint of anger in the her walk…PMS vibes… man, I’m in deep shit!

He hides behind the newspaper and pretends he’s completely absorbed in reading.

“Wolfy, we need to talk.”

“Fuck it. Here we go.”

“What’s that?” (glares at him)

“Nothing, nothing! You were saying?”

“Listen.. I want to talk about our relationship. I think we need to work few things out.”

(mutters under breath) “Deeper shit. Logan, tu toh gaya.”

“Wolfy, I think you need to take a little more responsibility around the house. I can’t do all the chores on my own. No bai would dare to work for us because they are shit scared of your anger management issues, and I can’t devote time to my career if I keep running around the house all day.”

“So what do you want me to do? Should I stop saving the world, sit at home and chop vegetables with my metal claws?”

“It wouldn’t kill you to help me, Wolfy. I have a very important meeting coming up this week.”

“Stop pissing me off with your bullshit. And quit calling me Wolfy – it sounds like a dog’s name.”

“And you stop trying to dominate me. It’s annoying me as well.”

“You know what? I -”

Wolverine gets up and advances towards her. She grabs him by the collar and shoves him back in the chair.

Oye baith itthe tu, wolf de aulaad. If you’re a wolf, remember, I AM A BITCH! Tujhse sau guna badi kuttiya hoon main. Samajh gaya tu?

Wolverine gulps.

(rolling up sleeves) “Khasman khaneya, khotteya… nikamma na hove toh… tenu main dassni haan! Tu mere kol khade reh – pakad ke dho davaangi, haddi pasli ek na kitti taa mera naam vi Parminder nahi. Sau kutte mare hovenge, je tu paida hoya!”

Wolfy curls into a ball. His eyes have welled up.

(Showing her nails) “Aye tusi inn nakhuno nu vekheya? Tere saare waalaan nu noch davaangi main!”

Next morning, Wolfy packed his bags and ran away back to the wilderness, singing “Mahi menu nahi karna pyaar“.

It’s much safer in the wilderness anyway.

Piotr Nikolaievitch Rasputin | Colossus

Colossus is the Casanova among X-men. Despite having a name like Piotr Nikolaievitch Rasputin, he has always been a hit with the ladies. That’s because he has a power that no other mutant has – his massive, gigantic, Colossal organ that keeps throbbing and thumping all day long. I’m talking about his heart, of course. Ladies swoon and go weak in the knees when they hear it go dhak dhak. Score!

Powers: Able to convert into living organic metal form, granting vast superhuman strength and near-invulnerability. Can survive for long periods without oxygen or sustenance while in this form.

Breakup story:

All you need to know is here : Colossus: A Stud’s Story.

At this rate, he could easily qualify as a Bollywood hero.

Dr. Henry Philip “Hank” McCoy | Dark Beast

Hank is the scientist on the team. Some say he is the animal on the team. He presently works with all the X-Men, also is the team’s doctor.

Powers: Superhuman strength, speed, stamina, agility, reflexes, enhanced senses, ambidexterity with hands and feet, ape-like form, blue fur.

Breakup story:

Dr. McCoy was going steady with his crush, Jigna C. Patel. All was fine in paradise, until Jigna started suspecting him of having an affair with one of his patients.

Their relationship hit the rocks when one day Dr. McCoy returned home late from work.

“Hmm… you’re late today.”

“Yeah, a patient had come in at the last minute, so I had stay back.”

“You seem to be getting a lot of last minute patients lately…”

“Excuse me?”

“Tell me. Was this patient…a girl?”

“What? What are you trying to say?”

“Don’t play games with me. This is the fourth time this week that you’re late because of these ‘last minute patients’ of yours.”

“I am doctor, for Christ’s sake! They’re just my patients!”

“Yeah yeah yell at me.. you’re a lion at home, but you turn into a little kittenpussy in front of women.”

“I can’t help it. I’m a mutant, jeez!”

“Mutant AND a cheap flirt.”

“Sigh. Can we talk about this tomorrow? I’m really tired.”

“Of course. Your patient seems to have sapped most of your superhuman power.”

“Merciful heavens! Give it a rest already.”

“No, you give IT a rest. I know what you’ve been doing with your ambidextrous hands and feet.”

At this point, he jumped out of the window and ran way.

Mr. McCoy didn’t report to the hospital the next day. His whereabouts are still unknown, although sources suspect that he and Wolverine are sharing a room somewhere.

Ororo Iqadi Munroe-Wakandas | Storm:

Powers: Weather manipulation (lighting bolts, wind, rain, etc.), flight by ‘riding’ wind currents.

Breakup story:

Storm was the only superhero to have had a perfect relationship. She had fallen in love with and married a local T.V. channel weatherman. Everything seemed just perfect, as if it were the script of yet another extremely intelligent Yashraj movie.

Unfortunately, Storm had no idea that the guy she had married was actually a one-of-a-kind scheming bastard.

He persuaded Storm into running a massive money-for-weather scam with him. Allegedly, he coaxed her into manipulating the weather and informing him beforehand, so that his predictions would always be correct. He would also sell this rigged weather information to other T.V. channels for dirty cash. On many occasions, he would force her to use her powers to change the weather during matches and win bets.

The worse was yet to come. One morning, without any warning, the weatherman sold the house, emptied their joint accounts, took all the money and escaped in a weather balloon.

As expected, Storm was angry beyond words, and that led to many cyclones, hurricanes and tsunamis in her locality for many days.

Moral of the story: never trust weathermen. They are all lying bastards. Use your own judgment and carry an umbrella.

Moral of the story (2): never trust men in general. They are all lying bastards too. Use your own judgment and carry a gun.


Do you have an interesting breakup story too? Mail me your stories at sachin.spce AT rediffmail DOT com. The best stories win a box of tissues and my shoulder for an entire evening.

Hallowed Be Their Name…

I met the love of my life in the summer of 2002. A common friend had introduced us. Ironically, my first thoughts about her were, “oh man she’s ugly!” and “there’s no way I can like her”. Moreover, I was going steady with my then current love interest who satisfied me in every way.

Things changed when I finally decided to give this ugly damsel a try. I spent some time in getting to know her better, and found that I had been foolishly shallow. She was everything that I ever wanted! She mesmerized me, intrigued me, and drew me towards her; one thing led to another, and before long, I took her home. That night, my life changed for the better.

It was late at night, so we cautiously sneaked back to my apartment. I had second thoughts about what I was going to do, but I went ahead with it anyway. The one thing that kept bothering me was that I was afraid the noise would wake up the neighbours. Damn them, I couldn’t control myself! I opened her up and slid her into my 2600W music system and pressed play. (Hey come on, you knew that it was coming, didn’t you?! I’m overdramatic sometimes, I know. STFU.)

The next thing I knew was that I was blown away! Ahem, well not that way. The first track: “The Number of the Beast”, the second: “Can I Play with Madness”. By the time “Fear of the Dark” ended, I was all over my Maiden! I immediately kicked out all the embarrassing nu-metal CDs from my shelf and displayed my new found love prominently on it. I felt proud losing my musical virginity to a heavy metal band.


Somewhere around 2007, a friend told me that Maiden were coming to India. I couldn’t afford to miss up on this opportunity. I had started daydreaming about what the concert would be like, when the Mumbai University took a piss right through my dream. Stupid engineering exams! Maiden came, Maiden saw and Maiden rocked the shit out of Bangalore, while I was left headbanging (literally) over Internet Security and Project Management. Bah!

Life gave me a second chance in 2008. Maiden were to kick off their World Tour “Somewhere Back in Time” in Mumbai! There was NO FUCKING WAY anyone could stop me this time. Oh yeah, I was more determined and motivated than a Jihadi on a hijacked plane. After all, it was a matter of life and death (clever, ain’t I?). I continually pestered my friends to buy a ticket for me (as I was in Kerala and the tickets arrived late in stores here, aargh). Finally, my friend Dhirubhai gave in and got it for me. Thanks homie!

The concert date inched closer and I had trouble sleeping at night. I couldn’t hold back my excitement. It was going to be awesome.

Feb 1, 2008: Saha, Nonu, JointGuy and a couple of others were waiting at Bandra Station on the Day. It was amazing to notice how well publicized the entire thing was : even the autorickshaw drivers knew about the concert! Some of the shrewd ones had even come up with an ingenious passenger-attracting strategy – catching hold of every black tee wearing guy stepping out of the station and asking, “Boss, Iran Madam leke jaaon kya? Sirf 60 rupiya!”

On reaching the venue, we were shocked to see that only 15000+ people had assembled there, with just 4 hours left for the concert to start.

First up, CRI winners Nerverek took the stage. Judging by the number of middle fingers flying in the air, these guys weren’t exactly a hit with the crowd. Nevertheless, they kept on playing, and slowly but surely, there was a sharp drop in the number of middle fingers. Not because they were playing well(!) or anything, but because the food stalls had opened and the samosas looked delicious! Needless to say, choosing the samosas over the band wasn’t a difficult choice.

Then the most wonderful thing happened: they played their final song and got off everyone’s nerves.

A relieved crowd returned, only to find that Lauren Harris and her all-girl band had taken over from the boyband that played earlier. All these unnecessary sidehows were extremely irritating and we decided to cut loose. At least 666 abuses flew within the space of a minute. Then someone yelled, “Arre gaali mat do Lauren ko, Iron Maiden iske baap ka band hai. Harris uncle ko bura lag gaya toh agli baar nahi ayenge woh.” We froze on hearing this and stopped immediately. Meanwhile, the crowd had already started moving towards the food stalls for another round of samosas.

Parikrama came on next and finally there was some respite. The build up to the grand finale couldn’t have been any better.

Parikrama left. The stage looked eerily empty. Everybody had suddenly gone quiet. You could smell that nervous excitement in the air. Everybody knew what was coming next.

And then, the lights went off. When they came back on, all 6 of them were on stage. Winston Churchill spoke about not surrendering, planes were flying and the rest of the night was just a series of phantasmagoric, disconnected memories.

I can never forget the collective roar that greeted the opening riffs of Aces High. My adrenaline levels must have gone through the roof. Sheer frenzy.

I remember experiencing delirium and hysteria at one point of time, and pushing my way through the sea of black to get closer to the stage.

You’ll take my life, but I’ll take yours too.” I couldn’t feel the ground beneath my feet. I looked around me and all I could see was a blur. A swirling mass of spellbound figures swaying to their Masters.

I can recall only the start of Run To The Hills. I passed out midway through the song. A guy in the crowd noticed this and was kind enough to drag me out. I don’t know what would have happened otherwise. A bottle of Aquafina (yes, water) later, I was right back in it.

Nearly decapitated myself as the evening progressed.

My vocal chords begged for mercy, but Bruce was adamant. I couldn’t possibly say no to him, could I?

By the time the guards marched him to the courtyard, I was down on my knees and voiceless.

Completely wasted and disoriented, I stumbled out of the venue; reaching home without collapsing on the road seemed like a remote possibility. But even then, I felt absolute bliss.

I’m still not sure if it was a dream, but the purpose of my existence has been fulfilled. I can die happy now.

Up the Irons!

The Reincarnation of Entertainment.

Hello world, this is my first blog entry!

Since this is my first entry, I’ve decided to kick things off with the topic closest to my heart – review of Karzzz. But before I start my in-depth analysis, let’s take a look at what the experts have to say:

The essence of cinema is editing. It’s the combination of what can be extraordinary images of people during emotional moments, or images in a general sense, put together in a kind of alchemy.

Francis Ford Coppola, clearly in awe.

Mr. Coppola’s views on the incessant criticism and ridicule that Himesh has been facing since birth (this and the previous one) :

Usually, the stuff that’s your best idea or work is going to be attacked the most.

Francis Ford Coppola

Right. Moving on…

A film is – or should be – more like music than like fiction. It should be a progression of moods and feelings. The theme, what’s behind the emotion, the meaning, all that comes later.

Stanley Kubrick, commenting about the soundtrack.

If it’s a good movie, the sound could go off and the audience would still have a perfectly clear idea of what was going on.

Alfred Hitchcock, wishing that the sound would go off.

The whole history of science has been the gradual realization that events do not happen in an arbitrary manner, but that they reflect a certain underlying order, which may or may not be divinely inspired.
Stephen Hawking, trolling again. Stick to the topic please, Mr. Hawking.

Shakespearean but overlong, The Dark Knight is two hours of heady, involving action that devolves into a mind-numbing 32-minute epilogue.
Carrie Rickey, Inquirer Film Critic, referring to Himesh as ‘The Dark Knight’ ( Karzzz scored a whopping 99% on CreamofRottenTomatoes.com)

Waiting for tonight, when you would be here in my arms…
J Lo’s lame attempt at seducing Himesh.

After a recent spate of below par embarrassments like Rang De Basanti, Taare Zameen Par and Jodha Akbar, Bollywood has finally come of age. Every so often comes a movie that makes you sit up and take notice, makes you really think about your place in the universe, touches your soul, and makes you touch yourself at night. However, Karzz is not just another brilliant movie that you watch and forget; no. It’s an exemplary lesson in audio-visual perfection and finesse; a complete cinematic experience that will change your life for good. Blending art, poetry, music, physics and some splendid visual imagery, Karzz tantalizes you, teases you, charms you and leaves you begging (just like the Lehman Brothers) for more.

The story revolves around Ravi Varma (Version 1.0 played by a very disgusting, ugly, deformed Dino Moria) who is betrayed by his youthful wife (played by a very youthful Urmila Matondkar). But we all know how futile it is to even think about killing someone like Himesh. It’s like shoving Michael Phelps into water and hoping he will drown. Duh! Anyhoo, the plot is intricately carved around Monty and his revenge against this evil, evil world. I won’t give away ANY spoilers about his reincarnation or how Urmila dies in the end – you’ll have to watch the movie for that.

Himesh’s dialogue delivery is like watching a real life C-section delivery. He executes the hard-hitting dialogues absolutely perfectly with his voice which is as silky as ..cotton. He uses his boyish-cute looks to his advantage with that John Lennon hairstyle and those Mick Jagger outfits. Urmila may have turned 109 this year, but she manages to carry off that teenager look with effortless elegance. It’s hard to decide who looks cuter : Himesh, Urmila or Disney’s Bambi. Oh well.

Another enigmatic character from the movie is the almost-Robocop played by Gulshan Grover. Apparently, he has lost his arm and voice in some bizzare accident (go figure), and now communicates through the iPhone-cum-wrist watch on his arm. How cool is that?!

Moving on to the music. The hallmark of a great movie is a great soundtrack that really embodies the theme of the movie and breathes life into the visuals. This is exactly what makes Karzz a masterpiece. Apart from the unforgettable, incommensurable performance as the protagonist, Himesh shows off his talent in music with the swagger of a virtuoso. Himesh bestows his unique sound and powerful songwriting to provide an utterly enriching experience. The lyrics are poignant, vivid, vibrant and paint an enchanting, resplendent imagery sorely reminiscent of Jim Morrison’s works. Sample this:

Tanha tanha hai din,

Tanha tandoori nights,

If loving you is wrong,

I don’t wanna be right..

Rabba rabba meri jaan jale, jale, jale, jale..

Tak tana na na tandoori nights,tandoori nights, tandoori nights,

Tak tana na na tandoori nights,tandoori nights, tandoori nights

Tere bin tere bine meri jaan jale, jale, jale, jale

Tak tana na na tandoori nights,tandoori nights, tandoori nights,

Tak tana na na tandoori nights,tandoori nights, tandoori nights..

They say music died the day Jim was found dead. I say music was reincarnated the day Himesh was born. Reincarnated, get it? Hee hee. No? Ok.

Tandoori Nights, however, serves as a mere appetizer; the main course is yet to come. Himesh takes the stage for the song “Hari Om”, in what can easily be described as one of the most brilliant moments in cinematic history. The crowning glory. Le tour de force. Le piece de resistance. Le wreck de train. Le coup de grace. The song begins with a haunting riff, and progresses into something so incredibly magical that it takes your soul into another world…and leaves it there. Connoisseurs will no doubt notice the definitive, clinical ease with which Himesh wields the guitar and makes it wail in a manner that has gone missing since the Jimi Hendrix days.

Watching Himesh flailing his arms and crooning “Harry ooom Harry ooom Harry ooo[…]oom” fills one’s heart with abundant joy. It is so poetic that it could have given Shakespeare and Lord Byron multiple orgasms in their respective graves. At least it did in my case.

All in all, it’s a compelling story supported by superlative performances from a star-studded cast, and an impeccable soundtrack. Himesh’s power-packed display of acting, dancing and singing sets a new benchmark for the film industry. You can’t even think about dreaming about thinking about missing this one even in your dreams.

Rating : ********** (Those are actually 10 stars, and NOT some 10 letter word which might be an expletive)

PS: To be honest, it wasn’t as bad as expected. At least he’s better than that 50 year old orang-utan from Om Shanti Om.

PPS: Oops, totally forgot to mention the other actress(!!) from the movie. Funny, I don’t recall anything about her.