Fitting a misfit with social-shoes is Impossible – says wifey!

“Why do you have to do it?” she asked, pushing a cup of cardamom tea in front of me, displacing my magic trackpad, so that the Facebook icon that I was adding to the following Facebook header got scaled up a thousand times, and covered the whole image.

Facebook header image for the QSM magazine - Wedding Special issue

Wifey Speaks her Mind!

It irked me, but displaying my irk would’ve made the cardamom tea disappear; so instead I smiled at her and asked her the obvious question.
“All this Facebook-shacebook,” she said, pointing to the blue blot on my computer screen.
“I am trying to promote the QSM magazine,” I replied, “what’s wrong with it?”
“You aren’t made for it,” she said with an air of finality, as she turned, then marched out of the room.
For a moment, I sat there stuck to my seat, flabbergasted.
What made her say that?
Suddenly, the need to find an answer to that question superseded my need to get that damn Facebook sticker right. So I followed her out of the room and into the kitchen.

I Look for Answers!

“Why did you say that?” I queried.
“What did I say?” she parried.

“That I am not made for Facebook,” I asked, the dam of my patience on the verge of breaking. She knew what I was talking about, but she wanted me to spell it out. Was I seeing some streaks of sadism shine through her otherwise amicable temperament?
 But I needed the answer. So I prodded her again.
“You aren’t made for it because you are an introvert, and to make matters worse you don’t want the world to know who you are,” she said, tossing the rolled chapati upon the pan.
“You know that I have six dozen family members, who’d be baying for my blood if they read my blog or the QSM magazine, and still you question my need to stay anonymous,” I      asked, angst filling my heart. Of all people, she should understand it.
“And also because you visit your Facebook page once a week and Twitter once a fortnight,” she said, rolling a new chapati. I have no idea how she manages to roll it into such a perfect circle, but then I am clueless about most of the things she does, including why she harasses me with her harsh judgments of my character.
“So according to you, I shouldn’t have a Facebook page or even a Twitter account?” I enquired, tentatively.
“And,” she paused and stopped rolling the chapati, then turned and looked into my eyes, “you should stop publishing that silly magazine!”

And the Answer Tumbles out!

“What? Why?” I asked, trying to figure out what set her off against the magazine.

“Because Sajjan Chacha has called four times since morning. He wants you to swear that it wasn’t you who had written Live Decor ka Vaada (The Promise of Live Decor) article in the QSM magazine, and he also wants you to participate in a QSM burning event this afternoon, after which you’ll swear the solemn oath that you’d never publish that nefarious magazine again.”

The QSM Magazine - Sajjan cha cha - Indian man cartoon in turban and dhoti.


My Last Lucid Memory:

That was my last lucid memory.
When I woke up, I remembered only bits and pieces of what had transpired.
Wifey tells me that when she told me of Sajjan Chacha’s ultimatum, my mouth fell open, a couple of copulating mosquitoes flew in and set me coughing; in that fit, I stumbled, hit my head on the corner of the kitchen table and lost consciousness.
I shall be attending the swearing-my-innocence ceremony this afternoon.
I don’t intend to keep the words I speak at the QSM burning ceremony, because if I stopped publishing the QSM magazine, Anandhotep will bury me in his tomb beside him – but I must rely on my dear readers for promoting the QSM magazine – I cannot, repeat, cannot let any of my myriad uncles, aunts, and cousins learn about it. I also intend to use the Obliviate spell to obliterate Sajjan Chacha’s memories of the QSM magazine.

But Who is the Mole?

Hey, wait a minute!
Who told Sajjan Chacha?

What’s your theory?

Posted in Caricatures in Indian Dresses, Personal, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

Help Me.

Thank you.

For answering my cry for help. There are a hundred things going wrong in my life right now, and I am hanging from a precipice, waiting for someone… anyone, say Mr. Goyal, or Trooplijaah, or even Mom to pull me up and save me…or not.

But Mr. Goyal, as I noticed this morning, is busy with matters that are more important than helping a neighbor in need. Mrs. Goyal has still not learned to prepare tea per the taste of Mr. Goyal, and according to what half the block heard, Mrs. Goyal has been practicing the craft of tea-making and trying to poison Mr. Goyal for the last 35 years!

I cannot expect help from a man who’s being poisoned by his own wife now, can I?

Trooplijaah has developed a hatred for us earthlings, and we all have a certain Peeeyoookkkhaaa to thank for it. As I hang from this cliff, clinging to dear life; he watches me from the shadows, smirking and grinning. “When I needed your help, you sided with Peeeyoookkkhaaa, and now you want me to pull you up? When I wanted to meet her, you shut me in that carton with a copy of Bhagwad Gita! Isn’t it written in Bhagwad Gita – the soul is immortal – water cannot soak it, wind cannot dry it, fire cannot burn it – the soul doesn’t die, only the body does. Recall from your book of infinite wisdom that this body is just a fashionable piece of clothing for your soul; when the fashion changes, your soul too removes the old out-of-fashion dress and dons the new one!”

Tell me, how can I expect a uni-eyed man I wronged just a few months ago, to help me?

Mom comes right to the edge of the precipice, asks the maid to pull her a chair of gold, and perches herself upon it. Then she looks down at me and my bloodied fingers that about to slip on the stone slick and slippery with my blood, then waits for me to cry for help. “Mom, help. Pull me up,” I swallow my pride and cry for help. Her eyes drill deep into mine, then she snickers. “Lodh padi to aagaya maangne, (when a need has arisen, he comes requesting help,)” she says, chewing then spitting each word at me.

Her words, more than the sharp nudge of her stick on my fingers, throw me off – not just off the cliff, but off the desire to fight and to live. My fingers slip and I find my self falling into the gorge below – I feel the air scrape against my skin; I hear its roar through my reverberating eardrums; I see the ground rush up to meet me – and I close my eyes. Knowing that my life as I knew it was over – Knowing that even if I survived the fall, I’ll be maimed for life, in those few seconds, I pray that I die.

When I survive with my limbs gnarled and twisted from the fall, Mom looks at me, repelled by the sight of me, then tells anyone who’d listen, “I could’ve saved him, but he didn’t ask for help. I even had a rope with me, and I’d have held it for him, had he asked me properly. It’s his fault that he’s in this shape, you see.”


I shall be operational soon. I think my heart is beginning to beat again – the beat is slow and out of rhythm, but wifey believes that with her love and support, I shall soon be back in action again. Anandhotep to has sent me a get-well-soon card. (Who could’ve guessed that the man still has a heart under those rotting, stinking bandages?)

Posted in Personal, Satire | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 25 Comments

A Bollywood Movie for Civil Services Aspirants – Your GK will never be the same again!

  • I confess.
  • I watched a movie on TV.
  • I learned that a movie could be a learning experience too.

    Especially, a movie such as Players. This is a movie that every Civil Services Aspirant must watch, because it improves your General Knowledge by leaps and bounds – and you don’t have to work hard for it.

Well, actually, I might be exaggerating slightly. The movie has Abhishek Bachchan playing the lead, and keeping your eyes open when he is on the screen, can involve some work, but his presence is offset by the twin presences of the sizzling Bipasha Basu and the dazzling Sonam Kapoor. Then there’s a post-interval villain with three solid names – Neil, and Nitin, and Mukesh, who seems to have an incredible upper hand in everything!

But I’ll come to the point and tell you what I learned. This knowledge may hold you in good stead.

  • India has the best people anywhere in the world! India has the best hacker, the best illusionist, the best automotive expert, the best makeup artist, and the best explosives expert in the world.
  • Russians can’t defend their country. It is fairly easy to get into Russia, hire a train-engine, prop it up with turbo-accelerators, cranes, and whatnot, and run it alongside a train carrying Romanian gold – bullion worth $100 Billion, at exactly the same speed for about a third of the duration of a Bollywood movie, i.e. one whole hour, all you have to do it, is get Bipasha Basu to tinker with the engine and drive it.
  • The New Zealanders don’t have traffic police. Our Indian team with all that gold in tow (actually in the boots of three little cars) flit about their roads like bees gone crazy in a hive, but not a single cop is anywhere to be seen. Either the New Zealanders don’t have traffic police, or they don’t find enough gumption to come out when Indians go berserk on their roads. I wonder if they had seen this video before Abhishek and team wreaked havoc on their roads. (I salute the brave pedestrians.)
  • The Catherine Palace is not in St. Petersburg but in New Zealand, and you can buy it for $10Million. Or it was transported to Wellington in New Zealand, bought by three men called Neil Nitin Mukesh, destroyed by Abhishek Bacchan, restored in less than 48 hours, then perhaps transported back to St. Petersburg.
  • The Indian police attends coaching classes provided by some of its seasoned criminals and are tremendously respectful toward them. The way they talk to the law-abiding middle-class public could make you fear any chance encounter with them – but don’t worry, they are actually very nice when they talk to criminals.
  • Indians rule the world. Anywhere in the world, when we appear on the scene, others cease to exist. A handful of the original inhabitants (say Russians, Americans, or even the New Zealanders) that still are around, start stammering and they lapse into speaking English with a heavy Indian accent, regardless of their original accent/lack of accent.

You didn’t know all this before, did you? And this is but the tip of the knowledge iceberg. You’ll learn a lot more if you watched the movie – beware of the twists and turns though. This movie is so full of them that in the end, you are still left wondering if Bipasha Basu and those three men Neil Nitin Mukesh were still alive! (Sorry for the spoiler!)



Posted in Bollywood Humor and Parodies, humor, indian humour, Parody, Satire | Tagged , , , , , , , | 13 Comments

The QSM Magazine’s Indian Wedding Special issue is out…

…and your copy is already in your inbox. If you aren’t a subscriber yet, head over to here, and join the party!

This Indian Wedding special, unravels the complex tapestry of the big O.B.E.S.E Indian wedding to lay bare the quirky, snarky, malarkey that lies under.

Read about the 8 Rock ‘n’ Roll rituals of an Indian marriage, attend Chintu’s wedding and appreciate its Live Decor, meet Honey’s In-laws and watch Mom bristle, figure out the Indian matrimonials if you can; and when you are done with weddings, enjoy some Free ki Advice, and find out the psychology of emojis – but that isn’t all. This issue is the biggest yet with all of its 50 pages dripping malarkey like never before.

The QSM Magazine - fourth Issue - Indian Wedding Special - comedy, parody, humor, funny anecdotes - a magazine full of desi Indian humour

I’ll be back after I’ve dropped Anandhotep at the Airport. He’ll be flying back to the Valley of Kings this afternoon, leaving me free to do my own thing – and that would be blogging and visiting blogs – but before I am really truly free – I must do a few household chores or lose wifey’s goodwill.

About that desiccated old bundle of rags: Good riddance to bad rubbish, I’d have said, if I wasn’t worried that he might be reading my blog in his tomb.

Posted in Political Caricatures, Satire, The QSM Magazine | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 23 Comments

Friends, I’ve got this super-cool idea…what do you think of it?

Celebrate your Wedding Once again!


The Shaadi ka Laddoo feature is on!

Thank you for participating! I promise to ensure that Anandhotep is on his best behavior when he adds those thought-bubbles to your pictures.

Neerja – the Thinking Soul Talker
Sunita – the Expressive Word-Artist
Jackie – the Art and Craft Magician
Sharon – the RVing Explorer Writer

Anandhotep has just told this underling of his that four fabulous pictures are already in! There’s only one place left on the Shaadi ka Laddoo.

QSM Readers, send in your picture for that coveted place.

Icon of the QSM Magazine - Humor and Parodies from India.

As you all know, this issue is about Indian weddings. The QSM magazine will be rolling off the line in a week from now. While I was putting everything together, I was struck by this brainwave – and I thought I’d ask you if you’d like to participate.

How about a one/two page section, called “Shaadi ke Laddoo (the name may change – recommendations/suggestions are always welcome.) You could send me your favorite wedding picture to stick on the laddoo (well, that’s the visual treatment I am envisaging presently.) A line or two, quirky or not, from you would be a great value addition. If anyone in the family has just got married, you may want to toss the idea to them too.)

Think about it. It would be cool if we did it. Anandhotep doesn’t know about this brainwave yet, so I could drop the idea and nobody (except you,) would be any wiser!

If you’d like to celebrate your wedding once again, on the quirky pages of the QSM Magazine, send me an email. My email id is the same as my blog address, except that instead of, you must use

I’ll look forward to your thoughts and emails,

Anand (still in thralls of Anandhotep.)

Non-Indian friends: Shaadi ke Laddoo roughly translates to the “candy of marriage” and the term is used to underline the fact that the candy of marriage whether eaten or not, makes you regret your decision. Our focus in the feature will be the candy and its sweetness!

Posted in The QSM Magazine | Tagged , , , , , , | 38 Comments

The QSM Magazine Issue #3 – The Indian Wedding Special!

In the upcoming issue we lose ourselves in the  the biggest, the grandest, the sparkliest, the loudest wedding in the world! Here’s a short definition of this magnificent event.

Indian Wedding – A Definition
The Indian wedding is a fine-tuned but bug-riddled event in which two strangers become life partners; and which when successfully concluded, marks the biggest milestone in the lives of Indian parents. 

Coming Soon!

Subscribe now and win the opportunity to own your own (huh?) pdf copy of the QSM Magazine. 

I’ll let the cover do the talking.

The QSM Magazine - Issue 3 (fourth 4th issue) of India's best humor magazine - read parodies, satire, drama - Indian weddings special

They say don’t judge a book by its cover – but that’s how the story of an Indian wedding begins, by judging someone by his or her picture – and quite often it succeeds. The way it succeeded for Mom and Dad. According to Mom, “You can’t ride a potholed road together in a bullock cart and not fall in love with each other.” (Disagreeing with Mom doesn’t take you anywhere, so whenever she says this, Dad and I just look at each other and shake our heads.)

An Appeal to all my Dear Readers:

If you’d like to help a fellow blogger follow his dreams, do tell your associates about the magazine. Here’s a smaller image of the newest issue for you, which you can use to help me row the QSM boat.
Icon of the QSM Magazine - Humor and Parodies from India.

Even tweeting and sharing this post could help and I’ll appreciate from the bottom of my Indian heart.


Posted in The QSM Magazine | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 27 Comments

The QSM Express is chugging along…expected to arrive on time.

The QSM Express is running on time.
Though there was an initial delay, but it is expected to make time by picking up speed.
The QSM Express doesn’t go through Haryana and it isn’t among the trains that were cancelled. 

So breath easy.
I’m still chained to my desk. Juggling work, other work, the QSM Magazine, and home.
Anandhotep becomes more irritating and demanding with each passing minute. (Now I know what those construction workers who built the pyramids felt…or not. They were likely treated better than I am.)



Posted in The QSM Magazine | Tagged , , , , , , | 16 Comments

Total Paisa Vasool – Getting your money’s worth, the Indian way!

Anandhotep has used some of stinky old bandages to tie me to my desk so that I can work on the next issue of the QSM Magazine. I’ve been barred from posting on my blog, until I’ve painted the cover, sent emails to the new authors, and edited all of my own articles for the March issue.

But then I am a new age man who knows that there’s something called screenshots, and so I am posting an article from the Jan issue of the QSM Magazine for you. When you are done commiserating with Dad, me, and wifey, head over to to download/read the full issue.

While you are there, please don’t stop yourself from clicking the “share” and “like” buttons. Your support is essential for the success of the QSM Magazine.

Anandhotep is getting restless and I have this sinking feeling that he knows…so let me post this and scoot!

Total Paisa Vasool - from the QSM Magazine January 2016 issue - Indian humor and comedy

Total Paisa Vasool - from the QSM Magazine January 2016 issue - Indian humor and comedy

Total Paisa Vasool - from the QSM Magazine January 2016 issue - Indian humor and comedy


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

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

—— §§§ ——

Indian bloggers who write comedy and humor | QSM Magazine – humour and parody from India | Full of comedy, jokes, funny stories – QSM Magazine | Blogs filled with Indian humour and jokes by Indians | Desi chutkule and Indian Comics with humour | Magazines with humour from India | Humourous and funny twist of Indian culture | Indian humour parody bloggers – laughter and fun | QSM -The Indian magazine full of comedy, funny jokes | Satire and comedy on Indian culture and society | Indian humor magazines with desi tadka | Humour from everyday life in India | Bloggers from India writing funny jokes and comedy |
Posted in Parody, Personal, Satire, The QSM Magazine | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 26 Comments

Makeup-shakeup Beauty-sheauty – mentioning it is my duty!

Pristine beauty-sheauty hai bakwaas,
yeh sab to hai ji makeup ka kamaal!

Pristine beauty is nothing but hogwash;
Makeup created this whole look, by God!

Use the word pristine in a thirteen word story, she said, and I started scratching my head.

Right now, my head stands at the threshold of a new hairless existence, and wifey is becoming overly possessive of my hair. She has a long list of dos and don’ts, a hand-me-down from her mom. The fact that on a full-moon night, my father-in-law’s head can confuse a moon-gazer, is beside the point. “He still had full head of hair when he had turned 50,” wifey insists.

Snipping a long yarn short, wifey doesn’t want me to leap into the deserted lands of bald pates, nor does she want to let the world see my grays. So when I sat scratching my head, she decided to broach the subject again, “You are so handsome and if you colored your hair, you’d look not a day older than 28! And stop scratching your head. You’ll make the hair fall off!”
“They are rooted in my scalp,” I retorted, “they won’t fall off! And I don’t want to color my hair. I want to keep those grays. One of my blogging friends told me that they’d make me look distinguished!”
“Distinguished?” wifey snickered, flaring her nostrils and pursing her lips. “You trust them more than you trust me? I know more about make up and looking good than you do, don’t I?”

I saw the catch. Plain and clear. I also saw the answer to Rashmi’s riddle.

Pristine beauty-sheauty hai bakwaas,
yeh sab to hai ji makeup ka kamaal!

Pristine beauty is nothing but hogwash;
Makeup created this whole look, by God!

On hindsight, I shouldn’t have recited it aloud. But I did. Earlier, the Sunday breakfast plans included mooli ke paranthe with butter and tomato-chutney. That was before I wrote the thirteen-word story for Rashmi. Now we’ll be having bread and scrambled eggs.

Posted in indian humour, Parody, Satire | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 46 Comments

Three Types of Never Never First-time Comments!

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

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

Blogger's World!

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

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

Weird First Comment 1:

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

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

View original post 533 more words

Posted in Parody, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The Harassed Computers Association Strikes Back!

Our Computers are on Strike!

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

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

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

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

Meet our Demands or Else!

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

Current Status:

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

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

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

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    Indian bloggers who write comedy and humor | QSM Magazine – humour and parody from India | Full of comedy, jokes, funny stories – QSM Magazine | Blogs filled with Indian humour and jokes by Indians | Desi chutkule and Indian Comics with humour | Magazines with humour from India | Humourous and funny twist of Indian culture | Indian humour parody bloggers – laughter and fun | QSM -The Indian magazine full of comedy, funny jokes | Satire and comedy on Indian culture and society | Indian humor magazines with desi tadka | Humour from everyday life in India | Bloggers from India writing funny jokes and comedy |
Posted in Parody, Personal, Satire | Tagged , , , , , , , | 44 Comments

Quirky Anand and those…those…Snarky Grammarians!

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

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

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

Posted in humor, Personal, Satire | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

Matchmaker, Matchmaker…When I played the Interplanetary Matchmaker!

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

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

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

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

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

Wandering Soul Writer

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

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

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

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

View original post 833 more words

Posted in humor, indian humour, Parody, Satire | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

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

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

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

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

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

but just before I turned, I saw them! 

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

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

Mr. Goyal stopped.
I stopped.
Tornado stopped.

He threw me a dirty look, lifted his leg, and peed on the tire of a parked car.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

An Interview with ‘Anandhotep’

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


It is a brand new year. And I have brand new interviews lined up on Scribbles@Arpita. Presenting before you all today is the ever so quirky Anand of Anand’s Parodies & Caricatures. Anand is a blogger and caricaturist with a great sense of humor, so it is best to let him do the talking! Here we go!

1. Tell us about yourself.
And…the interview begins! Why do interviews always start with this question, is a question that demands an answer! Speaking of demands, I am reminded of myself – a thirty-some common urban Indian man of today, who is always in demand. Don’t get me wrong. The sort of demand I am referring to, is the demand for unpaid labor, unfelt emotions, and uncalled-for duties. I am a self-proclaimed representative of the Indian family man who runs chores for his mother, mediates the household quarrels between the two women who…

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New Year Resolutions of a Mad Indian Artist-Programmer!

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

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

My Resolutions for the Year 2016.

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

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

Wishing you all a very Happy New Year!


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

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

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

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

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

and a lot more.

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

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

Signing off…

Enjoy the magazine 😀


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

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

Haven’t booked your free copy yet?!

Sneak a peek. Here’s the cover.

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

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

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

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

More soon

– Anandhotep, the mummy that doesn’t sleep.


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Social Networks? My brain needs a clone…pronto!

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

Starting the right way… Whining!

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

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

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

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

1. The Lonely Facebook Page,

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

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

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

2. The Revengeful Twitter, and…

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

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

3.  The Blogging201 Course

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mom,” I interjected.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For once, I am glad that Anandhotep has returned.

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

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

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


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

so…Get your free Subscription to The QSM Magazine!

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

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





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