Date a girl who is funny. Date a girl who goes around poking fun at people and their absurdities. Date a girl who can spice up a story in more ways than what your local curry house can spice up their novelty dish. Date a girl who has pissed someone off because she made an inappropriate joke on them.

Find a girl who cracks jokes. You will identify her by the reserved interest in her eyes and an unimpressed face. She is the one who will suddenly break into a smile because she has thought of a joke and cant really share it with the people around her ,for they might not understand the reference.

See a girl frantically searching for Pearls before Swine in the newspaper, ignoring the fashion section? That’s the girl for you. Fashion will end one day, and the skin will droop, but the sarcasm will stay fresher than any romantic flower even at the age of ninety. See the chick with a weird look while watching Oprah with her friends? Know her; she’s the one dying to crack a dirty joke but cant, because the rest of her sentimental friends love Oprah. Try chatting her up. She will crack one on you as well, be prepared to pit your wits against hers, and then come up trumps. You will have then gained her respect as someone with an arousingly big-joke.

Let her know what you really think of Russell Peters. Give her Ray William, Ricky Gervais. Ask her about George Carlin-if she likes him, keep her close. If not, dump her.

Wonder if she has managed to entertain a party with her witticisms multiple times. If yes, make babies with her multiple times.
Fail her. Let her know that, like every good comedian, you have an un-funny period as well. She will understand. For people might have often looked at her with condescending eyes over the quality of her humour. She will know that springing back in life consists of making a really good joke on someone who had called your earlier joke unfunny as fuck.

Propose to her properly though, you don’t want to carry the joke too far. Perhaps a small smile-inducer after she has said ‘yes’, but only if its funny. Otherwise you will always hear snide remarks through out your life.

Date a girl who is funny, because you deserve laughter all through your life. Books, paintings and stuff will only go as far as the mind goes-if the mind is sharp, everything becomes a lot fun-ner and fun-nier. If you want that stupid smile to be struck to your face through out your banal existence, date a girl who is funny.

And no, since I’ve praised a funny girl so much here, I’m not saying anything would be better than a funny girl. That’d be like the worst punch-line ever.

With the Naxals gaining so much screen time on all news channels (India TV-awesome, just awesome!) these days, discussions have been ripe with the talk of how communism as an ideology has impacted our lives. Before going any further, I’d like to confess that I know just as much about communism as Stephen Hawking knows about giving a good lap dance. The only contact I’ve had with communism is the 9th std lesson on Karl Marx(for people who will remark that Marxism is totally different from communism ,I know, it’s ideal v/s practical-but the apparent difference is same as the difference between Sunny Deol in Gadar,and Sunny Deol in any other film-apart from the turban, everything else is same),and Motorcycle diaries, and yes ,the idle chatter I’ve eavesdropped upon from various people at various times of life that socialism is an utter failure.

However, this crib of mine is not against socialism, but faux socialist dudes. Some people claim the number of such youngsters out on street today is directly proportional to the sale of Motorcycle diaries. Okay, so the book is good, but not a landmark or something that’ll make you revolt against your rich capitalist dad and fight for a utopian society. People refuse to accept that Che was popular because of the weed. Grow your hair a bit, spread rumors about using weed daily, and you have got almost the entire generation of youngsters hooked( which makes me wonder if Rolling Stones, Nirvana, Bob Marley could have achieved cult status had they lived in a war-torn thirty-third world country)

So maybe the guy was great, maybe his book even, but my dear friend, reading that most-probably ghost written book makes you a communist just as much as watching American Pie(1-2-3 awesome, rest bakwaas) makes you a freshly baked oven delight. Sample this discussion-

Friend 1:”Hey man (in a strange Jamaican accent, but we’ll talk about accents sometime later), did you read about those jawans killed by the Naxals?”

Me:”That was one horrible massacre.”

Dickhead (the name I have assumed for faux communist dude, you’ll come to know why when you read what he had to say): That’s nothing, the government has been killing innocent Naxals (now that, I believe, is a parody) for so long, it’s almost justified.”

Me:”Dickhead. Nothing, nothing can justify that.”

Dickhead:”You don’t know the hardships they have had to face”

Me:” Okay, what do you know Mr. Industrialist’s son? Did you read about them on the internet while resting your comfy ass on a 15 inch water bed at 15 degree Celsius in your mood-lightened room? Or did your friend tell you something while smoking that 500-a piece hookah and 1000-a-bag weed?”

Dickhead (visibly confused): I……ummm…….I read in Motorcyc…….”

Me-not there in the scene anymore.

Its somehow cool to follow a radical group of people blinded by a failure-prone ideology sitting in a forest and killing innocent people. What next? Verappanism?

What drives such pseudo-intellectuals? The desire to be different from the crowd? The desire to impress other such socialist chicks(which invariably are dressed in long flowing skirts sporting a load full of junk jewelry and more kajal in their eyes than what a chicken poops in a day)?
The most satisfactory answer I’ve received so far-“I used to get off on this picture on Arundhati Roy when I was in my teens, and now I’m into it just because she’s in it as well.”(ahh…the fickleness of the mind!)

So I am an engineering student suffering from the idiosyncrasies of a quirky ,almost to the point of being non-sensical, institution (and by that I mean my college is crap. Really, really crap).Like all students, I too am faced with regular assaults on my well-being and sanity-the omni-potent (or the impotent, whatever you may) exams. Now a regular, inseparable and almost comical feature of the exams is the supervisor.

In my misfortunate journey as a student so far, I’ve come across a huge number of supervisors of various kinds-the sharp ones, stupid ones, downright lazy ones, the I-am-waiting-for-you-to-talk-so-I-can-screw-your-case ones, the I-am-interested-only-in-the-free-chai ones, the I-will-keep-staring-at-the-pretty-girl ones-different attitudes towards approaching a downright worthless job(really, how fruitful are those 3 hours for these guys, apart from the time-killers mentioned above, they really haven’t got anything to do)

However the only thing that unites these people is the bloated feeling of extreme power they get while supervising a class. Supervisors generally are junior teachers/lab assistants/senior clerks (which basically means they are frustrated little mongs) who don’t have much of importance in the college administration. Add to that a bit of awkwardness in speaking English, a low salary, a horrible dressing sense (we’ve got a junior teacher in the college who wears horribly low waists jeans. I am always under the mortal fear that somewhere, sometime, ’kaanta lagaa’ might play in his audible range and he might be possessed by Shefali Zariwaala’s finished career’s spirit and start showing off a strap or two. So much so, for having an active imagination!) and what you have is a picture perfect loser-a young 30 something man, with all the sense of self-respect lost trying to pucker up to senior professors’ backsides. So logically what does this man do to regain self-respect?

Yeah. Takes it out on the students while the exam is in progress. A round of supervision almost seems the perfect way of nursing a hurt ego and balming tired lips. Shout at a kid or two. Rattle off that fake mix of Australian/Mexican/Haitian accent that he has acquired recently to impress the Barney(the dinosaur, not Stinson, not Stinson at all, you sitcom-fed geek)lookalike from the comps department. To really make an effect, smack a kid moderately in the back of the head. Mission accomplished. Students will now fear him like they feared Shaktimaan’s villains when they were in 2^nd std. For the next three hours, supervisor is the king!(I can almost see them doing a rendition of SRK’s “I am the king” in the class, although most of them have got the charisma of Mimoh Chakraborty’s face while trying hard to take a dump ) .A look from them is enough for a student trying to copy from a chit to pee in his pants.

Once the exam finishes, though, it’s back to square one. Students might just pee laughing at them.And they return back to dingy staff rooms, with the same fragile ego,just polished and disted from the outside.

ever get the feeling that the whole world is one bloody sea of uniformity...and i propose this not only on my supposedly dreary and pessismistic point of view,ive got a solid backing here......remember the ad of IPL,where you have a hundred people doing the same thing in so god-damned choreographed perfection that it makes sick to your stomach?arent our lives pretty much the same?
my life,as that of most of my friends,has been pre-written according to a script......and that bloody script has been copied and pasted into each and every individual's destiny(if u may call it that)....it sorta goes like this.....birth-admission in a school-a few crushes here and there-admission in a college-again a few affairs here and there-admission in an engineering college(the only aberration that can take place here is you may get into any other college,say commerce or arts, dont get excited though,coz still the deviation from the mean is pretty much insignificant)-job-marriage(now here can come the really spicy stuff,say you get caught humping a sheep,or even more fancier,you discover your homosexual tendencies!...but sadly.....none of this happens...i mean,yeah,people have humped sheep before,but who in hell would be stupid enough to get caught red-handed just before his engagement?)-kids(now,there can be some real spice here too,say your kids turn out to be exact replicas of you...how horrible would that be!...or once agian,they might turn out to be bisexual....how awesome!...but sadly there are about 5% of people in the world with true homosexual tendencies,others just do it for fun,so the chances that your kid will turn up with a husband and you'll do the awesome "maa da laadla bighad gaya" dance routine are pretty much far-fetched....so,no spice here too,just the bland vanilla flavour once again)-retirement(this is like the most frustating stage of life for anyone...think of it....you have everything you need...time,money,no one to question where and how you spend it....but alas!.....you have already lost the ability to get it up...i,personally know people who'll lose their will to live once they loose the highly-esteemed...errm....man-force(for the lack of civilised substitutes)....the more daring ones might actually use the magic blue pills...but then again,if you consider the side-effects,chances of you dying due to a heart attack are more than that of you dying due to extreme sexual exhaustion,so most of them will pretty much avoid it)-death(here you may have alternatives you kno,like dying due to a horrible accident,or being smothered to death by your kids for the meagre property you have left them(how awesome!),or passing away peacefully in your sleep,but none of that,i believe,is going to make a difference to your vanilla flavoured life...the life that you have lived just like the counless millions have,and the life that countless millions will live in the future....all in all,everyone has their lives ready-made in assembly-lines....but what people forget is- all the good things in life,are custom-made.