How To Kill The Nerve Endings In Your Bum

It’s very simple, actually. Does not involve any major surgery, does not involve a great deal of torture. All it takes is a 6-year-old motorbike that has seen better days, a 220-mile stretch of a badly maintained road, total disregard for the well-being of your ass and the ability to risk peeing blood for a week. That’s all it takes to kill the nerve endings in your bum.

It was one of those Sundays that you wished was a Saturday. Wait, why does this statement sound familiar? Anyway, my friends and I decided to take our bikes out on a (very) long road trip this past Sunday, and it turned out to be a pretty amazing day. Except for the fact that I walked funny for two days after and couldn’t sit on anything for too long without my bum muscles cramping up. We were six of us, on three totally mismatched bikes – a Bullet cruiser bike, a Yamaha sports bike and a Bajaj Boxer. Yeah, the Bajaj Boxer was mine. (Non-Indian readers, FYI – a Boxer isn’t a type of underwear here. It’s the unfortunate brand name of a motorbike.)

We set out from Bangalore early, around 6:30 in the morning, and drove up on State Highway 7 towards Mysore. After frequent stops each half hour to regain blood-flow to our asses, we stopped for breakfast at Kamat Lokaruchi, next to a place calledย  Janapada Loka. They had a south Indian breakfast buffet and I did not miss the chance to stuff myself with all the vada I could eat. After deciding on the route to Talkad, we headed out and cruised along for the next hour-and-a-half. The roads were so good that even my rickety old Boxer touched 80 mph. That’s around 65 kmph, and that’s her limit. She tends to get a bit ‘cranky’ if I push her harder.

Talkad - Shores of the Cauvery River

Talkad was a pretty neat experience – sat on the lake shore, ate an enormous amount of cucumbers and washed them down with some ice cream. A local guide offered his services and we took him up on his offer, and for the next hour, we were treated to the entire history of the place, and a running commentary of all the six temples as we walked past each one. This is heritage site, according to a recent government declaration and it was quite interesting to see 2000-year old temples being resurrected.

Talkad - A temple in the process of being excavated

We had our lunch at a local ‘mess’ in Talkad – it was the best lunch EVER because we had an unlimited amount of rice, sambar, rasam and papad. The taste was not too bad either.

Once we were done with Talkad, we got on to our bikes and headed south towards a place called Shivana Samudram. The roads were atrocious and my bike finally decided to call it quits. Twenty minutes of engine cooling time and an oil change later, we were back on the road.

There are two waterfalls in this place – one was a mile-and-a half walk from where we parked and the other was accessible by road. We were so tired that we decided to ride up to the second one, and were thoroughly disappointed by the thin stream of water that we could spot with difficulty at a great distance. We decided it was the best time to head back to Bangalore.

Free Beer to anyone who can spot the water fall

Four hours and a very sore ass later, we finally entered home stretch on the Bangalore highway. I dropped off my friend at her hostel around midnight and headed back home to a warm and comforting bed. I could not sleep on my back for two nights after.

All in all, it was a fantastic journey. Everyone had a great time and one of the highlights of the day was when my battered Boxer overtook the Bullet cruiser bike on the highway at full speed. I was at full speed. The Bullet was standing still on the side of the road.

Why I Deserve The Nobel Prize

With a little less than three hours to go for the Nobel Prize 2010 Announcement Ceremony in Sweden, I have decided to enter the race in all the available categories. This post is meant to be read by the arbiters of the Swedish Royal Academy and I do hope that they don’t make the mistake of overlooking me and my remarkable achievements in this regard. I deserve the Nobel Prize for the following compelling reasons. I am an honest man and none of what I write below is falsified.

Nobel Prize in Physics:

I was the first man in the world to explore the physical properties and inconsistencies of photographic film, paving the way for stronger and more secure forms of image storage. This happened when I was ten years old and I took a brick and promptly broke open a 32-exposure Kodak film, the one that rolls into itself. You know what I’m talking about. I took the spoils over to the National Security Agency in the US of A and explained why they needed to invent digital cameras. They took my advice and the history (future?) of photography changed forever. I hereby nominate myself for the 2010 Nobel Prize in Physics for the discovery, invention and exploitation of digital cameras.

Nobel Prize in Medicine:

I was the first, and perhaps the only man in history to record a ten-second footage of what happens to the facial muscles when excessively stimulated by rock music. The video is available here. This discovery paved the way for the recent improvements in plastic surgery and permanent disfigurement clauses in the constitutions of the almost every country in the world. The very fact that you can walk up to a plastic surgeon and tell him/her that you want to look as handsome and stimulated as I do is a testament to my great discovery. I hereby nominate myself for the 2010 Nobel Prize in Medicine for great advances in plastic surgery.

Nobel Prize in Chemistry:

I was the first man in the world to ascertain the true nature of the drug whose comemrcial name is Aspirin. Acetly Salycylic Acid (ASA), as it’s chemically known, was a CIA invention aimed at monitoring the world’s population. Each and every molecule of ASA contains roughly 13 carbon atoms. What the CIA did was replace one of these Carbon atoms with a molecular camera. Anyone who swallowed a pill of Aspirin literally swallowed a tiny camera and gave the CIA complete access to their body’s interior. I discovered this great conspiracy when I accidentally hacked into the CIA’s database when I was five years old by solving a puzzle in a kids’ magazine. (This true life story of mine was then adapted into a movie called Mercury Rising and I made a lot of money out of it.) I brought the whole ASA conspiracy to the attention of the Interpol and they decided to stop the manufacture of Aspirin completely, thus safegaurding the privacy of the world’s population. I hereby, humbly, nominate myself for the 2010 Nobel Prize in Chemistry for revolutionizing the pharmaceutical industry with my own non-traditional ‘drug discovery’.

Nobel Prize in Literature:

MirrorCracked. I won’t say any more. I’m sure you agree.

Nobel Peace Prize:

Well, though I don’t exactly qualify for this award, I would like to bring to the attention of the Royal Swedish Academy that if I’m not given this year’s Nobel Peace Prize, I will sell the other four Nobel Prizes and buy cigarettes and distribute it to freshly-graduated smokers. Read as: 18 year olds. In order to avoid this, I think you should just call it a clean sweep and give me this prize anyway.

I will be available for comments and interviews.

Update: October 8, 2010, 00:01 AM: This article made the wordpress homepage.

The Yamaha Enema

Reshaped Hip BoneTake my advice – if you have to travel for more than 3 miles inside the city of Bangalore, do not – I repeat – do not ride pillion on a Yamaha bike. Its been three hours since I’ve gotten off the bike after a 15-mile ride and I’m still walking slowly with my legs wide apart, wincing at every step and groaning at every fart.

I woke up at my friend’s place after an awkward evening with some close friends and my ex girlfriend. See what I mean by awkward? We ignored each other thoroughly (it was surprisingly easy to do) and spent the evening at opposite corners of the room, making conversations with common friends and our scotch glasses alternatively. I am usually very comfortable in social situations, but in this case, I was surprised we didn’t kill each other with blunt objects. It was a bad break-up and yes, you guessed right. It was one of the many reasons why I haven’t blogged in a while. Some people are hard to get over in life, and with the kind of history we’d shared, trying to forget this woman was particularly hard. But I’m glad it’s over and I’m glad the hate has trickled out of me to be replaced with the warmth of indifference. ๐Ÿ™‚

Anyway, I digress. I woke up in the morning in my friend’s place and took an auto home, showered, shaved, put on some underwear and went out again. This time to the bank. After which, for some unknown sin of mine, my ass was subjected to torture the likes of which Guantanamo Bay has never seen before.

I was riding pillion on a friend’s bike – I was sitting on a bike after a good two-month break and it felt strange, alien. We had an hour’s journey ahead of us and I managed quite well, with minimal squirming. Each speed-breaker was a gift from heaven as I could jump up with the bike and shift my buttocks a bit to ease the gnawing pain. Once we reached our destination, we got some work done and headed back. One more hour’s ride in Bangalore traffic. My ass died a painful death. I’m lying on my stomach while typing this.

I got off the bike on reaching home, held my legs apart and felt the blood rushing into my ass-cheeks and the soft tissue just above the knee (I don’t know what this part of the body is called). My hipbone had undergone a major structural realignment and it is now shaped like a bike seat. Refer to the image for a better understanding.

So, I’m here at home, on my tummy, waiting for the world’s greatest woman to come online and dreaming of perfectly-shaped hipbones. Sigh.

Image Courtesy: Secret Government Labs. I can tell you but then I’ll have to kill you.

Frogs And I :)

sexy_nurseWho hasn’t heard the ridiculous fairy tale of the frog prince, where a beautiful princess kisses a frog (on the lips!!) and the frog miraculously turns into a handsome prince and they get married and live happily ever after. Well, I’d be lying if I said that I had a fascination towards frogs. I don’t. They freak me out, much as penguins give me nightmares.

But of late, I can’t help but feel a little sympathy towards the slimy, hopping amphibians, because their croak kind of resembles my voice for the past three days. Being held up with some work and trying to get out of sticky situations in the course of researching the second topic for the MirrorCracked Labs, I somehow picked up a dormant virus that’s been playing havoc with my nose and throat since Sunday.

It began with a nosebleed on Sunday morning, when the Bangalore weather changed from a pleasant winter to a harsh summer, and my body got confused. It was caught between shivering like a twig in a zephyr or burning up like an omlette on a hot stove, and it chose the most logical way out of the dilemma – it bled from the nose for a day, during which time, the cold was waiting patiently.

Once the nose bleed stopped, the cold kicked in. My throat started feeling heavy, the nose ran in rivulets (not with blood, but with snot) and the fever took all but an hour to set in. I felt weak and my mind felt drained. Within three hours, I started croaking like a frog. I actually sound more like a cross between a frog and a steam engine’s whistle. ๐Ÿ˜€

God is sick ill, folks. I need my sexy nurse to take care of me!

Oh My God!


I am terrified! I am in mortal fear of my sanity! I don’t know what to do! I am freaking out! I need professional help! I am losing my mind! Aaaaargh!

Okay, sorry for that. I am being a little melodramatic, but my life’s become so full of shit right now that I am not able to squeeze in the time to blog! I am such an idiot when it comes to time management! Anyway, I have made up my mind now – I am going to blog every day, come what may! I don’t care if I miss appointments; I don’t care if I piss clients off; I don’t care if I get a low performance rating; I don’t care if I miss my flight/train/bus – it’s one post a day or I’m a retarded monkey. And I know I’m not a retarded monkey.

Also, I have this sneaking feeling that I have Alzheimers’. My mom’s dad had it and there’s a good chance I do too. Every time my finger or my eye twitches, my heart skips a beat. So, in all probablility, I am going to lose my mental acuity and my control over my muscular movements. I will wither away and mumble to myself and breathe my last. So, it’s better I blog everyday because I don’t wanna wither away with regrets.

Fuck excuses. I give you all permission to shoot me on sight if I don’t visit your blog regularly and comment. Go ahead. Bullets are cheap. Someone tried to stone me to death with popcorn the other day, so I am guessing bullets are more effective.

Okay, I’ll stop talking nonsense. ๐Ÿ˜€

Hairy Potter And The Chamber Of Cigarettes

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and all names, incidents or places are fictitious. Any resemblance to any persons or characters living, dead or fictional is purely coincidental and no harm is intended to anyone through this story.

Statutory Warning: Cigarette Smoking is injurious to health and will cause smokers to think, look and act like me.

The story so far: Hairy Potter realizes he has been blessed with amazing bladder control! He has an Over-Ambitious Gall Stone in his kidney, that wants to break free! It finally manages to escape! Angry at the surgeon for losing his precious Gall Stone, Hairy Potter goes to the police and asks them to arrest the surgeon. The inspector is secretly working for someone named Lord Wall De Fart, and they both realize that they’ve been searching for the Gall Stone Who Lived, and now they are nearing their quest.

Will Hairy find justice?

Will the Gall Stone see the world?

Who is Wall De Fart and why does he want a Gall Stone?

Read on to find out…

Hairy was dejected. He was extremely depressed because of the way the inspector had treated him. He was sitting at the bar, drowning his sorrows in alcohol, oblivious to the strange stares he got from the other drunkards. Three cases of beer later, he realized that he had to relieve himself. He was startled because it was the first time in almost two weeks that he had had to pee. It was a momentous occasion.

He stumbled his way to the restrooms and in his drunken stupor, entered the ladies’ restroom. He entered a cubicle and parted his hair and started pee’ing. “Oh wow! That feels so good!” he screamed.


Image Courtesy: Photobucket

Meanwhile, in the nearby town of Dips-Hit, a cloud of fart mysteriously floated in the corridors of an ancient house and made it’s way to a well-lit room. A strange thing was sitting on the only chair in the room – it was a creature with no body and yet, it had dark brown evil eyes. A bigger cloud of fart was enveloping the creature, and the cloud that had just entered, stood in front of it’s master and said, “I have come, master.”

“What newsssssss?” hissed the fart-cloud-covered creature.

“The Gall Stone is in Sydney…” said the smaller fart cloud.

“Sssssydney?? How did it get there??” screamed the creature.

“I.. I don’t know. I just saw the airline manifests this morning,” said the small fart cloud, covering in fear.

“Hmmm…” said the creature thoughtfully. “Under what name is it traveling?”

“O.A. Gall, your fartness,” said the smaller fart, now a little relaxed as its master’s anger seemed to have ebbed.

“I ssseee. And what about Hairy Potter?” the creature hissed.

“My sources tell me that Hairy Potter is dangerously close to discovering the Chamber of Cigarettes,” said the smaller fart cloud slowly, fearing it’s life now. Its master’s anger was very dangerous.

“Whaaaat!?” screamed the creature as it sprang up the chair. “What nonsense is this?” it said, as a thin, white hand emerged from the cloud, holding a gun. “I’ll shoot you right here if you don’t tell me how this happened. How did Hairy Potter manage to get so close?”

The smaller fart cloud was shivering and crying by now, and in between sniffs, it said, “Please. please don’t kill me, master. One of my sources told me, I swear. It’s true. I don’t know how this happened. Please don’t kill me.”

“Get out,” said the creature quietly. “I have to think.”


Half an hour had passed and Hairy was still going strong. He was creating patterns on the wall with his never-ending stream of urine, when finally, the flow reduced intensity and trickled down to a stop.

“Oh wow! Wow! Oh yeah!” he cried in satisfaction. As he reached for the flush handle, his feet hit something strange on the ground. Bending down, he saw a small metal ring with something carved on it. Curious, he picked it up and turned it around. It was a cheap metal ring, which anyone could pick up off the flea markets, but the inscription on the ring was quite stunning – it showed a toilet cubicle much like the one in which he was standing, and the flush handle in the carving had been pushed up, instead of down.

Hairy looked at the ring and then at the flush handle in his own cubicle. “Why not?” he said and pushed the flush handle up, instead of down. He could hear a strange rumbling noise somewhere beneath him and in a few seconds, something strange rose up from inside the commode, from the depths of the ground.

It was a small iron box, about two feet wide and two feet high, standing on a metal pole, with the words, “The Chamber of Cigarettes,” written on them in a nice flowing font. On the side facing Hairy, there was a hole in the center, and by instinct, he put the ring in the hole. It clicked and the box swung open. He looked in and his eyes widened in surprise by what he saw inside.

There were two cigarettes, identical to each other, guarded by a small lizard-like creature. It was a common house lizard and Hairy picked it up by the tail and threw it down the drain. He then picked up the two cigarettes and pocketed one of them and lit the other. It was the best cigarette ever.


At this precise moment, the fart-cloud-covered creature let out a horrible scream – a scream of agony, pain and defeat.

“Hairy Potter! I will get you for this! Do not cross Lord Wall De Fart! Hisss!”


Totally oblivious to all these happenings, the Over-Ambitious Gall Stone was sitting in a bar in Sydney, munching on peanuts, totally enjoying it’s vacation. Two tables away, watching O.A Gall, sat a small cloud of fart…

[to be continued…]
[Rambodoc and Shefaly win the Secret Hell Smell Award for being the only ones to point out that Gall Stones are not present in kidneys. There is a specific reason why this particular Gall Stone was in the kidney and that will be revealed in later chapters. The Secret Hell Smell Award comprises of a free lunch/dinner in a restaurant of your choice. Congrats!]