The World of Swami Rhyme Dev

Disclaimer: The following is an original work o fart by Rofl Indian. Resemblances to any person, man or woe-man, living or dud, naked or clothed, shaven or unshaven, or even choleric or flatulent, is purely coincidental, unintentional, suppositous, unsubstantial and decidedly imaginery, even by the farthest stretches of distorted imagination.

 

Swami Rhymedev: An Introduction.

Bolo Swami Rhyme Dev ki Jai! Meaning thereby, let’s chant the sacred name of His Holeyness.

 

Born as Ghananondo, Swamiji jerked free of all his earthly attachments to the fruits of carnal labour, allowing him to attain a state of supreme abstraction beyond all evil. At the moment of his distillation with Truth, he discovered he could expound in verse, foot around in verse, snoozle in verse, do his holy ablutions in verse, deliver his pathbreaking discourses in verse and generally have a bally time in verse. In other words, he’d become truly versatile. A true disciple of Swamiji, Rofl Indian has taken upon himself the sanctimonious task of spreading Swamiji’s message of spiritual love and tolerance.

 

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Excerpt from Swami Rhymedev’s Book Of Versace Verses; Page 144, upar se teesra verse (third verse from the top). Attention please.

 

Raa-ni, Mall-licka, Shilpa Shet-ty

All other bimbos, dumb n’ pret-ty

Bare your soul baby, show me your grace

Come hither, exult, in my embrace.

 

Interpretation: Here, ‘embrace’ is purported to mean a holy embracement of the soul, without causing any embarrassment for either the bimbos or the venerable Swami. In this verse, Swamiji wishes to say that his knowledge of bimbos is the root of all wisdom, the root of all that is sublime and ethereal in the universe. It is the purest form of transcendental knowledge, silky and translucent, and because it gives an insightful perception of the real self by realization, it is the way to ensure perfection of soul.

For a tougher explanation of things, the reader is urged to visit this remarkable page and try to interpret the magical prose there.

Swami Rhymedev has kindly consented to make Rofl Indian’s blog as his sacred abode. We all look forward to having the tidbits of spiritual nectar thrown up by the Baba every now and then.

Jai Baba Rhymedev.

 

 

 

 

 

Tyreship Enterprise: Stills from Tyretrek

It was during one of my trips to Rajasthan’s rural outback (travelling in one of the crowdiest of local trains) that I took these pictures with my sexy little Sony Ericsson mobile phone. It was a god forbidden nondescript little place, a halt rather, in the middle of nowhere, where the train took a little breather before resuming it’s tiring haul across the unforgiving desert landscape.  

 

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Pic. 1. – A 10 seater Mahindra jeep is the only available transport for ferrying (those who alighted) to nearby villages and dhanis (hamlets)

  

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Pic. 2. – Newton’s Laws of Motion (read this for an interesting interpretation) find practical application as people jostle with each other in equal numbers and in opposite directions at the doors of the coaches.

 

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Pic. 3. – More and more passengers finally touchdown and rush towards the waiting jeep. A couple of women do a spectacular pile vault and disappear inside in a pile. Only if  Elena Isinbaeva had seen that! 

 

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Pic. 4. – Elite common-dudes of the Gujjar Regiment secure the roof in a jiffy.

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Pic. 5. – The jeep now begins to look more and more like Tyreship Enterprise from the movie Tyretrek.

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Pic. 6. – Its a display of raw skill as another common-dude hoists himself onto the roof. We never knew Mahindra makes such crash proof roofs!

 

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Pic. 7. – Interim head count: eight on the roof, at least eighteen inside and another fourteen or so looking forward to getting accommodated. The ones on the roof each takes out a jar of Fevicol …

 

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Pic. 8. – The driver (who somehow manages to drive expertly by sitting entirely outside) starts the jeep. Suddenly there’s a mad rush. Somehow all forty people find footholds.

 

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Pic. 9. – They’re off. Forty of them. In one jeep. Sixteen in the back. Six in the front seat. Four on the bonnet. Eight on the roof. And six clinging on to the sides.

The train shudders and jerks forward. I settle back into my seat, take a deep breath and make a mental note of putting the pics on my blog.

 

 

Do You Have A Serious Drinking Problem?

If the following hold true for you, you have a serious drinking problem and you don’t know it.

 

1. The floor jumps up and hits you on the face with disturbing regularity.

2. The breath analyser finds only slight traces of breath in your breath.

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3. When your buddy says ‘Let’s chill out’, you jostle with the refrigerator and try to sit inside it.

4. You pour whiskey on your cornflakes and try eating them with a fork.

5. Mosquitoes fail the flight test after biting you, and crash into walls.

6. Your car seems to have moved while you were in the bar.

7.  The fishes in the aquarium pick up an arguement with you, and lose.

8. You discover you’re left with two left feet, and then you are unable to find them too.

9. You light a cigarette, pull at the burning end and wonder why your tongue tastes like a barbecued frog.

10. Job interferes with your drinking.

11. The 5 blood groups, according to you, are O, OM (Old Monk), A, B and, ummm….. XYZ(?). Maybe.

12. You focus better with one eye closed.

13. You type a lulid rulid lurid message on your mobile….and send it to your wife.

14. You open the laptop and find alphabet keys all over the screen.

15. The doc examines your butt for your piles and fissure problem and writes the diagnosis ‘KING FISSURE’.

 

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16. Friends armed with fire extinguishers have to stand at a safe distance as you blow out your birthday candles.

17. The trouser you’re wearing suddenly appears to have developed too many pockets.

18. You see your image in the mirror and mistake it to be a burgler.

19. Vijay Mallaya calls you and advises you to cut down on booze.

20. You forget what ‘Bottoms up’ means and endeavour to heave your backside northwardly whenever that is uttered.

 

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Vijay Mallaya: Trademark Beered!   

 

Bruce and his Beautiful Bruises

This was written quite some time back and posted elsewhere.  But Bruce Willis being my personal favourite, I dusted this review from the attic, got it refurbished according to exacting blogging standards and spruced it up with some pics sourced from the net.

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Jostling in an unruly queue for 30 minutes and then being told that only a few seats ‘lower down’ were available, was something I had not experienced even during my heady college days. So when this awkard situation confronted me, I took it as an opportunity to add to my rather minuscule cine-going experience and grabbed whatever was on offer than retreat empty handed. It was a seat pretty close to the screen, and amongst an assorted crowd of hardened rowdies. Never mind, I told myself. The opening scene was already rolling when I ambled into the hall, and after trampling on quite a few unhappy feet, finally managed to land myself first on somebody’s lap, and then on a precious empty seat next to him. However, the guy whose lap I consecrated chose to overlook my indiscretion (probably I had not hurt his anything) and stayed glued to the screen, much to my relief. Bruce Willis had made his appearance by now and was already mouthing expletives merrily, when I was briefly distracted by an SMS from a fellow blogger from down South (who enquired how hot it was in Jaipur; to which I replied that yes, it was indeed smouldering!). During the next 2 hours or so, I got terribly busy repeatedly picking my jaw from the floor which kept dropping at fairly regular intervals. And when I was not doing that, I was having a hard time controlling my wayward eyeballs which kept popping out every now and then. I had a loud chuckle when one of the rustic rowdies behind me asked his neighbour “Arre iss heero ka naam kya hai?”, and pat came the reply “Burush Willy”. (He’ll surely have his willy brushed with the toughest of bristles if Bruce Willis gets to hear that!)

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Live Free or Die Hard (Die Hard 4)

Bruce Willis returns with a renewed twinkle in his eyes as Detective John McLane, a smartass cop who is just as deft with his ammo as he with his mouth, shooting wisecracks and profanities with equal gusto. A perfect antithesis to complex digitalisations in today’s world, Officer McLane is a nut when it comes to understanding how computerised gizmos work. He hasn’t changed much, still divorced, unable to get along with his near & dear ones (in this case, his daughter), nearly heartbroken, but more than willing all the while to whip the backsides of all those who try to cross paths with US Federal law. Of course there are a few subtle changes which only a diehard Bruce Willis fan would appreciate; his unmistakable, charming smirk which has become a little more pronounced, with a hint of Sly Stallone like crookedness at the corner of his lips, and, his willingness to wear a T shirt this time (as opposed to various states of undress Bruce used to be in earlier).

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The Plot

John McLane (Bruce Willis), the quintessential  NYPD cop, is at a loss to make his daughter Lucy (Mary Elizabeth Winstead), a thou-may-kiss-but-thou-shall-not-fondle-my-assets kind of lass, appreciate his fatherly concerns over dating strangers. After one such confrontation with his daughter, McLane gets a call from the FBI to apprehend and escort a hacker Matt Farrell (Justin Long) into FBI custody. As McLane is introduced to Farrell, the latter is attacked by a crack team of mercenaries sent by the baddie Thomas Gabriel (Timothy Olyphant) who literally slice up his apartment within minutes. McLane somehow manages to rummage through the hell fire to save his terrified charge from being roasted live. Gabriel, driven insane by hatred towards the State, meanwhile initiates ‘Fire Sale’, a sequence of hacking programs aimed at maiming the nation’s infrastructure and economy, and it is upon McLane and Farrell to rescue the Motherland (and Lucy , whom Gabriel abducts), after liquidating Gabriel’s henchmen including his martial arts trained girlfriend Mai Lihn (Maggie Q). In the process, McLane and Farrell dodge countless bullets, and though their asses get toasted sweetly, the duo manage to cling to dear life in the midst of crumbling services like transportation, telephone network and power.  After a lavish helping of absolutely stunning, adrenaline laced, out of the world action sequences, which includes McLane ramming a police car into a hovering helicopter and somehow managing to steer a rig even as he is literally shredded to smithereens by an F 35 fighter jet, they manage to trace Gabriel’s whereabouts and proceed to confront him in a deadly climax…..

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Performances

Bruce Willis – He redefines action with Die Hard 4. The 52 year old veteran literally blows you away, effortlessly jumping in and out of speeding cars, hanging precariously in mid air, beating the living daylights out of the rogues with his phenomenal 10 pound punch and mouthing the choicest of profanities, maintaining his good humour all the while.

Timothy Olyphant – Ever since the portrayal of Le Chiffre by Mads Mikkelson in Casino Royale, the trend it seems is to project baddies as suave, smooth talking and outwardly calm personalities who only throw things off their tables in fits of anger. Olyphant’s characterisation of Gabriel, an IT geek himself, is apt – smart computer professionals are not supposed to wear ringlets in ears and sport outrageous tattoes over their biceps.

Justin Long – Fits the bill perfectly as Farrell, a young hacker who unwittingly gets sucked into the drama, just because he unknowingly wrote a hacking sequence of the Fire Sale. The lad seems pretty obfuscated at first, getting to act beside the legendary Willis, but as the movie gets along, makes an impression of his own.

Maggie Q – Mai Lihn. Boy, she is hot. Particularly when she kicks Willis all over the place, you can’t take your eyes off her razor sculpted figure. This is without any skin show, mind you, for the total surface area of her exposed parts would be less than what is usually hidden by Mallika and Udita!

Mary Elizabeth Winstead – As Lucy Mclane, has nothing much to do except hiss occasionally at Gabriel and remind herself every now and again that though Bruce as a father is intolerable, it is he and only he who would finally extricate her from the clutches of her captor.

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It was funny to watch

The whole of US of A plunged into darkness in an age where they are talking of setting up malls on Mars. Guess why no one sells APC inverters there???

An F35 jet having a tough time targeting a mammoth rig. It’s missiles hit everything except the rig. Wonder how such nincompoops dominated in Iraq and Serbia???

How swiftly the hackers typed out complex sequences in no time. It that really how nerds usually work? Typing speed – 3,86,000 cps, no typo errors. Remarkable.

Officials from the White House kickbutted by the FBI. Is it a regular phenomenon?

Value adds – Trailer of Sivaji – the Boss. Aah…how I long to see Rajnikanth in Die Hard 5.

Verdict – Looking at what you are supposed to expect from a Die Hard movie, this has all the essentials. John McLane pummels a bunch of armed-to-the-teeth baddies. Able sidekick who adds comic relief and keeps you absorbed.  An insane rogue who pushes McLane to his limits.  Bruce Willis battered, bruised and soaked in blood by the end. Eye popping action sequences with a nail biting finish. If you’re a fan of Bruce and DH, this movie will just blow you away.

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Afro-Desi-Yuck!

 

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Man, the most intelligent animal on this planet, has always been preoccupied with a furious desire to stoke the flames of passion in his (under)belly, so his frantic search for the ultimate aphrodisiac continues till this day. The most intelligent ‘animal’ also happens to be naïve enough to assume that whatever is commercially available in the name of ‘vigour’ and ‘vitality’ – is a sure-fire way to boost his pompous libido. Remarkably, the words vigour & vitality have come to be universally accepted as utilitarian substitutes for ‘sex’! So, we find a plethora of ‘performance’ boosters displayed prominently in drug stores, with no dearth of customers willing to ‘do’ them! Invariably, these products come packaged with suggestive photographs of Khajuraho statuettes, galloping horses, guns with their impossibly long barrels inserted in the letter ‘O’ or flimsily dressed couples clinging laboriously to each other in absolutely incredible poses. Their names also provide a unique and salacious insight into the treasure coves of libidinous nomenclature…… Vigora, 3-0-3, Love me (or love your neighbour…..who cares), Climax, Horsepower (yuck!), Spy, Japani Oil (which, after my careful investigations,  turned out to be neither Japani nor an oil), Turn-on (nice game this one…turn on…turn off…turn on….turn off…till the switch breaks off!), Only Me (how mean!) etc. etc. Now the names may differ from Mumbai to Moradabad and from Bengalooru to Bengal, but the cafeteria choice in over-the-counter aphrodisiacs remains practically the same.

 

“For women, the best aphrodisiacs are words. The G-spot is in the ears. He who looks for it below there is wasting his time.” – Isabel Allende (Chilean author)

 

With this rather ostentatious prologue, we come to the all important question – what ARE aphrodisiacs, and is there any scientific basis of their ‘miraculous’ properties? An aphrodisiac is something that inspires lust, induces arousal and exaggerates the pleasures associated with the sexual act. The term aphrodisiac comes from the myth of the Greek goddess of love, Aphrodite, the epitome of sexual desire. Aphrodisiacs have been a part of every culture and most of our current ‘knowledge’ about aphrodisiacs is rooted in myths, folklore, and anecdotal evidence (evidence that is supported by tasty money testimony but not substantiated by clinical research). Why, for many, even the mere mention of the word ‘condom’ brings about an immediate agitation of the sexual senses (read here for a hilarious real life account).

 

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Casanova is said to have consumed 5 dozen raw oysters a day in order to sustain his celebrated sexual prowess. That he laid pearls of wisdom the next morning is another matter altogether. The legendary Aztec ruler Montezuma is said to have drank 50 cups of hot chocolate a day in order to be able to survive with 600 wives. Huang Ti, the Chinese Emperor, who lived around 2600 BC used to drink a potion made from 22 herbal ingredients mixed with wine which apparently bestowed upon him an amazing stamina to enjoy the company of 1200 women. Closer home, a certain Maharaja was said to have been prescribed a potion prepared out of shredded carrots and crushed brains of a sparrow (the bird, not Jack Sparrow the pirate) to lift his sagging carnal desires (from Freedom at Midnight – by Collins & Lapierre). These tall (and chauvinistic) claims can never be verified, they only serve to inflate the false pride of the ‘believers’. Then of course there was the Babylonian practice of bride and groom drinking honey wine for a month after their wedding, purportedly to protect the structural characteristics of certain cryptic organs from wilting under durex duress. As the Babylonian calendar was lunar and the period of elopement coincided with the full moon, this ‘honey-month’ came to be known as the ‘honeymoon’!

 

“All a writer has to do to get a woman is to say he’s a writer. It’s an aphrodisiac.” – Saul Bellow (Canadian Novelist)

 

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Today, aphrodisiacs are big business. Apart from chocolate, oysters, lobsters and alcohol, black pepper, honey, chili peppers, sugar, maize, figs, caviar, meat, frog legs, Spanish fly, tiger claws, rhino horns, deer antlers, dried black ants, dried lizards, snake tails, pine nuts, almonds, walnuts, apricots, bananas (if you want me to explain why this sweet, soft-fleshed fruit that’s generally between 7 and 9 inches long is an aphrodisiac, you really need a lot more than just amorous inspiration!), dates, grapes, mangoes, peaches, pomegranate, strawberries, asparagus, carrots, celery, ginger, garlic, onions, sweet potatoes, tomatoes, zucchini, cayenne, licorice, nutmeg, saffron, basil, cardamom, fennel (saunf), cinnamon, eggs, gingko, ginseng, snails, mussels, spirulina, rose, dog rose, green tea, green oats and lot many more mundane and exotic items have been, on some occasion or the other, associated with aphrodisiac properties. Unfortunately, tigers and rhinos have been nearly shot to extinction by poachers who are just the pawns in the aphrodisiac trade.

 

 

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The human brain is more potent than the strongest drug and more powerful than any known aphrodisiac. The old saying, “you’ve got sex on the brain” is literally and scientifically accurate. The human body produces its own internal sexual stimulants in the form of chemicals, electrical responses, and glandular substances and there is nothing more powerful than what already exists in our own bodies. Yes, we can enhance the effects by increasing our fitness, eating healthy, nutritious food, avoiding smoking and alcohol (in Macbeth, Shakespeare observed that alcohol “provokes the desire, but it takes away the performance”, a verdict which even 400 years later is still regarded as definitive), reducing the levels of stress, doing regular exercise, improving hygiene, observing cleanliness, listening to soft music (not that rock, heavy metal or jazz which is bound to put you off), wearing appropriate clothes and perfumes etc. etc. Finally, let’s not forget what Henry Kissinger once famously observed – “…the greatest aphrodisiac is power.”

The pictures and the cartoons have been sourced from the internet.