Saturday, October 11, 2008

Yes,It Happened To Me..

Once what happened was that I had just landed at the JFK International Airport, in my private Cessna Citation Mustang (Model 510) VLJ Business Jet. I know most of you must be thinking that I had flown to America, for my usual business trip or to meet President Bush and discuss the issue of rising oil prices with him. But no, this trip was for a different cause. Here is why I was there-

Around 20 hours before I landed at JFK, Scarlet Johansson had called me up and invited me to her house to spend the weekend with her. She even said that I should be ready for some “serious action”. Being an Indian, I knew that serious action only meant Dharmendra kicking Gabbar’s ass, after Hema Malini went against his wishes and danced for Kalia, Sambha and the rest of the gang. Dharmendra had even shouted, “Kutte Kameene, Main tera khoon pee jaunga (Bastards, I’ll drink your blood)”, but even that could not scare off Gabbar. He must have been a hell of a dacoit or maybe even he was fed up listening to Dharmendra’s age old dialogue. Maybe he thought, “For long have I heard him swear like that, but yet nobody has seen him turn into Dracula to feast on anyone’s blood… and maybe this is my only chance of getting Hema Malini to give me a lap dance!!” So Gabbar decided to take the risk and Hema gave him an Indian lap dance but the ass kicking he received afterwards has been etched in the memory of all Sholay lovers. So, like I was saying, I knew what “serious action” really meant. Before I could tell Scarlet that there was no need to rent Sholay as I had already watched it more than a 100 times, she hung up the phone.

Now, international calls from India are too damn expensive. Thus I decided to fly all the way to New York and call her up from a local phone. After all, I knew the importance of saving money. The global economy was in doldrums, and I didn’t want to waste a lot of money on an expensive phone call. I even made up my mind to donate that money to the US Federal Agencies so that they could add my sizeable contribution to the $700 billion, in order to overcome their financial crisis.

Incase amongst my regular readers (like Kislay, Bhai Chandra, Professor Chaos) and forced regular readers (like DJ, Obdurate Sushma, Anonymous Su-deep, Mly and Mockingbird), there are those who think I’m being partial towards America, then I must dispel their doubts. Even I am aware that the Indian economy is on the edge and the market is very volatile. The erratic stock market has burnt a big hole in my pocket too. For long I have quit buying Jockey, Alligator, Van Heusen etc and have been wearing Rupa’s undergarments instead!! The reason why I want to help to the US Federal Reserves is because the entire world economy is directly dependent on the US economy. The sooner we can get their economy back on track, the sooner I can replace my Lifebuoy soap with Denim Leather (FOR MEN ONLY).

As I was saying, I had decided to go to New York to make a local call. I went to the roof of my 80 storied luxury apartment and put on my parachute knapsack. (P.S. - I owned all flats/condo in that luxury apartment.) I jumped off the building and opened the ‘chute when I crossed the 65th floor, where I saw Bill Gates having lunch with my dad. I wished them a good day and the wind carried me to my personal airport. I got on my Eclipse Aviation 500 VLJ and remembered that it had not been serviced ever since I flew around the world ten times at a stretch on it.
So I jumped off the cockpit and all of a sudden, I felt seismic tremors. The earth shook below my feet, and the trophy which I had won for shooting two terrorists with one bullet, fell off the display unit. I was mad. “Damn you Moulshri Gupta!!” I shouted. She must have fallen off her bed again, I thought. The tremors were tremendous and I was sure that the whole of New Delhi was razed to the ground by now. I replaced my trophy after hurling a number of abuses. I climbed into the cockpit of my D-JET composite, five-seat, single-engine jet aircraft and leapt into the pilot seat. The bloody seat broke and crashed through the cockpit floor. “Manufacturing seat defect”, I screamed and called up my secretary ordering her to stop payment for the aircraft to the Diamond Aviations. I wasn’t going to pay a penny for an aircraft with manufacturing defects. While I was on the phone, I boarded the Cessna Mustang and sat on the pilot’s seat. The chair creaked... I wondered why.

I fired up her Pratt & Whitney Canada PW615F turbofan engines and soon was tearing through the clouds at one and a half times the speed of sound. It must indeed have been very fast for I could not even hear my own voice. I was flying faster that I could speak. Impressed by the jet, I decided to fly over New Delhi and see the devastation which Moulshri must have caused by falling off her bed. Like a true Indian, I feared for the safety of the people of Delhi. But I was amazed to see all the buildings in Delhi as sound as ever. Yes, the Red Fort was still there, the Parliament was fine and the Qutub Minar still stood out like a giant erection!!

“Funny”, I said to myself and began to wonder about the cause of the earthquake. If it wasn’t Moulshri then it must have been Bhai Chandra in Bangalore. I smiled to myself for having solved the mystery in no time and put the aircraft in auto pilot to pat my back.

With the aircraft on auto pilot, I went into the cabin to sign a couple of T-shirts which I had promised to give to Jenna and Barbara Bush. Yes, George Bush’s daughters. Both of them have a huge crush on me and requested me to sign a T-shirt each, for them to show off in front of their super hot girl friends. President Bush has helped India seal the nuclear energy deal, and being a true patriot, I didn’t want to feel burdened by his special interest in the deal. Thus I decided to give these T-shirts to his daughters and thus reduce a burden off my fellow country men’s’ shoulders. We already are overloaded with the Income tax and the sales tax and the property tax and the house tax and the car tax and the wife tax and the education tax. Now our health minister, Mr. Ramadoss has levied a smoking tax as well. He has made sure that the areas where one is allowed to smoke is so disputed that even if you smoke atop the royal seat, you shouldn’t be surprised to see him barge into the loo and offer you toilet roll in one hand and demand smoking tax from the other.

While I was lost in deep thought about the burdens we Indians are burdened with, I saw land below with people thronging on the streets, and cheering. “I couldn’t be flying over India again”, thought I. Then I saw a huge banner go up which read “NO! You are not in India. Welcome to America. We love you, Great Danny!!”

“Ah, always nice to be recognised by my fans”, I remarked. I wasn’t sure how they got to know about my arrival. “It must have been Aaj Tak, after all they are the Sabse Tez news channel. Even before a rape is committed, they air it on television. Even before a match gets underway, they tell us the match score and results, along with detailed match analysis. Yes, it indeed must have been them”, I figured.

I landed in New York in ten minutes after flying over the Arabian Sea, Europe and the Atlantic. I hopped off my business jet and again it happened. I felt the tremors here as well. But then I remembered that I was traveling faster than the speed of sound, and these were just the repercussions of the earthquake in India. In doing so, I was the first man to prove that India and America lie on the same tectonic plate and the seismic waves travel at one and a half times the speed of sound. (I was later awarded the Nobel Prize for this discovery).

I walked to a phone booth and called up Scarlet. It was a local call!! Boy she was excited to hear from me. I told her I knew what was on her mind. I also told her that we Indians know all about “serious action”. After all, we watch a lot of movies too. I also suggested that if she is so keen on engaging in “serious action”, then I should call my friends as well. The more, the merrier. I recommended her to wear a cotton sari, while my friends and I dressed up in Indian outfits.

She said, “Danny, you are sick. How many times have you watched the Kamasutra??” Before I could answer, she hung up again. Hmmm, I still wonder why!!!

Thursday, October 09, 2008

Ekta Kapoor!!!

[Ekta Kapoor fans should press ALT + F4 immediately]

I would not blame anyone of you , if you confess that you are trembling in your boots or planning to settle in some foreign country by the mere mention of her name. I can understand your fright and your anxiety. After all, who isn't scared of her??

I was wondering what it would be like if she ever became the Prime Minister of India. Well, one thought led to another and one thing I can safely say is that India would not be "India" anymore. There is no 'k' in 'India'. Most certainly, she will amend the constitution to change the spelling of our country. Maybe she will propose radical reforms in the way we spell; with the evolution of silent k. India shall be spelt as Indika.

The only religion allowed to be preached and to be practiced will be Mihirism. Now before any of my communal readers prepare to draw out swords, let me explain. I am a Christian, and yet I stand in awe of Mihir. Jesus Christ rose from the dead only once and we began worshipping Him. Huh!! Mihir has died and was resurrected thrice. That is three times more than what Jesus managed to accomplish!! Jesus only died once, and we still don't know when (and if) he is going to revisit us. At least in Mihir we have someone who actually knows the way from Heaven to Earth and back again so well, that he dies and rises at will. Lord Mihir not only rises from the dead, but unlike Jesus, manages to undergo a plastic surgery before He gives darshan to his followers. Incase you did not know, that is Lord Mihir's way of finding his true disciples. Those who manage to recognise him shall be given a lead role in Ekta Kapoors' forthcoming movie or soaps.

Ah, talking of soaps... I am sure Ekta Kapoor would sue all the soap manufacturing companies on grounds of plagiarism. There can't be a Lux soap or a Cinthol Soap. I mean, there can either be her soaps, or NO soaps!! Since her soaps are readily available on Star channels from 7 in the evening to midnight, Indian people should bathe during those hours only. Products like Lux , Palmolive etc should find market else where, coz afterall Ekta will be providing us her soaps to wash.. err.. watch.

Unemployment will no longer be a problem. Trust me. She is obsessed with making TV serials, which run for an eternity. After becoming the prime minister, she will undertake the production of so many serials, that half of the Indian population will, directly or indirectly, be at her services.

There shall be a major revamp in our Education system with the introduction of her soaps in the form of books. Students will be studying the abridged versions of Kahani Ghar Ghar Ki, Kasauti Zindagi Ki and Kyonki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi. Courses will be offered by colleges, for graduation in Hindi/English or regional languages where they shall be studying the unabridged versions of Kyonki..... Soon we shall have professors with degrees like Masters In Saas Bahu, Doctorate in Prerna Basu's Affair and Research Scholar (Komolika). The dream of a literate India shall indeed see the light of the day.

Mahatama Gandhi was the Father of The Nation. Ekta Kapoor shall declare a holiday for Grandmother of the Nation. She is still searching for the correct date of birth of Ba. (Apparently she is unaware that people did not record the birth dates during the Harappan Civilisation!! But she has been consulting her astrologers and the results are awaited). An extra holiday is nothing to be sneezed at.

A new law will be passed which will allow only her brother Tushar Kapoor to play the lead in movies. So don't be surprised if you see Shahrukh Khan sitting on some railway station, with a begging bowl in his hand.

Now India has been spending billions of dollars on our Defence. But with Ekta Kapoor at the helm of affairs, no country will be dare to take a risk, by invading a country (i.e India.. err.. Indika) with over a billion lunatics.The money thus saved , will be utilised to pay the fees of all the astrologers and pundits, hired by Ekta Kapoor, to plan her daily chores. UPSC exams will be specially conducted to select the most worthy astrologers, to chalk out our foreign policies.

Jeetendra will be the Minister of Sports. He will be in-charge of teaching "How to be a Jumping Jack, without being a Jack Ass". His song "Dhal Gaya Din" will be used to teach the correct playing techniques to aspiring badminton athletes.

So many changes will occur if she becomes our Prime Minister. I don't know what will remain of India after her tenure as the PM gets over. (Going by her soaps, I must rephrase myself as "I don't know what will remain of India IF her tenure EVER gets over.). The mere mention of Ekta Kapoor or even Star Channel makes me want to poke my fingers into my eyes, travel up to my brains and swirl it round and round and round, till I die. I sincerely hope there are like minded people out there who share the same feeling.

Monday, September 29, 2008

A Chance Encounter

It once happened that I was traveling from Delhi to Lucknow, in the First Class AC coach, of the Lucknow Mail. I had boarded the train half an hour before its scheduled departure, and made myself comfortable on the lower berth. I was sincerely hoping for my co-passenger to be either Aishwarya Rai or to be her incarnation. I had just closed my eyes, when, out of the blue, many policemen barged into my compartment and began rummaging around.

“Hey you! Stand up,” shouted one of them.

I immediately sprang to my feet, while another ordered, “Stand on your feet and hands up!!”

I was confused, so I politely said, “Sir, I’m already standing on my feet. How can I stand on my feet again, without sitting down??”

“Shut up and don’t act smart.” prompt came the reply.

"But what have I done?” I questioned meekly.

“Behen Jee is traveling in this compartment. She has the upper berth, so we need to make sure that everything is in order before she boards the train. Show your identity card,” he demanded.

I hurriedly produced my driver’s license and he kept staring at my photo. I knew I was in trouble. “You look like a bloody terrorist!” he remarked and the rest of them nodded in agreement.

My heart sank. I remembered all the Hindi movies I had watched. A shiver ran down my spine, when I recalled all the shady dialogues I’d have to hear, if they arrested me for no reason. After all, every hero is falsely convicted and sent to jail. I even remembered how the hero, finds a long bamboo in the middle of the jail, and does a pole vault to jump over the 30 feet high prison wall. I began to shudder more when I realized that even if I did find a bamboo, I wouldn’t be able to jump over the wall because I weighed twice as much as the hero. I began to curse myself for not heeding to my father’s advice and shedding a lot of weight..

“Sir I am not a terrorist. Maybe I just look like one,” I said, “and I am going to Lucknow on official work. See, I handle the finances of Lifeline Group of Hospitals.” Saying this, I thrust my employer’s identity card to bolster my statement.

One of the policemen turned to me and said, “Shut up! Remove your shoes. Nobody is allowed to wear shoes in the presence of Behen Jee. Take off your glasses too. It needs to be checked for bombs,” saying this ,he pulled off my spectacles.

“But sir, I am as blind as a bat without my spectacles and in any case I need my footwear so that I can relieve myself, during the journey. You certainly can not expect me to visit the bathroom, barefooted, can you?” I protested “I am a free citizen of India and the freedom of movement is my birth right. As my shoes form an integral part of my movement to the bathroom, thus I am free to wear my shoes. Yes sir, even I know my rights,” I announced, feeling good that I still remembered bits of class eighth civics.

“Besides,” I continued, “if your Behen Jee doesn’t like shoes, then why should my shoes suffer? My sisters think that all police officers with a tummy like yours should be lined up and shot dead. Does it mean that their whim should be satisfied?? Of course not! By the way, your tummies are equally enormous. Are all of you brothers?”

I had just begun to get acquainted with the police officers, when in walked a strange looking buffalo. It wasn’t your regular sized buffalo. It was much smaller, and was probably wearing a uniform. I could have described it better had I been wearing glasses. It seemed to sniff around, and then settled on the sofa.

I whispered to the police officer standing next to me, “Sir, I had seen many sniffer dogs before, but I must admit that it is for the first time that I am seeing a buffalo being employed to sniff out contrabands. And may I congratulate you for training it so well. It is remarkable to see that it actually knows how to sit on a sofa. I must say that I am impressed.”

“Shut up, you fool. She is Behen Jee,” he replied.

“Aha,” thought I, “so Behen Jee is the name of this buffalo.”

I said, “Sir, does the buffalo … err... Behen Jee have a valid ticket? I am not sure if they are allowed to travel in the first class compartments of the railways.”

“She is a VIP. She doesn’t need a ticket to travel. If she gets angry, the government at the centre will be upset,” said the officer, in a suppressed voice.

I couldn’t understand how the anger of the buffalo, could be related to the stability of the central government. So I began to think, “Maybe Manmohan Singh drinks the milk of the buffalo Behen Jee, and if Behen Jee gets angry, she might not let anyone milk her. Thus, there would be no milk for our prime minister. If there would be no milk, then Manmohan Singh won’t get his morning tea. And thus he wouldn’t be able to wish a very cheerful good morning to Mrs. Sonia Gandhi. If Mrs. Gandhi doesn’t hear a happy good morning, then she will be too angry to give out the daily orders to the prime minister. No daily orders, means no progress for the nation!!!” Everything began to make sense now. I understood the importance of Behen Jee.

“Funny, how a buffalo controls the Fate of our nation!” I exclaimed.

“Stop saying ‘buffalo’ out loud. Her name is ….,” he was cut short by Behen Jee, who let out a loud Moooo.

“Yes Ma’am. Yes.” cried all in unison, as if understanding every moo of Behen Jee.

I was immediately handed my spectacles, which I put on eagerly, to see the most extra-ordinary buffalo in the world.

The next thing I remember was, seeing Ms. Mayawati seated on the sofa, and my luggage being hurled out of the coach. I followed next!!

Morals of the story:

a) Keep your amazement to yourself. There is absolutely no need to share it with anyone, least of all, the police.

b) Aishwarya Rai will never run away from her shoots, only to be your co-passenger. Real life isn’t Bollywood, you see.

c) Evidently, Manmohan Singh doesn’t drink Behen Jee’s milk.!!

Thursday, September 25, 2008

The Story of Nikamma

Long long ago, when men were still men, and the likes of Karan Johars were not allowed to tick the box, which read "Male" in any application form, lived a cool dude called Nikhil. His full name was Nikhil Abraham Singh, thus being the first real life embodiment of religious tolerance.
While growing up, he showed signs of greatness by preaching about different religions, and explaining why one should respect all the religions. He was lovingly called Nick, by the Westerners, who found it rather difficult to pronounce Nikhil, but found no difficulty in pronouncing !!beelay@#.
( I swear I didn't make that up!!)

Nikhil's father was a very hard working farmer, while his mother was very easy going and lazy. (Yes, Coulomb had come up with his "Opposite poles attract each other" law by then, and thus the people never wondered how they ended up marrying each other!!)
In the same town, lived Deb, a wealthy landlord, who inherited a fortune after the death of his father in law. Oh by the way, his wife's name was Jyoti. The couple loved each other a lot, and everyone fondly called them Deb- jyoti.

Now Debjyoti had a very lazy servant called Sushant. Sushant was the personification of lethargy. He didn't want to work and dreamt about the lower half of Debjyoti all the time. He was a pervert and the lower half ,of course, means Jyoti- Deb's wife.

One fine morning, when Nikhil was meditating under a banana tree, he saw his mother walking upto him. (PS: He could not meditate under the neem tree because the ground around it was covered with cacti. ). His mother came and sat down next to him. After an hour, Nikhil finished meditating and saw that his mother had fallen asleep next to him. So he got up and went home, leaving his mother fast asleep under the banana tree.

Late in the afternoon, landlord Deb was returning home with his friend Babu, who ran a jewelers shop in the same town. They happened to notice Nikhil's mother still sleeping under the tree. Now everyone in the town knew Nikhil, but very few people knew who Nikhil's mother was. But Babu was the town jeweller, and thus he knew Nikhil's mother very well. After all, she alone accounted for a quarter of his sales.

Deb, looked down at the sleeping woman and said with disgust, "Who is this woman, sleeping at mid-day? and that too, by the roadside? And under a banana tree, when a banyan tree is just a couple of yards away??
(Now don't ask me why Nikhil wasn't meditating under the banyan tree. And I wasn't aware there was a banyan tree around anyway!!)

Babu replied, "Oh brother, she is the laziest woman in the world. She sleeps all day and snores all night. Wonder what she will be re-incarnated as, in the next life? After all, its our Karma which decides our future. That is why I have been such an honest jeweller and never cheat nor lie to my customers. "

"You don't lie??", asked Deb with bewilderment in his eyes, "Yesterday you told bhai Chandra that even though he had put on a lot of weight, it was impossibe to notice it. You even said that his protuding belly, actually made him look irresistable to the women folk of our town!"

"I never lied to him", explained Babu, " I just didn't tell him the truth, and there is a lot of difference between the two."

"Like what??"

"Well, for beginners there is a huge spelling difference. And its the spellings which make up a word, and if spellings are different, then the words are different. So, if words are different, how can they mean the same thing? Then both have different pronunciations. One begins with a 'l while the other begins with a 'h... While the former is a single word - Lie, the latter is a combination of three words - Hiding the truth!!", finished off Babu, with a dismissive air.

"Sighhhh!!!!!!", sighed Deb. He always knew Babu was smarter than him, and thus scored more than him in English as well as Math all throughout school and college. "But who is the woman?? Shouldn't we wake her up and tell her to go home and sleep?"

Babu had started walking ahead , as he saw a chance to get a lift all the way to his home. But he did turn back and reply," Forget it brother. She is very lazy... Just like your servant, Sushant. Let her sleep there and you go home...."

"But who is she?", shouted Deb to Babu who was already very far away by now.

"Nikh....(il's.... -inaudible ) amma. Very lethargic!!" and Babu disappeared behind a cloud of dust. (In case you didn't know, he had been offered a lift on a horse cart.)

Now Deb started walking alone, wondering and speaking to himself, "Nikamma? Very lethargic? What did Babu mean? " . After much deliberation, he came to a conclusion that since Babu was smarter than him, he had used a very hi-fundoo word for lethargic. NIKAMMA!! Deb was a fast learner and he wanted to try out his vocabulary on unsuspecting innocent people.

So when he reached home, he called out to Sushant. He came rushing out of Jyoti's room, tying the cord of his pyjama and looking very scared. Shouted Deb," Sushant!!! You are Nikamma!!"

Now Sushant knew he was caught but didn't like being called names. He retorted," No sir, I am Sushant. Maybe you are Nikamma!!" This infuriated Deb, who reached out to slap Sushant, but suddenly suffered a heart attack and ........

Meanwhile Deb's lawyer, Advocate Siddhartha (M.A.Llb) heard about the untimely ................. and forged Deb's will. He transferred all of Deb' earthly possession to his name and lived happily ever after. He also kicked Sushant out of the house and married Deb's widow.

And they lived happily ever after.

Moral of the story : If you learn a new word, shut the fuck up!!!

(Disclaimer: All characters in this story are purely fictional, and any resemblance to anyone dead or alive is purely co-incidental. Those who do not agree, kindly refer to the last four words of the moral. )

Random Rantings...

To be able to communicate and to express your views in writing is an integral part of one's development. Of late, I have been experiencing problems on both fronts. Neither am I able to talk freely nor have I been able to write, without feeling insecure about spellings and grammatical errors. I've become painfully aware that I had more command over the language as a twelve year old than I do now.

When I come to think of it, I cannot figure out when it all started. Till Class 12th, I could only interact in English and the thought of speaking Hindi, scared me out of my wits. I did study Hindi, but then, it is not my mother tongue. Anyway, I entered college, and by the time I graduated, I spoke more Hindi than my friends. After college, I spent a year in the hospitals in Mumbai, and as it all stands now I can neither speak good English nor Hindi. My pronunciation is an obtuse blend of Hindi, English and Marathi, with a hint of Kannada, served with “I-Just-Ran-Away-From-A-Mental-Hospital” look on my face.

Thus it’ll be in my best interest to stick to writing till I no longer give the impression of being a raving lunatic.

I always enjoyed writing, but never wrote so much to be labeled a writer. I found it easier to express myself in writing than through oral communication. Earlier I could write at will, about anything... anyone. Now it takes me half an hour to link words to come up with a sane sentence.

Yesterday I wanted to write a few good words for a friend, who means the world to me. I sat up all night, only to realize that I could just come up with “She is phenomenal!!” I can understand when people might try to convince me that maybe my friend is so phenomenal that it is tough to find words for her. Vehemently as I may agree, I also know I was capable of having come up with a lot more than that for someone whom you have known for years.

Maybe I’ve gone from being bad to worse, because of my inability to engage in a conversation which actually calls for a reasonable utilization of the gray matter. While everyone is busy expending their brains now, I’m actually saving the little I have been blessed with, for old age. It would be all the more better, if I can be granted a fixed interest for saving my brains for n number of years. Maybe by the time I die, my name will go down the history books as the “Brainiest Man”.

I know many of you will not agree with my theory right now, but am sure when all of us will be enroute to becoming kids once again; I will be the only one to be called a whiz-kid!!

Friday, September 19, 2008

Vignettes from a Bibliophile

Groucho Marx said," I find television very educative. Everytime somebody turns on the set, I go to the other room and read a book." Reading is, indeed, a wonderful hobby. I find it enlightening and often, amusing. The trivia collected by reading is always mind boggling.
I remember reading Les Miserables by Victor Hugo. In it was one of the longest sentences that I have ever read. It had eight hundred and twenty words, ninety three commas, fifty one semi-colons and four dashes. Presently, William Faulkner's novel Absalom holds the Guiness Book of World Records for the longest sentence. It has one thousand, two hundred and eighty seven words.
Want to know which is the longest and shortest name of a railway station in India? The longest one is "Venkatanarasimharajuvaripeta" and the smallest is "Ib". Got anything to add?
Do you enjoy the word monsters? If you suffer from the following phobia "Hippopolomonstrosesquipedaliophobia", halt and read no more, because it describes the fear of long words. The longest word is a forty five lettered word known as "Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis". It is a lung disease caused by tiny parts of volcanic dust. Quasihemidemisemiquaver is a hundred twenty-eighth note in music. Tongue tied huh?
A diepnosophist is one who is an expert at dinner table conversations. This reminds me ,the longest after-dinner speech was given by Dr. Donald Thomas, at a city college in New york, about Vegetarian Athletic Nutrition. It lasted thirty two hours and twenty five minutes.
I came across these words whilst reading. Borborygymus is the noise which our tummy makes when it rumbles and sternuation is the act of sneezing. The dot above the letter "i" is called tittle. They say there are no words in English language which rhyme with orange, purple and silver.
A Zorse is a cross between male zebra and a female horse. A Swoose is a cross between a swan and a goose. A Lemato is a tomato that is genetically modified to give hints of lemon and roses.
I thought , correctness of language was my forte, now I know for certain that there is still a lot of room for improvement. As Josh Billings said ,"The trouble with most folks isn't so much their ignorance as knowing so many things that ain't so."

[The above is an article written by Sharbella Fernandez]