balusubbu has written 43 posts for Straight Post

Desi Cookbook

young-girl-drinking-water-fountain-9300215After successfully surviving more than a month, here are some observations.


With 2K plus per month on my odometer, I was a hardcore driver back home. The only road rule I ever followed is the red light, that is till 9pm. I treated pedestrians like shit. They are like ants – insignificant, irritating idiots who disturb traffic, they are petty aberrations on roads. I hated them. In fact I think I ran over one or two feet, anyways that’s a different story.  Here,  whenever I’m crossing the road and see those scores of cars waiting for me to safely cross the road I’m like, with few specs of tears in my eyes exactly like ramamurthy in English Vinglish when Sri devi gives him some idlis “ammaaa idlis”.

Drinking water

How do Indians drink water from tap?, simple, We keep our palm like a cup underneath the tap, water first falls into the palm and then like a dog we lick or drink from the palm, that is the standard protocol. Back here, overrated hygienic experts feel that our own hands are dirty. So, they thought why not drink directly!, so they created the so called water fountains. Few years back I remember a Bollywood movie where there was a heroine intro scene where she bends forward and then tilts her head sideways, opens her voluptuous mouth (in slow motion) and this thing called water fountain releases water (I never had a clue how that happened, there is a switch btw, I realized  after coming here). Cut the sexy scene and imagine a fully grown ogre man doing that – nasty. Its so embarrassing. Whenever I use that bloody fountain I make sure no one is around me, especially girls. And the worst part is I feel that nothing has ever gone into my mouth, nothing, like ever.  There is a scene in the movie “Kalapani” where Britishers force Mohanlal to lick their boots as shoe polish. Same feeling whenever I use that thing, disgusting.


If we do a simple regression analysis (I am very much into machine learning these days, bear with me), I am pretty sure that average desi  girl here is much hotter than average girl back home. Wait, don’t judge me now. I will tell myself, yes, I am anti feminist, sexist and a proud male chauvinist. Coming back to the story, desi girls here are like above average, like consistent above 7’s. I was like why, how?. Then I realized the obvious truth. Ofcourse, I am not going to discuss here, aasa dosa appadam vada!


I never said thanks to anybody in my life. Not to my teacher, not to my parents, not to god, not to anyone, ever. Like never ever.  I think there is no word for thanks in my native language. Oh ya, there is one, “Danyavadamulu”. If I accidentally use that word on someone, they will treat me like crack. Here, saying thanks is a bloody norm. First time when I heard a passenger saying thanks to the bus driver when leaving, I was like laughing hysterically.  Now I am being forced to do that to get along. Whatever people do to you, they expect a thanks, or atleast we are expected to say thanks. Once a girl offered food for me, “do you want some biscuits”,  I said “No”.  She kept a face as if she is crying. Later I realized that’s the worst way to decline something. We are supposed to say “No” …wait, and then “Thank you for asking”. I was like Acchaa.  And then its my turn to kept a sobbing face. Anyways, this is an ongoing sad story.

Ni Hao

Desis here think they are super smart. For everything, they do some jugaad and feel good about themselves. We feel as if we know everything. We know the best deals out here, where to go for what, which place to shop for cheapest fares. Which items to buy, whatever.  But I realized that we come a far second, to none other than who, Chinese of course. These days whenever I enter any shopping space, or for that matter anywhere, anyplace and if I don’t see Chinese, I know that I am doing something terribly wrong. I go to Costco, they are there and I am happy. I go to Wal-Mart, they are there, I am happy. I go to Sprouts, they are NOT there, I know I made a mistake. I go to a scenic tourist spot, I don’t see any Chinese, and I know, for sure, at that very moment, I made a blunder going there. I definitely must have missed something, somewhere which I have no clue about.

Desi Dairies – My first day in USA

imagePacking a 6’4 in an economy class seat for 25 hours at a stretch is more painful than watching Rahul Gandhi deliver speech at the parliament. I made it through, only to realize that USA, unlike India is on the complete other side of everything.


The first thing I did after my arrival is to visit the beach. To describe that day in the beach as a cold morning would be an understatement.  In my T-shirt, sweater and a leather jacket, I was almost looking like DiCaprio in the Revenant minus the beard and the looks.  I was literally shivering. Then suddenly I saw a lady in shorts and Hawaiian shirt breeze past me running towards the beach and I said to myself that she must be crazy waiting to catch a cold. I was wrong.  As time passed semi naked men, women and children started swarming the beach basking in the freezing hot sun and playing with the waves which I am almost sure will kill any south Indian instantly with Hypothermia.


Then I took the famous walk of bums amongst scores of women trying to tan the better half of their bodies. That moment I realized 2 ultimate truths :  first, there is no direct correlation between little john’s activity and a woman’s attire which I have been denying all these days; Second, if all the women out there are butt naked, bosoms are completely uninteresting.


Not that I miss Indian food already but I was forced by my H1B processed – I 420 processing – I 862 signed – GC  in process desi friends to visit an Indian restaurant.  Ironical that the very first US restaurant I visited happened to be an Indian restaurant. Inside the gloomy modest restaurant, when I opened the menu, something incredible happened for the very first time: auto tears.

I don’t know the exact reason but my DMDC aka Desi Mental Dollar calculator is in auto-on mode all the time -and whenever I see any  number beside a $ sign-the rupee equivalent subconsciously flashes inside my head. Being so bad at math from my childhood I can now safely boast my expertise in 66.37 table that I now know by heart without even trying.

Dosa – $8, Masala dosa  – $9.5, Onion dosa – $8.75. Are you f*** kidding me. My DMDC automatically calculated the average cost of a dosa to be Rs 550 and my head instantly became a breaking news TV screen. Things that I did just before my travel flashed all across: Barbeque nation Rs 445 + tax ;  Mastizaade + Kya kool hai hum 3 + Dead pool =  Rs 450 etc.  When the dosa arrived and after seeing the outrageously small chutney cup, I was about to shout at the waiter “Do you have any damn clue how much a dosa costs in Babai hotel in Attapur Hyderabad? – Rs 10 and the bloody Upma is FREE. To compensate for the loss, I was compelled to ask for repeated servings of the chutney which I stopped after the second time when the server gave me the ‘are you that cheap’ look for which I reverted back with ‘ofcourse I am’.

Overall, my first day in Amreeca has been an overwhelming experience – a concoction of pumping adrenaline coupled with moments of utter enlightenment.

Late review of Baahubali part 1

baahubali-new-poster_0After 4 years of verbal constipation i am back!! Tatadamm, Not because I watched Piku, the movie about constipation yesterday night in NetFlix, but because my fans, yes,  my fans ( last time when I counted they were three,  included myself)  are craving for me to write again.  So i obliged.

So what I am going to write about? I am going review the unimaginable, the unprecedented, the magnanimous, the biggest movie that ever happened to Telugu movie industry after ofcourse ‘ Jamba Lakadi pamba’  i.e I am going to  review Baahubali – part 1..I know its late, but its a shame if i miss on this one…will update tomorrow…

Gaalis, Movies and Reviews

I am writing these reviews because nobody asked me to write one.

Movie 1:

Being a vernacular south Indian boy my expertise in Hindi language is limited to three gaalis, ma*****d, be****d and chu**** and 15 numbers i.e. till pandrah. Whenever I watch a Hindi movie I make sure that I sit with a Hindi speaking guy so that he would translate the dialogues for me. I underestimated my limited knowledge in Hindi until recently when I went to watch a Bihari accent studded bad ass Hindi movie called Gangs of Wassepur. Surprisingly I understood the complex story line without any help.

Whenever I was in doubt and was not able to comprehend a particular scene in the movie, some or other character would shout Mada***** and I would shake my head in complete agreement. The innovative usage of Mad****** with extra o’s in between to stress upon the tense situations further explained the severity of a particular scene.  For example the hero would react differently in different situations depending upon the gravity of the situation using the same word. His reaction when his brother is killed, ”ma****o*”, when his sister-in-law is killed, “mad****ooo*”  and when his mother is killed, “mad****oooooooo*.

After hearing mad***** countless times my brain got conditioned in a unique way and the word got ingrained into my psyche.  when I came back to my room  I opened my time table , saw an exam scheduled on a fine precious Sunday the next week and  i involuntarily shouted  “kaun kiya ee ma*****ooooo*.

Nowadays my only response when I am angry is mad*****. The severity of my anger depends on the number of o’s in it.

With enough vigour and virility, Gangs of Wassepur is a fine Indian movie and provides wholesome entertainment to your entire family. This movie is a perfect chance for husbands and boyfriends to take revenge on their nagging wives and girlfriends. All they have to do is simply take them to this movie. Parents can also utilize this opportunity to teach some general knowledge to their kids. Overall my rating is 4/5.

Movie 2:

Vicky Donor is arguably the best inspirational movie in recent times after the cult classic “The Dirty picture”. The story of a boy whose heroism is directly proportional to the speed of his hand motion heavily inspired me. Half way through the movie, moved by the noble cause of the protagonist I called my girl friend and proudly said that I wanted to do charity, a concept which I always detested.  Having known my weird personality for a while she enquired further and I explained her the whole concept of sperm donation and the noble intention of mine to help all those miserable infertile couples. For the next 15 minutes I came to realize the depth and knowledge of her in the gaalis from various Indian languages like Hindi, English, Telugu and the language invented by her.

With newfound respect for those tiny little things rancorous thoughts preoccupied my mind whenever I opened the porn folder and I became somewhat conscious of the humungous wastage of the precious natural resource my body produces. Weird thoughts of sperm preoccupied my mind and I started day dreaming about them. The other day I woke from a deep slumber when the professor started shouting the project titles in the data mining class “Group 6, your project is about sperm, you need to develop an algorithm to effectively screen this mess of sperm”.  For a second I thought the assignment is about condoms but later found that he actually meant spam and not sperm!

Vicky Donor is an expedient social experiment well executed by the director. It gave a ray of hope to millions of unemployed youth of this country explaining them the economic viability of the physical assets that they own i.e. their own balls.

I will give the movie a not so generous 3.5/5

Oohh womania

This is Practical Guide for Foreign Exchange students- Part 2

Dear Frustrated foreign Exchange students,

Most of us gone through the summer placement process and we are well aware of the importance of “chance”. We hardly get a good chance and we have to convert those chances, other wise its difficult to get placed “inside” for a long time, i.e till you get married. We have to be well prepared and stay focussed. This is war my friends and we cant afford to loose. I prepared a road map for reaching our goal and we should stick to the plan as much as possible. Being a software Engineer once, i prepared this flow chart which will guide you in difficult times.

This flow chart is designed exclusively for foreign exchange students but is applicable to most of the general situations also. May girls bless you.

Of Schools and Girls

When I was in school, boys were never even allowed to sit beside girls. We used to have separate seating rows and we hardly interacted except for academic purposes. We are not even aware of the purpose of our basic existence then i.e propagation by intercourse . The dreaded disease of AIDS did phenomenal help to Indians. It made the educational boards of India introduce sex education to prevent unsafe sex.  For centuries every Indian used to get a shock of his life on his/her first night. Kama sutra is there but it is not accessible to everyone and the sculptures on temples didn’t excite anyone to actually study the tiny ups and downs. So the only chance for a male/female to see the opposite sex in full nudity is on their ceremonial first night. Imagine yourself in the situation where you are completely unaware of the physical reality of the opposite sex and when you see it for the first time you will be like  “ooh shit man, WTF, I thought it would be like… “. It’s like showing movie goers Ek Tha Tiger who are actually anticipating Dark Knight Rises.

CBSE spared me the torture. It introduced a course on sex education.  My science teacher was a short shy intelligent lady. I remember her asking us to draw a weird diagram from my science text book without telling what it actually is .I being the most proactive and self proclaimed painter of the class completed the work before anybody could and raised my hands in jubilation. I even remember some of my guy friends clapping for the great achievement, none of the girls clapped and I realized the reason few years later.  That was a time when I am getting introduced to the exiting world of pornography in those obscure internet cafes cropped up in my city. I came to know that the diagram is actually a vagina. Then I realized the shocking genius of my science teacher. She is successful in teaching a whole course on sex without even giving us a hint as to what it actually is. Of course these days i see genius professors every day. Anyways.

Then I went to IIT to pursue my under graduation. Girls in IIT’s are like buns thrown into an arena of hungry dogs. It never mattered whether the bun is fresh or good looking or even edible but the fight is fierce some. Having lost the Darwinian battle, many boys started improving their dexterity skills. Boy’s hostel is meant only for boys. The creatures called girls were never allowed inside our premises. Profs were of the opinion that we are immature and can have wild sex if left unattended so they took good care of us. We were free beings and roamed in our corridors half naked unfazed by intrusive eyes of the opposite sex. Most of us haven’t opened our accounts by the time we graduated.

Then came IIM.

Suddenly we are seen as responsible beings and I don’t know why. Profs here think that our intellectual prowess bypasses our natural instincts. What they don’t realize is that we are active volcanoes with humungous internal pressures about to be erupted at any second. And they did the most logical thing. Allowed girls into boy’s hostels. Of course it’s for a noble cause of assignments!. I am not complaining. Many of us have rooms and permissions, what we don’t have are enough girls. Anyways, that is not my problem. My problem is freedom!

Like the joker in dark knight I am a man of simple tastes. I enjoy my porn, my movies, books and walking in my towel from the bathroom to my room.

I am a confident man, I think I am reasonably handsome, that is when I am wearing something.  I have this habit of wearing only a towel after my bath till my body dries and the worst thing is the position of my room which is farthest from the nearest bathroom. So I have to walk semi naked everyday crossing a whole corridor. But I never realized all these days the impending horror that I am about to experience.

Specializing in the field of strategy I always take bath twice a week and that too at midnights to escape any unwarranted invasion of my manhood. So as usual few days back on a fine midnight I took my bath, wrapped my towel, came out, started singing a song and started walking towards my room. I didn’t realize that she was standing just in front of me. I was shell shocked.

I felt like Buddha for a fraction of second, a self realized man. I think I experienced nirvana at that moment of time. The history of my entire manhood reeled before me, picture by picture.  I saved my bare body like Duryodhan only to show it to a Gandhari at an appropriate point of time. She entered like Krishna, damn it.

At that moment,  I remembered all those Indian movies where the hero/ heroine  comes out of  bathroom and the towel accidentally slips and both of them starts screaming at the same time.  I immediately checked the vital knot on my towel and took an about turn just like an army personnel and marched swiftly back to the bathroom. Waited for a while cursing myself all through, I wore my sweat socked shirt and came out, double checked the corridor and ran to my room.

Wars are won in the minds of the warriors and not in the Battle fields. I lost all the wars and I was battered bruised and even humiliated. But unlike westerners every Indian will win this war at the end because no matter how ugly, disgusting or chick repelling one is, every Indian boy will get married at the end, thanks to Indian mothers and the fantabulous system of arranged marriages. That’s the best part of being an Indian boy.

My journey of schools and girls is about to end in a short while. The best part is that unlike ancient Indians I will not get the shock of my life on my first night because i won the war in my mind long time back.

Practical Guide for Foreign Exchange students – Part 1

After a year of academic abuse at IIM owing to strenuous rigour and a lifelong sexual abuse in India, owing to strict –No No ding Dong before marriage culture, boys at my college are gearing up for a life time opportunity to unleash their libido at foreign lands. Many of them came to a steadfast, well thought conclusion that this is their final opportunity to get laid before they ask their mothers to get them married once they complete their MBA. Many of them took diligent steps: started going to gym, started learning foreign languages and some of them even went to extremes: stopped watching porn for a month to preserve their vital energies!  . Once I eavesdropped where some of the boys were practicing the most appropriate way to introduce themselves to the French girls in 3 simple sentences.

Bonjour ( Hi)

mon nom est balu( my name is balu)

Je suis fantastique dans son lit (I am fantastic in bed)!!!

Many of them think that foreign girls are crazy for some exotic brown skin and presume that all it takes is a smile from their side to get laid, which sadly is not the case. This analysis of mine is highly professional, derived from innumerable embarrassments. So pay attention.

As usual, being a MBA student let me religiously start my analysis with Porters 5 forces emphasizing heavily on “Barriers to entry” more than anything.

  1. Bargaining power of suppliers i.e. Foreign chicks ( HIGH)
  2. Bargaining power of customers i.e. virgin Indian boys (LOW)
  3. Threat of new entrants i.e. fellow frustrated Indian foreign exchange students(HIGH)
  4. Barriers to “entry”  i.e.  ahem (Very HIGH)
  5. Threat of substitutable products i.e. Sex shops, prostitutes, Amsterdam! Etc.( very HIGH)

We will do internal SWOT analysis in my next post.

Generalization is a disease and Indians especially are more prone to this disease than anyone else. One of the generalizations is that dating a foreign girl is easy. But the truth is girls are girls no matter where they are.  If you are a shy introvert Indian boy who never touched a girl, and you think that you can become Rajni Kanth of seduction overnight when you step foot in Western Europe, you are heavily mistaken.

Let me take you 2 months back to Mumbai where I did my Internship. Every day when I saw the mad vermin of human mass pushing and shoving above the Mumbai over pass bridges I felt insignificant. When I saw beautiful girls with fake sun glasses and fruit flavoured lipsticks ignored my blatant glares at their assets I felt ugly and when I dry humped every man irrespective of his age in standing position aided by the vibrating motion of Mumbai locals I felt like a liberal gay.

Every day like a newlywed bride entering the room for her fight night, I entered the local with pressed formals, polished shoes, combed hair, and deodorised body only to come like a newlywed bride coming out of the room the next day morning. With a tired face, ravaged hair and trying to set the crumbled dress pretending as if nothing happened inside even though you know that your private parts have been severely compromised.

Same will be your situation when you travel those mad rush Paris locals.

But everything is not as bleak as you might think after reading what I have to say. Being MBA Students we should analyse the situation and solve the problem using the “concepts” that we learnt. In my next post we will discuss how to apply RBV (Resource based View) to ourselves and analyse how we can enhance the VRIN resources(Valuable, rare, inimitable and non substitutable) that we possess as Indians and we will also do a SWOT analysis to strengthen our argument.  So au revoir and bonne nuit.

Balunomics – III

I was being introduced to the world of finance these days. I find it boring, disgusting, illogical, ridiculous and often irritating. I took the liberty to tell a friend of mine who happens to be a finance geek what I felt about this subject and quick came the reply that I am really stupid. No arguments there as I feel the same about me, anyways.

I was a trained engineer who was meant to build things, innovate and create something which could improve the lives of people. Finance on the other side doesn’t create anything, doesn’t build anything, it build dreams instead. And I buy this argument about dreaming taking into account that I am severely sleep deprived these days!.

We are having a course which deals with analyzing a problem and identifying the root cause of the problem. Many people would find it quite hard to get to the crux of the problem and often end up applying balm on the symptom of the problem instead. The simple logic to find the root cause is whenever you find a problem ask the question “ what caused this” and if you cannot answer the question further, the problem at that point is the root cause and it should be resolved.

When Sigmund Freud came up with his theory that sex is the sole reason for all the acts that we do in our life times, many quirked and condemned this rather radical idea. Modern psychology was developed in order to counter argue this philosophy, but I think they utterly failed. But here is the fallacy. Freud never read finance, he missed the point that sex can indeed be brought with one thing, Money. I can get the most beautiful wife whom I can have sex with money, cant I?.  I am an Indian, I can marry Priyanka Chopra if I am a billionaire! or may be a prostitute from Europe who is more beautiful than Aishwarya Rai. So we can give a little twist to the Freudian philosophy and can apply the root cause analysis and can say that money is THE most important thing which shapes modern human psychology.

No matter who you are, you can be a PM, you can be a professor at Harvard, you can be a rickshaw puller, overwhelming percentage of humans on this globe are greedy. May be all of them, I don’t know. I am greedy too. I am pursuing a degree so that I will be able to earn more not because i want to learn something. Toppers here go for finance industry because it pays more. Of course many wouldn’t agree but that’s because they can’t read their subconscious mind (again, yet another Freudian theory here).

When I see the last financial crisis which made this world a little worse that it was before, it’s because of greed of few brilliant individuals. CEO’s of top financial firms, Academicians who shape modern economy who have conflict of interests and B school toppers who wants to earn some extra bucks.

Human evolution is all about survival of the fittest according to Darwin. It was food for millions of years and its sex when Freud wrote his thesis and based upon our argument it is money now. Because food and sex can be brought with money (again applying root cause analysis!).

So if money and greed are shaping modern human evolution, Finance must be THE most important subject to read. I hope now you appreciate the validity of my friend’s statement that I am stupid.

Rockstar Review

I am writing this review because nobody asked me to write one. Whenever I watch a movie, I spend some time dissecting the logic: the crux of what the movie is all about. The lesson from this movie is “Don’t fuck sick girls and make them pregnant; they go into coma if you do that!” simple.  I seriously didn’t know this logic before watching this movie. So, in future whenever I am about to proceed, I would definitely pop this question to the girl “are you sick?” instead of “Are you ready?”. Because you don’t want to see a girl in coma when you get up in the morning; you will be like “Coma?!!, seriously?, WTF, I was not that rough yesterday night “.

Of course there are also some less important lessons to be learnt from this movie like: just fuck around if you really like a girl, it doesn’t matter if she is happily married to a decent family guy. The thing is, if you love somebody just proceed no matter what. It’s a marvelous lesson. Marriage is about trust and love is about lust. A match between lust and trust is like a match between Federer and Tsonga in yesterdays Paris open finals. The lust will rape trust no matter what.

India right now needs directors like Imtiaz ali. I am serious. Here is a director who teaches us the essence of life. In his first movie, Jab we met, he taught us how to run away from a marriage, in his second movie; Love aaj Kal, he taught us how to lead a decent no strings attached live in relationship; in his third movie he went a step ahead and taught us the beauty of an extra marital affair. I believe it’s a divine intervention that directors like Imtiaz ali are able to make decent movies which we really like and adore, hats off to him, hats off.

Coming back to the movie, what fascinated me is the character of JJ aka Jordan. Every Indian girl loves to have a BF like him.  There was a time in my life where I came to a conclusion that 2 organs are a must for a man to impress an Indian girl, one is the physical organ and the other is a Guitar.  JJ has everything. He is innocent (choooo cute), he is a guitarist, singer, virgin, what not. It’s as if God interviewed all dead Indian chicks and made a prototype in the name of JJ. I envy him. But there is a flaw in the movie. JJ eventually becomes a Rockstar and here is the catch, he doesn’t fuck girls because he loves a sick girl. Sensible thing for any man to do when he becomes a rock star is to exploit those crazy girls who run for his autograph. If I ever become a rock star, and if chicks are drooling over me, what do you expect me to do, commoonnn. JJ won’t even think about other girls. That’s the reason why all the girls who came out of the theatre yesterday are mesmerized by Ranbir Kapoor and cursed that poor hot chick, Nargis Fakhri, just because she can’t act and i condemn this.

I think this is the first time in my life I spent more time watching a girl’s lips than her breasts and back. Nargis Fakhri made this impossible thing possible. In my opinion it’s a great achievement for an actress. I loved her.

Overall, this movie was a spiritual journey for me. It changed me, taught me soo many things, explained the beauty of lust and I thank Ali for giving me this wonderful opportunity. Thank you Ali, thank you. My next stop is another spiritual movie “The Dirty picture”, eagerly waiting for another earth shattering experience.

The Virgins of Veluha

My dear Videshi firangs,

It’s high time for you to realize an obvious truth.  The so called campus that you are living right now is what I call ‘The land of Veluha’, the land of virgins. I feel as if it is my obligation to explain you some basic concepts about the Indian education sector especially the concept of an Indian MBA and the nuances of a typical Indian B school campus. I hope you would rather take this open letter with a pinch of salt or a glass of wine.

Going for an MBA in India is like getting married. Frustration is the root cause for taking this horrible step. Common thing among Indian B-school entrants are frustrated young kids who are fed up with their present jobs/degrees wanting to get a relief from their boring life fall prey to this horrible phenomena. Similarly, unmarried Indian kids fed up with their lonely virgin lives wants to get hooked with a beautiful/handsome partner for a life time. In both the cases, what they often fail to realize is the fact that once they “enter”, within a week, all the fun, aspirations and the logical deductions that they must have done before “entering” are lost into thin air.

Have you ever wondered why the population in your continent, Europe, is dwindling and in India it’s growing by leaps and bounds? I hope you are aware of the concept of a bow and an arrow. The distance covered by an arrow is directly proportional to the “pull” that you generate.  Indians get enough pull by the time they get married. Pull here is the frustration and the cause is lack of sexual partners. Once they get enough pull and are suddenly released into the marital atmosphere all they do is relentless humping which clearly explains the population explosion.

The Land of Veluha.

Veluha is a fascinating city. Strictly hierarchical, Population in Veluha is divided into 3 categories, the dominating preachers call DP’s, the helpless majority of blind pupils called BP’s and the hardworking peasants called HP’s.  Much of our further analysis will be solely on BP’s.

BP’s are the brightest and the smartest students  handpicked from different parts of India and are specially trained  and tested in a controlled setting to withstand the future  hardships of life. They are mentally, physically and emotionally tortured for two years and if alive at the end of the programme are left free to enjoy the remaining part of their miserable lives.

The male to female ratio among BP’s is highly skewed, typically ranging anywhere from 10-30%. Taking into account that almost all of the BP’s are virgins, Naturally there is fierce competition among male BP’s to befriend/mate a female BP. Female BP’s on the other hand often enjoy the sudden adulation and attention that they are getting from male BP’s irrespective of their looks. It is often difficult to site a female BP straying alone in Veluha as there are always accompanied by male BP’s who are trying their best to impress their female counterparts.

Some of the male BP’s in Veluha do get lucky and are successful in “converting the call”, i.e getting a female BP partner. Rest of the unfortunate male BP’s often develop psychological disorders; some of the variants are listed below for your information.

Type 1: ThuboseDK syndrome:

Male BP’s suffering from this disorder often show symptoms of high aggression, high self esteem and develop unwanted disliking towards the “successful” male BP’s. They often feel that their inability to ‘convert a call’ is their own decision and is not reflective of their manly capabilities to attract female BP’s. They try to channel their energies towards getting good grades but rarely succeed. Some of them often develop hatred towards the concept of “love” and end up pleading their moms to get them married.

Type 2: MeboseDK syndrome:

Male BP’s suffering from this disorder often show symptoms of low self esteem and treats successful male BP’s with high regard. The mere sight of a couple in Veluha makes them sad and reminds them of their own inability to convert a call and spend much of their time searching and enjoying “interesting” things in VC++, an innovative Veluhan sharing initiative.

Type 3: SabboseDK syndrome:

Male BP’s suffering from this disorder goes a notch above and blames the Veluhan system itself. They often complain about the strict rules, regulations, “compulsory” compulsions and detest their mere existence in Veluha.

(There exists a small fraction of Veluhans who are committed, married and having a different sexual orientation which I have not considered for the analysis)

My dear firangs, I hope you all appreciate this analysis of mine, I call it The Root cause analysis.  On behalf of Veluha and all the unlucky Veluhans let me recall this famous line from the movie V for Vendetta – ” But what we hope most of all is that you understand what we mean when we tell you that even though we do not know you and even though we may never meet with you, laugh with you, cry with you or kiss you, we love you with all our heart, WE LOVE YOU”.

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