"Chaar boondhon wala -aha !!"

So goes the song and along with it the whiteness of the school uniform. In what is arguably the greatest advertising coup ever, mothers throughout the length and breadth of India in the 90s were convinced that washing their kids' white uniform with blue ink will make the clothes look even whiter. Many a school going kid has endured insufferable misery from their class teacher as a result of this miracle fabric 'whitener' that made everybody look like the peon's son.

We Indians have an uncanny knack of taking something foren, murdering the hell out of it by adding our own masala and making it a distinctly desi commodity. Case in point - the flyover (or overpass). Originally conceived as a solution to ease traffic congestion by having multiple levels of roads at different heights by the Western goras, we desis have used this engineering marvel to create more traffic congestion at places which did not have a satisfactory level of congestion according to our high standards. Basically, you see, unless we overtake from wrong side, try to sneak into cycle gap, abuse everyone else on the road and nearly get killed by a lorry, sleep won't come for us.

Hence, we decide to build flyovers so that we can create a nuisance to all commuters during the 10 years it takes to build a flyover. (That itself is lucky. You must have done some punya in your past life). And once the flyover is built, we have a traffic jam on the flyover so that everyone is happy. Flyovers also serve another very useful purpose - for the people on the 1st floor whose homes are less than 1 inch from the flyover, it is a convenient place to hang one's clothes to dry whenever there is excess laundry which is quite common considering our fondness for functions. And speaking of functions, no mention of flyovers is complete without a word on the inauguration function. The only time when there is no traffic jam on the flyover is when the chief minister who is inaugurating the flyover cuts the ribbon and rides on it with his 20 car convoy.

It is well known that Rajnikanth reduced Chuck Norris to a joke on the internet. It is equally well known that thalaivar's email id is @rajnikanth.com" class="indict">gmail@rajnikanth.com. But, there is one thing that even the great Rajnikanth cannot do. There is one thing even quick gun murugun cannot do. There is one thing even Balayya cannot do.

What it is?? None of them can give a shock to electric current I say. The one and only Captain Vijaykanth can do that. Also, if James Bond can fight badass villains without so much as getting a wrinkle on his tuxedo, our Captain can fight do pulti and thulp goondas without his lungi ever falling off (Thank God !).

Quintessential naughty Indian uncle who is the lucky protagonist who enjoys frequent sexual escapades in kinky pulp fiction stories that are popular in North India.

In Tamil, vellaku means lamp and ennai means oil. Its used to refer to castor oil, presumably because it is the oil of choice for lighting a lamp. However, in the olden days vellaku ennai had a more dubious use. Our grandparents (esp. Tam brahms) believed in keeping the stomach and the "system" clean. So they devised a devious mechanism for this. Very simble. Take a karandi of vellaku ennai morning morning on empty stomach, run to the toilet and put tent there because for the whole day you'll be having full baydhee (loose motion). After some 18 hours you can come out and have some curd rice and lo behold ! your system is clean. How? Thatandaldonask. Ancient wisdom it simms. Thank God its ancient and most parents today aren't so mean to their children.

Another name for Benaras (Varanasi), a holy town on the banks of the river Ganga. All thathas and paatis in our great land yearn to go to Kashi on a pilgrimage atleast once in their lifetime. If you take a dip in that dirty Ganga water where everybody does kakoos (number 2) and ucche (number 1), then all your sins will be washed off it simms.

It kind of makes sense because if one is willing to immerse oneself into the world's largest sewer out of their own volition, then it can be safely assumed that they repent for whatever they may have done. So God is happy and holds no further grudges.

Dan dakada dan dakada dan dakada dan dan dan dan !!! Repeat this pattern forever, lift up the lungi till the knees and tie it, make sure that your grandpa undies are visible, then go ahead and do the tappan koothu I say.

For the benefit of desi people from the rest of the country who have no clue what I just said, the tappan koothu is a coundry dance done by porki fellows in Tamil Nadu to loud drum beats. It is performed to mark any occasion - birth, puberty, SSLC pass, marriage and even death.

If classic dance forms like Bharatnatyam, Kathak etc are white swans, then the tappan koothu is the ugly duckling.

(We have a variant of this under dappan koothu walso.)

Desi version of 'Attention' and 'Stand at Ease' (a.k.a 'stanitees' in peter english medium schools). Used in schools throughout the country to inculcate some sense of discipline among the naughty brats, and needless to say, failing miserably.

No, this is not a pencil that pokes its nose into someone else's business. Rather, it is a phrase used by LKG/UKG/1st standard teachers to describe a pencil that is as small as one's nose and hence needs to be thrown away.

Moral of the story: Primary school teachers are quite anal when it comes to pencil size

The fundamental rule of Indian cooking - is the amount of salt (uppu) and spice (kaaram) ok? Get this magic combo right and you can make great Indian food. It is also the key to make great Indianized food, as captured in a legendary ad for Tata salt.

Here is the setting: Ultra-conservative tambrahm household, with strict fother, sweet mother, granny and small child. Child's with innocent aasai asks mother to make pijja (too much exposure to American culture, abishtoo abishtoo !). Mother, with lots of love makes pijja on dosa kal (how is that possible? thatandoldonask !!) and sprinkles the secret ingredient that makes a pizza truly awesome, Tata salt (screw you and your mozarella, you bloody Italians!). Now it is time for the agni pariksha. Pin-drop silence, finger on the lips, as fother puts one piece of pijja in his mouth and starts chewing. Suspense is unbearable for mother and the child. Then granny, with nearly 60 years of kitchen wisdom asks 'Uppu kaaram ellam seriya (ok)?'. Finally, fother says 'Shabaash!'. Mother and child are happy. Tata salt has saved the day ! Hooray !