babu-like contest

through delphi method, the following babu's have been shortlisted to compete in the prestigious babu-like contest. all the contestants are the results of keyword 'babu' on google images. the winner's image will be put next to babu on a famous social networking platform, an honor less than no other. an honor which is utterly matchless. a goldenest of opportunities. a ray of light in moonless night. an elastic for the loosening chaddi .a belief and all that shit. 

please vote for the image that is the most similar to babu.   

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i'm back to come back again: 2nd april special!

i've written a lot of non sense about a myriad insignificant sporting events. i've written nothing else but shit. i've written poems that are hardly poetic; jokes that are hardly funny; and have photoshopped pictures that hardly look photoshopped. i've used poor keywords. my search engine optimization skills suck. i've tried to be sarcastic, but have ended up as an arse. i've used gay-ish bar graphs to represent facts. i've publicly humiliated britney spears, kalmadi and other brothers-and-sisters in and around earth: well, that's the closest i got to nirvana. i've over used crayons and sparkles for comments. i've been freakingly immodest. i've been an aggro, if nothing else. i've interviewed india's best squash player. yeah, i did that. egotist. jackass. i've put revealing photographs of female sport-stars. voyeur. i've made fun of a nation in debt. indian. i've made fun of accents. racist. i've used sad pitiful titles. i've been a dirty man. i've categorized women. chauvinist. i've belittled star wars. yes, i've abused the force. sob. i've endorsed extra-marital affairs. click here. i've been a politician in the land of 2Gs, fodder and cycles. i've been a minister. an unofficial minister. the unofficial minister of sports. self-obsessed. prick.

but i demand pardon. yes, i demand it. because i forgave yuvraj singh on the 2nd of this month. i forgot all of his assitude. his condescending abuses aimed at my college gatekeeper for performing the assigned duties. his stupid and highly irritating comments during interviews. his disgusting accent. his porsche. his bmw. his audi. his self-endorsed popularity among the chick-community. his stories of his exes. his continual breaking-news sagas. his laughing out loudly on his own poor jokes. i've hereby forgotten all of it. delete. yes. empty recycle bin. yes. who is yuvraj singh?  

it's been 11 days now. and i may seem late. but no, i'm not. click here. you'll feel the goosebumps.
congrats!

don't get too excited. i'm still on my "indefinite" hiatus.

flashback!
some of my internationally-recognized and critically-acclaimed comments:
images:
(1)bob (left) is still trying to come over his compulsive affinity towards specific female organs. god bless him success in all endeavors.           
(2)saina (top), break dancing.
(3)rajpal (left-bottom), seen here, dragging his stick. hockey stick.
(4)lalit modi (right-bottom, literally) here, with all his lust

a letter: there's a man-brain inside my woman-heart..

actually, i meant the contrary: there's a woman-heart inside my man-brain.

no, wait.

okay, just forget the title. 

dear friends,

i have been an amazingly honest minister: a rarity in the nation of rajas, chavans, kalmadis and many more of such my-brothers. it is rather unfortunate that i am just an unofficial. but respect to late Kurt Cobain and the other members of the band nirvana, for they came out with a beautiful record called "nevermind". 

so never mind my friends. never mind.

friends, i have been writing for quite some time about the various indian-sporting-performances-at-the-international-arena. some of those that are usually neglected (mostly by my pessimistic non-voters). but today, i, for the first time in recorded human history, am not going to talk about the various indian-sporting-performances-at-the-international-arena, or sporting-performances-at-the-international-arena, or the-international-arena. today, my friends, i will talk about me-self. 

yes, it's the minister on the minister by the minister.

i'd start with an emotional soliloquy on my heart: 

"my heart, thou defy the basic laws of physics; 

thou, being deeper than petty measurements. 

thou defy the basic theories of psychology; 

thou, being so tough a nut to crack. 

but thank god, thou don't defy the basic concepts of biology. 

thou, pumping the blood properly.

o' my heart-eth - thou, a woman's heart.

a homosexual woman."

but, dearest friends, my mind is the manliest possibly matter currently available in the milky way. it is more manly than dara singh or deols. a clear proof is the fact that when my heart yearns for coldplay songs, my mind doesn't let me do so; it doesn't let me read nicholas sparks novels; it stops me from facebooking; and honestly, what not. 

but thanks to my heart. the amazing yin-yang balance has resulted in this mighty compound called M2O2S1U (here, 2 & 1 are insignificant. are here just to give a compoundish look. it stands for Ministry Of Sports Unofficial). 

i would end this letter with a sincere hope, that you would appreciate my openness; and continue to ignore my posts like you have always done. 

please don't be mad at yourself. it's okay to read one or two of these.

your friend,

the minister!      

ps: a comment or two would be appreciated. i have been comment-dry for a long-long time.