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Disclaimer: This article is both work of some crazy idea and Indian moral values. During the writing session, no animal, single cell organism, orgasm or Tushhar Kapoor (unfortunately) was killed. It has every fucking resemblance to what Indian politics has become and Arnab Goswani's "Nation wants to know, Am I an asshole?" The content is for adults +18. Parent's discretion required. Ohhh!...who gives a shit to this...Just read it and forget it... ********** India is known for three great things. There is one Taj Mahal; the epitome of love, some call it, seeing which all ladies go GaGa; who was actually built by a mother f***er (Yes, I mean he slept with his sixth wife to get his what 14th kid or something and when she died, he then married her sister and became sister F...ahem that's a different story), with due respect to its magnificent architecture. Then it’s Bandra Worli Sea link, who is smaller than some nigga's dick (or I think they think...

The industry training had left not a single gram of salt in my body. I was itching to get into the metro so that I could take refuge from the sun’s appalling heat. Metro came on time but was loaded with people as if it wasn’t a metro but DTC bus of Delhi. I pushed a few and few pushed themselves back seeing my condition and my physique, which comprised of a round belly and a grim looking face. Although my face was sticking to the glass door of metro, the touch of AC’s cool air on my left ear felt like a virtuoso is playing a soothing tune near it. I relaxed myself within few minutes but the crowd’s buzzing was irritating me a lot. I decided to step back a little and move towards the last compartment where the population seemed to be under control. “Sorry! My bad.” I said on colliding with a girl standing on the connector of two compartments. “It’s Okay, not your fault.” and tears start trickling from her eyes. “Hey! I said I am sorry. I didn’t hit you that hard I guess!” feeli...