Confessions of an Ahmerikhun Haryanvi

...and the Haryanvi chhori spoke and my-oh-my how!!

Mallikaah SheRR-a-what!! was at Cannes to jeopardize the country she belongs to. Va va voom. Who, just tell us who gave hurrrr (read her) the role of a nHurrse (yeah, u figured it right. I meant nurse) in some biopic kholled (err-called) Dhurrrrtea Paula-Ticks (nee Dirty Politics). 

Excerpts from the interview and a piece of my mind. As shitty as Miss big mouth.

She said: It was not the nHurrse who scandalise the society.

We say: Yes Missy, because it’s you who’s taken the big responsibility on your slender shoulders.

She said: India is a hypocritical society where women are really at the baaatem (silly me, she meant bottom) compared to men and here was this woman who had the khorej (oops! Courage) to stand up to this Paula-tishiyan who kind of raped hurr, mholested hurr, abhused hurr.

We say: Don’t know about this biopic woman, but you sweetie, mustered all the khorej at Cannes and raped, molested and abused India like anything. Just one question (well! Now that you’ve already gone that far) how do you “kind of” rape, molest and abuse a woman?

She said: Aaahhiii (I) was the fhurst woman in India to khiss aann (on) screen and whear a bikheeni. Imhaajin!! (Imagine) and instantly I became a fallen woman and a suphurrsthaarr coz there is a moral khode (code).

We say: First woman to wear a bikini and kiss on screen? Suffering from Amnesia, are you? On second thoughts, we agree that we should not expect a bimbo like you to do a little research before you blabber.

P.S. The first kiss was shot back in 1933 and the actress happens to be Devika Rani.

She said: I was one of the fhurst actresses to be khasted bhaayy Jackheee chaeyn (God bless Jackie Chan). I divided mhaii (my) time between Lhaus Ahngelees Ahmerrikaah aynd India. So now when I experience that social exposure in Ahmerrikaah and I go back to India, which is so regressive, it’s depressing.

We say: Your existence on this planet has started to depress the demons too, let alone us, poor human beings, who have to see you at times for I-should-not-spell-it-out pleasures. India is a regressive country for women? Which part of the world does Haryana belong to, Missy, that you were born in to smooch a 16-18 times in your debut. Even Jolie wouldn’t have done that. You must be born in some special part of the world.

She said: I was the fhurst person to say how are you going to show phaashun in the 21^st century. You’ve got to kiss.

We say: ...and so you did. But, passion is far from you. Been thinking of porn lately, anybody?!

We are not surprised by this candid (snooty) admission of yours. We do understand that suphurrsthaarrs like you bank on creating media controversy to hog the limelight for their up‘cumming’ mhooovieess like Dha Dhurrrrtea Paula-Ticks. By the way, ever heard of an Afghan Hound? No? So we thought. Wait. Ever heard of Google?Err...nevermind...don’t bother answering. All we are trying to tell you is, after much research, that you resemble an Afghan Hound.

Hope the breed is not offended!!

For those who haven't yet seen and heard her, here's the video at the baaatem. (God knows whose!)

Magic

I believe the only time
my fingers touched excellence
was when I moved them
to the contours of her full body.
She lay next to me
spent in togetherness,
half asleep, half aware
of the admiration.
I put my index finger
on her forehead and
gently pushed her strand back.
She opened her eyes for
a fraction of a second
and closed.
'Your soft fingers, I like'
I recalled she had said
last night, when I held her hand.
I moved my finger from
her brow to her eyes
to her chiselled pointed nose
to those well-carved lips.
I stop there for a minute
tempted to satiate mine,
but, perhaps my fingers
did justice to the moment.
I relaxed my fingers
on her long slender neck,
that she said was her zone.
A sudden tickle disturbed her sleep,
she gave an assuring smile.
I took one full look at her
wrapped in silk, her entire body,
now, aware of my eyes
travelling through her,
shivered in compliance.
She breathed deep and
closed her eyes.
I sat in awe,
the magic sinking into me.

Enchantress

When I picked her up from the highway, she appeared to be in a fagged out state, mentally and emotionally. She sat against the wooden railing gaping at the sky. There was innocence in her eyes  that looked untouched. She had no belongings. Who could have said she came from a princely background. However, the arrogance in her body language was fairly distinguished from what I’ve noticed in the women I’ve showed even one per cent interest. It was intriguing. I took a long time to understand when I offered help. She agreed like she had wanted it. I did what her eyes directed me to do. She never sat in the front seat beside me. She slipped herself on the backseat and just mouthed ‘go’. For once, I felt like her chauffeur and must I admit, I did not mind it. It seemed like a plan the way everything was moving. I drove home and on stopping, I realised she was asleep. What felt right to me was the next step – carrying her inside in my arms. The way my body responded at the touch of a woman was something unknown to me. I went closer to her, close enough to hear her breathe softly. I moved my face in the waves of her breath. Her smell filled me up with what is known as passion and wilderness. I felt the control snapping and the magical woman lay oblivious to it. Simple and clear as it may sound, I wanted to embrace her, kiss her and make her mine. But something stopped me. I realise it now what it was. Her face. Untouched. What was it about her that trapped me? It was like my entire life summed up in that one evening. While she slept in my bed, I sat on the floor in front of her watching her sleep peacefully. I felt I could do it all my life, guarding her, protecting her from the evil eye. All night long, I watched her. My room was filled with her fragrance and it travelled from my nostrils to my brain and a moment came when I was soaked in it. I was not me. I was someone she wanted me to be. I don’t think I blinked an eye while watching her. Last that I remember was her taking my name standing at my door. I woke up to see she was gone. Who was she? Why didn’t she wait for me to wake up? I stayed up guarding her. I have no answers to these questions that still come to my mind. I do not cross that highway any more.