“Didi,” panted the desperate male, “I got my Pink Chaddi. Even I wore it. Now please help me, where shall I go with it?”

“Shut up, you pervert,” I screamed. “We are not that type of website. Ghar mein Ma Behen nahi hai? Shut up, or I’ll call the police.”

“Didi, please, don’t misunderstand me. You are so liberal and broad-minded. The girls who are sending us the Pink Chaddis are not the Ma, Behen type; they have sent us a come-on, only they have not sent their address. We do have a duty to thank the girls who have sent us the Chaddis, they are very expensive, all silk and lace, I think they like us...”

Fat chance. But he sounded so wistful, looked like a lost puppy, so my heart melted. “What are you talking about,” I succumbed.

So he showed me – The Times of India and The Hindustan Times, dated 10 February 2009, front pages plastered with the nation’s biggest scoop – the establishment of The Consortium of Pubgoing, Loose and Forward Women, a group on the social networking site Facebook.

No man can resist that, I mused. Self-confessed loose and forward women, the Indian counterpart to Playboy’s bunnies…


Already 10,000 girls and women have signed up and committed to send Pink Chaddis to the signed-
up members of the Sri Rama Sene for Valentine’s Day! As the More Forward Women had jumped the queue and started sending Chaddis already, the chowkidar at Sri Rama Sene had started distributing them on first-come-first-served basis, causing a virtual stampede at the Mangalore headquarters and a mild lathi-charge! 


Rama, Rama, Sri Rama.


The men in the Pink Chaddis felt the heady rush of youthful hormones, heightened by the thrilling promise of no-strings-attached romps in the hay. It sure beat the annual Basant Ritu worship of Kamdev and Rati Devi, whose eternal union is joyous, but monogamous. Saint Valentine’s promises to be something else...


“Didi,” he prodded, “please, this is the 21st century, you have to help me.” 

“Pinch me,” I said. ‘Whatever happened to yeh jo chilan hai dushman hai hamara, and jaan tum par nisaar karta hoon. What happened to baharon phool barsao…?” 


“Yes, but remember Dilip Kumar: na toofan se khelo, na sahil se khelo, mere paas aao, mere dil se khelo… This is real dil ki baat, and this is the dil phenk aashik ka zamana. If you are any good as a journalist, you will get me the addresses…”


“Brat! Spoilt and stupid at that. It’s right here in these very papers – you can attend the press conference in Bengaluru on Friday the 13th (get it? Friday the 13th) and carry off all the young women you can find. If Pramod Muthalik gets nervous, tell him that the Vedas recognise marriage by abduction (pishacha-style) even if they don’t approve of it. Also, I think this may be the era in which we revive the Gandharva-vivah. It will bring a frisson of excitement into our rather staid lives. Jab miya biwi razi…


You can also visit the offices of the newspapers and television channels that are promoting the Facebook campaign. You may meet some pretty girls.”


“Didi, you are great. After all, yaar ko ched chali jaye Asad, gar nahi ishq museebat hi sahi. These girls have been playing with my dil-e-nadaan, now I want to show that I also can do the dillagi.

Can you do me just one more favour?”

“Now what, I think you should just get lost.”

“Can you make sure that the Police stay in the barracks? I mean when the Girls want to Pub Bharo and even the Central Government says that Girls just want to have fun, and we Guys just want to Aan Milo Sajna, then the last thing we need is kabab mein haddi, haath mein lathi in this great Sangam, tu ganga ki mauj, main jamuna ka dhara…”

“I’d chill a bit if I were you. I have seen a lot of faasle between the cup and the lip. Kahin aisa na ho ke – dil ke armaan aasuon mein beh gaye…”