warriorextreme
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Rich Delhi Boy Meme
- Thread starter LurkerBaba
- Start date
.....
agentperry
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hahahaha...its awesome...nice work...thank god im a poor delhi boy
Bangalorean
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Nice ones, but the photo is hardly authentic. It fails to convey the 'chikna -------' impression that the text tries to convey.
LurkerBaba
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LurkerBaba
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Already posted
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My guess is Lodhi Road or Shantipathcan any dilliwala say what road is this ?
lets test knowledge.
havent seen the movie .
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Here is a Delhi boy's meme as I saw it.
******************************
CAPTAIN C AND THE TANDOORI CHICKEN
Captain C was a nice boy. He was the Adjutant of the unit. He was smart and could be immensely impressive. Being a Delhi boy, he was what they call 'worldly wise', given their penchant to lavish lifestyles and acquiring possessions, sometimes beyond their means, just to be with the rich and the famous.
We were then in Hyderabad, having just come from the field area after the 1971 War.
C had recently got married. The wife was very simple and was not used to the ways of the Army. Her attitude was like a breath of fresh air. There were no guiles in her way and that was quite surprising since she was also from Delhi; not that all Delhi folks are the wheeling dealing type.
C always wanted to keep up, if not with the Jones, at least with the Birlas and Tatas . There was nothing irrational about this. One should have ambition after all.
He bought a Standard Herald car, which on his pay, was an extravagant toy. It pleased him as Punch. The car was so modern that it stopped in the centre of the narrow gate of the main office. This proved an embarrassment. The Commanding Officer refused to enter the office from the rear since it would puncture his ego, Instead, he had to squeeze through the gate pillar and the car, sucking in his breath and tucking in his rather over dimensioned stomach. The result was obvious – he was furious for the day.
Being newly married and since accommodation was limited, C and his wife were temporarily staying in the Officers' Mess. It was not for long. He managed to get a government accommodation out of turn through some skulduggery. That way, C was what they call a real 'guru' man.
Wise that he was, he even got residential accommodation just opposite the Commanding Officer. This excellent move permitted him and his wife to regularly visit the Commanding Officer and the first lady on some pretext or the other.
The Commanding Officer had a weakness. He was very fond of good food. This was no secret. The unfortunate part was that Mrs C was not yet an accomplished cook and C didn't want to risk an upset stomach of the Commanding Officer, his car having already done much damage by stalling in the Main Office gate.
It was customary for the newly married to throw dinner parties as unit officers could not attend the marriages because of exigencies of service. Since we had been in the operational area for four years, the large band of bachelors commenced tying the wedding knot in quick succession. C, too, had joined the bandwagon.
C decided to give his wedding bash. Naturally, it had to be different and grand. He and his wife went to town, bought expensive curtains, ordered upholstering of the government sofas, bought the best of snacks that money could buy and a whole lot of other stuff that was ostentatious and unnecessary.
Having done their purchases, they came home. C immediately went to the Commanding Officer for some urgent 'official' work, leaving the lady behind.
Two days later, the Commanding Officer called all of us for dinner. It must be said that while the CO loved good food and parties, he also organised many himself. We were enjoying at his place with the Commanding Officer being a good host with the drinks and his wife with the hors d'œuvrés.
The party was warming up. Mrs C, not being used to the Army crowd, was sitting on one side and was being engaged indifferently in small talk by the other 'senior' ladies. In fact, they were definitely being catty.
The Commanding Officer, seeing the huddle and the cackle of the ladies in one corner, was drawn to the side. After a bit of small talk, he suddenly recalled that the poor lady, Mrs C, had cooked and sent a sumptuous tandoori chicken a few days back. The Commanding Officer rarely forgot the morsels that were always being sent by the ladies to grace his table. This time he forgot, even though it was sumptuous!
"Mrs C, ap to bahut zabardast khana banane jante hain. Woh tandoori chicken jo ap bheja, who to la jawab tha (You are a fabulous cook. That chicken was beyond compare)", said the Colonel as he simultaneously indicated to the Mess waiter to send another Rooh Afza Mrs C's way, out of sheer gratitude.
Mrs C remained blank.
The Commanding Officer was distinctly uncomfortable. He wracked his brains if indeed it was Mrs C or somebody else who had sent the chicken. After all, the flow of dishes was so regular that one forgot who sent what, unless of course it was terrible to the palate.
"Kia ap bhul gaye? Wo chicken jo apne bheja tha jis din ap curtain kharidne gaye the? [What, have you forgotten? That chicken you sent, the day you went to buy the curtains]."
Mrs C surfaced. Enlightenment hit her.
"Nahinjee, wo Chicken maine kahan banaya tha? Wo to C market se kharid ke laye the. Unhone ne mujhe bataya tha ke ap khane ke bahut shokeen hain. Isi liye woh chicken kharid ke le aye, sirf ap ke lie {No sir, who said I had made the chicken? C had bought that chicken from the market. He said that you loved to eat. That is why he bought the chicken for you. Just for you".
C could have killed her for that!
The damage was worse than that done by his car!
******************************
CAPTAIN C AND THE TANDOORI CHICKEN
Captain C was a nice boy. He was the Adjutant of the unit. He was smart and could be immensely impressive. Being a Delhi boy, he was what they call 'worldly wise', given their penchant to lavish lifestyles and acquiring possessions, sometimes beyond their means, just to be with the rich and the famous.
We were then in Hyderabad, having just come from the field area after the 1971 War.
C had recently got married. The wife was very simple and was not used to the ways of the Army. Her attitude was like a breath of fresh air. There were no guiles in her way and that was quite surprising since she was also from Delhi; not that all Delhi folks are the wheeling dealing type.
C always wanted to keep up, if not with the Jones, at least with the Birlas and Tatas . There was nothing irrational about this. One should have ambition after all.
He bought a Standard Herald car, which on his pay, was an extravagant toy. It pleased him as Punch. The car was so modern that it stopped in the centre of the narrow gate of the main office. This proved an embarrassment. The Commanding Officer refused to enter the office from the rear since it would puncture his ego, Instead, he had to squeeze through the gate pillar and the car, sucking in his breath and tucking in his rather over dimensioned stomach. The result was obvious – he was furious for the day.
Being newly married and since accommodation was limited, C and his wife were temporarily staying in the Officers' Mess. It was not for long. He managed to get a government accommodation out of turn through some skulduggery. That way, C was what they call a real 'guru' man.
Wise that he was, he even got residential accommodation just opposite the Commanding Officer. This excellent move permitted him and his wife to regularly visit the Commanding Officer and the first lady on some pretext or the other.
The Commanding Officer had a weakness. He was very fond of good food. This was no secret. The unfortunate part was that Mrs C was not yet an accomplished cook and C didn't want to risk an upset stomach of the Commanding Officer, his car having already done much damage by stalling in the Main Office gate.
It was customary for the newly married to throw dinner parties as unit officers could not attend the marriages because of exigencies of service. Since we had been in the operational area for four years, the large band of bachelors commenced tying the wedding knot in quick succession. C, too, had joined the bandwagon.
C decided to give his wedding bash. Naturally, it had to be different and grand. He and his wife went to town, bought expensive curtains, ordered upholstering of the government sofas, bought the best of snacks that money could buy and a whole lot of other stuff that was ostentatious and unnecessary.
Having done their purchases, they came home. C immediately went to the Commanding Officer for some urgent 'official' work, leaving the lady behind.
Two days later, the Commanding Officer called all of us for dinner. It must be said that while the CO loved good food and parties, he also organised many himself. We were enjoying at his place with the Commanding Officer being a good host with the drinks and his wife with the hors d'œuvrés.
The party was warming up. Mrs C, not being used to the Army crowd, was sitting on one side and was being engaged indifferently in small talk by the other 'senior' ladies. In fact, they were definitely being catty.
The Commanding Officer, seeing the huddle and the cackle of the ladies in one corner, was drawn to the side. After a bit of small talk, he suddenly recalled that the poor lady, Mrs C, had cooked and sent a sumptuous tandoori chicken a few days back. The Commanding Officer rarely forgot the morsels that were always being sent by the ladies to grace his table. This time he forgot, even though it was sumptuous!
"Mrs C, ap to bahut zabardast khana banane jante hain. Woh tandoori chicken jo ap bheja, who to la jawab tha (You are a fabulous cook. That chicken was beyond compare)", said the Colonel as he simultaneously indicated to the Mess waiter to send another Rooh Afza Mrs C's way, out of sheer gratitude.
Mrs C remained blank.
The Commanding Officer was distinctly uncomfortable. He wracked his brains if indeed it was Mrs C or somebody else who had sent the chicken. After all, the flow of dishes was so regular that one forgot who sent what, unless of course it was terrible to the palate.
"Kia ap bhul gaye? Wo chicken jo apne bheja tha jis din ap curtain kharidne gaye the? [What, have you forgotten? That chicken you sent, the day you went to buy the curtains]."
Mrs C surfaced. Enlightenment hit her.
"Nahinjee, wo Chicken maine kahan banaya tha? Wo to C market se kharid ke laye the. Unhone ne mujhe bataya tha ke ap khane ke bahut shokeen hain. Isi liye woh chicken kharid ke le aye, sirf ap ke lie {No sir, who said I had made the chicken? C had bought that chicken from the market. He said that you loved to eat. That is why he bought the chicken for you. Just for you".
C could have killed her for that!
The damage was worse than that done by his car!
Victor Sierra
Regular Member
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- Sep 20, 2012
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In BITS, Pillani. Delhi guys are called TDC.
TDC = Typical Dilli Chewtiya....
TDC = Typical Dilli Chewtiya....
Joji
Regular Member
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Lol gud thread...Delhi dude....However, one thing I noticed about them they are good in playing with girls. Within one month they reach the target (room, plz understand). Either Delhi girls are so naive or Delhi dudes are too smart for them.
