Robbers break into mithai shop, dance like no one’s watching
If celebrating a heist was a thing, two miscreants in Jharkhand have got it right.
Two men in Ranchi broke into Bhola Misthan Bhandar and Restaurant on May 17 and did what isn't usually expected from seasoned thieves. They danced like no one's watching.
The now-viral CCTV footage shows how the duo probably planned the dance moves more than the burglary. The sweet-toothed outlaws not only gobbled down gulab jamuns, but also enjoyed cold drinks before pursuing their assignment.
“They were vibing like it was their birthday party,” said a bewildered Pankaj Gupta, one of the shop owners. “They danced, they ate, they looted. Honestly, I was offended — not by the theft, but by how carefree they were about our kaju barfi.”
Eyewitness? None. Footage? Full Bollywood.
“They even packed sweets — like proper takeaway service — before casually strolling out with Rs 80,000 in cash,” added Ashok Gupta, still emotionally recovering from watching the laddoos disappear.
While police have launched a manhunt, a cop believes these dessert-hunting desperadoes might not be locals. “They’re not from around here. No local thief would dance in our kitchen,” he was quoted as saying by India Today.
An FIR has been filed.
The footage is being analysed. But somewhere in Ranchi, two men are probably still humming "Aaj ki party meri taraf se", and dreaming of their next sweet gig.
String theory
This story is a lesson in avoiding the glorious mix of history and acoustics.
At a recent exhibition in Mumbai, dedicated to the life and rare belongings of Dr. B.R. Ambedkar, a Union minister ran into an old violin. Not just any violin. It was the one Ambedkar apparently once practised on.
Naturally, our man, gripped by the moment or maybe the acoustics, decided to pay tribute. Not with a speech, not with silence, but with music.
He picked up the sacred violin and played it. Or tried to.
The minister however, was not up for critcism. He put the comments section off on social media, as a result of which The Telegraph Online could not get a public reaction.
To be fair, our man meant well.
While dragging the bow across the strings like someone brushing a cat backwards, he paid homage to Babasaheb’s musical side. The attendees could have been descendants of Ambedkar, some Buddhist leaders, artists and several VIPs who nodded politely, possibly in emotional uncertainty.
The Union minister's chums won't agree, but the strings would've filed a formal complaint if they could move without human intervention.
But in other historical news, Babasaheb learnt the violin. He was known to be a violin enthusiast and even hired a violin teacher named Balwant Sathe. Despite having health issues and a busy schedule, he dedicated time for the violin.
So the Union minister, according to us, tried to feel that moment. But the moment felt him back…hard.
The violin, last seen quietly returning to its display case, refused to comment.
Bengaluru MLA drives JCB through flooded streets
The JCB has once again lived up to its Internet fame after a local BJP MLA drove one through the waterlogged streets of Sai Layout in Bengaluru, turning the earthmoving machine into a multipurpose vehicle.
The recent 140mm rainfall, which occurred from late Sunday night until Tuesday, resulted in widespread flooding throughout the city.
Among the worst-hit was Sai Layout, a low-lying residential area already infamous for its drainage problems.
The persisting sewage issue of the ‘Silicon Valley of India’ has once again come under the spotlight and has triggered political debates and a war-like situation in the comment sections of several social media posts.
One user commented, “Now tell the rescue team to speak the local language before taking help,” taking a dig at the Kannada row that keeps on making headlines every now and then.
Another quipped, “Rain knows Kannada well, it has been well versed with all its corners.”
Taking aim at the government, a (clearly frustrated) citizen fumed, “This is the consequence of prioritising freebies over development.”
Mysore Pak renamed to Mysore Shree
In Jaipur, where mithai is a love language and every lane has a halwai more popular than a local politician, something naya is cooking.
Tensions between India and Pakistan have bubbled up again after the April 22 terror attack in Jammu and Kashmir’s Pahalgam, which claimed 26 lives. India responded with Operation Sindoor.
Missiles flew, borders got heated up and in Jaipur sweet shops ended up renaming Mysore Pak.
“We have removed the word 'Pak' from our sweets' names. We have renamed 'Moti Pak' as 'Moti Shree', 'Gond Pak' as 'Gond Shree', 'Mysore Pak' as 'Mysore Shree',” a shopkeeper told NDTV, sounding like he had just announced budget reforms.
While the 'Pak' in Mysore Pak comes from Kannada and simply means sweet (or more technically, a thick sugary syrup used in the making), shopkeepers across the Pink City are in no mood for linguistic nuance. For them, ‘Pak’ is out, and ‘Shree’ is in.
At the centre of this patriotic patisserie push is Tyohaar Sweets, a high-end mithai shop known for its shiny counters and even shinier sweets. Its owner, Anjali Jain, explained the reason behind the rebranding with full deshbhakt energy: “The spirit of patriotism shouldn’t just reside at the border but should live within each citizen. That’s why we decided to remove ‘Pak’ from the names of our sweets and replace it with more culturally resonant and patriotic alternatives.”
Gone are Moti Pak, Aam Pak, Gond Pak and Mysore Pak.
Say hello to Moti Shree, Aam Shree, Gond Shree, and Mysore Shree.
Even their blingy creations like Swarn Bhasm Pak and Chandi Bhasm Pak have been rechristened as Swarn Shree and Chandi Shree.
“Customers themselves urged us to make this change,” Jain said, suggesting that people were looking at sweets, whispering 'yeh bhi Pak hai?' and feeling uneasy mid-bite.
The move is catching on. Other halwais across Jaipur are joining the naamkaran drive. It's like a sanskaar-heavy soap opera — khaane mein wahi swad, naam naya hai.
To be fair, the word ‘Pak’ is as Indian as it gets — coming from Sanskrit, meaning “to cook.” But right now, no one’s in the mood for etymology. It’s more about emotion. As Jain puts it, “When we say ‘Shree’ or ‘Bharat’, it feels like home.”
Sure, some might call it sweet nationalism. Others might say bhai, kuch zyada ho gaya. Either way, Jaipur’s mithai scene is giving deshbhakti a sugary twist.
(Written and compiled by Aniket Jha, Sriroopa Dutta, Sohini Paul, Payel Das)