Sunday, 27 July 2025
Sunday, 27 July 2025
Jackfruit invites drunk-driving case
Those who draft driving guidelines must consider another pointer – “Do not eat jackfruit and drive.”
Because a bus driver in Kerala almost lost his job for failing the breathalyser test after consuming jackfruit before joining duty.
The man took the test as part of a routine check. To his shock, the meter went from 0 to 10 in no time. He insisted he wasn’t drunk and even challenged the authorities to conduct a blood test.
Soon, it was revealed that three other staff members had also failed the test. The common link? Jackfruit.
The official conducting the tests decided to investigate. First, he took the test without consuming anything, reading was 0. Then he ate jackfruit and tested again – the meter spiked instantly.
Social media, true to its nature, did not hold back.
One anti-teetotaler wrote, “Jackfruit fry with Oldmonk is a classic.”
Another had a more logical explanation and wrote, “Must've been an over ripened jack fruit. Sugars in fruits convert to alcohol when it's too ripe.”
Left behind, with love
In Junagadh, a high-profile leader, busy juggling temple visits, speeches, and tight flight schedules, wrapped up his event in a rush and zoomed off to Rajkot with a 22-car convoy — only to realise midway that he’d left someone very important behind. His wife.
While he was on stage checking his watch like a ticking time bomb and declaring he’d “come leisurely next time,” his better half was calmly sitting in a waiting room at the Peanut Research Centre, probably wondering where all the cars had gone.
Ten minutes into the high-speed getaway, the absence hit him. One phone call and an emergency U-turn later, the entire convoy rolled back to pick her up. With both passengers now on board, the motorcade resumed its journey to Rajkot.
The moment added an unexpected dose of humour to a packed day of official duties.
Client visit or corporate sangeet? Nobody knows
In the latest episode of Dancing with the Staffers, a group of Indian office workers went full flash mob to welcome a visiting foreign client — complete with synchronised moves to Telugu beats and a solo number on Main Tera Boyfriend. Somewhere HR is probably polishing their “best choreography” trophy.
The client, caught somewhere between confusion and curiosity, even joined in — possibly out of politeness, possibly out of fear.
But while the team two-stepped their way into virality, the Internet wasn’t clapping in unison. Social media users split into two camps: those who called it heart-warming team spirit, and those who saw it as corporate Stockholm Syndrome.
Some felt it was a refreshing break from Excel sheets and “circle backs”. Others wondered if we'd gone from writing code to writing dance recitals for clients. One particularly scarred viewer summarised it best: “This is what happens when HR has budget and no supervision.”
LinkedIn is still healing.
Is it cringe? Is it culture? Is it an elaborate ploy to distract from Q4 targets? Nobody knows. But the client’s probably back home explaining to his boss how ‘diversity’ means being ambushed by Bollywood inside a boardroom.
Love in time of Fraud
Let’s call this column ‘The Great Indian Vacation’ for a change.
It began with stolen glances. And ended with stolen cash.
Our man, a sub-inspector with a knack for cyber fraud cases, was supposed to help return swindled money to scam victims. But then he had an idea.
Instead of giving the money back, he rerouted Rs 2 crore from seized accounts into the bank details of three trusted civilians (who now regret being so trusting). With some quick paperwork, fake complainants, and court orders that no judge actually remembers signing, the cash was his.
Then came a suspiciously timed "seven-day medical leave", probably the most well-funded sick leave in police history. Our man vanished. So did his partner-in-crime and fellow sub-inspector (and training batchmate), hereafter known as “the lady”.
They weren’t missing. They were sipping cocktails in Goa. Clicking selfies in Manali. Posing near shikaras in Kashmir. “With this money, he also went to places like Goa, Manali and Kashmir,” the police sighed.
The lovebirds were already married, but like the Astronomer CEO and HR head, to other people. They hatched their plan in 2021 during police training.
But every hilltop has its downfall.
After four months of GPS chasing and WhatsApp-stalking, Delhi Police found them in Indore. The couple had ditched uniforms for anonymity, buying gold worth over Rs 1 crore to keep it lowkey. “Their plan was to get fake IDs and start a new life in Madhya Pradesh’s hills,” said the police.
Gold, laptops, ATM cards, cash, phones everything was seized, except common sense.
They’re now cooling their heels in custody. The gold’s cooling in evidence lockers. And the holiday’s officially over.
Punjab cop on ‘high’ alert goes viral
If Udta Punjab ever got a sequel, a cop of Punjab police inhaling heroin would be a perfect opening scene -- ‘inspired by true events’.
In a viral video, the policeman can be seen sitting on a cot and taking drugs.
He has been identified as the gunman of a senior political leader based in Hoshiarpur.
"We have immediately transferred him from security duty to police lines. We have also initiated departmental action against him," NDTV quoted the Special Superintendent of Police as saying.
"We have started further investigation into this matter. Preliminary investigation revealed that he got admitted in a de-addiction centre by his family. The police are working on various angles to get this video investigated," he added.
This has come as a blot on the efforts of Punjab police trying to take over the drug menace that has troubled the state for long.
Deity & the heartbeat mystery
Just when you think you've seen it all, the Internet hands you a temple video featuring a man with a stethoscope, not attending to a patient, but listening intently to an idol.
A full medical check-up... for a deity.
This head-scratching moment unfolded during a Pran Pratishtha ritual, where a devotee claimed to hear a heartbeat coming from the idol.
The next step, naturally, was to call a doctor because when someone claims an idol has a heartbeat, who else do you ring? What followed felt less like a temple ritual and more like a very confused health check-up, where even the stethoscope seemed unsure of its job.
In the now-viral clip, a man presumed to be the doctor leans forward, stethoscope in place, surrounded by chanting, conch shells, and a sense of divine confusion. Another man steps up to give it a second opinion, as though the idol might just need a follow-up consultation.
The Internet, of course, has done what it does best — turned the moment into a meme museum.
Some wondered if the doctor checked the devotee first, others suggested checking for fever while he’s at it. One viewer summed it up perfectly: “A god a day keeps the scientific temper away.”
BSF constable to crime show contestant
Gaurav Yadav was trained to guard the nation’s borders — not to raid jewellery stores with a toy gun. But one month into his BSF posting, the 22-year-old decided he’d rather audition for Crime Patrol than patrol Punjab’s Fazilka.
Inspired by TV thrillers and burdened by online gambling losses, Yadav took leave from his unit and headed to Delhi. There, somewhere between train switches and plot twists, he hatched a plan: rob a jewellery store using a plastic pistol from the local toy shop. A method actor in uniform.
He struck on June 19 — broad daylight, dramatic entry, gold bracelets snatched, exit stage left. Sadly, not everyone’s cut out for crime.
Police got to work, tracking CDRs, CCTV, IPDR, NATGRID, and possibly astrology. A digital breadcrumb trail led them to Shivpuri, MP, where Yadav had retreated, hoping glitter would fix his gambling debt.
They found him, his two remaining gold bracelets, and a very suspicious Rs 2 lakh deposit in a bank account. He confessed — probably because his script had too many holes.
The BSF now has a vacancy, and OTT crime shows might need a disclaimer: Do not try this in real life, especially with a toy gun.
