Apu’s got a blog!

When I read Anna’s recent post on the desi celebrity blogger of the moment, the comments of Chick Pea and Jai Singh caught my eye:

what’s next… apu and manjula’s blog from the kwik-e-mart life?

That would be a fantastic idea for another new-topic thread here on SM — we could all just keep adding fictitious “diary entries” by Apu. Manish, Abhi etc — do you guys want to make this happen ? I think it would be a lot of fun and potentially hilarious too.


p>Inspired by their comments, I decided to scour the internet to determine if that most redoubtable of Indian-American television celebrities, Apu Nahasapeemapetilon, was indeed a blogger.  And, um, turns out he is.  (Sorry if that was anticlimactic.) 

Of course, it’s possible that the aforelinked blog was not actually written by Apu, but rather by some sort of sick Apu impersonator.  In which case, would the real Apu Nahasapeemapetilon please stand up?  Please stand up?  Please stand up? 

16 thoughts on “Apu’s got a blog!

  1. Apu’s Off-line Blog, Thursday 20th October, 03:37 AM

    Manjula is making me sleep on the couch again. Apparently blurting out “Bipasha” during our 7-hour tantric rumpy-pumpy session was not a good idea. Damn Sepia Mutiny for posting that link to Ms Basu’s blog…..

    Which reminds me — I must ask Homer to return my DVD of Jism. How he’s managed to hide it from Marge for the past 6 months, I’ll never know.

  2. I kind of like it. It’s proof that a wild imagination does not have to stop in grade school. Plus, it’s inspiration for those who don’t like to publicly write about themselves. AND, I didn’t find it to be stereotypical, as someone else already pointed out.

    Aside: I don’t like the probable intentions behind the birth of the character Apu on the Simpsons one bit, but he has become somewhat human over the seasons. Still, the former is what resides in many non-desi minds… stereotypical Apu references are rampant, and often used in racist remarks.

  3. During a four month stint in Germany, strangers would spot me in bars and walk up to me and tell me I look like Apu.

    Bollocks. If only my last name were not longer than Apu’s..

  4. I think we all know who the resident Apu expert here is (Ang, Apu’s wholesome goodness is explained therein). Bipasha Basu and Apu in two days…that’s like some strange wet dream for me.

    The actual quote is “This is not a lending library! If you’re not going to buy that thing, put it down or I’ll blow your heads off!”

  5. Ads,

    Well this is pretty damn disappointing isn’t it ! Not exactly a huge turnout…..

    I think other Mutineers should join in before I’m provoked into adding more and more controversial extracts of my own from Apu’s blog…..

  6. I don’t understand all this fussing about Apu and his family. My daughter Pahusacheta has scored 95th percentile verbal and 98th percentile math on the SAT, while Apu’s children do nothing but soil themselves and roll around on the floor. There is no respect anymore for well-educated youth.

  7. Manjula finally let me sleep in our bed last night. It took some doing, but I managed to convince her that I was actually paying her a compliment; after all, as far as I’m concerned, she is the “hottest brown girl on the net” ;)

    Navratri came and went very quickly this year. The Shahs of Shelbyville invited us to their annual garbas again; Homer (who, incidentally, is now staying with us for a while, as Marge found that DVD behind their refrigerator a couple of days ago) decided to join us. The fact that Marge is not speaking to him didn’t stop the rest of his family from coming along too, although Manjula is being used as a “go-between” by the unhappy couple. Bart is surprisingly good at Gujju dancing but I think he enjoyed deliberately inflicting dandiya injuries on everyone more; he and Homer were also placing bets on Marge’s sari falling off, which fortunately for all of us did not happen. We had to keep a close eye on her during the aarti though, as her hair is a bit of a fire hazard.

    I am looking forward to Diwali, although as our house will be the only one lit up in Springfield as usual, it becomes tiring to have to explain to people every year that we’re celebrating the “Hindu Christmas”.

    Homer doesn’t help matters when he keeps telling everyone we’re commemorating “Krishna going to the island of Sir Lancelot with his five brothers to rescue Sita, as seen on ‘Xena’. “

  8. apu you made my sunday better by starting it off on a laugh.. please bless me with your presence by making your observant brown comments on my blog…;)….

    hindu xmas.. gotta love it… clever clever apu man…

    how are your 199934 kids doing? hopefully the cow you’re milking at home is keeping their appetite at bay..besides getting enough milk to produce butter, buttermilk, and ghee ;)

  9. Chickpea: Thanking you very much for your most kind heartfelt comments. I will endeavor to drop by your blog when I have a few spare minutes, in-between my usual 20-hour work shifts (getting lazy, I know), entertaining our current house-guest Homer, and…..er…..performing my conjugal duties with wifey Manjula.

    Speaking of my darling bride, she mentioned to me last night that I look a bit like a Southie version of President Musharraf in some of my on-line photographs. I guess she does have a point about me having a lot in common with that gentleman. Apart from the striking physical appearance (we even both have the same finely-trimmed Guru Dutt-style moustache), what with Homer currently exiled in our spare bedroom, Mushie and I are both presently haboring a famous fugitive on our territory.

  10. Homer is settling in nicely and appears to be making an effort to embrace Indian culture during his stay with us. He has decided to spend his evenings reading my copy of Gandhiji’s autobiography “My Experiments with Truth”; I’m not sure if he’s really understanding the message, but watching him sitting in our back garden this morning wearing just a lungi and attempting to spin cotton was a priceless experience.

    Hearing his stories of life at the power station is leading me to feel that he is being seriously exploited by his boss Mr Burns, like an East India Company sepoy. Not a very good sepoy, mind you, and definitely not one you would want anywhere near a breech-loading rifle. (Come to think of it, Homer would probably end up chewing those cartridges coated in animal fat as a “tasty mid-morning snack”). But a manipulated sepoy nevertheless.

    I am considering that I must do something to help these poor naukhers who are being so cruelly abused by Mr Burns and his “friend” Smithers. People in Springfield do often come to me as the typical desi “fixer”; not suprising really, considering that absolutely everyone knows me due to their frequent visits to the Kwik-E-Mart.

    I am beginning to think that I am turning into Amitabh Bachchan’s character from Sarkar.

  11. (Come to think of it, Homer would probably end up chewing those cartridges coated in animal fat as a “tasty mid-morning snack”)

    “Mmmmm, animal fat…”


  12. Having meditated on the matter overnight, I feel I must take back my implied insinuation about Mr Burns and Smithers. Sure, guys back in India hold hands too, and sure, they can be a little too touchy-feely, and sure, some of them are suspiciously closer to each other than to their wives, but it doesn’t mean anything, dammit.

    I will fast this evening in order to compensate for my transgression. More food for Homer, I guess.

    Anyway…..We received a somewhat unexpected reverse-charge telephone call from our beloved motherland this morning. My mother will be paying us a visit in a few days. I have a feeling she is on a hubbie-hunting expedition for her sister’s daughters — my cousins — Tina, Beena, and Deena. We have already told my aunt enough times that we don’t know anybody suitable here, but that obsession with being able to say “My daughter lives in Amreeka” seems to be overriding everyone’s common sense. It’s not as though there aren’t any suitable candidates back in India, after all — and the male desi population of India is a little higher than that of Springfield…..

    Manjula is already panicking; she has begun clearing her wardrobe of her underwear and is desperately trying to find somewhere in the house to hide them. With some difficulty, I am going to have to sacrifice seeing those diamond-back thongs for a few days. My mother always did get a little weird about the idea that Manjula and I are not just “holding hands”, despite the fact that we are actually a married couple. And have four children.