SEVERE WARNING: Parents who are over eighteen years of age must accompany children when reading this.
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The song—This Is Not A ChooRhi(sweeperess) But My Dil(do)—starts with the hero kissing the hand of the local sweeperess whom he has dressed up in his Mata jee’s sari and jewellery. Suddenly, like a street conjurer, he produces a bunch of glass bangles that are in truth leftovers from last year’s Eid-ul-Fitr bangles sale.
• Movie: Gambler
• Singer(s): Lata Mangeshkar, Kishore Kumar
• Music Director: S D Burman
• Lyricist: Neeraj
• Actors/Actresses: Zaheeda, Shatrughan Sinha, Dev
• Year/Decade: 1971, 1970s
And now the news in English:
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This is not a chooRhi(sweeperess) but my dil(do)
Looka looka you don’t break it
This is not a chooRi(sweeperess) but my dil(do)
Looka looka you don’t break it
This is not a chooRi(sweeperess) but my....(whatever)
[Sex-ophone music. Miss Street ChooRhi wears the leftover bangles and looks immensely pleased. The magician hero produces one more bunch of glass bangles leftover from last year’s Eid-ul-Fitr sale.]
Blue, yellow, colourful and bright
These are the offerings of my lust to you
Na, na, na, na, not this way (you clumsy street chooRhi)
Slowly and silently, shove your (leprous) hand in them
[She does just that, indicating that her IQ is above the ambient temperature of 30 Celsius]
The glass is weak (not bulletproof)
But it affords one (the luxury of) true (smudge-proof) make-up
It’s not gold(finger), silver(lining), diamonds (are forever), or pearls (before swine)
Their price is (only three hours) of (non-stop) rock n’ roll
These are as delicate as (de)flowers
Looka, looka-looka-looka that they don’t break
[The bangle-man proceeds to repeat the chorus. Inborn shamelessness makes Miss Street ChooRhi hide her face but then she laughs even more shamelessly and asks, “Really?”]
[Note that the Mercedes’ rear-view mirror has now suddenly changed from the original horizontal position to vertical now, which means that from now on the starved bangle-man will have a very narrow view of anything that ‘rears’ its ugly head.]
[The bangle-man who has many cheap tricks up his sleep—and God knows where else on his person—magically pulls out a Cadbury’s chocolate bar and offers it to the equally chocolaty Miss Street ChooRhi. Then he withdraws the bar to bite off a piece, offers a contaminated sample to the super-contaminated one, and which she accepts—with no finesse at all—right out of his mouth that smells of onions and garlic.]
[Note that there are mystery moments when the bangle-man is not actually driving the car and has his hands God knows where! One need not speculate on how he is able to steer the thing.]
My lust is (from the same class) as that of the chooRhi
It doesn’t have a direction or a purpose
It’s neither here, nor there
Looka looka, break not Giovanni’s (Mercedes’) door
Inky Khan-Khan, and the dil(do’s) very own heartbeat are music to me
Listen (deaf woman), think (bird-brain) to this lustful song, O my manly meat
[By now the opium-laced chocolate has had the desired effect on Miss Street ChooRhi; she’s falling in his lap like a ripe apple.]
La Jovab, Bon Mital
Looka looka that they break not
[The magician parks his borrowed Mercedes at an abandoned spot, repeats the chorus, and which prompts Miss ChooRhi to do what she does best: she sings oohs and aahs! She then hugs him to make up for that vanishing trick she played on him on the last Eid-ul-Fitr.]
Your lust, your love, O my man so ill!
Your arms rape around me
My come-ons tie you up (for an SM session)
My dil(do) is now at your disposal
Whosoever you may be, you’re mine, O my ham damned
Whether I get (your) gum, or get cosy with you
No matter where (in which motel) we stay and under what crazy conditions
We’ll never separate (whatever fluctuations occur in the market)
Whatever (the hell) Janet, I’ll munch (your free lunch)
Looka looka that they break not
[The bangle-man and Miss Street ChooRhi repeat the chorus together and end the hymn with a silly laughter.]
**************************
The song—This Is Not A ChooRhi(sweeperess) But My Dil(do)—starts with the hero kissing the hand of the local sweeperess whom he has dressed up in his Mata jee’s sari and jewellery. Suddenly, like a street conjurer, he produces a bunch of glass bangles that are in truth leftovers from last year’s Eid-ul-Fitr bangles sale.
• Movie: Gambler
• Singer(s): Lata Mangeshkar, Kishore Kumar
• Music Director: S D Burman
• Lyricist: Neeraj
• Actors/Actresses: Zaheeda, Shatrughan Sinha, Dev
• Year/Decade: 1971, 1970s
And now the news in English:
***************************
This is not a chooRhi(sweeperess) but my dil(do)
Looka looka you don’t break it
This is not a chooRi(sweeperess) but my dil(do)
Looka looka you don’t break it
This is not a chooRi(sweeperess) but my....(whatever)
[Sex-ophone music. Miss Street ChooRhi wears the leftover bangles and looks immensely pleased. The magician hero produces one more bunch of glass bangles leftover from last year’s Eid-ul-Fitr sale.]
Blue, yellow, colourful and bright
These are the offerings of my lust to you
Na, na, na, na, not this way (you clumsy street chooRhi)
Slowly and silently, shove your (leprous) hand in them
[She does just that, indicating that her IQ is above the ambient temperature of 30 Celsius]
The glass is weak (not bulletproof)
But it affords one (the luxury of) true (smudge-proof) make-up
It’s not gold(finger), silver(lining), diamonds (are forever), or pearls (before swine)
Their price is (only three hours) of (non-stop) rock n’ roll
These are as delicate as (de)flowers
Looka, looka-looka-looka that they don’t break
[The bangle-man proceeds to repeat the chorus. Inborn shamelessness makes Miss Street ChooRhi hide her face but then she laughs even more shamelessly and asks, “Really?”]
[Note that the Mercedes’ rear-view mirror has now suddenly changed from the original horizontal position to vertical now, which means that from now on the starved bangle-man will have a very narrow view of anything that ‘rears’ its ugly head.]
[The bangle-man who has many cheap tricks up his sleep—and God knows where else on his person—magically pulls out a Cadbury’s chocolate bar and offers it to the equally chocolaty Miss Street ChooRhi. Then he withdraws the bar to bite off a piece, offers a contaminated sample to the super-contaminated one, and which she accepts—with no finesse at all—right out of his mouth that smells of onions and garlic.]
[Note that there are mystery moments when the bangle-man is not actually driving the car and has his hands God knows where! One need not speculate on how he is able to steer the thing.]
My lust is (from the same class) as that of the chooRhi
It doesn’t have a direction or a purpose
It’s neither here, nor there
Looka looka, break not Giovanni’s (Mercedes’) door
Inky Khan-Khan, and the dil(do’s) very own heartbeat are music to me
Listen (deaf woman), think (bird-brain) to this lustful song, O my manly meat
[By now the opium-laced chocolate has had the desired effect on Miss Street ChooRhi; she’s falling in his lap like a ripe apple.]
La Jovab, Bon Mital
Looka looka that they break not
[The magician parks his borrowed Mercedes at an abandoned spot, repeats the chorus, and which prompts Miss ChooRhi to do what she does best: she sings oohs and aahs! She then hugs him to make up for that vanishing trick she played on him on the last Eid-ul-Fitr.]
Your lust, your love, O my man so ill!
Your arms rape around me
My come-ons tie you up (for an SM session)
My dil(do) is now at your disposal
Whosoever you may be, you’re mine, O my ham damned
Whether I get (your) gum, or get cosy with you
No matter where (in which motel) we stay and under what crazy conditions
We’ll never separate (whatever fluctuations occur in the market)
Whatever (the hell) Janet, I’ll munch (your free lunch)
Looka looka that they break not
[The bangle-man and Miss Street ChooRhi repeat the chorus together and end the hymn with a silly laughter.]
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