Random geographical puns

It all started with a few harmless tweets, making puns about random places on the third planet of the Solar System. Then Tanmay (yes, Bongpen) insisted I make a blog post out of them. I gave it some thought, then obliged.

He also suggested I split them by continents or countries or whatever. I tried, but there were some that spanned multiple regions, so I decided to choose them randomly.

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Most puns involve at least one of English and Hindi. Since I am proficient in neither, do not blame the places if the puns are terrible. Blame me instead.

At some point of time in my life I was obsessed with capitals of countries, and knew a chunk of them (about 90 per cent) by heart. Do not lose heart if you hit a dead end, for I love capital connections.

A working knowledge of geography will make things easy.

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I take this opportunity to dedicate this blog post to my unfortunate geography teachers at school. Poor souls.

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Fever. More fever. Bucharest.

Nicobar is surrounded by water and a man.

Gujarati mom: I'm a Fidel Castro fan.

Gujarati son: Cuba?

They should've renamed Bombay to Stockholm, not Mumbai.

Nero watched Rome burn. Yash Chopra roamed in Berne.

Garlands are not used in Kohima.

Pub locks in Burkina Faso are wonderful. The keys never get stuck.

Despite the violence she has witnessed, Warsaw has a nice Polish about her.

To... tu ne ek Thai ladki Pattaya?

Bathing isn't free in Peshawar.

Rivers can be Seine in France.

Romania has a water boundary, but how will they cross it?

Angela Morant, Alison Sutcliffe, Alexandra Christmann, and Daniela Lavender all went to Benin.

Czechs love to mate.

Even if malaria and dengue prevailed in Ecuador, The Rolling Stones never caught it.

Legal advice is charitable in Khartoum.

Sanity prevails in Madrid.

In Part 1, Savita Bhabhi met a Belgian.

Occidental oxen vs Istanbul.

In North Korea, do they urinate on Yin as well?

Before Ajit Tendulkar and Snehashish Ganguly, there was Azerbaijan.

Of all Chinese cities, the capital is at the top of Peking order.

Korean horror movies are nothing but dhania.

Go to Philippines if you need acupuncture. Go to Manila if you want to get paid for it.

Luxembourg is where the secret of film-stars aim for tennis stars. 

Going to Tirana will take you close to Jessica Alba.

Are fundamentalists really planning to settle in Macau?

The Dalai Lama puts his money on golf encounters.

Underwater cars are popular in Kargil.

Beirut does not appear in GPS.

You need to sell your soul to get into Peru.

Ménage à trois is common in Dublin.

Two friends decided to write poems on eggs. One wrote verses on the white part. The other became a Yorkshire.

Munro couldn't sing at Nagasaki.

Hum Japan jaayen bhi Tokyo jaayen?

Egyptian Sun in an Indian sky. Welcome to Eritrea.

Slovakians find ill-behaved children extremely hot.

The North vs South rift is so strong in the US that they were forced to have reservations: North Dakota and South Dakota.

Mothers exist no more in Tanzania.

Serious about six-sigma? Move to Armenia.

There is a perpetual demand for local area network in Orlando.

Darjeeling is full of tailored sex organs.

In Nasik, unlike in Mexico, they don't need doctors.

The King's Speech was shot in Rajkot.

Even lead actors cannot exceed Hiroshima.

Tansen's malhar was also known as Singapore.

Shimla roothi, par sab ne Manali.

Thank goodness Finns can swim on land. They would have been sinking in Hell otherwise.

Sirf jism se kya hoga? I need Daman! It's Diu.

Out of bank balance, but still need an automobile? Go to Africa.

Managers stalk employees in Bosnia.

Suffering from asphyxiation? Go to Texas.

As far as capitals go, Bulgaria is the cause; Egypt, the effect.

In Qatar, they stand in a queue for Kabir. In Kuwait they do it anyway.

Togolese have non-digital feet.

In Norway, even dehydrated soup makes you fat.

They know how Tuvalu things in Funafuti.

Where do I find Port of Spain?

Barcelona!

In Oslo, there is neither will...

Molluscs and crustaceans speak in Seychelles.

They will call you a lunatic if you look for NGVs in Madagascar.

When will Dominica happen? Domino’s.

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Some puns, unfortunately, are Bengali-only.

Murder is a piece of cake in the Kyrgyzstan.

Between them, Germany and China have managed to conquer greed for money.

Erectile dysfunction is a serious problem in Lesotho.

Moon Moon Sen lost a daughter in Nigeria.

Finally, some good Indian coffee. At Brunei, that is.

Lebanon? L. E.

Holland

I'm sick and tired of going around telling this, but for Tendulkar's sake, HOLLAND IS NOT THE NAME OF A COUNTRY. It's Netherlands. There are two states in the country of Netherlands that are called North and South Holland. I know that many people do refer to Netherlands by the name Holland (they're quite logical to do so; all three big Dutch cities - Amsterdam, The Hague and Rotterdam - are located in Holland), but the thing is, how would it feel like, if we started referring to India as Maharashtra or Punjab or whatever all of a sudden? Naturally it infuriates the people residing in other parts of the country. And however logical it might sound, given the importance of the area, it's not official, and is hence wrong.

Why would we, Indians, known for our knowledge and intellect, commit this irritating mistake, time and again? Isn't it time we rectify ourselves, given that Netherlands is on the verge of probable history in just over an hour?

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PS:
1. True, referring to Netherlands as Holland drives me nuts, but this is nowhere close to people pronouncing Wagon R (Maruti) as Wagner. You know what I mean, don't you?

2. I'm supporting Spain tonight.
3. I'm suddenly elated to learn that Salim-Sulaiman are the main composers of Waka waka. Suddenly I've started developing a totally unAbhishekish affinity towards the stupid song.

Oh well...

I once had a mountain.

Not quite The Himalayas, but it was a mountain nevertheless. It was so dwarfish that most would call it a hillock, but to me it was a mountain. It stood quite proudly in front of me, and was high enough to make me go around it instead of just treading over it. It reminded me of the high classroom windows some schools had. I was afraid that someone might try to steal it, so I tried to hide it under my cot.

But it was too high. So I had to keep it outside. Then the inevitable happened. Someone stole it.

I was crestfallen. The mountain was the only possession I had, and parting with it meant a serious blow to me: a really serious one.

Time passed.

***

Then I had a river.

Not quite The Nile, but it was a river nevertheless. It was so small that most wouldn't even call it a brook, but to me it was a river. It flowed, it even wet my feet as I tried to tread across it. It was orangish, and looked like Gold Spot flowing merrily. I had learnt a lesson from last time, so I did hide it under my cot, meandering it as much as I could to hide it..

But it was too long. The cot couldn't hide its ends. Someone saw it. And, well, stole it.

The second blow was too much for me. First the mountain, then this? I mean, you crave to own something this much, and give it up, just like that? Just because you weren't capable enough to hide it efficiently from the world? Is that what you call justice?

Time passed.

***

Then I had a grassland.

Not quite The Steppes, but it was a grassland nevertheless. It was so small that it would hardly pass as a meadow, but to me it was a grassland. It wasn't even lush - the grass was sparse, and oddly reminded you of those small suburb fields where little girls ran as if their feet didn't touch the ground and they sold ghotigorom on summer evenings. I had to hide this under the cot this time, and even managed to do it somewhat.

But the insects gave me away. Someone followed the insects under the cot, and it happened again. It was nicked.

By now I should've learnt a lesson: I simply could not keep my precious stuff to myself. I wasn't capable enough. Perhaps I should've given up all hope of owning something that precious, that rare. Maybe things that special were elusive, after all.

Time passed.

***

Then I had a desert.

This time it was really a massive one, bigger than The Sahara. It was so huge that you couldn't even fly from from one end to the other, let alone drive; and walking was out of the question. It was humongous, imposing and, in a nut-shell, a quite imposing body.

I knew I had to hide this. It wasn't just another geographical structure -  it was a desert. As one of my favourite books has mentioned, "What makes the desert beautiful is that somewhere it hides a well." That's what makes deserts so special. And the fact that it had Abhishek written all over it made it the most special entity that had ever existed.

Then I realised that to keep the desert secured and own it to your satisfaction you cannot separate it from yourself. You need to stretch yourself beyond your limits, convert your limbs to tentacles and put a firm grip on it. Above all, you cannot afford detach yourself from it.

So I decided to step inside my desert. I knew this was suicidal, and once you walked a certain distance inside there was no way out - it was vast enough for a lifetime, or maybe even the entire timeline. But I had to own it, correct? What options did I have?

I walked in. And walked. And walked.

I know there is a well somewhere.

But where is it?

It's there, isn't it?

Please tell me I shall not lose my desert. Ever. If I do, I shall never be able to say "time passed" the way I did for the others: you need sand for the sandclocks, for the glass in watches and clocks, for the silicon chips in electronic devices to measure time. If I don't have a desert any more, time shall cease to pass. In fact, it shall cease to exist.

I need to own my desert, possibly even die walking on it, but then, all the water that I had stocked over the years is running out. Where is that well? WHERE IS THAT WELL?