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Chit Chor: The wikipedia does not describe chit chor. Which is not surprising. So there.
Chit Chor: A person who steals the chat.

I am in a Friday kind of mood. Today is Friday. So I am in the right kind of mood and the right kind of day. So something is terribly wrong somewhere. But then, we’ll come to that in due course, the fullness of time, etc. QED.

Hokay. This award actually belongs to a lot of people. I would like to thank god, my parents, the entire unit, my director, my co – stars, spot boys, light boys, any boys. And also my producer who is the biggest casting couch potato I have ever seen. (Applause; bow and cup your cheeks with both your palms, show off your solitaire, smile.)
Now that all that is done, I would like to say something. The scene is a man reading a newspaper in the balcony. I shall try to get as many states as I can:

Jammu & Kashmir: Ka – boom. Followed by Ka – boom 1 to 392. (News flash the next day: There was a suspected bomb blast in some area of Srinagar where a man was reading the newspaper in the balcony. Subsequently, there were about 392 other blasts around the valley by all suspected terrorist outfits who wanted to take responsibility for the original blast. Unfortunately, all the suspected terrorist outfits wiped themselves off in this exercise except for one suspected militant, who was holed up in some hotel in downtown Srinagar but blasted himself off a few minutes ago not just because he was going to turn 39 in 2 days but the sum total of the individual digits in 392 added up to 5, which was his unlucky number. The actual cause of the original blast is suspected to be the man eating lots of roasted gram. They managed to find only the head. But he set a record posthumously for the biggest fart measuring 5.8 on the Richter.)
Punjab: Duniya mein char kaal hote hain. Bhoot kaal, Vartman kaal, Bhavishya kaal, Sat Sri Akal. Chal ab lassi pee, paratha kha aur newspaper padh.
Delhi: The only place where you have to watch television to know what is happening next door. So no one reads newspapers. Also, the crosswords are pretty tricky here. Like this one: 8 Across: A single word which describes a delhiite. The answer? TashanX. Why that X? TashanX.
Bihar: If its lalloo, its news, otherwise, its arre sasura ka hai noose ma?
Kolkatta: Bhy are you reading the newspaper in the Bhalcony?
Rajasthan: You read the paper (if you get one) on camel back.
Gujarat: Balcony ma su kar ra cho? Hole mein aao.
Assam: This is probably the only place where you get good tea, and a newspaper. (And yes. It’s a part of our country, high time we realize that.)
Madhya Pradesh: You don’t get newspapers here.
Mumbai: You don’t read the paper in the balcony. You read it in the 7:46 Virar fast. And it wont be your newspaper.
UP: There are no bhaiyyas left in UP to read newspapers. All of them read newspapers in the 7:46 Virar Fast in Mumbai.
Orissa: Same as Kolkatta but with lots of pan spitting.
Goa: If you are in Goa to read a newspaper in the morning, even Jesus cant help you baby.
Bangalore: En ri, uta ayitha? (Just when you sit down to read the newspaper, somebody will come and ask you this. It means, Sir, have you eaten? It dosent matter what time it is or if there is a spaceship hovering right above you. You ask this question first, and then you flag the spaceship down.)
Hyderabad: You get the newspaper in the afternoon because of the traffic. And its customary to shout “Maa ki kiri kiri” here.
Chennai: You’ll get the newspaper. It’ll be in tamil.
Kerala: God’s own enterprise. The pricing here is done by God himself. Only he can afford it. You get the paper, you’ll get cocoanut oil head massass, in our beetifill ayurveda zender. Wonly 20, 000 bukz per our.

Beautiful country, eh?