The person who provides the best back-story or conversation interpreting this picture wins!

Wins what?

Clearly Anna is attacking Ennis. Why, I don't know. It's probably not any of my business anyway. ^__^

Wins what?

You won't know if you don't try.

You won't know if you don't try.

Oh, now that's exactly what my dad used to say to try to get my sister and I to do some kind of chore for some kind of vague "prize." We caught on pretty quickly. (And "the joy of accomplishment" is not a prize!)

And "the joy of accomplishment" is not a prize!

Well, that all depends on the accomplishment ;)

ha!

my first attempt at fiction -- Chameli has been married to an older blacksmith Ramdin for over an year. Ramdin has not been able to provide his young wife the kind of sexual escapades that she's been expecting from the husband. The younger shepherd Aslam had an eye on Chameli ever since she's moved into the neighbourhood. He was able to attract Chameli's attention and together have hatched a plot to kill Ramdin -- More to come next.

Old dirty dirty: Dammit, woman! What chu put in dem grits dis mo'nin'?
Sledgehammer honey: That's it! I have had it wit yo triflin' ass always shittin' in mah pots!
Jenny from the block: Oh shit! Old dirty gon' get it now! I told dat fool to stop shittin' in dem pots. Come here, goat!

It took me some time to see David Pescovitz's problem.Her hands seem misaligned in the current frame, but her front leg is clearly pointing where she intends to hit, and her body will swing and get properly aligned with the direction of her front leg as she proceeds to swing the anvil. Sorry but there is nothing about feminist liberation in this painting. :)

But for the sake of fun, my story is that they are testing the effectiveness of the pugree as a head safety accessory.

Parminder, who will soon fail out of her homescience course at Patiala Institute of Tech, attempts to make a paratha

The painting depicts an airborne smithy shop in ancient India where flying machines were the norm(proof). It might appear to the untrained eye that the old man's end is nigh. But the good lady cosmonaut knows too well that the glorious ships of ancient India were constantly accelerating, and the acceleration will change the trajectory of her swing to exactly the right spot.

PS: I need to stop reading bad SF.

"Jaan, you make delicious rotis. But I was thinking, perhaps they could be EVEN BETTER. Here let me show you..."

@ blue,

you would know wouldn't you---there you are, in the background looking on!! i knew it. :D

Married to you when I was a young girl. You were already an old man, a widower of 57. I came, demurrely at first, into your home and assumed all the roles that was required of me and that were passed down by HER. And what did you give me? Nothing. Not even a working male organ. I took the place as a servant, not a wife, and yet I never complained. The fools think I'm happy. Your child from her is just two years younger than me. We'd be friends if she didn't hate me so - but who can blame her? And after slaving away on your measly pathetic farm, I sit here and help you with your current task; I'm secretly plotting to miss, lose my balance, and hit you in the skull with my heavy tool. Good thing your daughter is here to witness it all. Tell me, husband, what will you say then?

Here's our interpretation.

Here's our interpretation.

Pure genius. I lowe. Completely approwe.

His lungs feel heavier. He delays his breathing cycles only to realize the burden of life through the weight of each breath. He wonders why God cannot allow him, for a mere moment, to breath through his eyes. If only the light landing on his sunken eyes could provide sustenance. But he pilots a human being and not the unripe bitter gourd he may have to eat today, if he is unable to muster the strength to finish flattening this spear - the same strength his father said was imbued in his blood. His only daughter looks on, ashamed of being a girl. Ever conscious that even a thousand gunny-bags of bitter gourds will never constitute a dowry, however ripe. She fixes her eyes onto her sari and recalls the days when she used to tie only five pleats and those same days when one side was really a pallu. In a moment, almost irrationally, she stands up and grabs the rusted sledge hammer, but her thinning sari restricts her movement. Her father too weak to register the transgression holds the spear over the anvil in anticipation. She unties the top of her sari, peering from the corner of her eye trying to force her iris beyond its limit. Noticing the village midwife, she continues to retie what-was-once-the-pallu around her thick hair whilst uncomfortably absorbing the heavy glances. Her arms unshackled, she raises the sledge hammer above her head oblivious to black fly that just landed on her barren midriff.

It's just a simple Indian variation of a fairground test of strength; hit the old man on the toe and see how high he goes. I believe there are families who have specialised in this form of enterteinment for thirty generations.

1. "The first and last time Kewal taught Asha how to Blacksmith"

2. "Early forms of Indian village S&M"

3. "Asha gives Kewal the spice he complains is always missing from her chole"

Lizzie Borden took an ax...

"I am THOR!"

"Quite frankly darling, after last night, who wouldn't be?"

"In the absence of any flint, Pushpinder fell back on the traditional method of making a fire by striking Baba ji's incredibly callused foot".

"It is interesting to note that, had the travelling toothpaste salesman in the background arrived a few minutes later, the product we know as Arm & Hammer would've been instead called Concussed Indian".

Whadyamean you forget to vote for Sanjaya last nite?

Baba ji was beginning to regret his ultimatum: "Either that black goat goes or I do".

forgot, I mean. I hope the woman yesterday who complimented my English and "mastery of American idioms" didn't read my previous comment.

"Baggy pantaloons? Garish colours? That's right... it's Hammer time!"

"Pushpinder made her point with all the subtlety of... one of Taj's attempts at a witty caption".

With the scent of sandalwood and jasmine permeating the morning air, she made her Choice.

"I will no longer be a Tree Bride. I shall be reborn with a hammer." Her arms shook with shakti and fire as she lifted the heavy metal.

The old man looked at her with wide eyes. "Do you smell curry and mustard oil?"

"No, but what is curry exactly? I asked the spices and they have stopped whispering to me."

"I heard them. Come to the guava orchard. I shall sit in the tree and then I will tell you the secret of the spices."

She lifted the hammer high above her head. She pounded it down to a rhythm in her head: Go-Gol-Gang-Guli-Go-Gol-Gang-Guli.

haraam zyaade....main tera khoon pi jaaoongi!

Ganga never happy with Ramdin who she had been married to since she was a child had found exciting new love in Durga the young neighbor who was recently widowed. One day while Durga kept watch over the sleeping village on a late summer afternoon, Ganga decided it was time for Ramdin to go.

What you don't see is the blinking lights and bell way up above the old man. This is an ancient Indian carnival game where the woman strikes her husbands knees in an effort to pop his head off. It is similar to the Kyrgyz game of Buzkashi, a mix between polo and rugby-- played with a headless, goat carcass...How embarrassing/macabre... I formally withdraw myself from the Abhi's story competition.

signed,

the Anti-Sanjaya

While Ramji thinks his wife is going to hit his hand instead of the metal he holds, he does not know that behind him lurks the girl(Lakshmibai) with the sword he ditched in a nearby village after she got pregnant. She is here for one reason, to chop his head off for cheating her innocent soul.

I know I won. I know it.

Hey, this is genius, yaar! It's a Desi Escher "impossible angles" masterpiece!

The Goat: "I wish that old fool would stop making her do all that hard work; her calloused hands hurt my teats every morning"

Lady- "Don't you dare take that last chapatti!"

Jagdish, dear, did you file for Hetch-Vun-Bee?

Yes, dearest Pallavi; I hitched one bee to the cart, as well as one tree, for good measure.

Anjali had had it. She was tired of hiding her hidden talents in order to be the demure and fecund baby factory that Subramaniam demanded. She was going to pursue her dream – to be winner of the Lumberjack World Championship – even if it meant the death of her… or him. She swept her sari aside, flexed her abs, gripped her mighty hammer, and deftly swung.

I think coment 35 takes the cake. Uber shut it down. There's no point in continuing.

Director: "Ramu, that is good, stay facing me while looking at the piece of metal on the ground. And Somu, stay there in the background and act like you are watching them, do the metal work. Parvati, now raise that hammer slowly above your head and pose like you are going to hit that piece of hot metal to shape it."

"OK, action! Cameras roll!"

Poster-maker/painter aka Sudo-Froid: (Thinking to himself) Hmm! This will make a good poster for the movie and I can also sell this in Amreeka to those desi sudo-art collector market for a handsome price. I will angle the hammer such that it looks like it could strike the hot metal or Ramu's head. It will be interesting to hear from all those art viewers and get their take on what exactly is happening in this scene. It will reveal their dark inner secrets. Only question is how to get them talking.

A few months later...

Sudo-froid reading SM: "Wow! This is great! Boing Boing Zindabad! David Pescovitz Zindabad! Sepiamutiny Zindabad! Abhi Zindabad!

Ramlal to Dhano: "Hold on. Let me grab a quick fix from my hooka before you do this. It'll make it easier."
Dhano to Ramlal: "This is the last time I'm doing this. I'm tired of partaking in your silly amputation fetishes."
Fakirchand (in the backdrop): "Man I'm so jealous of that old fart Ramlal. He gets to tap *that* azz all the time."

Having run out of eggs, Chameli found a novel way to make Bhurji

raam dulari - '...no one craps in my backyard and gets away..'

spray less, hurt more.

raam dulari- akal ka dusman

Chameli: This is what happens when you let men make rotis. I now have to use a freakin axe with a freaking laser beam attached to it's head to cut this.

The Indian version of Johanna Spyri's Alpine classic, Heidi, takes a rather fatalistic approach to its source material.

Inner thoughts:

GangaLal: I can't believe I am just holding, while she hits and molds the iron.
Rampyari: he ma bitch!!!
Paaro (lady in the background): kya zamana aa gaya hai :>/

Father a blacksmith and his daughter. Daughter is helping her father beat the product so he can put it back in the fire.

I take that back. 49 wins, in my opinion. That's the funniest comment I've read.

"How many lumps do you want?"

"Oh three or four..eeeeeeehhhhhh."

Bonus name the two "actors" that uttered those famous lines.

Jim Ross: King I gotta tell you this intergender streetfight is going to be something to behold!
King: thats right JR I thought Vince was crazy,but he is a pure genius!
Jim Ross: By gawd King she is going to use the sledgehammer!
King: I hope I can see some puppies!
Some where in the background Vince Mcmahon laughs to himself.

Pushpinder calls everyone to dinner by sounding the village beggar.

Now when I nod my head, you hit it okay?

Baba ji:
You know, back in my day we didn't have any o' these there new-fangled hammers. Had to use our heads instead, that's what we had to do.
One young man or t'other would volunteer for the task. We'd take him over to yonder cabin, and rub linseed oil into his temples (proper oil mind - stuff you could see the sweat and the spit o' the pressin' in).
Then we'd lay him out in the sun awhile to let the skin harden. Three days usually done him. On the third day, us menfolk come git him and take him where he was needed. But first we git him a little happy on a few jugs o' grass-wine. Most times took near eight of us to carry 'im. But we brung him to where he was needed, and we'd keep on knocking him in until that nail was all in or that bit of iron was flat. Now that ain't your easy-as-pie hammerin', no siree; that took dedication.
Lost near thirty men that way in the summer o' 49.

Circumcision Prevents AIDS/HIV: A Story of One Woman's Journey to Protect Herself

Succumbing to delusions of grandeur, Baba ji insists on an opening ceremony in the middle of the village's new dirt road (or, as he calls it, "Promontory Point on the Great Latrine-Field Union Road").

Baba ji also insisted that all the lower-caste worker who actually made the road would not be in the photo-op.

The village's Star Wars re-enactment group gets to the pivotal scene in A New Hope when Vader strikes down Obi-Wan. In the background, Luke cries out, "Naaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiyyyyyyyyyyyy!"

Rama is a poor girl in a village. She has to feed and take care of her old grandparents. Her parents died when she was a kid. She takes herds (goat/ or some kindof animal in the bkg) from various houses and takes them out of the village into open grass fields and brings them back to their owners in the evening. Today on her way she sees old Raghu. He mends tools and other stuff of the villagers and earns his living. On this day he is not feeling well and requests Shayam (the person in the background) to help him with repair job as he has to get it done today for the landlord of the village. Shayam excuses himself and leaves the old man to work by himself. Rama sees the old man stuggling with his tools and offers to help. She ties the animal to a pole and picks up the tool to hit on the metal which the old man hold with a tong like tool. Raghu finish his work on time and thanks Rama. Rama then goes on her way out of the village. So let us pray that with the meal we eat today the story of Rama keeps the spirit of love for everyone who crosses our lives path alive in us.

In an effort to improve their mental toughness on the field, members of the mens' and womens' Indian cricket team are encouraged to practice their sledging.
(Apologies to all non cricket fans out there; in fact, apologies to everyone).

Jim Ross: King I gotta tell you this intergender streetfight is going to be something to behold! King: thats right JR I thought Vince was crazy,but he is a pure genius! Jim Ross: By gawd King she is going to use the sledgehammer! King: I hope I can see some puppies! Some where in the background Vince Mcmahon laughs to himsel

Love it. Now will Hacksaw Jim Duggan come out with his 2x4 and and Indian flag and yell "Hooooo!"

Or how about the Hulkster with a classic python reference while holding his hand up to his ears then ripping of his pre-ripped t-shirt for all the Desi Hulkamaniacs "Brotha"

Or the Nature Boy Rick Flair struts onto the scene. "Wooooooooooo!"

Baba ji asks Pushpinder to test the strength of his newly-starched turban - "Go on! As hard as you can!" - not knowing that he confused the stiffening soap with a block of butter.

"left a good job in the citaaay, working for the man every night and day"

question: which restaurant in palo alto?? i was born and brought up in that bubble of a city and am curious!!

As Peter Gabriel sang in one of his songs, "I want to be your sledgehammer... Let me be your sledgehammer" etc

That chick saw her old man's life insurance policy recently and decided to take action.

Sorry, but this painting is so hilarious that one can really go to town with it. It is hard to interpret what the painter of this fine painting had in mind, though. Here are a few more guesses.

1.A deleted scene from a video for the Beatles song "Maxwell's Silver Hammer" (with the lyrics "Bang, Bang, Maxwell's Silver Hammer came down upon her head...")

2. A failed attempt at euthanasia. (Perhaps the painter dude had secret desires to put himself out of his misery after seeing this piece of art.)

Sorry for the attempts at macabre macaca humor.

"Stay very still so I can swat the spider crawling up your back"

I think we finally have a desi nomination worthy of MOBA!

"I told you I don't like reds anymore. I HATE THIS RED SARI YOU BOUGHT!!! ITS SO UGLY-WUGLY!

Look at Chameli over there walking fashionably in a green-white sari.

I am SOOOO MAD. I could...."

Pushpinder: "So. I hammer the old man's toe and he leaps up and scares the black goat which butts that man in the distance who staggers into the bullock cart and sends it rolling downhill over the other goat's tail which makes it run onto the plate which drops the basket and then I'll have caught that darn mouse."

The woman from the mission said, knock some sense into him... Well, here it goes.

I just flew back from Texas last night and caught on some bad allergies due to the bloody pollen there. I made myself a warm bowl of soup, looked at it lovingly and was enjoying it immensely, slowly spooning a little bit at time into my mouth. I get this crazy idea that I could multi-task at the same time, and I open up Sepia Mutiny to have some brown enjoyment. I scroll down a little and what do I see? This dirty picture Abhi had posted above. I only had to read the first two lines. I laughed so hard, and the next thing I know, like a bullet from a pistol my snot shoots into the soup bowl! I stare at it in disbelief.
So screw you Abhi, for ruining my soup. I don't care about the f***ing back story but there's your front story.

Obviously, it is a picture depicting a blacksmith family at work. The Elderly gentleman is holding down an unfinished ware (maybe a knife or something similar) on an Anvil. The lady is using the hammer to flatten it down with repeated strokes. If the hammer lands on the man's hand, head or any other part of his body, it is an honest mistake and an attorney can prove it in a court of law.

And........the attorney gets to keep the girl.

So who wins?

The village of Bingah has to be one of the most pedantic places in India. For example, although it is located in the south of Rajasthan, the inhabitants insist that the Himalayan foothills technically begin at their doorsteps. Hence, all pictoral representations of the village have to include a tiny gradient.

Ashok's attempts at becoming the Indian Thomas Kinkade just weren't going right.

Seems like a Macaca-ish answer to "Rosie the Riveter"..Presenting "Gulabi the Lohar." :-p

Classic, Girish.

Taj UK wins with this one:

It's just a simple Indian variation of a fairground test of strength; hit the old man on the toe and see how high he goes. I believe there are families who have specialised in this form of enterteinment for thirty generations.

Seriously. That's the best answer.

Also, Bugs Bunny and Pete Puma. What do I win?

''....the old fool wants me to test his new Halliburton Kevlar Turban,so I'll test his turban!''young Gunit Kaur thought,raising the sledgehammer and pausing just momentarily to catch a whiff of her armpits.

Come on...comment 77 wins, hammer down! I almost choked on my nan.

Sarala, unschooled in the intricacies of ebonics, horribly misunderstood the African-American missionary's direction to "go aks your father"

Rujul, ever the loving parent, helps his daughter Sarala prepare for her upcoming seal hunting trip to Canada.

Guadalupe, a confused exchange student from a small village in Mexico, takes a forceful swing at her Indian sponsor's turban, hoping sweets and toys will fall out. Unfortunately, it isn't the first time she mistook something in her new home for a pinata. Despite a generous wrapping of duct tape, her sponsor's colostomy bag would never be the same.

#83 and #85 gave me a double coronary.

This is an artful depiction of one of the most emblematic scenes from a Bollywood classic. In some circles, this is the real origin of Magical Realism, the literary style made famous by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, who saw this operatic film and became entranced by the eloquence and delicacy of the plot. But I digress.
The movie's name, a 1967 creation, is hard to translate, as the nature of the title evokes different aspects of creation, drama, allegories and simple epiphanies. And in some way spoils the whole movie. So, at the initial showing, it was called "Silence in Town," but some elitist movie critics felt that it didn't reflect the nature of the plot, so another title was chosen: "In 745 Miles, My Heart Weeps The Silence Of This Hungry and Waterless Town." But some intellectuals said that India uses the metric system. The translator tried to change the number, but he didn't know how to convert from miles to meters. So he was fired. A new translator arrived and, enraptured by the essence of the almost Campbellian tale, he forges a title that, till this days, it the one that identifies this golden masterpiece in every catalogue and database: "The Black Goat." But I digress. Again.
Another important thing worth mentioning is that this is a silent movie. The director, Durja Agrawal, decided this after he got an all star cast for the film. He didn't tell this to any of his actors, as he decided to pay them for every word spoken. As you can see, Durja was quite a rascal and cheap ass. So, at one moment I'll say "tell", but in general, the characters use sign language and interpretative dance to get their points across. That is why the film went through 17 different distributors and translators.
The story evokes a time in 1905 when a small town, inhabited by mute people, get their first phone booth installed. One person's happiness turns him into a walking broccoli that starts throwing snowflakes on a ninja style. A dog, initially legless, grows wings and decides to molest an old widow, who in turn wraps herself in cilantro and jumps into the river, where a hand grabs her and squeezes her life out, turning the river black, then later it becoming coal. This crisis makes everyone troubled, specially Vyalar (the young boy pictured in the background of the scene), a young puppeteer and amateur knife eater. His father was a professional sword eater, but got kidnapped by a Sikh cult that wanted to use his sword eating abilities to smuggle blades into other nations. After a night hunting, Vyalar has a vision after he is bitten by a radioactive snake: he must save the town in the next 24 hours or everyone will die without water. When he wakes up, he is surprised to be alive. His best friend Maderu tells him that Mahika, his mother, saved him, as she suck the venom from the wound. Tortured by this revelation, Vyalar travels to the Cavern of Locusts, a place that only the wisest and elder can visit. As Vyalar approaches the cave, he sees the bodies of the wise men on the ground, all drunk in the knowledge of their fates. The entrance of the Cavern of Locusts feels like the maw of a shark, filled with razor sharp edges, waiting for someone to trip and die in bloody agony. Little by little, light begins to die, but Vyalar decides to set his hair on fire. As the flames engulf his once long and blonde hair, he runs, trying to find a solution to the town's predicament. As he feels the fire reaching his scalp, a new darkness engulfs him. Fade to black. Vyalar hears his name, not once or twice, but thrice. As he opens his senses, a Nameless Goddess (that is the name of the character in the script) is in front of him floating with flowing flamey robes. She tells him why the river turned into coal. I have to mention that at this point, no translator has agreed on what is the exact nature of the why of the water-to-coal transformation. There are 17 versions of this film, from 17 different distributors. And thanks to Viacom (who owns the rights to one of those) the YouTube video with one of the best explanations, was taken down a few weeks ago. So, I won't write down the why.
Then the Nameless Goddess tells Vyalar how to reverse the curse. All the men who wakes up with duck feet, will be ritually sacrificed, by a female robed in red and wielding a sledgehammer. Vyalar agrees and wakes up, only to find his hair all black. As he approaches his town, he listens to the screams of the people (not really, he acts as he "listens" in a very convincing way). When he arrives, many women see the all the males have now duck feet. Vyalar is the only one unaffected. So he tells all the town about the Nameless Goddess and her plan to save them. They all agree. As Vyalar walks around, scenes of males, all duck footed, crouching, saddened but happy about the great future the town will have, awaiting to be mauled by a woman with a sledgehammer. As the men star falling, their heads start spilling great fountains of water, which cover the coals and let everyone rejoice again. Vyalar is happy, and sees the sacrifice of every male, even his best friend, was necessary but worthy. But a new situation happens, as a gang of Sikh assassins arrive into the town. The leader's first order: kill all the males. But his lackeys find that all are lying down in the ground, with their heads smashed, gushing water out of their wounds. Soon they find Vyalar, who decides to fight the Sikh leader, using his puppetry skills. At this bravado, the evil ma laughs, only to reveal that he is Vyalar's father, who came looking for him to join his gang. Vyalar, with tears in his eyes, welcomes his father. Together, they leave, while the lackeys kill all the people in town.
As you can see, the movie has strong symbols, hard to navigate and harder to understand. Sadly, at one moment, the best thing anyone could do about it, was to put the head smashing scene into a painting and distribute it through all the restaurants in America. Such a sad end for a such a poetic film.
Xander

Youth-In-Asia practices EuthanAsia

Partab Singh to wife, "Why wont you bang me :( ?"

Chaudrian, "Sure dear...! Here you go!"

P Singh after death,
"Sade Diltay,
Sade Diltay,
Sade Diltay churian chalaiyan..."

LOL!

"Youth-In-Asia practices EuthanAsia"

World's greatest homonym.

frustration with the patriarchy

OR

life insurance fraud (murder; to be found out; witness in background)

OR

really really really really poor depth perception.

In the interest of ending the divisive polarization brought on by this contest, I will be gracious enough to declare myself the winner, for entry #15. Let the healing begin.

Our victory speech:

Thank you Abhi, and thanks to the writers, staff and bunker monkeys of Sepia Mutiny, but only if you voted for us, and only if we like you. No thank you's to our competitors, who dreamed day and night of stealing this award, and along with it, our most cherished anal virginity. Despite having a speech prepared and tirelessly rehearsed, this victory comes as a total, and erotic shock. We hope to use this victory to inspire world leaders to work towards peace, for society's wealthiest members to work towards ending poverty, and for hot broads to work towards relaxing our naked tender spots. In conclusion, we promise, no, guarantee to use this great honor to further the benevolent and just cause of fascism. You're welcome.

So who won this one?

I'll you who one this one, son: Comedy, that's who. Comedy.

And me.

Why, thank you!

I would like to buy yonder art work for my collection. I've never come across something with so many interpretations. And it'd look nice in my bathroom...

I bid two bottles of Thumbs Up and an old goat!

I think hes asked for a pedicure, and she couldnt find the nail clippers.!