I’d like to humbly suggest a brief storyline to the fine creators of Savita Bhabhi:
It is a hot summer day. Savita Bhabhi is relaxing at home in a skimpy choli and petticoat, and no underwear. The doorbell rings. She opens the door and finds three stern-looking policemen.
“Yes, gentlemen,” she says. “How can I help you?”
“Er, we are from the moral police,” the chief inspector says. “We have come to warn you about your behaviour.”
“What behaviour?” says Savita Bhabhi.
“Your lewd and lascivious conduct,” says one policeman.
“You are corrupting the youth of our country,” says another.
“Sex is not in our culture,” says their chief. “We grow babies on lotus flowers.”
“Oh really,” says Savita Bhabhi. “Then I promise to behave. But why don’t you gentlemen come in and have some nimbu sharbat? It is a hot day, and all of you are sweating.”
All the positions in the Savita Bhabhi team are voluntary and honarary.