India, July 27 -- It's been raining "kiss cam", "diplomatic" scam and many a monsoon-propelled traffic jam. As if fake clouds, fake snow, fake news and all that wasn't enough. Now we have fake embassies and fake diplomats, too. Anybody wishing to brush up Geography lessons needn't look far, certainly needn't look at an atlas, Google Maps and all that crap. A scamster running a fake diplomatic mission around the NCR has unwittingly schooled us better than geography teachers in the names of countries we didn't know existed. Thanks to thousands of fake diplomatic seals 'n' stamps raining at the recently raided "embassy", our GK (general knowledge) stands updated. Just learnt that these are actual micro-nations on the atlas and not the names of fancy pan-Mediterranean dishes or back-of-beyond football franchises -- Seborga, Ladonia, Westarctica. The racketeer has beaten geography teachers to it, by even concocting a nation -- Paulovia! The curious case of "Sleaze-less in Seborga". Talking of rains, it is heartening to see so many monsoon heritage walks happening. Nature lovers and monument enthusiasts in the Capital and elsewhere are making the most of monsoons with well curated excursions to enchanting edifices. Humayun's Tomb to Safdarjung Tomb. No worry of miles-long traffic snarls there at least! Really reminiscent of those different sort of "heritage" monsoon walks undertaken since childhood. Many a monsoon stroll on The Mall. Rainy weekends on the Mall Road of nearby Kasauli were nothing short of heritage walks. And how! They were made up of both monuments and monsoon must-haves. Looming landmarks such as the ancient Church and Major Dhyan Chand's Statue make the Kasauli strolls into heritage walks of sorts. What better than these selfie points at the corners and signature Saawan sights 'n' smells sandwiched in between. Heritage walks on hilly slopes of cantonment towns offer a quaint spectacle. Gravity meets gravitas. General-ly speaking. Where else will you bump into military's movers and shakers in mackintoshes more mammoth than parachutes doing pilates. Where else will you encounter geriatric Generals with moustaches of all shapes, sizes and surprises. From manicured muttonchops to cultivated Tropical Rain Forests more dense than a Gaddi canine's tail. Monsoon strolls on the Mall meant a double trickle. The fabled bun tikkis and bun samosas fresh off the wok on the Mall Road are a delight on any day. But the adventure of dipping 'n' dripping into them on a rainy day is unmatched. For, tucking into bun tikkis under an umbrella spells double delight. There's a trickle from the brolly braving the pitter-patter. There's a trickle down the mouth of the imli chutney from the platter. And 'ever the twain shall meet! Into a sangam more sentimental and monumental, for foodies, than the making of Prayag. As with bun samosas, so with bhuttas (corn on the cob). Nothing can match the joie de vivre of munching spice-sprinkled bhuttas on a monsoony Mall Road in the mountains. Be it at Dalhousie or Mussoorie, Nainital or Shimla and Kasauli. Wrapped in cloaks of Cumulonimbus, having the bhutta-wali charcoal-roast the bhuttas is a sensory experience like none. The sight of the corn on the cob changing colour over flickering flames is like seeing a sunset ripening from a canary yellowness into a honey goldenness over licking 'n' lusting seawaves. The tickling on the nostrils is like an unsolved mystery, an unparalleled mystery. Of not knowing whether it's the smoke from the bhutta being browned or the mists from a charcoal sky curling up the nostrils or bit of both. The bhutta-in-barsaat sensory adventure may be turning into a trickle, less of a tickle. New-age supermarkets showcasing corn-on-the-cob off slick shelves are slowly stealing the sensory experience. Digital-age contraptions peddling shortcuts have begun depriving us of the charcoal-and-corn jugalbandi. Blame it on bhutta meets air fryer. The humble bhutta, nonetheless, rolls on in its journey of many a fusion, or confusion. Makai ka Shorba to Makai Mousse, Bhutta Coffee to Bhutte ki Kees, Corn Locho to Makai Marmalade. The curious case of "Woh Corn Thhi"....