But also there's such an interesting concept that I've never heard of. Tea being rich just... It's like the cherry on the cake.
Makes it more believable. Cutie. Not cutie anymore. There is nothing scarier than a scary figure that comes. Hi everyone!
Welcome to Chai and Chitti, the segment where we discuss the nightmarish, terrifying and spooky stories that you send in to us. I'm your host, Aishwarya. And I'm Aaryan. And if you want to send in your spooky stories to us, write to us at staydesi at the rate thedesistudios.com.
Literally nobody says at the rate anymore. Wait, really? Yeah, I don't.
You guys tell me. I don't think anybody says at the rate. You just say at. What do you guys?
Our email is staydesi at the desistudios.com. Not staydesi at the rate. That is 10 more syllables than you need.
And with that, let's get into the first story of the day. All right. At that rate, let's do it.
The first story that we have for you all today starts like this. Hello, Aaryan and Ishwara. Big fan of your work.
Absolutely love the Chai and Chitti segment. Got to know about your YouTube channel from my two friends and could not stop myself from listening to all of your Spotify podcasts. Love you guys. We love you too, A.
My name is A. I live in Chhattisgarh. The incident I'm about to tell you of happened way back even before I was born. It happened to my mother. Let me brief you about my family.
My mother was a healthcare professional in a government facility. At that time, my mother was posted in a remote village. My mother was struggling to find a suitable place with restrooms in it. We're back with a sort of restroom-y theme.
Nah, I'd like to stay away from that. Stay away from that? Booth and bathrooms.
Yeah, yeah. Let's see how much this one plays into that theme. At that time, the villagers did not have restrooms in their homes and they used to do their business in open farms.
After a lot of struggle, she managed to find a home with restrooms in it. The restroom was shared between her and family members of the house owner. Let me give you a map of the house my mother lived in. The house had four small rooms, an open hall and a terrace which had stairs a little far away from the house. She lived alone there.
50-60 steps away was the house of the owner. They were a joint family consisting of about 6-8 members that comprised of Dada who was the house owner, his wife, his two sons along with their respective wives and their babies. My father had his job in the city and it was nearly impossible for him to visit my mother in a village daily. He used to come to the village on the weekends. My mother was happy to find herself a good place to live.
The family of the house owner was also very warm. My mother used to spend her free time with them talking, gossiping, cooking and what not. They treated my mother as a family member. They were also fond of my father too.
Everything was fine. Until one day, Dada's wife started to fall ill suddenly. She used to get sick very often from then on.
One summer night, she was sleeping on the terrace, as power outages are very common in the village. And the next day, she didn't wake up. She died mysteriously in her sleep.
Autopsies were not common those days. Her family thought already that she was very sick. She might have died due to her recent health condition.
On the contrary to this, my mother used to hear sounds of someone banging her door continuously, with much force at night. When she used to open the door, there was nobody. She also used to hear loud noises coming from the terrace like someone dancing and jumping.
My mother never gathered the courage to go and inspect the terrace. She recalls not being able to move a finger on her bed because of how terrified she was. My father also on his weekend stays witnessed the same.
My mother also discussed about this with other family members of the house but nobody had any idea what to do. They were all terrified and clueless. After the demise of Dada's wife, Dada's older daughter-in-law started to fall sick just like her mother-in-law.
She used to be in constant pain and everyone thought she might die eventually just like her mother-in-law. It was high time and Dada's family was too scared to lose another family member. Which is why after some time, when they got to know about a man named Dattarwale Baba, who was a priest, they decided to visit him. Up until this point, this is not a horror story, it's just a sad...
sad story of a family medical yeah like yeah true i'm sorry but yeah yeah like yes it scares me because i have hypochondria but not because there is any supernatural element to it he does have really bad hypochondria if you want to scare the ever living bejesus out of ariyan it's not through ghosts it's through where all we have bacteria running around in our body Yeah, I self-diagnosed myself with the latest disease in biomedicine. And then freaks out that he's about to die, fall off the planet any moment. But moving on, we have more serious people with actual illnesses here.
So they decide to visit this priest, Aaryan. He was kind of a priest, claimed to have psychic powers. Dada's family, along with my mother, went to the priest.
They told the priest about the mishaps and eerie experiences in the house. The priest chanted some mantras and sprinkled some water on himself when my mother and the family witnessed something they were not going to forget forever. The priest started to talk in a lady's voice. My mother and the family were clueless until they heard the lady speak the local dialect of the village known to them. No way the priest was acting it all up.
The woman in the priest looked at my mother and started laughing and said, To translate that for all of our English-speaking audience, you've also come here. She's very scared. I knock on her door often, but she gets scared every time. The lady also confessed to killing Dada's wife by strangling her to death when she was asleep. And said that her next target was Dada's older daughter-in-law, the one who was sick.
And these are all like the voice, the human medium of the voice is the priest. Yes, precisely. The priest has been possessed.
The priest is inciting violence. Yes. The priest is literally saying, I'm going to kill y'all.
Yes. But he's saying it in a high-pitched voice. Yes. And so it absolves him of any guilt.
Yes. Okay. Because he's not the one doing it. I'll kill you. No, that's not...
I'll kill you. That's not... That's not...
I don't think it's not in anything like that. And this is a really common experience of people who've, at least in the past, claimed to be possessed. Yeah, but this dude's getting proper personal and shit.
Like, detailed. Like, I'm gonna kill you and I killed your granny. That's...
That. That's more on the priest than on the ghost in my opinion. That's really unfair to the priest.
Yeah, no, that's- I think that this is a shady priest. What is his name? Baba what?
The tarwale baba. Yeah. That's just not a- Like, you should have too many syllables in his name. What's your problem with syllables?
Might add the rate at too many syllables. Baba's name has too many syllables He's never graduated college so he's getting scared now of complex words and sentences Moving on, please okay, the poor priest, jeez So the lady and the priest has confessed to killing Dada's wife and the next target is the older daughter-in-law, the one who was sick After asking who she was and why she was doing all of this she said something that nobody was expecting acting to here. She was a Tony or a lady who indulges in She was a Tony Hey Tony!
She was a Tony a lady who indulges She said she was a Tony a lady who indulges in black magic and is mostly active Oh no, I can't laugh I'm so tired Bro, you're psychological totally One second Tony Tony Okay She said something nobody was expecting. She can't get through a fucking story and she'll blame everybody else. She was a Tony.
A lady. Play. She said she was a Tony, a lady who indulges in black magic and is mostly active during the night. as she levitates in the air a few feet away from the ground and is naked, but spent a normal life of a normal person during the day. And this is a popular legend in the village.
She said that she was a construction worker when the new house was being built, the house in which my mother now lived. She said she was the same woman who took care of the family's cows. She said she got really attached to the house while working on it and wanted to captivate the house and started to envy all of the family members and wanted to kill them one by one. My mother recalled in her mind that she has met this lady a dozen times. As my mother was a government healthcare professional, this lady used to visit her frequently for her health problems, but my mother never suspected that she was the one behind all of this.
After some days, the priest conducted some havanas and tied the house with holy strings. Everything started to go back to normal. The daughter-in-law was recovering, my mother no longer heard the banging noises. My mother spent 10 years of her life at that house, and that's where I was born. I myself never experienced anything spooky or negative about the place.
It is believed that the incident with the family spread like a forest fire in the village and everyone got to know about the woman who was behind this. One day she was near a river bank and someone from the village purposefully pushed her in the river. She died.
It still creeps me out that the place where I had spent my childhood was capable of hosting such gut-wrenching and spooky events. My family and Dada's family are still very close. Dada is now 80 years old. They still discuss this incident that happened to them two decades ago, but it still manages to make them uncomfortable.
Keep them out. You know, you listeners often write to us that listening to our podcast helps expand their vocabulary. Today, my vocabulary has an addendum.
Tony. Yeah. Mine too. And it's been Tony.
Tony. Tony. Thrilling of Tona. Jadu Tona. That's what I'm guessing.
It's representation in the dark. But also there's such an interesting concept that I've never heard of in the genre of lore and spooky tales. Which is?
Of a Tony, of someone who's engaging in black magic at night because of which, you know, they possess all of these occult powers, but they're not technically a spirit. In the morning, they're a regular person. Right?
And so they've split their lives into these two. And they're a member of society. But then something about them is kind of creepy.
And they're trying to kill your family. I think that's really, really creepy. I'm trying to think of a Tony Stark pun, but nothing's coming through. I think you should stop. Let's move on to the next story.
Hi, Aaryan. Hi, Aishwarya. I'm A, an avid listener of your podcast.
Calling myself just an avid listener would be an understatement, though. Because for me, the Desi Crime Podcast is what meth is to Jessie. It's an addiction. It's your style of presenting such stories that... That sounds professional, but also gives me a sublime home-like feeling at the same time.
It's just amazing. We love you. Just like meth.
We're not advocating for you to go. The story that I have for you guys is something that happened with me that changed my outlook on ghosts and spirits, which are generally shown as evil forces. So here goes my story.
This is an event that took place just a few days back from when I'm writing this mail. It happened in February of 2024. After our graduation day and after the function, my friends and I decided an after party was absolutely needed. One of my friends, let's call him T, is rich. And by rich, I don't mean a few SUVs kind of rich, but G-wagons, Range Rovers, sports cars and a few SUVs rich. And yes, all in plural.
Hi T! Wherever you are. It would be great to have you as a patron.
Jokes apart, the story continues. He decided to keep the after party in his Mysore farmhouse over a weekend as his parents would be in Bangalore, where we all live. After somehow convincing my parents to let me go there, me, T and a few other guys went over there by road in one of his Range Rovers while the rest of the guys and the girls took a train.
one of his range rovers one of his many he had to mention one not not in his range yeah one of his many white range rovers as opposed to many of his black range rovers yeah thanks for the yeah great one of his many maeswar farmhouses what the fuck are we doing running a troop what are your parents duty yeah give us the tea yeah spill the tea yeah An important thing about this farmhouse is that it isn't exactly inside the city of Mysore, but it's on the outskirts and actually comes before the city itself if travelling by road from Bangalore. So everyone reaches there around 5pm on a Saturday. Now imagine a bunch of pretty young adults, away from any parental supervision, for a weekend who have gathered to party at a lush farmhouse. What would be the first thing they need? It's booze.
Huh? It's all guys. No, no, there are girls in here too.
Well, it's booze, Aryan. And I was saying alcohol. Right. We all saw that.
We can replay it. Don't replay it. With the booze, T thought about it beforehand and he had stacked up quite a bit. But by midnight, they were all still falling short of alcohol.
Being the big guys they were with lots of balls, T being the host, T and the writer decided that they were going to go out and get some liquor. So we both left on foot as T said there was a shop just a few minutes away. He regretted the idea a few minutes into the walk as it was pitch black with just a few streetlights.
But I kept reassuring him I was there. We reach the shop, we buy a carton of good old Old Monk and begin our journey back. When we reach the property's gate, We try opening the gate, but it wouldn't budge. Now imagine two drunk guys on an empty, dark road. I could hear T, who was behind me, freaking out, rightfully so, because this area is infested with bandits and dacoits.
But after a few minutes, he just stopped speaking. I didn't pay much attention as I was trying to figure out a way to enter the gate. We didn't even get our phones, so we couldn't call anyone, nor could we shout as the music playing in the house was too loud.
And just then... Then I heard a phrase, Waisi nahi gate ke andar haad daal ke gumao. Not like that.
Put your hand inside the gate and then try to unlock it. The voice had a higher tone than T's voice but I believed it was him because who else was there? Anyway, when I did what he told me, the gate just opened.
Now surprised and angry why he recalled it so late, I turned back to give him a piece of me. And at this point, the writer of this email has sent us a different email clarifying a point that they made. The email reads, P.S. I realized I said give him a piece of me in one of the paras.
Which sounds gay. Which I'm not. No hate though. But what I actually meant, and probably you guys have figured this out as well, was give him a piece of my mind. oh this is the funniest second correction email the fact that you you sat back you re-read the email and you're like and it's so sweet it's like it sounds gay which i'm not but no hey that's a show anyway after he gave him a piece of himself after the piece of himself was given the story continues What I saw scared the shit out of me.
A piece of him. It scared me so much that I sobered up in an instant. I saw nothing.
No one. Wasn't. I felt as if I was about to pass out just when I heard from the farmhouse, which was around 20 meters inside the gate, a voice calling out to me.
I see T standing and asking what I was doing there. I asked him how he got there so quickly when he said he never left to begin with. I couldn't understand what happened and thought it was probably the alcohol because of which I was hallucinating. I thought I hallucinated the whole incident of me going and buying more liquor all because of alcohol. But I was popular amongst my friends for being the one with good tolerance.
All of these ideas were going through my head and my hand was feeling heavy when T asked, Where did you get all this rum from? When I looked down, that's when I realized it wasn't a hallucination, it all actually happened. But then who was I walking with? And even if it was just me being drunk, who paid for the liquor as I had no cash? And who the fuck told me to open the gate?
I recounted this incident to T, and the look he gave me wasn't of someone who didn't believe what I said, but in fact of someone who wasn't surprised. He told me to go and get some sleep. Well, I couldn't after the experience I had had, but I tried.
The next morning or afternoon, when everyone woke up for the second round of the afterparty, T pulled me to the side and asked exactly what happened. I narrated the whole incident. What he said next was straight up freaky.
He said the property actually belonged to his grandfather. His aunt, the only daughter of his grandfather, came here to party with her friends a long time ago. when one of her female friends didn't feel good and went out for a walk. Like I said, this area is known for having bands of decoits.
A few bandits from one of those bands saw her all alone and she too noticed them. Panicking, she tried to open the gate but couldn't and by the time she realized how to open it, those bandits caught her, took her a few hundred meters away, sexually assaulted her and killed her right there. T said many workers and guests have felt a presence since then whenever they get stuck at the gate. Who helps them?
And it's believed that this presence is that unlucky girl who's always looking out so that no one else has to go through what she had to. T believed it. He believed it was that girl's soul who was with me and helped me open the gate that claimed her life. Sort of like an unfortunate guardian angel.
This is my story. Regards, A. right that's such a sweet yet spooky story and there's something so heartwarming about it something about how t wrote it also or a wrote it sorry yeah right yes cherry on the cake it's more believable make elitism call it whatever you want just something about like rich ghosts that doesn't make any sense i mean there's something about rich ghosts you don't even know if the ghost was rich or not yes sister no No, it was a sister's friend.
Like, if they're in the same circle... Not everyone picks their friends by... Yeah, unlike yourself. I mean, I don't have rich friends.
I'm not rich. I don't have... I assume...
I assume the rich have their own circle and we plebeians... But okay, I'll get on with my story now. Hi, Aishwarya and Aaryan.
To be honest, I've been sitting on this story since Aishwarya... first mentioned wanting to read out more stories about imaginary friends yes and for those of you who don't remember eshwaria has some crazy imaginary friends used to i'm not crazy anymore when i was a little baby sure i just never had it in me to type it out because i honestly don't even think the incident had paranormal ties if you need a name feel free to give me whatever name you want but make it cute Hmm. Let's call him Cutie. Okay.
Cutie. My extended family has a house in a fairly posh locality of Kolkata. It's owned by my grandmother's sister and her husband.
Every few years, the extended family with aunts and uncles and cousins from all around the world meet in Kolkata for Durga Pooja and stay in this house. Otherwise, the house is lived in by my dida, dadu and their household. Basically, my grandmother's sister and her husband. The three-storied house is... by my Mumbai standards, huge.
The first floor has a kitchen, a hall, a dining room and a guest room. The second floor has two more bedrooms and a bathroom. The third floor is super strange. It's kind of just there.
No rooms, but lots of windows and natural lights. So they use it to hang clothes, lay out vegetables and spices for sun drying, stuff like that. Ballroom-esque, basically.
Yes, it's a tan room. It's giving ballroom. my dida and dadu stay on the second floor and the guest room was lived in by my great grandma until she passed away in 2022 by the way this story isn't about her she was super chill peaced out into atlanta without haunting any of us big respect cutie that's hilarious cutie i love your great grandma um r.i.p now this story When I was nine, the whole family, as per usual, met up in the house for Durga Puja, including my five-year-old cousin's sister, Alia, who lives in England.
Alia would go, I love this, kept herself anonymous. Alia from England. And Alia from England threw her under the bus.
Ratting them out. Nice. Listen, you never told me to keep Alia anonymous, so I'm going to use the name. I don't think anyone's going to figure it out.
Alia would go up to the third floor all the time that year. Which makes sense because it's a large open space and she's a child. In fact, I remember going up there a lot as well when I was around that age. She would tell me about a friend she had made on the third floor. A young girl.
This was clearly an imaginary friend as sometimes I would go up there with her and actually see her talking to thin air. I was creeped out so I snitched to my mom. Now my mom has never been a believer of the paranormal and even when I tell her about animated horror stories I'd watch on YouTube, she would tell me that it's all crap.
So when I told her about my sister's imaginary friend, I didn't expect much of a reaction. However, when I mentioned this imaginary friend's name, color drained from my mom's face. I won't say the actual name because it's too specific and somehow it just feels wrong to say it. but i will say that it's an incredibly unique bengali woman's name generally unheard of in today's generation for horror and bengali purposes we are going to say the name is monjulika sorry fair enough that name is terrifying nightmares i was that was really yeah entire bhulbhulaiya sequel i just can't etched in my memory My mom rushed out to tell every other adult in the family and soon enough they were all gathered and questioning my little sister Alia. Her answers were fairly simple.
There's a young girl I've made friends with on the third floor. Her name is Monjulika. What else can you expect from a five-year-old? Later that day, my mom finally gave me an explanation that still gives me chills.
When I was four, I would also go up to the third floor of the house to play. I too had an imaginary friend. Her name was also Mohanjalika. When it happened to me, they let me be as imaginary friends are common with children. They chalked it up to me being a very social child who was in a house with no children my age, so I made one up.
Again, no one in the family really believed in that stuff. She asked if I had any memories of that friend. Didn't remember a thing.
I have no recollection of having an imaginary friend whatsoever, which is really weird because I remember other things from that year. That was the year I shifted houses within Mumbai. I remember that. I even remember the trip I took to Kolkata that year. I even have vivid memories of playing on the third floor alone with no one around but me.
That's so weird. But no memory of this friend. Another eerie thought. Alia lives in England.
The name, as I mentioned, was an old-school Bengali woman's name. that you simply just don't hear anymore. Where could this little NRI with the British accent have picked up this name? Somehow, through some delusion and denial, the family convinced themselves that this was a coincidence.
That the name was maybe something uttered around the locality or written on a wall somewhere that the both of us just happened to see and pick up when we were little. Now I'm 19, Alia is 14. She's completely forgotten about her imaginary friend. We mentioned it when she was 10, but even then she had no idea of who or what we were talking about. We've all gathered in that house two more times over the years with no paranormal experiences. Last December, we got a call from my dad who went to Kolkata for work.
He wasn't living in that house as all of this is on my mom's side, but he did go to visit and my four-year-old nephew. While my father was catching up with Dida and Dadu, my nephew went wandering and found the third floor. When it was time to leave, my father called for him and he came downstairs.
He said, I have goosebumps. He said he was playing with the nice girl on the third floor. Her name was Monjulika. Actually, I made that last part up, but can you imagine?
Actually, I made that last part up, but can you imagine? I do have a four-year-old nephew and he in fact did go to visit last year, but he just sat on his iPad the whole evening. So I guess the monjolica streak broke after all.
Cutie. Not cutie anymore. Everything I've said in this story apart from that last bit of deception is true. But I can't get over it anymore.
I know, you shouldn't have done that. Funny, but like, you know. don't play with our hearts oh my it's not super scary i don't even take it too seriously anymore but you asked for imaginary friends and i gave you what i have i love that story though i hope you enjoy reading this even if it doesn't end up making it to an episode i love you guys i'm so glad you're back and this time with full control over the desi crime brand i actually really like that story cutie i love that story i will continue to call you cutie sure isn't this something you've told me that kids and your mom's a psychologist, kids with imaginary friends tend to forget about them as they get older.
Yeah. Despite having like a really close relationship. They will forget.
Which is not the case with real friendships in childhood. No, no, it's not. And it's interesting, like I mentioned having a lot of imaginary friends when I was younger. I only know of them through other people's accounts and how creeped out other people would sometimes get by the way that I was behaving.
But I too have no personal individual recollection of my childhood friends, which is really, really weird. I had a very normal, I had actual friends. So, I didn't need... Doesn't have any now, so I guess it cancels out.
That's why I talk to myself now all the time. Hey, Aryan and Aishwarya. Story number four. Hope this message finds you well. I'm such a huge fan.
I was completely clueless on how to go about my day when you guys were on a break. Will be. You were missed a ton.
So happy to be hearing you guys. Wishing you so much more success throughout your journey. Thank you so much. Coming to my story.
The story is actually not mine, but my uncle's. Let's call him Rohit. So this uncle of mine works at a call centre in Bangalore, hence he works through night shifts.
During one of his night shifts on a Thursday, important note later in the story about that, on a Thursday, his company car with his usual driver was not available due to some reason. And hence the company had arranged for a cab for him, but he'd have to ride with two other guys, who were also finishing up their night shifts and heading home, to which he agreed. Once the cab driver picked him up, he sat next to the driver since the seat behind him was occupied by the two other guys mentioned earlier. He left his office around 1 or 2 in the night and after travelling for a while, they reached a place where on the right side of the road is a Christian cemetery and on the left side is a Muslim cemetery for a long, long stretch. While driving down this road, a red Swift went by their cab.
My uncle had a shiver run down his spine. and suddenly realized something and screamed for the car to be stopped immediately. This awoke the other two guys sleeping on the backseat of the cab.
The cab now halted on a road so silent, even the sound of a cricket seems like a scream, with the road being pitch dark, with the street lights, some not working, some blinking on and off. Not one vehicle except theirs on the road. There's an eerie silence in the air. The driver asked, what? To which my uncle replied with a question, Did you see the red Swift car pass us just now?
The driver nodded affirmatively, Yes, that's when my uncle told, quote, That same red Swift went past us two other times before as well with the same number plate and the same lady driving it with the same kid in her passenger side. This is the third time it went past us. End quote.
This made everyone's hair on their body stand upright. The driver insisted the three of them not to get down, but one of the guy got down to check out what was up. Idiot. Just when he closed the door, is when a black figure ran towards them. They could see it through their front windshield.
It ran till the car and just vanished into thin air. By then, everyone was freaked out enough to just leave. place. The guy sat back down and the driver zoomed like there's no tomorrow. After a day or two when my uncle gathered the courage to actually think about what happened, he tried researching about that place and that's when he got to know that a mother and her daughter had died on the same road in an accident after which a lot of people have complained about sightings on that road.
But the story does not end here. Every Thursday after that day, He would wake up with scratch marks on his body without fail. Anywhere and everywhere, scratch marks all over his body. He wanted to check if the same was happening with the other two guys, but couldn't because that was the first time he ever met them and had no way of contacting them.
The family then held several pujas at home for these strange occurrences to stop, and after a while, it did. He still recounts it to be the most scariest thing he's ever experienced in his life. So that was my story. I hope you find it as strange as I do.
there is nothing and i know every episode i say there is something and there is nothing scarier than that something for this episode i will say there is nothing scarier than a scary figure that runs i'll tell you what i've discovered through this episode one is obviously tony i mean it's right up there in my urban dictionary but the other is the most scary vehicle i think red swift is the number one on my list of scary vehicles really? something about a red swift something about why? i don't know it's what functionally that vehicle you know it's swift it's sure it's small it's fast i'm not a car guy so i couldn't give you i don't think it's that fast it's pretty i mean it's pretty fast i think the new ones but something about it being red or maybe it was the story what What according to you is the scariest week? And you can't say like a very old ambassador, although fuck that is really scary. Yeah, that's actually really scary.
Yeah, but you didn't come up with that. A van, a white van, you guys. Okay, fuck it.
You know the vans that kidnap? Yeah, a Red Swift isn't that bad. No, can you imagine a white van with the same mom and daughter?
Like it just elevates the story like... I need men in a van. Something about a mom and a...
This is some nonsense. No, you don't get it. well i've never seen mom and kid in a swift is like let's go home from soccer practice exactly but then you see them thrice near a cemetery and you're like that is scary i i've never like a picture of mom and son in a van like that's it's just not realistic that you see three times huh i mean i'd lose my shit either way like i literally shit my i guess it doesn't matter what the car is if you see three times as long as you're flanked by cemeteries of uh different religions on either side i think no matter what the vehicle if it passes you three times whether it's a rickshaw you're gonna be shooting yourself yeah please believe in the comments rickshaw rickshaw carry bradshaw and rickshaw with that stay safe stay crazy and stay busy If you like what we do here at Desi Studios and absolutely love what we're wearing today, this is merch you can go buy all for yourself. You can buy this Desi Crime merch in our YouTube store on the link down below at Karak Merch.
Keep the engines at Desi Studios rolling so we can pair videographer right behind the camera to make these amazing episodes just for you.