Because You Touch Yourself At Night

A couple of days ago, by sheer coincidence, I found an old notice amongst my books, don't know how many of you remember this:

Studants' Union Society

St. Stephen's College

Cordially invite all students to a special dinner.

Venue: Mess Hall

Date: 22nd March, 2004

Time: 7:30pm

(P.S.: Please do not break down the doors this time)

Ah, those were the days when there was little to life than tormenting Tawakley and the SUS...

These days I envy Vaks to a certain extent. At twenty two, he's got it all. A job that pays him to flirt on his blog's chatterbox. Lovable little nephews and nieces who see SUS people and pink sweatshirts and like cracking perverted Santa-Banta jokes, cats to welcome him home and "Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince"...sigh, one should be so lucky.

So, here's wishing a very Happy Birthday to Vaibhav Tawakley, without whom I'd be living a boring and pointless life. May he find happiness, and a woman 7000 ks away with a penchant for Brayan Adams, oh wait he already has...

Kaiser Blewzew, Mongoloid, Esq. Chapter 2: The Unassuming Assasin

A long time before The YG or the Boka Gang had taken control of the Stephen’s underground, a man, nay an evil wind known as Blewzew was blowing through the corridors of college. Every clandestine activity, every subtle crime, had his stamp on it. Not only were the authorities helpless, they thanked him for it. Even the college president was too petrified to stop his tyranny.

Blewzew’s penchant for business and his shrewd analytical mind is what made him so successful. In 2003, as the rest of college was distracted by the rigors and tribulations of elections, Harmony and St. Vitus’ Trust, Blewzew, like always, sought an opportunity. In the shadows of ANGA, and shady places in Daryaganj, Blewzew formulated a plan.

In those days I used to live in Blewzew’s neighborhood in ANGA. In those days I also did a lot of gyp work for the SUS. One night, close to the eve of Harmony, as I was going back to my room I happened to stumble upon a Family meeting in the Kaiser’s room. From the reflection off the glass on the door, I could see the Kaiser seated at one end of a low Japanese table. On his right was sitting The Other Guy and on his left sat Hari Om Dahiya. Someone else was sitting at the other end with his back to me, so I couldn’t see his face. Something big was going down. Risking my life I pressed my ear against the door and tried to hear what was being discussed. Suddenly I felt a thick hand on my shoulder and a sharp object probing the bottom of my spine. I turned around to see a scowling face of The Renu. The Renu smiled and I almost soiled myself.

“Bahar kyu kade ho, ander ao…” The Renu said politely waving his kodachi in front of my face. I acquiesced and slowly walked into the Kaiser’s room. Kaiser Blewzew looked up at me and smiled.

“Arrey Maity, ao, ao, baito, yaha baito.” the Kaiser said, pointing to the empty cushion next to Hari Om. Nervously I took of my chappals and walked towards the table. The plush Persian carpeting felt ticklish and the entire room was swamped in the fragrance of French perfume. I tried not to make eye contact with anyone and I could feel four sets of eyes studying me.

“Kuchh khaoge?” The Kaiser asked, forcing me to look at him. No one refused the Kaiser. I smiled politely. The Renu who was leaning against the bookshelf against the wall opposite me, threw a pack of biscuits at me and resumed sharpening a stake with his kodachi. Just for a second there was an uneasy silence. Then Hari Om spoke in his lucid New York accent “Maity, we understand that you are a relatively smart individual. The Family has uses for intelligent people. For now, we don’t expect much. For now, you just keep your mouth sealed and we won’t erase your existence, savvy?” I could hear The Renu chuckle. I nodded.

“Tum ek dusre ko jaante ho?” The Kaiser asked pointing at the person opposite the table. I turned and saw Abhishek Panda desperately trying to smile at me. I nodded. “Accha huya, phir tum jao.” I was puzzled at first but decided to get out before the Kaiser changed his mind. As I was leaving the room, after a quick bow at the Kaiser, I could hear him shout “Arrey tumne to kuch khaya hi nahi!” I ran back to my room and locked the door. What the hell was Panda doing there? I fell into an uneasy asleep. And the next morning I forced myself to forget the whole incident.

Three days later Panda tried to kill me with a pair of scissors.

(Coming Soon: Chapter 3: The Salil Incident)

Kaiser Blewzew, Mongoloid, Esq. Chapter 1: Beginnings

This is a story about change. This is a story about the cruel Delhi culture that brings out the worst in us. This is the story about one man who decided to rise against the tide of apathy and protect those who were close to him. This is a story about Kaiser Blewzew who created one of the most ruthless crime syndicates St. Stephen’s has ever seen. Even Wency Mendes was powerless to stop his rise to power.

In its first few years itself, the Family had grown from a handful of vellas into an organization of massive proportions. By the time I came into college, Blewzew already had a faithful following, loyal and fearsome; men of honor who had sworn oaths of fealty when they had kissed the machwara anguti.

Among the most notable ones were Rahul Renu. The Renu as he was known in the Family was Blewzew’s right hand man. The Renu had grown up in a rough neighborhood and was as tough as dining hall chapatis. His battle-scarred face and the six inch kodachi he kept hidden in his socks kept people at bay and made sure the local dhabas paid up at the end of every month.

On Blewzew’s left hand was The Other Guy. No one knew his real name. He always worked in the shadows. Assassinations and espionage was his forte. He always had a crumpled bidi stuck in his right ear and never wore shoes.

And last but not the least; Hari Om Dahiya, the brains of the organization. Born in the suburbs of New York, Hari Om attended the Wharton School of Business before joining the Family. While The Renu and The Other Guy made sure no one was muscling in on the Family’s territory, Hari Om’s job was to make sure the Family’s money was clean and the IRS was happy and he did his job well.

In the lower echelons of the family there was a myriad crowd all eager to help the Family and keep their ears. Among the more notable members were Nikhilesh S. Chand and Arkoprobho Ray. At the height of its power, the Family boasted a membership of over thirty members including Joe Peschi.

For years Kaiser Blewzew held the campus at ransom. The fastest cars, the prettiest girls, the largest higher education posters, Swaziland…all were his. But it hadn’t been easy.

Coming soon: Chapter 2: The Unassuming Assassin

Left Foot Trapped in a Sensual Seduction

This post has nothing to do with the title. It's random.

A couple of days ago I was speaking to Dinkim and I inquired about my old friend Blewzew. I was disappointed to learn that Blewzew had not made it to an Ivy League, but was setting himself up for a career in politics in Uttar Pradesh. So ends the reign of one of the most God fearing dons at St. Stephen’s College.

So I decided to pay tribute to the glory days of Kaiser Blewzew and the Family and write:
Blewzew, Mongoloid, Esq.

(Coming soon: Chapter 1: Blewzew Begins.)

Three Bad Poems

Stephanian Winter
In the concrete Serengeti, the meeting season had begun.
The day was marked by raucous calls of prospective meets.
They fell on deaf years.
At night, little Timmy relieved himself by the lamppost
And sniffed a stray burning Navy Cut butt.
He had to be fast, the dew would extinguish it soon.
The Ritz at one end of town, bustled.
There were no seats left – you had to book yours.
The Oberoi had lost a lot of business lately.
Ski-masked terrorists lurked in dark corners.
The cold had taken a toll on them.
Their heaters blew the fuses. Darkness. Time to strike.
Lazy men sat in wasted old-age homes
Drinking vodka without caviar.
That was the thrill of it…
Jokers in dark suits, boots and ties were laughed at.
The jokers laughed when the act was over.
They stopped laughing when they had to pay the taxi bill.
A white Esteem rolled out of the gate at night.
The crowd screamed in delight:
Elvis had left the building!



Rickshaws in Europe
Rickshaws in Europe
Is that too much to ask for?
Their frail axle is susceptible
In the moon surface of Kamla Nagar:
You bounce, jump and jiggle in your seat.
Suspension, non-existent…
The roads of Europe are smooth and clean –
Smooth as a Basu’s head.
You don’t need a fishbone suspension
Rickshaws are perfect for Europe.


Sad Boredom
Sitting alone in a stupid stall selling ‘study abroad’ advice
When there’s hot music to chill to on the dance floor.
Sitting alone in a room sulking and hearing
Heavy rock emanating through your window.
Sitting alone in a rave party stone cold sober
Watching others dance to the DJ’s bad Punjabi music.
Feeling guilty to have fun because you’re worried about the future.
It’s sad…

Oi Faccha!

Rain. Luggage. Seniors. Ragging. Sweat. Embarrasment. Intellect. Welcome to St. Stephen's College, freshman