Now, now, don’t fall for those innocent looks. So we have all heard about that phase of female infanticide in India. Those of you who haven’t, you gotta click on that link you just saw. Back in the day, these crazy people here in India suddenly realized that cute little baby girls were of no use. They found them to be a burden. They were a bane to the families they were born into. And so, like it wasn’t cruel or anything, those mother fuckers started to kill the baby girls. I shall not indulge into the means of how this was brought about as I may lose readers.

What those dumb fuck did not realize was that our generation would have to suffer. Have you ever stepped onto the street and wondered, “Fuck, the place is full of ugly dark men”. I mean, where are the fucking girls?! Where is the estrogen? Show me some menopause. But no! You are walking around and its just freaking disgusting males all over the place! And then suddenly one woman will appear from nowhere and, not that she is hot or anything (considering that this country’s population comprises of 90% ugly people, women included), all the ugly men will start to stare at her. For fucks sake, she is not even hot! Fuck that shit! Not to mention the scratching of the crotch ritual that most Indian men follow.

It must have been all fancy back then, during the 80′s to kill the girl child. All that the freaking fools could think was, “Oh fuck, its a girl again, we are running out of dowry”. Fuck this country. Dowry is some other bullshit that is still in vogue here. I’ll dedicate a post for that some other time. But yes, as I was saying, the poor little girls were killed and all we are left with today is so much cock and no vagina!

Five million girls were eliminated between 1986 and 2001. I read that shit somewhere. Oh fuck, wait, I was born right about then. You older fucker, if you are reading my blog, then I have a message for you. From the bottom of my heart and with all due respect, I just wanna say, “Fuck you, you fucking ruined it for me and my friends”. Who the fuck kills baby girls?!

Look at her! What has she, and the other millions of her, done to deserve this!! I can understand if your baby was like freaking ugly. There is no place for ugly babies in society. Now, before you can start abusing me for making that statement, let me defend it. Imagine your ugly child at school. He/she is so ugly that all the other kids make fun of him/her all the time. Now, you don’t want that to happen right. In that case, you are free to kill you kid. We have enough of ugly people in this country. We shall start the ‘Kill the Ugly Baby’ campaign some other time.

Fore fathers, you have to be given credit for screwing this country over. They say that Indian men are the greatest perverts. I do agree. You may read this blog post on why Indian men disgust me. But the only people to be blamed are the fore fathers of these Indian men.

Now imagine little innocent Indian boy, growing up with all cock around him. All cool, he runs around play with the other innocent Indian boys chasing balls and butterflies. And then, suddenly with no warning whatsoever, he grows up! And once grown up, he goes away from home and his beloved boy friends to places where there are girls! Suddenly, he sees boobs and he is like, ‘Wow!’. The forces of nature take over. The Indian boy, now an Indian man, scratches his crotch. He stares at these amazing creations filled with estrogen. Indian man does not know what to do. He keeps staring.

Suddenly Indian man is at the beach. He sees feminine skin, and he knows not how to react. Indian man goes says something stupid to her. She tells him to fuck off. Indian man displays rage and abuses her. Newspaper prints that the girl was scantly dressed hence Indian man acted the way he did.

And who is to be blamed?!?!?! Fore fathers, if only, you had let the little Indian boy have little Indian girls around him when he was small, he would have known where the boobs came from and would not have to explore the woman like she was something that fell off a space ship. Had you killed the baby boy instead, we could have had Indian girls abusing the men, and trust me we are totally fine with that. But no!!! You killed the baby girls!!

Back to what we started off with. How can you kill a baby girl! Yes, people from the older generations, I am really disappointed with you. And yes, fuck you!

What you guys have done cannot be forgiven! Lets have two minutes of silence, and while we are at that, lets try and picture how much eye candy there would be on the road had our forefathers killed the boy child instead. Now, before you can lash out and say, “Hahha, Lovell, you fucking dumb fuck of all dumb fucks, you were born in the 80′s, you would be dead too”, I’d like to stress on the fact that I was born on a great day somewhere in 1985 and records state that the female infanticide started some time in 1986, so I’m fucking safe!

Which bring me to my campaign. Death to the Boy Child.

• Aren’t you fed up of all the ugly men around?
• Aren’t you done watching ugly men pee anywhere and anytime?
• Aren’t you done with ugly men staring at your assets, even though you are not even hot?
• Aren’t you fed up of all the groping and letching?
• Aren’t you fed up of all the Indian men?!

If ‘yes’ was the answer to any of the above questions, then I have to make one thing clear. We cannot, and by no means kill these grown up ugly men. Society is against us, because society is full of these Indian men. Hence, I’d like you to join me in starting the ‘Death to the Boy Child’ campaign. All that we have to do is request all the parents to kill their baby boys. Parents who have male kids below the age of 10, can join in too. Lets not do what our fore fathers did. Lets kill the baby boys instead. If China can do it, then India can do it too!

Step 1: Crush the noodles to smithereens.

Step 2: Pour exactly 1 cup of hot water and mix properly with the taste maker.

Step 3: Once mixed, add one spoon of chilly paste and 1 cube of cheese. Riya if ur reading this, add 8 cubes.

Step 4: 4 minutes only. 2 minutes is a lie!

This is it! Always wash it down with tropicana. Personal preference.

If u don’t like this, follow these misleading instructions. You’ll get uncooked crap.

About Peter aka Pedro, by the Crapsite owner.
Peter Davis is a well know author who is yet to break into the scene. He started writing at a tender age of 2. Initially writing on walls, he the moved to paper and finally onto Google docs. He is known for his sarcasm and wise sense of humor. Peter can be found running around showing off the latest Android phones and operating systems. Off late Peter has been learning HTML, and subject he will write about after getting fired from his current job. On weekends Peter is known to check-in into all the places known to mankind on FourSquare. On Sundays, Peter can be found worshiping the man himself, Jesus, at a small church in Banjara Hills. To know more about Peter, use Google search.

Disclaimer: The characters in this book are fictitious and bear not resemblance to anyone living or dead. If they do, then lucky them!

“Nothing”, was what she said.

“Nothing”. The same response I’d been hearing for the past couple of years.

“Is everything all right?”, I asked her, as I wiped the tear off her cheek.

She just turned and looked at the sun starting to set. It was to be a rainy day. But somehow the rain god had other plans. Then she turned back to me.

“You look handsome”, she said while she straightened my collar and adjusted my tie.
“Love makes people blind.”
“Aha? Since when?”
“Since Eve plucked out that apple and destroyed mankind.”
“You still don’t realize that your jokes are not funny anymore, right?”
“It wasn’t a joke.”

The sun set. A dark shade of orange now took over the sky. Birds flew past the hill, making their way towards home. We could hear children playing somewhere in the distance. Their laughter filling the silence. Then there was a cheer. Someone must have scored a goal.

“Where are the kids playing?”, she asked me, staring out of the window.
“There is a small football ground behind the church. They must be there.”

Then there was silence. We were still there. By the window. She was still holding me. She slid her hand into my coat pocket.

“Did you get the rings?”
“Yes”, I replied while I watched her open the box.

She looked at the rings and gave out half a smile. Was she ready for this? Did she know what she was doing? It started to get dark. Any moment now the clock would strike seven and children would no more be heard. The orange sky was now purple and soon it would be pitch black. I looked at the horizon and thought to myself, “why the sun have to set”? She held my hand, pulled my sleeve back and had a look at the time.

“It’s almost time.”
“Yes”, I replied as I noticed the clock move past six fifty.
“I think I’m ready.”
“I’m glad you are”, I said, not knowing what would be a better thing to say right now.

I slipped the rings back into my pocket, moved away from the window and opened the door for her. She stepped out. What a beautiful sight she was. She walked to the entrance while she warmed everyone up with her sweet smile. I followed. The clock struck seven. The church bell began to chime. She slipped her arm into father’s and they walked down the aisle.

Religion: A set of beliefs concerning the cause, nature, and purpose of the universe, especially when considered as the creation of a supernatural agency or agencies, usually involving devotional and ritual observances, and often containing a moral code governing the conduct of human affairs.

Its 5:45 p.m. I’ve had a bath, worn some decent clothes, looked out of the window and thought to myself, “Wow, what a pleasant day!” I’ve got just enough time for the 10 minute walk to Church. But then “Satan” influences me and I decide not to go, but rather write about religion and the jazz it brings with it.

25 years back on valentines day, when chicks were getting rings, and guys were getting laid, the little Lovell D’souza was baptized. He now belonged to the strongest and most powerful religious community in the world; the Roman Catholics. The same people who came to Goa around 500 years back, destroyed temples and gave the locals an option to build their churches else die had now acquired another soul. Lovell D’souza was now cleansed off original sin.

As a RC you enjoy the pleasure of seeing some nice fancy churches, hot chicks (that’s if you are in Goa), eat fancy food and a lot more. But you also land up at these strange charismatic meetings where people will start talking in tongues, acting all weird and freaking the shit out of you. As a kid, I had the great privilege of attending a lot of these meetings. There would be some dude or a priest up front screaming into the mic and going “Alleluia, Alleluia!!” and I’d be like, “What the shit!” Most of the time I’d be scared, as people were fainting, talking gibberish, getting possessed by the Holy Spirit and what not. It was like a dignified metal concert. Thank God that phase stopped. Amen!

My take on religion

I think that religion is the biggest brainwashing shit out there! I’ve said this many times and I shall say it again. Religion must have come up when some people, who had a lot of problems in life just did not know how to solve them and then decided, “Oh lets pray to the Superior Forces and all our problems will be solved”. And hence religion came into existence. All this over a period of hundred of years thereby brought upon the jazzing up of religion and people started to let their imagination run wild. Now, we all know about all the religions out there and all the nonsense rituals they have, so I shall not elaborate.

The Christians

These are people you would love to avoid. They go to church everyday, think that the Lord loves them and blah blah, but will come home and not even bother to be good to others. And, on top of this, they will judge you for not going to church and because you are not pro-religious like them. Other facts about these people are that they will come to you and convince you that the world is coming to an end and you have to join their religion to be saved and all kinda bullshit like that. Like, who the fuck cares if the world is coming to an end. You can casually let them know that you are not interested, but they will keep nagging you over a period of time till you decide to invest in that shotgun you always wanted to have. A lot of paragraphs can be dedicated to these moron, but for now each community gets just one. Yeah, don’t forget the conversions.

The Hindus

I’ve been told that Hinduism is not a religion, but a way of life. Well for now lets consider it is a religion as a lot of people believe so and I shall be with the masses for once. The Hindus have like a billion gods. They have a lot of pornographic temple carvings too. If you don’t believe me, do go to Hampi (as erotic as the name may sound, its a really nice place) and check out the temples. They are also very very very noisy. Every festival of their will be dedicated to destroying a few amps and scores of loud speakers. These people are not dangerous, but most of the time they are just irritating in the manner they communicate to their gods.

The Muslims

Now a lot of you dumb fucks will start thinking Taliban, 9/11 and 5 bearded guys running towards you with bombs stuck on their chests. Please get this picture out of your head right now. The Muslims are not violent people like the way the media projects them. Yes I do agree there are radicals (like how we RCs have the Vatican :P) but please don’t confuse the radicals with the other normal Muslims. So, the Muslims, they think that their religion is the most superior to all religions. Makes me scratch my head coz I think all religions are crap. They have this agenda that it is their responsibility to save all the kafirs and take them to heaven. According to them Jesus was not the son of God, but a servant of Allah. This statement made some of my Christan friends get upset. The Muslims pray a lot and follow the Quran like nothing else in the world is the truth.  But they make amazing Biryani and Haleem (which tastes superb when you are drunk).

More rants

So I was home a few weeks back and mentioned to my mother that I’ve been reading the Quran. She was like, “What the shit!” Well I’ve been reading it just to know what’s up with my Muslim friends, to get to know their side of the story and also coz the Bhagwat Gita is too freaking boring.

So my mom was like, “Wheres your Scapular?”.
I was like, “Er, it broke, but its there somewhere.”
“I have a new one for you.”

Now I’m back to wearing my scapular. Not just coz I wanna show off that I’m RC, but also because I think its like really sexy to wear a scapular. So now you see me wearing the scapular around my neck and notice people going, “What the fuck is that black shit?!”

The “Real” Religion

Metal!!! \m/

Long time ago, lets say around 8-9 years back, when I was in the prime of my puberty and wondering why my testicles were getting so hairy, a new religion starting to engulf my soul. It included a lot of hair (stop thinking of my testicles), a lot of beard, tattoos and a lot of screaming and growling. No I’m referring to bestiality, I’m referring to Metal. The Music. The Real Savior!

Of course over a period of time it went from the the nice commercial stuff that even the wannabes listen to, to stuff like Meshuggah that 90% of you dumb fucks don’t understand.

Metal is an acquired religion. You either get it or you don’t. I also know that almost all of you will not watch the complete video that has been posted above, but that’s alright, I’m not forcing my religion upon you.

If you land up watching the video, you will wonder why and how can I listen and watch this shit. Let me stress upon a tiny fact, that childhood trauma is the worst, and it will always come back to haunt you. Remember, I mentioned before that the charismatic meetings where like a metal concert? As a kid I heard a priest/preacher screaming into a mic. Now I hear the band’s singer doing so. As a kid I heard the hymns that I never understood. Now I hear complicated guitar riffs and time signatures that goes over my head. As a kid the preacher would suddenly go crazy. Now the singer suddenly goes crazy. As a kid I saw people faint, fall and act weird. Now I see people in moshpits, they fall, they crowd surf, they act weird. As a kid I would look around and think, “What the fuck!” Now I look around and think, “Yeah, what the fuck!”

And you think I’m not religious?

PS: Comments that directly offend any religious community will be deleted at my discretion.

I knew I shouldn’t have fallen for the old ‘get 1 ticket and get another free’ scheme. But I figured, I’d try it out anyways. Since, I would be flying to Kerala, I thought I would pay for one way and get the return free!! Woohoo! *NOT*.

I mean, I know there’s the usual fuel surcharges, pilot’s tip, tax, air-hostess MAC kit charge and all that shit, but I still thought I’d only pay half the price.

Yeah sure, who was I kidding?

As soon as I booked the ongoing ticket, I got a prompt mail from Cleartrip.

Your “Free Ticket” Coupon

Hey there! Congrats on booking your ticket with us and as we promised – here are the coupon(s) that can take you on a “free flight”!

IMPORTANT: Please read the instructions below carefully on redeeming the coupon(s) before proceeding. There are some restrictions on the usage of coupons.

This is where it starts to get messed up. I should have known when they put Free Tickets within double quotes.

Like I mentioned before, 1 way ticket costs 3k (approx) . Now the conditions stated that I should use only a Spice Jet Flight for redeeming the coupons.

Normal Flights from Hyd to Ker route is…well Hyd to Ker

BUT

Spice Jet gives me the privelge of travelling to Mumbai, get stranded in the Mumbai airport for 2 hours and then fly back to Hyderabad. Awesome! All this for Rs.18,765 only. ( I’ve always wondered why they put an only after huge amounts).

But hey! I don’t have to pay this, cos I am eligible for the “Buy 1 ticket and get a load of shit free” offer.

I now have to pay 5000 Rs only and add to that a 2 hour layover in Mumbai. Perfect! #fml

I said ‘Fuck this shit’, I’m going to get around their scheme. Since I will be going to Mumbai next month, I figured, I’d use this coupon to “redeem” my “free flight”, since there are direct flight’s from Mumbai to Hyderabad.

Guess what! I got around this shitty scheme. I now get a whole 100 Rs. off! #fml

I don’t normally do book review or things of that sort, but The Alchemist was one of those best sellers that I had heard of and I just had to read. I managed to get my hands on a nice pirated copy of it and thought to myself, ‘Now I shall read this shit and I can converse with the masses on what a great book it is.’ Or so I thought!

Now, if you are a Paulo Coelho fan, or if you are Paulo Coelho himself, you may be offended with what you are going to read next. So let me warn you, like I always do, this post may really hurt your feelings. Let me also warn you that I’m gonna save all you aspiring readers from reading the book by telling you what happens in a few paragraphs. So you may thank me at the end.

In my hand was the great book. I start reading it. Some dude staring into a lake of some sort and all that jazz. Out of this world kinda stuff. Paulo, you are bending my mind. You are awesome! The reviews said it is a book that would change my life. ‘Change my life’ it did. I almost gave up reading.

The story is about this young shepherd who takes his sheep around Spain I guess, and keeps dreaming non stop. He sees Egypt in his dream and some treasure is to be found and all that jazz. Amazing setup. Young boy, seeks glory, has sheep, ready to travel. Brilliant! Lets name him Mr. Dumb Ass. Oh wait, he is Spanish, we shall baptize him Senior Culo Tonto.

So Culo Tonto, stud man sexy Spaniard that he is, decides to go to some fancy place to sheer his sheep in front of some rich mofo and say, “Ola Senorita” to the mofo’s chica. Culo supposedly is in love with this chica. But no! He meets some smart ass old man on the way who I bet got a lot of chicas in his glory days (coz he is some kinda king), who convinces Culo to give him his sheep and says, “Go chase your dream tiger, grrrr.” And Culo was on his way. Les Pyramids, here I come. What happened to the  chica no one knows. I bet the smart ass old king kong musta shown her some shamalama ding dong and lets not go any further.

Oh yes, king kong also gave Culo a couple of his shiny nuts. He pulled em off his chest plate. Some kinda shut. I guess its some Spanish tradition or something. I don’t really know why so much fuss was made over this scene considering that those nuts were not even used anywhere in the book. Okay, they did fall a couple of times, so what?

Culo is now on his way to the great Pyramids. Ambitious dumb **** that he is, he gets robbed and decides to stay at some lousy town and work till he can make money to buy sheep. Lots goes on here. Our Culo Tonto becomes Gran Culo Tonto and somehow he and this shopkeeper make some monies and Culo is back on track.

Culo then thinks, screw these sheep. I’m going to Les Pyramids! He now has to cross the desert. Which is a long boring journey with other men. Like when did the Spanish men start hanging out with men? Somewhere here I think I thought of committing suicide, but no! I had to read the book! It was going to change my life. I bet the life changing scene would be at the end. So read I did.

Somewhere and somehow all these men land up at an oasis. And voila what do they find? Chica #2 (and dates and water too). Chica #2 is equally dumb as Culo. We shall get back to her in a moment. Now everyone is chilling at the oasis, you know, smoking up their weed, abusing in Arabic, having a good time while doing their own shit. Until Culo decides to take a walk and sees two hawks flying in the sky. One hawk kills the other and Culo goes psycho. He tells the dude who runs the show at the oasis that they are gonna be attacked. Like who gives a shit in the first place?!

Chica #2. She comes to know that Culo is going see Les Pyramids and gets all senti. But says that she is a ‘woman of the desert’ and she will wait for him. Like yeah right. She gets all upset and watches him leave.

On the way to Les Pyramids, Culo (and his friend, some Alchemist guy) get robbed by some bad men. Who make Culo talk to the wind and the sun. Real dumb scene this was. Like I pushed my imagination to the limit but still could not figure out what problem the sun had with the wind. But the two were like having this face off in the middle of the desert (like its not already hot enough) and then Culo is the stud man again.

Back to seeing Les Pyramids!

So stud man Culo the Spaniard is back with his Alchemist friend and the two are en route. But Alchemist dude suddenly decides to pull back and like as though it was some kinda movie scene, he lets Culo go on alone from now on. So our man is now almost near Les Pyramids, he sees them and then starts digging a hole. And… and… and.. tada!!! He gets mugged. And for the third time Culo the dumb ass gets robbed. Oh, and if I forgot to mention, he did not find any treasure.

He comes back to Spain, to the spot where he had the dream and finds some stash there. Amen. Life changing book!! My culata!

Oh and Culo is an Alchemist to.

Somebody stab me for Christ’s sake!!

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Part 2
In office one morning. At Johnny’s desk.

Me: Danny is coming for the trip.
John: What? F*cker are you serious?
Me: Ya, f*cker. Why the f*ck would I joke for no reason?
John: F*ck.

Eight heads pop over to the cubicles and give us blank stares.

Me: Not so loud man.
John: F*ck them!
Me: Vignesh called him from the US. Threw some senti dialogue and convinced him. Said something something, Jesus something, you have to come something. Basically he is coming and I’m gonna book his ticket right now.
John: Awesome news man. But I think he will ditch us at the last moment.
Me: He can’t man. F*ck him. His wife said to take him and show him the world. Said he is a boring fellow and he needs a holiday. So we have her green signal too.
John: F*cker, what if he dies on the trip? Who will take care of his kids?

Time for some context. Danny’s wife is actually his fiancee. And they do not have kids. John Paul’s and my conversations are always over exaggerated and we make things sound like the end of the world is near.

Me: F*ck his kids man. I mentioned that Danny could die, she said “Danny can’t die” and that Jesus will keep him alive.
John: Ch**tye he is not even married.
Me: Yeah, screw all that man. He wont die. Jesus will save him.

‘Jesus does not exist. Hanuman is the real God’, shouts Rahul from nowhere. He joins us at John Paul’s desk.

John: Abbey saale, we are both Roman Catholics here, we will convert you and your whole family!
Rahul: Hahahaha, Mayawati will convert you guys as soon as you reach UP man.
Me: Lets take a fire truck to his house and spray his whole family with holy water.
Rahul: Abbey, teri behaan ki…..
John: Okay, okay, Important news here. Danny is joining us for the trip.
Rahul: Dude, that is such awesome news dude!
Me: Yeah, f*ck that sh*t.

Danny arrives and place his bag at his desk.  He puts each and every strand of hair in place and starts walking towards us. All the ladies stop what they are doing, time slows down and then you hear a collective siiiigghhhh. Danny joins us. The ladies resume work.

Rahul: Dude, I heard you are coming for the trip. This is such awesome news man!
Danny: Arrey, what da. I don’t know man. I’ll decide today and let you know.
Me: F*ck you man. Lets go my desk and book the tickets.
Danny: We shall book it later man, I’m not sure.
Me: Suck my c*ck, motherf*cker, f*ck your sh*t and just come to my desk and we will book the f*cking ticket, b*stard.
Danny: Arrey.. but..
John: Ch**tye, just book the tickets and you can decide later.
Rahul: Dude, book it man, this is awesome dude! Don’t worry Jejus will protect you.

More context. We weren’t just seven of us. There was actually eight. The last person on the trip was Jesus.

This is not a joke, nor is it supposed to be any kind of mockery. Yes, Jesus was on this trip too. Little did we know that He would be playing an important role in the trip later on. Jesus will be referred to as Jesus or Jejus.

We all leave to our respective desks. Johnny unlocks his computer and resumes chatting with eight women, yawns, scratches his head and resumes consuming his cornflakes.

Me: What’s your problem man? Too much fuss. Just shut up and come for the trip else f*ck off.
Danny: Hehehe, what are you saying man?
Me: F*ck you come to my desk, lets book the tickets.
Danny: Okay.

Danny reluctantly comes over and we start the process of locating flights and in the next half hour or so the tickets were booked. Daniel Peddity was officially part of the trip. The spoilt brat who could not live without air-conditioning, fresh water or toilet paper was now in for the trip of his life.

Me: Now you are in.
Danny: I can cancel the tickets man.
Me: F*ck your cancellation. If you even think of that I’ll get some 400 horny hairy f*ckers from Madhya Pradesh to gang rape you!
Danny: What are you saying man? Disturbed child you are. Did someone abuse you when you were a kid?
Me: My b*lls are disturbed. Now go to your desk and do some f*cking work. Ch**tya saal, talking too much for your height!

Danny laughs and goes to his desk. A days work begins.

1230 hrs IST.
John Paul’s stomach starts to growl. The smell of chicken and mutton travel from the cafeteria into Johnny’s nostrils triggering a chain of events which results in him locking his computer. Fourteen women are now left on their own. They will have to wait till Johnny comes back. Nothing stops the John Paul from satisfying his hunger.

John: Chal, lets go.
I look above my cubicle and see a hungry John Paul ready to sink his teeth into the next thing that moved provided it tasted good.
Me: Go where f*cker?
John: To the loo, to hump the guys there, ch**tya. Lets go.

I lock my computer.

Me: I don’t wanna hump any guys man. F*ck you.
John: Abbey saale, lets go eat.

I leave my cubicle and throw a drumstick at Danny (who sits diagonally opposite me). It missed his head by a few centimeters. Danny turns back all surprised.

Danny: Arrey, I could have got hurt man.
Me: F*ck  you, Jesus is protecting you. Nothing will happen. Lets go eat.

Danny locks his computer. One girl is left waiting. We head towards the urinal. More sighs are heard. The output graphs of the female members in the team take sudden dips whenever Danny is found walking around the floor. We reach the men’s room. Three of the seven sh*t compartments are occupied. We head to the urinals and relieve ourselves. A collective sigh is hear, but this time out of relief.

Me: Johnny, lets beat the sh*t out the first guy who comes out of any of these sh*t compartments.
John: Hahaha, dude, I think they are beating themselves right now.
Me: Hahahaha!
Danny: You fellows are so bad.

And saying that Danny heads off, stares into the mirror and starts adjusting every strand of hair on his head. There are times when I felt the mirror would crack after having to look at him do this at least five times a day. Johnny and I wait outside while Peddity grooms himself. He comes back out after like, forever.

Me: F*cker I hope you go bald.
Danny: Hehehe, dude what’s wrong with him?
John:  Dunno man, never really bothered to ask. But seems like he is okay. If he stops abusing then that means something must be wrong.
Me: F*ck you both, motherf*ckers. Suck my c*ck.
Danny: Disturbed child he is.

We head off to Rahul’s desk and drag him for lunch.

Rahul: Arrey, saale, kamine log, let me work man. I’ve created this awesome tool man..
Me: F*ck your tool man. Shove it up Danny’s ars* f*cker.
Rahul: Dude, what’s wrong with him?
John: F*ck him man, let go to eat and plan for the trip.

The four of us head to the cafeteria. A majority of women stop eating and stare at us.

Rahul: Dude, all the girls are staring at me.
Me: F*ck you, they are staring at me. These Hyderabadi women, they like guys with beards. So f*ck you.
John: Ah, chicken! Woohoo!! (And heads off to serve himself).

Danny adjusts his hair and puts that stray strand back in place. The place goes sigh again. In a few minutes we are done serving ourselves and head off to one corner of the cafe so that we can survey the entire floor for hot women.

Me: F*cker sit on the other side, f*cker.
Danny: Huh?
Me: B*stard, you are committed what the f*ck do you wanna check out chicks for?
Danny: Arrey, what are you saying?
John: Abbey saale, go sit on the opposite side.

Danny reluctantly goes and sits on the opposite side of the table with his back facing a freak show of colleagues. Rahul comes with his plate filled with some vegetarian nonsense.

Me: F*cker how can you eat that sh*t?
John: Ya f*cker, eat some meat.
Rahul: Oye! I’ll complain to Mayawati, she will eat you.
Danny: You guys are crazy!

John: Okay, now serious stuff alright. Just few days left for the trip. We need to plan everything and make sure nothing goes wrong.
Me: F*ck that man, lets just go all out and if we have to die then so be it.
Danny: I don’t want to die man, I have to come back and marry my girl.
Me: F*ck your girl man. No offense okay, I didn’t mean it. All respect to her, but f*ck your girl man. F*cker.
Danny: You are really disturbed man.
Me: My b*alls are disturbed.
John: Arrey, f*ckers listen to me at least.
Rahul: Dude, this paneer is awesome man. Try it!
John: Abbey, shove your paneer up your ars* f*cker, now listen to me.

We all start munching our food while Johnny takes charge of the proceedings.

John: All tickets are booked and a list has been made of what to carry so make sure not to forget anything.
Me: You know what would be really cool, getting abducted by terrorists.
Rahul: Dude, yeah man. I heard they take tourists hostage sometimes.

Danny’s face goes white. He stops eating.

Danny: You serious man? I’m not coming then.
Me: Then f*ck you.
Danny: No man, I’m serious. I don’t want to get into this terrorist nonsense.
Me: Yeah hope they catch only you and cut your b*alls and feed it to the dogs.
Danny: Dude, if there are terrorists there then I’m not coming. I’ll go cancel my tickets in the evening.
John: Arrey f*cker, you think they will be standing there with boards saying that they are terrorists?
Danny: I can’t take the risk man.
Rahul: Dude, try the palak also. Awesome food today man.
John: F*ck your veg sh*t man.
Me: Danny f*cker, don’t worry. You won’t die man.
Rahul: You have Jejus also no?
Danny: Dude, it’s Jesus man, stop making fun.
Rahul: Ah ah! Jejus for me. All same. Jejus, Hanuman, Allah, all are the same.
Me: F*cker, Allah means God.
Rahul: Same thing man.
John: F*cker chill, we are there to save you incase we are taken hostage.
Danny: I’m not coming man, that’s it!

With that Danny goes into deep though. He starts thinking of the great future that is in store. He will marry his girl. Make small Danny’s. All talented. Yes all. One will play the guitar, one the drums and the other will sing. They will start a band and form a Counter Strike team. Danny starts to wonder why one of his son has a beard.

Me: Screw that, Johnny just think man, we are taken hostage and then the terrorists ask the government for a ransom. All the media coverage and in between we kill the terrorists man. We will become stars man. Chicks will dig us.
John: No man. What terrorists f*cker? If I got to die, I want to die after fighting a tiger man. Imagine a tiger comes and attacks us. I start to fight it and save you guys, but I die in the bargain. That’s the death I want f*cker.
Me: That’s so cool man! Getting killed by a tiger. Chicks dig that kinda stuff man! You will be a hero man. Imagine all the necrophilic chicks would so want to do you man.
Danny: What rubbish you guys talk.
Rahul: Dude, paneer man. Really awesome!
Me: Abbey vegetarian go f*ck your paneer and die!

John: Danny f*cker, listen. If any of us have to die, we will die in proper order.
Me: Sounds so cool man!
John: If we are attacked, I will die first.
Me: F*ck you man, I will die first.
John: Abbey saale, we will both die first f*cker. The point is one of us will die first. Then Rahul.
Rahul: What about Vignesh and those two friends? What are their names?
Me: One’s Maruthi. God knows the other guy’s name.
John: Suzuki.
Me: It’s not Suzuki man.
John: It’s a joke f*cker!
Me: F*ck your joke.
John: So lets do one thing. Let those two f*ckers die first man. We will use them as decoys. Make them do something to distract the terrorists and die, you and I will fight and let Danny run away.
Me: F*cker but I thought that you wanted to die first. Ah, nevermind. So let those two machaan die first. What about Vignesh man?
John: Vignesh will also die man but later.
Rahul: Dude, paneer. Awesome!
Me: This f*cker. They should kill him first. I’m telling you man. They should f*cking shoot Rahul even before they take us hostage.
John: So then it’s just you, me and Danny.
Me: F*cker, we will fight man. I’m not going down without a fight. I will f*cking kill at least two terrorists man.
John: Danny, f*cker. Stop getting upset. You won’t die.
Rahul: Dude, Jejus man. Jejus will save you.
Me: F*ck you man. Johnny and I will save him.
Rahul: Even I’ll save you Danny.
John: F*cker, you are dead.
Me: My b*alls are dead, f*cker!

With that we finished out lunch. We headed out of the cafeteria. Heads turned, sighs were heard. Danny was still in shock hearing about terrorists and death.

But one thing was fixed. The Dying Sequence. Rahul would be killed even before we could be taken hostage. If the terrorists did not kill him, we would. This would be done just to keep the sanity of the terrorists in check and save us from getting killed too early. Next, Johnny and I would come up with a plan on the fly and execute it commando style. We would use Maruthi and Suzuki as decoys, make them do some sh*t and distract the terrorists. The terrorists would in turn get angry and start shooting at the two of them. Johnny and I would then put up a fight against the terrorists while we instruct Vignesh and Danny to make a dash for safety. Maruthi and Suzuki die. Johnny and I would hold the terrorists for however long it would take us until we knew that Vignesh and Danny are safe. During this stand off Johnny and I would die. The terrorists would then spot Vignesh and Danny at the horizon, just almost out of sight. They fire shots. Vig and Dan are about to fall out sight, when one bullet hits Vignesh right on the head. Tall f*cker that he is, he did not manage to clear the horizon in time. Danny survives.

Danny would go on to tell, his three songs and the world, the story of how three machaans sacrificed themselves and how two brave men stood up against the terrorists to keep him safe. Chicks dig dying brave guys!

Update: Part 3: The Day, The Wait is now up.

Now to what happened.

I wake up in the morning, actually it was more like an afternoon. But on a Saturday, my morning begins post noon. The guy who takes care of the house was in our balcony. This guy is also the laundry man of the colony, and he uses our terrace to dry his clothes sometimes. We are cool with that as long as there is someone to keep an eye on our place so that robbers and murderers stay away. And, the terrace is huge, so we don’t really have to look at someone else’s underwear hanging around. I don’t really know this guy’s name, so lets call him Appa.

Appa greets me can calls me sahib  (thats like ‘sir’ in hindi). I feel good. My morale is boosted. Alright!

Appa: You guys came pretty late last night. Wasn’t it around like 2 am?
Me: Yeah we did come late.
Appa: Had to work overtime I guess.
Me: Yeah, theres a lot of work. (If only he knew what bad people we were, he would stop hanging the clothes on our terrace).
Appa: I was ironing clothes late into the night. Even I have a lot of work nowadays.
Me: Yeah I noticed you. (Sh*t suddenly he makes me feel so bad).
Appa: You guys were awake even after that, I saw your balcony light on.
Me (F*ck, hope he did not see how we disposed the bodies): Ya, there was a dead cat here and two dead mice too. We were disposing the bodies.
Appa: What? Only one cat?
Me (Holy mother of the Phantom): What? There are more dead cats here???!!!
Appa: Yes.

Appa walks to a small cemented block in which our water meter takes shelter and points to it. And there lay another dead feline. It’s body under the meter, with one paw on top of the meter and another pointing towards the North Pole I guess. It had bled through the nose, all the blood dried by now. Disgusting sight. Well, not really that disgusting, but disgusting to some extent nevertheless. Appa puts his hand into the  water meter compartment, finds the tail of the cat and tugs on it. It does not budge a bit. Must have died last night and it’s body had become stiff. Appa gives another hard tug and manages to get the dead cat out. It’s body had taken a very weird indescribable  shape. He carries it to our gate, and in one smooth swing of the arm, he flings it in to the dumping area we used the previous night. Blood drops from the cats nostrils flew into the air and went splat on the cemented road outside.

The second dead cat was disposed. Let me stress on one point. The manner in which we disposed the bodies the previous night was much more respectful. Something just short of a 21 gun salute.

Appa: Ah, that was that.
Me: What happened? How come so many dead animals in our balcony suddenly? Is the house haunted? I bet it is! No wonder the landlord gave it to us for such a low price.
Appa: No sahib, no no! This house is not haunted. It is the best house in the colony.
Me: Then what happened here?
Appa: Well yesterday just before Vignesh sahib could come some cats were fighting. One male cat came and started fight. It must have killed the two cats. Lots of noise sahib. Even the ladies next door came to watch what was going on.
Me: They came to watch? Couldn’t they shoo the cats away?
Appa: What to do sahib? I am only a laundry man, if I tell them what to do, they will stop giving their clothes to me. The cats were fighting for quite a while. I think the male cat killed the other cats. The mother cat is still somewhere around.
Me: Hmm, that’s disgusting. Male cats tend to kill kittens which are not theirs, and are in their territory.

Appa leaves and then I start to put all the pieces together. Two dead cats, two dead mice. Mother cat alive. Male cat killed the cats. Cashew nuts. White liquid out of the first cats mouth. A paranoid Vignesh.

Okay, so here is what might have happened that gory night.
Mother cat and her two kid cats must have come across the two dead mice or must have caught and killed them. The mice must have been poisoned by our crazy neighbor, surely. Kid cats must’ve been enjoying the evening snack and spending some quality time with mother cat. Male cat arrives and realized that those two kid cats are not his. All hell breaks lose. Male cat starts a fight. Mother cat starts to defend the kid cats. One kid cat runs and hides under the water meter. Male cat grabs hold of the first kid cat’s neck. Mother who is not as big and strong as male cat is not able to defend her kid cat or do anything. Male cat’s jaw are too strong for the kid cat’s neck. Kid cat starts to choke. Male cat shifts his attention to the other kid cat. He grabs hold if its next and chokes it to death. The second kid cat dies under the water meter. Male cat for some reason decides to leave. The first kid cat chokes to death slowly. The poison from the mouse starts to take it’s effect too. Vignesh comes home to see the mess of a murder. Panics and calls me. I’m too engrossed with the glass of rum in front of me. I talk him into coming to Club 8 and drinking too, not knowing how bad the situation was. Vignesh, with his fetish for alcohol, caves in and comes to Club 8. Somewhere between then and 2 am, the first kid cat dies. Two mice and two cats are left dead.

Case solved.

And, here are photos of Dead Mouse #1, Dead Mouse #2 and Dead Cat #1. The photographs are blurred, but if you are one of those people who go eeeeeewwww for no reason at all, then you are warned.

Mr. Newman Fernandes was the principal of St. Xavier’s College, Mapusa, Goa while I was there from 2002 to 2005. I by no means want to attack or ridicule him but I just want people like him to know that his actions are not justified.

Let me begin with the part when I hit puberty and then started to grow a beard. Yes, suddenly the face started to fill up with lots of hair and I for some reason (mostly and maybe because I was a metal fan) though that it was really cool. Well, to set the record straight, I still think beards are cool. If Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni and Tom Araya could keep a beard, then so could Lovell D’souza!

Newman for some reason never kept a beard. And I, being a nice student of the institution, for some reason never asked him why. I could have just walked up to him on any given day and ask him, “Sir, Michelangelo had a beard, but where is yours?” Well I never did that. But one fine day, I’m standing outside the St. Xavier’s college canteen gate, quietly sipping on my cup of tea, checking out all the hot chicks that made it to the institution. When suddenly this hand grabs hold of my beard. Well guess who zeroed in on me. The principal was standing there with my beard in his hand while time froze for a few seconds till I could recollect what exactly was happening. My brain over-clocked trying to recollect what nonsense I might have done in the past few days.

• Broke college property? – No.
• Abused someone verbally? – No.
• Came smelling of smoke for practical sessions? – Maybe.
• Caught screwing around with some girl in college? – In my dreams, Yes. In college, No.
• Faked lab reading and staged experiments? Yes.

Sh*t. This guy is the principal. And right now I’m so screwed. Before I could give him the “WTF” look he said, “You fellow, where do you think you are come? This is an educational institution this is not the way you come to college!” Ok, so I was wearing some real dirty  jeans, must have had some metal band black t-shirt on by default, but surely I wore a clean underwear. And then he lets me know, “You are growing this beard for what? Is this some new fashion? You think anyone will give you a job with that beard? You give me your I-card.” Ah, the classic statement – “You give me your I-card.” “Tomorrow come to my office first thing in the morning and show me if you have a chin and then you can take your I-card back.”

“F*ck you man, I don’t give sh*t”, that’s what I thought. :) But I just said, “Ok, Sir” and he left. You don’t mess with the head of the institution when your career is in his hands. So there went my I-card, “Lovell B Q D’souza, SYBSc” up with the man to his office into the box of blacklisted students. The disgrace of the college would be collected in a box in his office. Well that was that.

I walked up to my cousin Ryan D’souza who saw all this happening and was enjoying all of it. Nothing like amusing yourself at someone else’s cost. I was like, “He told me to shave my beard.” Ryan, “Tell him you have some sickness and you can’t”. Me, “duh!”

Part two: The Psycho relatives.

Now if you stay in a village with all your relatives being your neighbors, life can be bliss, life can be a sh*t hole. I had my share of both. Till today I find my relatives very amusing. Yes, somehow I find their conversations very funny, not that because they crack god jokes, mainly because they talk sh*t most of the time.

Some relative to my mom, “Is you son sick? Why is he so thin? Hope he is not doing anything bad you know.. like ‘bad’. May be he is in bad company. And what’s that? No one in ‘our family’ keeps beards. What is this rubbish?”

Me (in my head), “Well f*ck you!”

First of all I wasn’t sick. Yes, I would get the occasional fever and I still get it now. Thin? WTF? I always though I was on the heavier side. By ‘bad’ I assume they were referring to sex, drugs and booze. Well the answer is no. Bad company, well maybe yes, but I don’t regret any of the nonsense I’ve done in life. You f*ckers, the so called ‘bad company’, you know who are, you guys rock! And, who the f*ck defines which family gets to keep beards and which family doesn’t?

Back to the beard.

So I sadly cut off my maybe four inch long beard with a scissors that might have never been used again. Then the rest of the remaining hair got shaved off. Next in line was some amount of Pop’s Original Old Spice after shave. That stuff burns, especially if you’ve shaved after months.

The next morning I’m back in college, standing there at the college canteen gate, like a rape victim. Feeling the cold morning breeze hit my chin. No a good feeling at all. I get a few stares from some people who see my face for the first time since they ever joined college. My friends laugh at my baby face look. We exchange a few set of highly sophisticated abuses and have a good laugh.

I walk up the stairs to that dreaded room labelled “Principal’s Office”. I step in and Mr. Newman Fernandes gives me a big smile. I give him a big smile too, more out of sarcasm. He runs through the content of the box, locates my I-card and hands it over to me. I get to walk free. I give him a nice, “Thank you, Sir” and I carry on with life.

Well Newman, now this part is for you.

Two of my other friends and I wrote the final year exams with our beards, nailed the exams with our beards, gold plated you and the name of our college (when we secured the highest number of distinctions ever), with our beards. We walked up and collected our certificates from you, with our beards.

I got a job, with my beard. I interviewed for one the biggest company in the world, with my beard. The guy who interviewed me had a beard. I got the job, with my beard. I proudly took my beard along with me on my first day, and my I-card also has a photo of me with my beard. And, till today as I type this I have my beard.

So next time, any of you fools out there ever discriminate a young guy because he has a beard think twice.

PS: Please do not leave any comments targeting Newman directly (I shall delete those). He’s a nice guy, but stereotypes too much. Let him live his life. But yes, you can post politically correct comments.

Power to the beards!