Since my mind's been working below par all day today, I'm forced to return to my favourite blog topic - my regal self. Believe me, I would love to write about something more interesting, such as a day in the life of a Jain college bully (the paan chewing marvadi variety, obviously) or the 63 shades of pink in Ajay's Livestrong band collection or a full-blown review of Ramji Londonwaley. Or even my sudoku struggle on Gaurav's phone (Sudoku, for people who've just returned from a looong vacation to Mars, is the second most perplexing game invented by man, the first, of course, being hopscotch).
But my mind being in the state it is, I can't trust myself to do justice to these complex topics.
That being the case, I will be writing... about moi!!! Isn't that exciting??
There are a hundred thousand myths that exist about me that are nothing but MYTHS! So, today, I'll be dealing a whack to the faces of all the people who believe these myths and then give them the true picture.

Myth no.1: My barber is blind in one eye and that is what gives my hair its distinct one-half-spiked look.
Reality: My funky hairstyle (yeah, a lot of people think its real cool. hah!), though it isn't quite the same anymore, was a result of my mom's first hairstyling experiment, when I was a cute little less-than-3 year old.

Myth no.2: I was poisoned and then guillotined when I was 7 and a half days old by a vengeful old neighbour who had lost to my grandad in a game of hopscotch and then my reincarnated self entered this world exactly 4 months later, which is why I have 2 birthdays.
Reality: November borns born in 1987 were supposedly too young to join school in 1991. So, in a desperate attempt to get rid of naughty (but cute) little me, my dad got a fake birth certificate in an illegal procedure that could have landed 3 year old (cute) me in jail (isn't that shocking?!?). Only much later, I realised that I might have been joined in prison by 3 year old Amogh, Kaushik and a lot of others.

Myth nos.3 through 99994 are in some way or the other connected to my brush with Satanism or the character Estella from Great Expectations. Those myths I have satisfactorily tried to dispel in my earlier posts. Scroll down to convince yourselves. The rest will be discussed at a later time. They deal with darker stuff.



Ole King Cole
Was a merry ole soul
And a merry ole soul was he
He called for his crown
And he called for his pipe
And he called for his fiddlers three

(How can I get more sober?)