CHAPTER ONE



It was a Saturday, a weekend, but more importantly it was a month end. Only thing worse than a weekday is a weekend with not a penny in the pocket. And none of us could afford a credit card as yet. After successfully managing to divide a handful of dosas among four very hungry young men, we had absolutely nothing to do.

I get this brainwave, I start reading a book. Yes, I plead guilty. Its all my fault. Everything that happens henceforth has arisen from me starting to read that book. The book is Chethan Bhagat's " three mistakes of my life". It takes me ten minutes of reading to feel like taking a leak. Coming back to see Favas reading the exact same book I was reading,  I was suitably pissed off. To someone with nothing to do, with the computer, the television, the newspaper, the girls next door, all already bled bone dry in attempts to spend time, hijacking my book seemed almost criminal. But before I could consider picking a fight with a hundred and ten kilos of pure undiluted fat, he asked me a simple question,

" Three mistakes! Our life would make a great book too. "" Yeah! Lets write a book. The last five years together, we are not short of stories. It mite actually be cool. We mite even become famous"I've  always hated the proverb ' If wishes were horses, beggars would ride '. Considering the things I have wished to become, i must be the scum of the earth.  From novelist to kick-boxer, from bussinessman to freedom fighter, and my alltime favourite, the lottery winning womaniser, I can proudly say my dreams are close to covering every decent occupation in this world. " You could actually write it. You dont have anything better to do " I liked the fact that Favas actually considered me capable of writing a book. A good two decades of dealing with an infinite assortment of insults had left me adept at filtering out the slightest compliment where none was intended. " Oh call up Nimitha will you. She mite take us out for a movie. " And there goes my book. But watching a movie seemed a very worthy substitute to day-dreaming about the Nobel prize for literature. So I made that call.So we went for the movie.

Now it's 3.30 on Sunday morning, I havn't slept yet, the movie was bad, I was spectator to a booze party I could not get drunk in as the doctor had told me not to, Favas is miles away in another apartment, I deciede that I am going to write that book.       And I am going to be famous, and win that Nobel prize, and here I begin.