Girish, Ketan and Shoan - In Alphabetical Order

Girish - a.k.a the Grinch, Gandhi and that irritating little so and so.

He'd have been called a little twerp back in the days of yore. Really, he would have. And mind you, those days of yore had something going for them. This is what a search for twerp threw up:

"of unknown origin; the "Dictionary of American Slang" gives a first reference of 1874 (but without citation), which, if correct, would rule out the usual theory that it is from the proper name of T.W. Earp, a student at Oxford c.1911, who kindled wrath "in the hearts of the rugger-playing stalwarts at Oxford, when he was president of the Union, by being the last, most charming, and wittiest of the 'decadents.' "

"
Confusing, obscure, witty, sarcastic, a biting tongue and generally speaking, a little twerp.

What you read above was written for two principal reasons.
One, Girish would want it no other way.
Two, it's true.

Girish is one of the most widely read guys I know. He reads without prejudice, without preconceived notions, and with next to no expectations.
Unless it's a self help book, in which case the rule stands reversed.
He's got a wicked sense of humour, a cutting edge sense of comic timing, and a deep rooted aversion to tomatoes and cheese.
He likes trees, hates warmth (and I don't just mean weather wise), likes conversations and dislikes yapping. He likes Man. Utd., he dislikes Fergusson.
He likes Fergusson, he dislikes Man. Utd.
He likes beer, he likes gin. He likes Pune, he likes Bob Dylan.
Girish is a sixty year old sarcastic Maharashtrian Punekar.
Appearances dictate otherwise, but that's just the sheep's clothing.

Ketan is mad. Ketan loved Ayn Rand, Ketan despises Ayn Rand.
Yes, all right. Me too.
Ketan is the most fantastic drinker I know. I have known quite a few in my time, but there is none who matches up to him. Self included.
Ketan knows Metallica the way I know Knopfler, or Girish knows Dylan. Or the way Shoan knows R.G.D. Allen.
Ketan used to ride a black Kinetic that wouldn't run. Ketan later purchased a Bullet that went the same way.
Ketan smokes. I don't mean he's a smoker. I mean that he is smoking now. As you are reading this.
Ketan can talk about philosophy and psychology for hours. All of it may not make sense (and that's being liberal), but he can talk about it for hours.
Yes, all right. Me too.
Ketan loves drinking Kings.
Ketan passes with flying colours on the TTT.
Ask Ketan.

Shoan. If you were God, and you had a chisel and hammer in your hands... sorry, Your hands... and you decided... You, I mean... to carve out the most perfect living being ever... then You would spend a Hell of a lot more than six days and seven nights, chipping away at the block, and you would finally stand back and appreciate your work.
And then realise that you ain't even close.
Shoan is the most normal man I know. No vices, no faults, no bursts of temper, no drunken bouts, no nothing.
He is also the best economist I know. Well OK, second best. Personally, I mean.
Quiet, reserved, fiercely loyal, well read, friendly, and a buddy.
And of all the friends I have known, past, present, and future... Shoan's the only guy who would choose an hour of studying over ten of drinking.
On behalf of all those friends, cheers mate.

That there then are the troika. Over the space of six days in October 2003, you'll get to meet all of them in greater detail still.

Comin' up next: "Here we go, boys and girls"