It all started with the noblest of intentions- as some might say, with very typical asian intentions. I was going to the library to reformat my psychology notes and print them off. How very nerdy. But alas, as always, I was thrown into yet another misadventure. Mister Sanjay Biswas, as always, managed to be where I was.
The guy made me realize so many things. It would seem I am learning nothing from university and would be better served as an acolyte at the Temple of Sanjay. Without his remarkable teachings, I never would have known that "the Punjabis are the brave race of India. They are the brave warriors. All the soldiers, they are Punjabi. All the Hindis are cowards. They would rather be professors." Sanjay, by the way, is Hindi.
Forgive my sarcasm. In truth, I highly doubt I will ever meet a more fascinating guy in my life. I also think he stands a good chance of being the first person from my graduating year to die, but that's another matter. The boy genius/completely insane bizzare male chauvinist inspires me. I have decided that one my life's works (how corny is that) will be a book about his life. What better way to celebrate the person who called me late at night on my cell phone, and subsequently had this conversation with, which bordered on pure lunacy (well, actually, knowing Sanjay, probably not, but I digress):
SB: Is this Terry?
TW: Yes...yes it is. Who is this?
SB: It's me, Sanjay. Anyway Terry, you have been my friend for a long time now. Because of that I give you exclusive video rights to my suicide.
TW: What...the fucking fuck. What the fucking fuck are you talking about?
SB: No seriously. I have a handgun, you'll make millions.
TW: (a revolution in reality TV, I'm thinking. but anyways.) Sanjay...no.
SB: (is drunk, I later find out. not surprising.) Come on it'll be cool.
TW: ...No, Sanjay. I have to go.
Really, I'm doomed to be an wannabe-NYC cool writer, with live material like this. Or maybe I can grow up to be a brave bare-chested Punjabi warrior. For King and Curry!
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