1. My lame name.
My name is Rahul. Sometimes my name is also Khan, but mostly I’m a Rahul. All the women I’ve ever known are called Anjali. My mother, sister, sister-in-law, aunts. Lovers, daughters and the maid. All Anjalis. It’s not very imaginative but at least it’s very, very confusing.
2. In the closet.
How much tragically secret shit can one guy deal with? First, I found out I was an adopted kid and, later, that I was autistic. Then, my childhood sweetheart tragically died and I got secret cancer. Through all this I maintained my movie-star looks and set-wet hair. But then, wouldn’t you know it, I lost my soccer career and the secret bitterness forced me to have a tragic affair with somebody else’s wife! I mean, Jesus Christ. One of these days I’ll find out I’m secretly gay and have angry sex with the office intern whom my wife already has a tragic crush on. Wait, what?
3. All about the money, honey.
But at least I’m incredibly rich. Everybody is. My friends and I just hang out in plush executive offices overlooking the Sydney Harbor or the New York skyline. We don’t ever seem to do a stitch of actual work and yet we all have more money than God. Ooh, I think I’ll go fly around in my private chopper for a while before lunch. Yay!
4. My BFF.
My best friend and I have the best chemistry any besties can have. Because he’s a filmstar he has, for the sake of appearances, been married for 25 years and fathered 3 children but I’m convinced he’s crazy about me. He knows it, I know it, he knows that I know it, and I know that he knows that I know it. Every time we come together, we make magic. Like, one time when his wife was away, he came over and we hung out in our jammies and vegged out watching Sex And The City 2
and shared a tub of ice-cream and just had a fabulous time. Me and my bestie. Magic.
5. Vomit alert!
I’ll tell you the truth, my life is an emotional roller-coaster ride from hell. Just oozing with hopes and dreams and honor and longing and personal loss and redemption to beat the band. For example, I have separated and then reunited with Anjali a minimum of 86 times to date. The last time we got back together was when Anjali (my daughter Anjali, not Anjali my childhood sweetheart) received a letter from my dead ex-wife telling her to hook me up with Anjali (my childhood sweetheart Anjali, not Anjali my daughter). Creepy, right? Brrrr!
6. Life is a song!
My father wanted me to marry a beautiful and wealthy young woman. Who does he think he is? Just because I’m adopted and he has a phenomenally bass voice, huh! Because this is real life and not a movie, I told him I was going to marry a random girl who works at a halwai shop.
“Dad,” I said to him, “Yeh ladka hai deewana
. This boy is lover!” “Idiot,” he said, “Ladki badi anjaani hai
. The girl is very stranger!” “But, Dad, something something is happening.” “Life is sometimes happiness, sometimes sadness. Get out.” When I told Anjali my father had, in his phenomenally deep voice, thrown me out of the house and we had no money and no future, she said, “Where’s the party tonight?” I love this girl. Rock ‘n’ roll, soniye
7. Big fat Indian shaadi.
Anjali and I got married in spectacular fashion in London. Or maybe New York. I insisted that she wear a flowing silk lehenga-choli with delicate resham and zari work. If she was nervous about marrying a man who knew what resham was she hid it well, bless her. The bride’s and groom’s families had a choreographed dance competition. I was too busy checking out Varun Dhawan’s pecs to care who won. Kajol was there. Somehow, she is always there! More common than a cold, that girl.
8. Say the K.
I definitely have a thing about the letter K, even though it’s the most kucking boring letter in the alphabet. My kurrent kirlfriend (Kanjali) fell for me on the kinternet when I told her I was a kinky kisser with a keenness for karate, kayaking and keeping kittens in kilns. Karma, huh? The key to bekoming sukkessful is to drink koffee instead of coffee on TV. Khrithik Kroshan in khakis is sooo kute, omg! ‘kay, bye.