Dettol ka tarana hai…

July 31, 2012

107,427 hits on my Youtube channel! Join now and win a Honda Civic in that sexy Kashmiri chai color. It is my strong desire to shake hands with the person who came up with that color. I wonder if it has a separate tainkee for milk. I might be a little off but I think this is how this million dollar idea took birth: One day, the chief of the colour committee at Honda Tokyo was having milk when suddenly his eyes caught a glimpse of the Rahat-e-Jaan, Freshness ka naya surr, har dil azeez…Rooh Afza. Slowly and carefully, he poured the red stuff in his milk. Eureka! “This will be the colour for my next car”. Try saying that aloud in a Japanese accent. You’ll find yourself saying it over and over again till Iftaar.

Coincidentally, today, I went to check out a Civic that I was attractive to on pakwheels.com (in Silver). It stared at me from that bright little computer screen. Then I gave her some attitude. So she smiled at me with those gleaming chinky eyes. Guys, in case you’re having bad luck in the ladies department, this is basic 101. But beware! If you see either of the indicator lights blinking, get the hell out of there. She is going to turn…to her husband.

Back to the story. So I go to the owner’s place, check out the body, interior and most importantly, the horn…and ask him for a test drive. The owner, with a really long beard and extremely short shorts responded, “Pehle garri khareedein, phir jitnee marzee test drive karni hai karein”.  Translation for my two angraiz friends: Buy it first and you can test drive it all you want. Only in Pakistan will you find such geniuses.

I went to the Lux Style Awards…on an empty stomach. After a few hundred nominations, I finally saw what I was looking for. It was tough to differentiate between the male nominees and the waiters as they went to the same Darzees (Translation: Tailors/Designers). So the James bond types carrying trays were heading right in my direction with fresh, deep fried fish. I roll up my napkin, loosen my belt, pick up a fork and totally got into my seafood mode. Come on fish! Come to papa! Come home! Where you belong! “Tartar sauce would be awesome. But will settle for ketchup”, I say to myself. Proximity 7 feet, 6, 5… but when it reached 1, a bunch of Jahils (Translation: Assholes) snatched the entire load from the poor guy’s tray who almost fell down. I looked at the salad plate on my table and saw that even the baby-sized carrots were attacked. On a good note, I was there for my buddy Ali Zafar who kicked some serious ass in the grand finale. I think he should do a Bollywood film now. I got a Magnum though, which I think was meant for Sharmila Farooqui who was sitting next to me. They probably thought we were husband and wife since we looked so good together…or (cough), like brother and sister.

What else? Oh yeah, “Dettol ka tarana hai, Pakistan barhana hai”. The new, improved soap doesn’t only look like every other soap in the world, but in fact has been injected with special non-alcoholic charbi that arms it with super powers never heard or seen before in any of the summer blockbusters. When you use the product to…I don’t know, wash your hands, the special fumes make the soap so powerful that in only one use, it can wash away Poverty, Corruption, Illiteracy, Unemployment, Terrorism and most importantly, Mobile-Snatching. The cure for all of Pakistan’s problems: Dettol! Sing with me, “Dettol ka Tarana hai, Pakistan barhana hai!. One more time…” I think my buddy AWS (Brand manager for Dettol in Lagos, Africa just fell down from his lion in his loin clothes. Guess “Dettol ka tarana hai, Africa bachana hai” is off the table for now.

I think I got another hit on my channel so I gotta go celebrate. Till next time!

But I shall not leave you empty handed. This is the link for my youtube channel for thousands of you restless souls:


Notes for my not-so-bright friends: Please refrain from posting comments or sending me messages like:

1. “That’s not true. Japanese people do not drink Rooh Afza”.

2. “Ali Zafar has already done Bollywood films”

3. “Dettol cannot solve Pakistan’s problems”.

Cause I know.


Off Topic

November 18, 2011

“If you want to go over 3000 hits W, you have to write about stuff other than your measly little life”, exclaimed a friend of mine. We no longer speak by the way. He thinks too much of himself. And has great hair. And big round eyes. Anyways, back to the topic. Since I got a lot of free time these days, I thought I’ll give it a shot. I am pretty sure I will get truckloads of fan mail or at least the usual 4-5 comments telling me, begging me, to bring my original style of writing back so here goes nothing:

I didn’t like Rockstar. 98% of the reviews I read on facebook said it was the best things they ever saw. And not just movie wise, the best thing ever to have happened to them. I mean better than Krispy Kreme , Café Clifton chai, Karachi Broast, Captain Saleem’s lollipops & Sunshine Kulfi combined. Something must be terribly wrong with me and most of the critics in India.

For starters, isn’t a rock star supposed to sing rock songs? I have to admit. Sadda Haq was a good one. No one has to agree with me, but for me, other than Ranbir’s acting, I couldn’t find anything captivating in the film. Where were the ‘moments’ we saw in Zindagi na mile gee, Delhi Belly, Brother ki Dulhan…hell even Ra one.

So Ranbir breaks in into a married woman’s house in a foreign country and gets arrested and gets his ass thrown in jail. And that’s the sole reason for his massive popularity overnight? It would have made sense if he had thrown a shoe at Bush Jr. or maybe said anything remotely in tune with ‘Sadda Haq’. See his character was never rebellious or fighting authority. He didn’t want to change the world. He was just a fool in love. Also, it seemed like they put in the dargah sequence just so that they could fit in the qawali. As he didn’t actually pick anything up from there did he? And maybe Farhan Akhter or his dad should have written the boring long ass speech he gave in the middle of a daytime concert.

I’m assuming this was the writer’s pitch to the studio: A not so good singer falls in love. She gets married to someone else for no particular reason and then falls sick. Ranbir sings a few hindi movie style songs at his concerts and after a while, the heroine dies. The End.

“Write about something other than myself..other than myself”. Shit this is difficult. Ok, I know. I will now make a political statement: I like Imran Khan.

What else is going on? Abhishek and Aishwariya had a daughter. Mein kya karoon?  I’m only waiting for the grand piano Katrina will be gifting to Ali Zafar so that I could perform the same kala jadu he did on her will and make him gift it to me. Don’t tell anyone but I have plans to sell it back to Katrina and make some serious dough. Btw, this kala jadu shit really works. And for only Rs. 300/- after taxes. The Saas Bahu packages are worth looking at but the one I’ve been impatiently waiting is the begum special.

Ah, Fashion Week. How can Fashion Week, the biggest event in Pakistan affecting all 18 crore people from top to bottom, left to right be ignored? Here is an in-depth critical analysis on the last one:

Fashion Week took place. Again. Models walked the ramp. Again. And walked back inside. Again. The End.

Since I was 7 (ok 3), I have been wondering where these models are coming from and where do they go when they go back into that darwaza type cheez. Is there like a fountain of beauty running backstage popping up these beauties one by one landing them directly to the door to the ramp wrapped in expensive clothing? Do they jump back into the fountain once they are done and nobody gets to see them again till the next fashion show? Once I manned up and was about to sneak in backstage and the only bald Rockstar we have caught me, “Kidher ja riha hai puttar. Utthay ja apne bewee de kol”. I don’t speak to him much either. He is bad bald man. Cause he walked in himself conveniently.

Which bring me to Music. Faakhir’s song Allah Karay, Allah Karay ke hit ho jayay. As it’s a genuinely good song and Mahnoor looks stunning as usual. Allah karay ke…ok I’ll stop here.

Sports: Burn the Arrrashee wa Murtashees or they will start playing good cricket for our country again. And that is something we as a nation, cannot tolerate.

If you didn’t quite like the review and critical analysis of the most important things affecting the citizens of Pakistan, please send the most deadliest of viruses to faiskap666@gmail.com


Zindagi na mile gee dobara…

October 9, 2011

Surprise of the century. Wasn’t the movie supposed to be based on a future true story?

So I got to know what 35 feels like. Honestly, it was the same as 34, 33, 32, 31, 30 but definitely not 29. My younger mates made sure to tell me that I am ‘old’ and shouldn’t be hanging out with them no more while the elder ones made sure to remind me how it’s all downhill from here. Whatever happened to strippers jumping out of cakes?

Whoever said age is just a number should be given a number and shot or hanged, whatever’s cheaper these days. Whoever said age is like wine was probably drunk on expired tharra. Whoever said life begins at 40 probably said the same thing about 20 and 30 and continues to lead a miserable life.

Due to lack of ideas (or abundance of), I decided to release a song on my birthday appropriately titled ‘Shikwa’. “It doesn’t matter if you can’t sing. All that matters is that you should sing from your heart”. Just what I needed. More bad advice. Got an alert on my email within the first 30 seconds of uploading it, “Suicidal2011 has commented on your youtube link”. “That’s how I roll baby”, I told my kids who did not reply back. I was psyched, as psyched as a 35 old wannabe rock star can be. Up until I read the comment, “Baysuray!”. Delete, Block, Die…I clicked away a few dozen times. From some high level sources at Hot ‘N’ Spicy, I heard that Zuckerberg is working on that last action since Poke was being overly used on na-mehrams. Confidentially, Ustaad Tansen a.k.a Suicidal2011 might have been right.

Born on the wrong continent, under paid, overworked, under-excercised, overfed, under-inspired, over ambitious, under appreciated, over-appreciating, under cover, over the top. I know the last part doesn’t make any sense.

Agar zindagi milee phir dobara, I think I’ll become a dentist. For some odd reason, they are always smiling.


Maan lo…

July 3, 2011

So after trying my hand at 3 dozen different things (ok, there were more), I try my luck at being a Rockstar. “How’s that working out for you?”, my mother asks me. “Oh great, people are offering me lacs of rupees to do concerts”, said his son, not looking her in the eye. She knows I’m lying. Forces a smile and goes back to taking care of my niece who I think said something to the tune of ‘Flop Admi’ in baby language.

A doctor friend of mine recommended my link on his page. Together, we will prove them wrong that Dentists are suicidal.

Note: Any suicides after today are totally unrelated to my song. Ok bad joke. Edit, Undo.

Drank 3 red bulls (sugar free), manned up and made a fan page for myself on Facebook. 42 people liked it. I knew I should have had the ones with sugar. Does this mean that the remaining 17 crore 99 lacs, 99,058 people hate me? I will settle for indifferent. My younger brother liked it. That’s 1/6th of my direct family. Progress alas.

Wrote and directed a tv play. A network bought it but its fate hangs in the hands/remotes of the 17 people who have people’s meter in their homes. I wish I knew who you were. I would have sent you mangoes. Or at least the mango flavoured candy they have these days. Proud of Shazia, Aashir & Nayel. You guys never seize to amaze me 🙂

Nobody would cast me as an actor so I bullied and hustled the writer/director of the play (myself) into writing a part for me. Yash Raj here I come! You will pay for at least one way right?

Which reminds me… Katrina Kaif still won’t accept my friend request although I have Ali Zafar as a common friend. What more do you want girl? Asif Ali Zardari??

Ali Noor helped me with the song in an online affair ending in heartbreak warfare. That’s one credit he won’t take. Too late buddy. Try Noori’ying your way outta this one 🙂

Here’s to trying new things even if you suck at it. At least no one will kill you for trying. I think.



Die Another Day!

March 23, 2011

Happy Anniversary W! This year, your top 9 resolutions should be:

1. Beat your wife less this year unless she absolutely deserves it. You and I both know who beats who but I understand this is your blog.

2. Stop trying so hard to be funny all the time. ‘I like a guy with a sense of humour’ got replaced by ‘I like a guy with a sense of designer bags’ while you were getting fat.

3. Stop hitting on girls 10 (or more) years younger than you. You are going home with your wife…again!

4. Stop going on diets all the time…they are not working!

5. Stop thinking about leaving this country. It’s not your surroundings. It’s you!

6. Stop telling people you work for Geo. You work for that channel that’s on number 75 on Worldcall.

7. When people ask you what you school you went to, stop throwing around that fancy university’s name in California. You went to City School!

8. If you want your kids to talk about you in a respectable way after you die, leave them some plots in phase 8. Keep those f%#$@#% tennis racquets for yourself in case you find a tennis court in hell!

9. For the love of God, stop singing!


Page 3…4,5,6,7,8,9 & 10

March 7, 2011

Today, I saw one of those page 3 type magazines.  There were 2 famous people in it. Who are the rest?

I see a guy with a shaved chest and first four shirt buttons open (there are 5 in total). I see a Polo match. Seriously? A Polo match?? I see pictures from an event titled, Bonanza ‘Designer’ series. I hope to see every single celebrity at the Lux Style Awards next year wearing their Bonanza’s. I think Mercury underwear and vests just had a heart attack. I see a man child celebrating his birthday with other manchilds. They don’t need to be in a magazine, they need to get laid. Flipping through the lawn pages, I see a print ad. Weren’t these extinct? Ok I take back my question. Don’t need another lecture from one of my buddies in the print business. Back to the ad. It’s an ad for a Diamond company and the tag line say’s ,“Buy her a diamond, before someone else does”. Aayein? Marketing 101 was different when I was a student. I know ‘Scare the consumer into action” works for toothpaste and deodorants but Diamonds?? How about being a little more frank like, “Spend more on the b%@#h than your mistress you asshole”.

The above article is in no way ridiculing these magazines or their contributors. I think if anything, they should be applauded for shedding light on the much deserving, un-discovered, un-celebrated, un-rated, (I mean underrated) socialites in this country and more importantly, for showing us all how bad we really look on weekends.


Back to the Future

December 31, 2010

25 years ago, I swear I thought I’d see flying cars in 2011. That’s right not 2010, but exactly 2011. What I see instead is uglier versions of Honda Civics, Corollas and those Pijaro type vehicles. I had thought by now, I would have travelled back to the future (I mean the past) at least a couple of times and chilled with my younger, cooler parents and helped them hook up. I had thought Pakistan would be an Asian tiger and cheetah printed clothes would be back in Fashion. I had hoped by 2011, Green would be the new Blue or Red and Pakistanis won’t require a visa to travel to the furthest of destinations, like Afghanistan. I knew for a fact that Michael Jackson would be the president of the United States and Billy Jean would be his first lady…and that he would finally admit that ‘he was the one’. I had hoped we’d be better friends with India and all their actresses would be crawling over me, considering how handsome I was supposed to turn out. I was supposed to look like that guy from Miami Vice, instead I turned out like Rahat Fateh Ali Khan. I had envisioned that Imran Khan would be casted as James Bond and ‘Chawkka naheen Chakka’ would replace ‘Shaken not Stirred’. I wanted Minar-e-Pakistan to be the world’s tallest Disco with floors on every level playing different genres of music, including folk. Yes, we called them Discos at that time. I had designed a rough sketch of what my house would look like and who all will live in it. I am not sure why it has drawings of so many bunnies all over it. I wanted to invent something. But someone recently told me about this new fad called the Internet that seems pretty close to my idea. Darn it! Guess I’ll have to go back to my other top secret invention. Don’t tell anyone but I think I might have found a way to heat food without putting it on a choola. I had envisioned Pakistani politicians to mature up and not make fun of each other’s hair anymore. I knew in my heart that PIA would have hot stewardesses in the future. I had an idea that the CIA and ISI will merge and be called CSI (Miami, New York or Gwadar). I had dreamt a million times about my kids saying ‘Thank you Baba for bringing us up in this absolutely safe, secure, un-corrupted, un-polluted, non-superficial, non-hypocrite and magical place called Pakistan instead of taking us to England, America or Canada’.

Well, can’t win ‘em all I guess.


‘The Social Bookface of the Year’

December 26, 2010

This was the year of Mark Zuckerberg, the ‘Times Man of the Year’, Julian Assange, who should have been the ‘Times Man on the Year’, Maulana Fazlu for being Maulana Fazlu, the wicketkeeper who heard ‘Ja Simran Ja’ and thought this was his calling, Ms. Malik for now giving massages on tv and that’s about all the information I could get out of reading that one newspaper at the Dentists’s. (FK: one s or or two s’és here?). Wonder what this last line would sound like if Meera said it out loud.

Facebook is overrated. Why are 500 million people on it? 500 million people are not even on the European sub-continent (ok they are, but you get my point). Remember the actual physical land we humans used to browse and explore around on our tricycles? (Ok, bicycles for you). Dont get me wrong. I love Facebook, I really do. I love knowing who’s doing who on a haystack and self explanatory status updates like ”Mimi doesn’t get it”, “So….” & “Fashion ka Jalwa…” What’s great is how it has 127 comments like “What happened babe?”, “You are gorgeous” “Yes it is..” and other mutual admirations like “You rock”, replied by “No you rock Hunz”, replied by “We both Rock”, finalized by “Cause we are Rawans”…Ayein, where did that come from?

Ok, I’m a hypocrite cause I comment too and chances are that people don’t find my updates as funny as they are to me and my assistant. But the two things that double-handedly take the crown have to be the following:

When using FB on the phone, you can only see like a few updates. Most of the times, these few would be from the same person who is adamant about telling you about his favourite songs from the 60’s, 70’s, 80’s, the 90’s and the 2000’s posting them one after the other. Then there are the ‘Óthers’ who love posting dua after dua, dua after dua, dua after dua (How does it feel now?). I’m sure the ‘Higher ups’ had you at hello.

I don’t mind getting friend requests from complete strangers. Complete as in Zero friends in common. I mean it would be the same if someone on the street walked over to you and said he wants to be your friend and look at your wife’s pictures from the time she was in Hawaii right? But what boggles my mind is when people leave their DP’s blank. I mean what do you want us to do? Guess what you look like? Let our imagination run wild and think it might be a muppet at the other end? I’m sorry maybe its just me but I can’t be friends with a name…a hand print would do, maybe one eye. Ok this is getting weird. But all I can say to people who don’t want to reveal their top secret identities in front of the world, for it may have consequences (like not getting rishtas): Go socialize elsewhere, like Radio!

I finally changed my display picture after a year, maybe more. I am convinced now that either due to global warming or the Zionists, the camera now adds 30-40 pounds. They can find water on Mars but cant find a camera that ‘doesn’t’ add this additional weight. To tell you the truth, no one took a picture of me this entire year. Every now and then, I tried to squeeze into a picture with ‘the gang’ but thanks to this state of the art technology known as ‘Paint’, they always find a way to cut me out. But what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger. This saying had no relevance here whatsoever but I’ve been meaning to use it since a long time. Thank you cousin Zantiana for the things you do…and tolerate. Guess my new years resolution has to be to come down to 3 quarters of broast at one time. Also, not to use Facebook as the primary form of communication with the wife and kids. I’ve heard Whatsapp is cool these days.

What else? Mahira did that Shoaib Mansoor Movie. Saad Mujeeb got himself a 4 pack. Adnan Siddiqui got wet at the Lux style Awards (by Sprinklers), Shazia met Waseem Akram again after 20 years and immediately filed for divorce. Sharrukh Khan stole Farah’s thunder. Sales of Zandu Baam have gone up. People have stopped naming their daughters Sheila. Ali Zafar didnt recognize Katrina. Inception messed up our minds forever. Muneeb Nawaz won Miami’s famous ‘Yo Mama’ competition, Karachi broast white chutney is still the bomb! (Hopefully this blog will now get flagged and more people will read it).


WR’s Super Hit list

January 2, 2010

Haven’t been in any accidents mashallah (read blog 1), nor has anyone else stolen my money other than a particular media moghul (read blog 2). Since it’s a new year, I have decided to write something that is personal and for a select few, rather than the entire group of 9 people who read my blog. Since no magazine is willing to interview me, I thought I’d put my likes, dislikes and recommendations in blog # 3. This is WR’s Super Hit List: (Umm, WR is me J)

1. I say no to:

New Year Balls unless you like getting shot in the ass

2. Oldest friend to date:

Yousuf Pingar

3. Hidden treasures:

Rabeea & Jahanzeb

4. Sweetest person alive:

Zantiana Saqib

5. Always share a good laugh with:

Bilal Khan & Hasan Shareef

6. Need to be a better friend to:

Nomi Ansari

7. Coolest over 40:

Kuchoo and Saad Mujeeb

8. Best sense of humour:

Haroon Farooki

9. Most talented person I know on television:

Mahira Hafeez Khan

10. The ultimate golibaaz yet always there for you:

Adnan Siddiqui

11. Wish I could trade creative bones with:

Imran Aslam

12. The one who believes in me (and vice versa):

Ali Noor

13. The one who gets me:

Ahmed Wahab Shah

14. Friend reborn:

Nadeem Elahi

15. The one you can always count on:

Haider Khan

16. Best old school memories with:

Tariq, Nabil, Faisal & Yousuf

17. Best (female) friend:


18. The one who gave me my first break:

Saad bin Mujeeb

19. Most musically talented people I know:

Ali Noor & Ali Hamza

20. First childhood friends:

Asma Abbass, Ali & Masooma Kachelo

21. Life in America was good because of:

Rizwan, Sameer, Fawad & Ghazi

22. Endless wisdom:

Rauf sb (Abbu)

23. The one who’s fought a hundred battles (including cancer) and survived:


24. Miss most:

Apa (dadi), cousin Fimi & cousin Shakir

25. The one who knows more Amitabh songs than Amitabh himself:

Saqib Tata

26. Song(s) of the decade (personal choices):

Pakistani: Roya Re, Indian: Beeri, English: Sex on fire

27. Movie(s) of the decade:

Pakistani: Khuda ke Liyay (only one choice)

Indian:        Guru

English: Pursuit of Happiness

28. Last man standing:

Alaman Javed

29. Last woman standing:

Nida Kazmi

30. Nobody has taken more digital pictures than:

Aisha Zeeshan

31. The most hard working person I know:

Shiraz Farooki

32. Nicest person in the industry (my industry):

Feeha Jamshed

33. The one who’s gone through several transformations but is still the most genuine person around:

Ali  Haider

34. Ever ready and fully charged:

Sana & Shiraz

35. Most fun to be around:

Muneeb Nawaz

36. The one who puts up with all my eccentricities and truly deserves a medal of honour:

Shazia Wajahat

More later…


Close encounters of the 4th kind

September 13, 2009

So I went to a Namaz-e-Janaza and maybe it’s just me, but I just can’t stop thinking about what I am going to have for dinner that night whenever I pray. Beef with Chilly dry from Orient? No, will have to have fried rice with that. Broast from Karachi Broast with white chutney? No, sister Safina made a convincing argument about how many calories the two items carry. Guess I’ll leave this one to destiny…or Kings & Queens (yes, I belong to the generation that hasn’t upgraded itself to the Pizza Huts of this world). So I try to divert my mind to something more apt like, why am I here again? Ah yes, the Namaz-e-Janaza… And something catches my attention.

The dude standing next to me owes me money! Since 2003! For a show that I did for him back then! (Austin Power close-ups after every exclamation mark). He has avoided my phone calls for over 6 years, escaped the assassins I had sent for him on more than one occasion…and in true Matrix style, dodged my requesting and then later, threatening letters. Aakhir kaar pakra gaya! You can run but you can’t hide! God works in mysterious ways! Ok, I’m out of quotes now. And then suddenly it hit me. I can’t ask the poor guy for money at a Namaz-e-Janaza. It is just bad ethics. And the farishta on my left shoulder said in a half Italian, half devil accent, “Dude, this dude hasn’t had a pope-like attitude towards you either”. Go for it! Just do it! Do you have it in you? Eye of the Tiger! Girls just wanna have fun! (Umm, scratch the last one). What should your opening line be? Would ‘Wassup’ be super inappropriate? Cut the small talk. This guy is slippery. Before you can complete your salaam, he’ll say “Energize” and disappear into a place where many men have gone before. So I pull out an old trick from my right sleeve. When you’re supposed to look right for salaam at the end of the prayers, pause for a while till he turns his head to his left. Gotcha! You can’t look away from me now can you?

So we finish our prayers and I say to him, “Mera naam Wajahat hai aur aap nay mujhay paisay dainay hein”. The poor guy was in shock! Ok I’m lying he was cool as a cucumber. “Aap Monday…naheen Monday naheen Tuesday ko office ajayain, aap ka kaam ho jayay ga”. My spider senses tell me he has done this before. Guess I’m not the first guy to have hustled him at a Namaz-e-janaza. “Aap kay office ajaoon?” is what I ask him. “Ji, Tuesday ko hum saree payments clear kar rahay hein”. He replies. I smile. He seems genuine. Looks naik also. “I will see you on Tuesday sir”, said me.

I went to his office on Tuesday and the guard asked me, “Kya hai?” almost in a traffic police wala type tone. “Saab nay bulaya hai, gate kholo!” I demand in a sarkari officer type tone. He opens it. Maybe I will get paid today. So I start walking towards his office, the chorus from Staying Alive playing in my mind. I approach his secretary and tell her, “Saab ko bolo Wajahat sb ayain hein”. Hey, I can get used to this. The reply came in almost perfect slow motion. “Sorrreee, siiiirrrr, saaaaaab to Maaaaa-laaaaysiaaaa meinnnnn heinnnnnn”.
This was 6 months ago. I’ve been to 17 namaze-janazaaz since then. Disguised myself as a Maulvi, an army officer, a nun, Mithun Chakarborthy and George W Bush. But no luck so far. This guy is just too good. There is one thing though that I haven’t tried as yet…