CHAPTER ONE

LANDING UP WITH A COUPLE OF KEYS

Landing up with a couple of keys, on what else – but, a jet airliner! We are a band of brothers who, after having completely inked dry the ink of all the income of all silicon valleys, are banking on a devalued dollar rupee getaway which, in these homely climes builds what has been been famously wailed all along, as a stairway to heaven.

We are coming home, we’ve done our time.

But not in that prodigal way that all cats meow about. But in that zealous Christopher C way. To score the southern comforts of the silky charms of the sunny south of southern belles. To smother our intentions into their variety that happens to be the spice of our twist-n-shout, utterly delicious but laughably twisted life.

So, that calls for a lowdown on us, a sort of ready reckoner. A five-spangled banner that flutters with no special fluff and no specific stuffy starch. But, yet all the safe and sound folks are all ears for that itchy, all pervading curiosity, more often than not, nestling in the wind, like a vernal hope:

“Wheredoyacomefrom,mylovelies? “

It’s the clarion call for our history, down every road. History –

What’s history if not geography?

Lines plotted on scapes of skin and scalped on soil. Some foretold, some imagined, some inherited, some thought out and some spoken for. All with irreversible repercussions, all cosequenced in dire straits.
There’s nothing to be done but to bang the fence in and become a vulture on the watchtower.

Comin` in to land with a couple of keys.

“Catch me if you can, Mister Custom’s man!”

Heard there’s a lot of latitude down here and if that’s how it is, we’re loaded with the knowledge of the keys and dough.

Our knowledge comes with a premium, but on these shores that ain`t much, considering we’re competing with that oriental puzzler ardently referred to and crowed about as the land that houses the arcane sizzle of all that which reportedly took place before our brother Jesus hit the scene with a flourish of revelations that da Vinci was kinda forced to put a final touch to, in a supper for a band of brothers.

No, no! We aren’t those Simons, nor are we that simple.

Right now, we’re holding our crosses close to our hearts, unlike valentine virgins – but, we know that our secrets will, sooner or later, be laid out and bared.

Our origins.

Where do you come from, my lovelies?