And then...

Let me introduce you to some of my new friends.

I have this uncanny knack of bumping into and liking absolute psychos. Each one is an item a little more than the other. Well, at least most of them. So here goes...

From left:

Me: You know me. Yeah yeah, the same old confused guy, who drinks like a fish, and is desperately trying to find himself in this big bad world... and ofcourse, Desperately seeking 'Susan'!

Bond: Yep. That's his name. Bond. Hails from Kenya. A pretty much sorted out guy. Give him the guitar, and he'll show you magic. He's one of the 100-odd people from Kenya that have recently been recruited in Qatar. Mostly connected with Qatar Aviation.

Mark: An out and out musician. Had to be... he's Goan. Been in Qatar for 21 years. Was the frontman of a band called Odyssey, a popular rock band, which split up in 1996. According to me, his claim to fame is and should be, the musical equipment worth easily over 100,000 Riyals he owns in his house - it's a musical heaven his house. be it the best of amps, guitars, keyboards, microphones, speakers all over, smoke machine, bubbles machine, UV lights, strobes, disco lights... he's got it all. And all this... collected gradually over the last 15 years.

And then there is...

Sarhan: Beautiful name, eh? After I met him, i thought about it a while, and decided, Godforbidd I have a son, I'm gonna name him Sarhan - it means a 'Day Dreamer'.

Anyway... if there was a comedy I had to write, Sarhan would be the lead protagonist. He has stories and stories to tell.

Basically Omani, born to an Indian mother. Father, has four wives. Sarhan, a chemical engineer, is one of the 27 siblings born to the four wives who live together happily. As for his own story, Married at 22, divorced at 29, has twin boys, going back to Oman to re-marry his wife.

Now a funny story about him. He is one of the very few civilians in the whole wide world that can take credit for being in a convoy of Sultan Qaboos, the King of Oman. How it happened...

Well, Sarhan, with three other friends, returning after drinking like dogs late in the night. At a round about, not realising the king's convoy is passing, Sarhan keeps on driving and eventually lands up right in between cars of the convoy and still not realising very casually goes on driving... until the shouting and screaming guards pull out their guns and point right at him. Mind you, all the other friends are passed out in the car.

Seeing the guns pointing at him, Sarhan screams... AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! Leaves the steering wheel and puts his hands up in a moving car still in the middle of the convoy. Eventually , the guards lead him out of the convoy and make him pull over. The guns still pointed at him.

"Anyone else in the car?" the guards ask.

Sarhan, still drunk, signals to the back seat with his eyes. Three men, passed out, all over the back seat.

The guards ask for a breath analyser. Sarhan blows in - result: 380!

Guards: Shocked out of their heads. "What are you? Are you human? 380, and you can still talk and drive???"

Anyway, he was taken to the police station, but let out after a while.
John: My flat mate, he's not in picture. John's a little camera shy when it comes to photographs for a public domain. He likes his privacy. John's more or less just like me - Headstrong, very proud, intense, loves his clubs and alcohol. Only quite private, unlike me. Only formerly married, unlike me, has two sons he loves, and now divorced... his ex-wife and sons, in Dubai.

Mark's nose isn't usually red like that. He was getting up to drink water at night, and he fell and his nose got grazed on the carpet.

OK. John's just given me permission to use a pic of his on the blog. So here's another one, with him in it - On the far right.