Kay Bee

There was once a child who was dropped on his head when he was born. According to general conjecture, this rewired the circuitry in his head to resemble the proliferating silicon network you might find in a chip that fits into a complex labyrinth of parts, which when assembled might be a droid programmed to destroy the world. Or maybe the traumatic incident incited the youngling to the extent of devoting his life to exacting revenge on everyone. As is unopposedly agreed upon, the child smiled cynically while gazing upside-down at the bleeding vagina whence he came while the cord was cut and a bottle smashed to inaugurate his being whelped. "It's a boy" rang the happy proclamations of the perspiring doctor and a sudden image of the boy being lowered by the ankle into the river Styx might have sprung to mind. He was named Keshav. They might as well have named him Damien.

Jesus had an evil twin who was born two millennia later on the same day. Today he sports a receding hairline and the perpetual smirk that seems to imply "I know what you're up to!" Which goes without retribution, as people rarely seem to be able to guess what goes on in his head. If scientists were to probe into his head like the aliens that probed into his uhm, orifice when he was abducted, they might find torn up lists of the participants in the Nuremberg trials, snippets of information regarding conspiracy theories, hallucinations as colourful as the vivid thoughts in his head and a wiggling worm called Curiosity. Curiosity might have caused him to kill more than a cat in this life. But despite any kind of exploration, all attempts to find a human feeling will be in vain. He hides them well. Like the wart beneath his sideburn. And like the wart, you probably shouldn't directly be exposed to them if revealed!

Skinny by definition, and hedonistic by nature, Keshav is rarely a sight to be seen on any sports field, but a common apparition in pubs all over the country. He firmly believes that the only way to get into IIT is to pass the joint which he does a lot, Keshav is not a selfish smoker. After acquiring a degree in electrical engineering several years from now, (for Keshav believes in the age-old adage 'Slow and steady wins the race', except it's not a race anymore if all other participants have passed out) he shall combine the wise old techniques his ancestors used to brew tea in the family-owned tea mills, with futuristic technology he shall develop in his secret laboratory in the attic, to invent some kind of abomination he shall set loose on the world. Governments shall be subverted, coffee-drinkers shall be executed, military operations shall be nipped in the bud and Keshav, by now sporting a tiny black moustache and the Swastika sign on his chest shall sit in front of his television set and smirk.

During his time, Keshav Bansal shall have an Uncyclopedia page devoted to him. In it shall be pictures of him posing beside the Space rocket to Pluto, pictures of him inaugurating the Nuclear power plant at Manipal that mysteriously blew up 2 months later, pictures of him as the Mayor of Palermo, Assistant Governor-General of Malta, Shah of Oran, Caliph of Baghdad, mayor of Cairo, and the god of corn, rain, and rice in various pagan African countries. He is the one who introduced me to Catch 22 and if ever there was a living Milo Minderbender true to his name, he would sport a wart beside his ear and a perennial cynical smile on his face.