The past few weeks have not been financially good for the esteemed author of this blog, i.e me. This forced me to enter the shit infested dingy caverns of the world known to the common man as the Job Industry. Adjectives aside, I had to basically go ahead and get a job. My awesomeness did not go unnoticed and I was hired at the very first place I applied. I became an investigative reporter for a very well respected newspaper, which I cannot name due to lawery... err lawerly.. lawly..some court thingy. What? Don't YOU judge me. As if law never stopped you from doing anything. How about the neighbor's dog you've always wanted for reasons best left unmentioned. Huh? The law stopped you. It stopped me. Fuck the law and fuck you too, pal.
Only the law stands between this hot hot bitch and you.
I know some of you are wondering how is any of this related to the 2G scam, while most of you don't give a fuck as long as I continue posting pictures. But for those interested few, patience does have its rewards. Learn this lesson and we will move on to the 2G scam. A scam so bad... according to my research exactly 2 times worse than the G scam.
My first assignment as an investigative reporter was to write a piece on the deteriorating health conditions in the slums of Delhi. I tried to explain to my boss that of course the health conditions are going to be bad in a slum. It is a fucking slum. What do you expect? He asked me to go ahead and do what was asked, on which I told him that I will do so as long as he can tell me what he thinks a slum really is. Some say that I was fired at this point but I believe you cannot be fired until you quit. With this thought in my mind, I left the offices of the "newspaper" and decided to do some real investigating.
OOh! What could possibly be the reason for health problems here? Yeah, right. Stupid newspapers
My first aim was to find a wrong/crime/scam worth investigating. To achieve this goal I went around the parking lot of the newspaper offices sneaking up on unsuspecting people and assaulting them with penetrating questions like-
"Tell me what is the biggest scam in the country or I AM GOING TO KILL YOUR FAMILY! DON'T THINK I WON'T! THEY MIGHT ALREADY BE DEAD! TELL ME!! This strategy worked like a fucking charm. With the answer to my question in hand and cops on my tail, I started my investigation on the 2G scam.
Now, the question arose as to what exactly is the 2G scam? To find out the answer to this basic question, I interviewed Google and Wikipedia and came up with the following snippet of information:
The 2G spectrum scam involved officials and ministers in the Government of India illegally undercharging mobile telephony companies for frequency allocation licenses, which they would use to create2G subscriptions for cell phones. According to a report submitted by the Comptroller and Auditor General based on money collected from 3G licenses, the loss to the exchequer was 
176,379 crore (US$39.16 billion). The issuing of the 2G licenses occurred in 2008, but the scam came to public notice when the Indian Income Tax Department investigated political lobbyist Niira Radia and the Supreme Court of India took Subramaniam Swamy's complaints on record [With Case type:Writ Petition (Civil),Case No:10, Year:2011]. The case details of the main PIL filed with the supreme court is Type:Writ Petition (Civil),Case No:423, Year:2010.
176,379 crore (US$39.16 billion). The issuing of the 2G licenses occurred in 2008, but the scam came to public notice when the Indian Income Tax Department investigated political lobbyist Niira Radia and the Supreme Court of India took Subramaniam Swamy's complaints on record [With Case type:Writ Petition (Civil),Case No:10, Year:2011]. The case details of the main PIL filed with the supreme court is Type:Writ Petition (Civil),Case No:423, Year:2010.I realized immediately that because I could not understand any of what was mentioned, it had to be bullshit. Probably the government trying to cover up its tracks. However, couple of things were clear, I needed to get in touch with Niira Radia and somewhere a figure of 176,379 crore (US$39.16 billion) was mentioned.
176,379 crore (US$39.16 billion) was mentioned. The first thing that comes to mind is fat. I am just saying.
It is no easy task trying to locate a highly controversial and sought after figure like Niira Radia. In order to find and interview her, I decided to use my extensive knowledge of Delhi, the city and people, and my unconventional investigative methods. Budding reporters please pay attention to the thought process that I am about to print.See, how I deduce the answers from the seemingly difficult puzzle by applying logical reasoning. Memorize this method. No task is difficult if the right questions are asked. Now, I knew that Niira was a woman. Where do you find women in Delhi? Where is that one place in Delhi you go to if you want to find women? The answer was clear as daylight. I got into my car and headed towards GB road, Delhi's red light district.
GB Road: Making it easier to find Niira, Meera, Pooja etc. since 1960
I reached GB road at 1a.m. The place was teeming with life. Sex and sleaze were in the air. The place smelled heavily of alcohol. It was my kind of place. I began the investigation by approaching a scantily dressed random hooker standing at the entrance of a ramshackle building. The moment she saw me heading towards her, she screamed at the top of her lungs and disappeared inside the dilapidated building. Now ordinarily, I should have moved on to the next hooker, but something about her screaming and running away made me want to give chase. Refusal only makes me want more desperately. This is probably why even though I have been refused entry in to the Indian Space Mission on the grounds of being "The Least Qualified Individual Ever To Apply" I still keep applying, year after year, month after month, week after week. I followed her into the building only to find myself face to face or more like face to midsection with a tall, burly man. The man ordered me to fuck off. On being asked why, he told me that the "lady" was not interested in making my acquaintance as she believed just looking at me for long enough might give her an incurable disease. I asked the man to not go by my unkempt appearance and give me a chance. The man replied with a punch to my stomach. I exited the building face first into the dirt street. I spent the next couple of hours asking hookers the whereabouts of Niira Radia. At each turn I was met with violence, abuse and outright rejection. It was then, when I had given up all hope of ever fining Niira, that a slimy, shabbily dressed man approached me. So startling were the physical similarities between the both of us that an outside observer might have easily mistaken us for twins.
"You looking for Niira?" He asked. His voice had a slimy, gravelly quality hard to explain.
"Who wants to know?" I replied with a question.
"I do," the man said, slightly confused.
"That's ok, then," I said.
A minute or so passed by in silence as we both tried to figure out what to say next and how we had managed to bring this conversation to a confusing, awkward stage it was at now.
"I-I-I know where she is," the man stuttered.
"Well, good."
The man looked at me as if expecting me to say something more. I stared back, confused.
"Do you want me to take you to her?" The man asked, slightly exasperated.
"Sure, why not," I replied.
He motioned for me to follow him. He led me down a network dimly lit by-lanes, lined by houses and building in utter disrepair on either sides. He stopped in front of the most stable structure that I had come across so far. Stable as it was, the building emanated a menacing vibe. Hackles raised, the investigative reporter inside me went on full alert.
"Go in and ask for NR," The man whispered conspiratorially.
As I neared the entrance of the building, time slowed down. My super investigative senses observed every detail, the stale, dank air, the multitude of torn clothes fluttering on the hundreds of clotheslines above my head, almost forming a ceiling of sorts. The mosquitoes as they buzzed about the lit entrance. The doo--
Suddenly I found myself lying on the ground, a sharp pain shooting up my arm. The man was by my side.
"What happened?" I rasped.
"I dunno, mate. You were like walking in slow motion and then you sort of stepped on some loose stones, right there," he pointed towards a clump of loose pebbles near my left foot, "and fell on your side. It was quite comical, really."
"You best fuck off, if you know what's good for you," I said and gave him THE GLARE. The sole purpose of the glare is to induce fear in ordinary mortals.
The man looked at me, shrugged and ambled away. I am sure he ambled away in terror.
I heaved myself up, and walked into the building. The thing that struck me first up was that the building was plush and in excellent condition from the inside. My first day at work and I had already found an A-grade bollywood inspired honest to god motherfucking criminal hideout.
A bikini clad woman approached me and asked me the nature of my business. I asked for NR. The woman gave me a once over as if deciding whether to take me seriously.
"Right this way, sir." With a sweep of her hands and a twitch of her behind she asked me to follow her. Maybe, I imagined the twitch, maybe not. We made our way through a series brightly lit hallways. The walls enclosing the hallways were adorned by various hunting trophies, hollowed out bodies of endangered animals, stolen ancient figurines and statues made out of pure gold. The series of hallways opened up into a the biggest hallway I had ever seen and this hallway led to a huge ornate double door. The gold handles of the doors were skull shaped and I had my first non living being related hardon. The bikini clad woman pushed the doors open and with that my hardon and I came face to face with Niira Radia. She sat at the end of the room, in her throne-like chair. A longish path led to her seat. I plodded nervously towards her. As I neared her, my almost naked companion left me. Soon it was just me and Niira.
"You have been looking for me?" She asked, her tone imperial.
"I wanted to ask you a few questions about the 2G scam and possibly about your name." I said nervously.
"What about my name?"
"Why do you have two i's in your name?"
"What?"
"I mean your name is pronounced as "Neera", right? Then, why the two i's. It makes no sense."
"What?" She asked confused.
"No, really. I mean it. Why the fuck are there two i's in your name. It's a riddle which has been eating away at me ever since I saw your name in wikipedia. It is not right. People just can't go about spelling their names any which way. Certain peculiarities in a person's name can be allowed for, but your name has no room for playing around with the spelling. You still went ahead and decided to spell it in the absurd fashion that it is now spelled. Why? WHY?" My last word came out as a frustrated scream.
This was followed by a moment of deafening silence.
"You have stumbled upon something you should have left alone," she rumbled menacingly. Yes, she rumbled. Fuck you literary critic.
"What do you mean by that?" I asked backing away in fear.
From the numerous movies I have seen, I know it is after the villain utters a dialog on the same lines as the one delivered by Niira, that the hardworking and honest reporter gets shot to death.
"No, no. Don't be afraid, I am not going to do anything to you. In fact I am going to tell you the entire truth about the 2G scam"
Was it true? My good looks had finally borne fruit. Here was a rich female villainous forced to reveal the truth by the sheer strength of my awesome handsomeness.
"If you had done your research more thoroughly, you would have found according to the Times of India, Indian Express and some other leading newspapers my name is Nira Radia, with a single i. However, according to the Hindustan Times, The Outlook and other leading newspapers and magazines my name is Niira Radia with two i's. Wikipedia in some articles claims my name to be Niira and in others it states my name as Nira. All of this is part of a larger conspiracy. The scam is not 2G, it is the 2i scam. The police and everybody believes me to be safely under custody or at least they believe they are investigating the real Nira/Niira Radia. The truth is far more frightening, the Nira/Niira they have under custody is just a clone. The 2G scam is just an eyewash to take away the attention of humans from the real 2i scam. The scam which will enable me to take over the world. Ha Ha Ha" she announced, her tone borderline crazy.
"What do you mean humans?" I asked, apprehensive of the answer.
"Human! Get ready to see my real form!" She thundered. "I am Zorog! The ruler of galaxies! Behold! My awesomeness!
The Man
"You looking for Niira?" He asked. His voice had a slimy, gravelly quality hard to explain.
"Who wants to know?" I replied with a question.
"I do," the man said, slightly confused.
"That's ok, then," I said.
A minute or so passed by in silence as we both tried to figure out what to say next and how we had managed to bring this conversation to a confusing, awkward stage it was at now.
"I-I-I know where she is," the man stuttered.
"Well, good."
The man looked at me as if expecting me to say something more. I stared back, confused.
"Do you want me to take you to her?" The man asked, slightly exasperated.
"Sure, why not," I replied.
He motioned for me to follow him. He led me down a network dimly lit by-lanes, lined by houses and building in utter disrepair on either sides. He stopped in front of the most stable structure that I had come across so far. Stable as it was, the building emanated a menacing vibe. Hackles raised, the investigative reporter inside me went on full alert.
"Go in and ask for NR," The man whispered conspiratorially.
As I neared the entrance of the building, time slowed down. My super investigative senses observed every detail, the stale, dank air, the multitude of torn clothes fluttering on the hundreds of clotheslines above my head, almost forming a ceiling of sorts. The mosquitoes as they buzzed about the lit entrance. The doo--
Suddenly I found myself lying on the ground, a sharp pain shooting up my arm. The man was by my side.
"What happened?" I rasped.
"I dunno, mate. You were like walking in slow motion and then you sort of stepped on some loose stones, right there," he pointed towards a clump of loose pebbles near my left foot, "and fell on your side. It was quite comical, really."
"You best fuck off, if you know what's good for you," I said and gave him THE GLARE. The sole purpose of the glare is to induce fear in ordinary mortals.
The man looked at me, shrugged and ambled away. I am sure he ambled away in terror.
I heaved myself up, and walked into the building. The thing that struck me first up was that the building was plush and in excellent condition from the inside. My first day at work and I had already found an A-grade bollywood inspired honest to god motherfucking criminal hideout.
A bikini clad woman approached me and asked me the nature of my business. I asked for NR. The woman gave me a once over as if deciding whether to take me seriously.
"Right this way, sir." With a sweep of her hands and a twitch of her behind she asked me to follow her. Maybe, I imagined the twitch, maybe not. We made our way through a series brightly lit hallways. The walls enclosing the hallways were adorned by various hunting trophies, hollowed out bodies of endangered animals, stolen ancient figurines and statues made out of pure gold. The series of hallways opened up into a the biggest hallway I had ever seen and this hallway led to a huge ornate double door. The gold handles of the doors were skull shaped and I had my first non living being related hardon. The bikini clad woman pushed the doors open and with that my hardon and I came face to face with Niira Radia. She sat at the end of the room, in her throne-like chair. A longish path led to her seat. I plodded nervously towards her. As I neared her, my almost naked companion left me. Soon it was just me and Niira.
Not exactly like this but my other options according to google were naked women on huge armchairs
"You have been looking for me?" She asked, her tone imperial.
"I wanted to ask you a few questions about the 2G scam and possibly about your name." I said nervously.
"What about my name?"
"Why do you have two i's in your name?"
"What?"
"I mean your name is pronounced as "Neera", right? Then, why the two i's. It makes no sense."
"What?" She asked confused.
"No, really. I mean it. Why the fuck are there two i's in your name. It's a riddle which has been eating away at me ever since I saw your name in wikipedia. It is not right. People just can't go about spelling their names any which way. Certain peculiarities in a person's name can be allowed for, but your name has no room for playing around with the spelling. You still went ahead and decided to spell it in the absurd fashion that it is now spelled. Why? WHY?" My last word came out as a frustrated scream.
This was followed by a moment of deafening silence.
"You have stumbled upon something you should have left alone," she rumbled menacingly. Yes, she rumbled. Fuck you literary critic.
"What do you mean by that?" I asked backing away in fear.
From the numerous movies I have seen, I know it is after the villain utters a dialog on the same lines as the one delivered by Niira, that the hardworking and honest reporter gets shot to death.
"No, no. Don't be afraid, I am not going to do anything to you. In fact I am going to tell you the entire truth about the 2G scam"
Was it true? My good looks had finally borne fruit. Here was a rich female villainous forced to reveal the truth by the sheer strength of my awesome handsomeness.
"If you had done your research more thoroughly, you would have found according to the Times of India, Indian Express and some other leading newspapers my name is Nira Radia, with a single i. However, according to the Hindustan Times, The Outlook and other leading newspapers and magazines my name is Niira Radia with two i's. Wikipedia in some articles claims my name to be Niira and in others it states my name as Nira. All of this is part of a larger conspiracy. The scam is not 2G, it is the 2i scam. The police and everybody believes me to be safely under custody or at least they believe they are investigating the real Nira/Niira Radia. The truth is far more frightening, the Nira/Niira they have under custody is just a clone. The 2G scam is just an eyewash to take away the attention of humans from the real 2i scam. The scam which will enable me to take over the world. Ha Ha Ha" she announced, her tone borderline crazy.
"What do you mean humans?" I asked, apprehensive of the answer.
"Human! Get ready to see my real form!" She thundered. "I am Zorog! The ruler of galaxies! Behold! My awesomeness!
The real Nira Radia
Three hours later found me sitting in front of the Newspaper editor, submitting the account of my encounter with Nira Radia.
"Seriously?" The editor questioned.
I sat in front of the editor; shivering, scared, unhinged and my view of the reality completely skewed.
"You want me to believe that you actually went to GB road and that you found Nira Radia? At GB road?" The editor's face was expressionless.
"Y-y-yes."
"And you claim that she is an alien, yes?"
"Yes, goddamnit, you stupid cuntlet! Stop wasting time!," I went for his throat.
"Step back," he warned taking out a gun from under his desk.
"No need for that. I am sitting back down. Let's all stay rational," I reasoned, while trying to stab myself in the stomach with my thumb.
"I can either believe what you've told me or I can believe this security tape," he said pointing towards a tape marked security lying on his desk.
"What about this tape?," I shouted, rising up from my chair. The motherfucker was totally missing the point. Here I was trying to tell him about an alien's plan for world domination and he was worried about a fucking security tape. What has the world come to?
"Are you sure you want to know?," he asked calmly.
This conversation was getting beyond frustrating for me. I let out a shrill shriek.
"What the FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?," I screamed tearing out tufts of hair from my scalp. "WHAT THE FUCK FUCK FUCK!"
"This security tape, taken from the parking lot of this building," he went on calmly, "shows you huddled in a corner with a laptop in the parking lot ever since you left my office. Not only that, the video clearly shows you smoking crack and shooting heroin every fifteen or so minutes.
"What?" That is a fucking lie!" I screamed, kicking my chair back and half climbing on the desk, "The aliens are fooling us! The aliens are coming!" Do something, you ink-fucker!"
"Security!" The editor screamed, moving away from his desk, his gun pointed at me the whole time.
I was thrown out of the office, and a couple of days later I was served a legal notice which prohibited me from using the newspaper's name or stepping within 1km of their offices.
The truth had to be revealed. So, I reveal the truth here and leave it you, people of the earth to carry the flame of the truth forward. Go well, my friends. Go well.
"Seriously?" The editor questioned.
I sat in front of the editor; shivering, scared, unhinged and my view of the reality completely skewed.
"You want me to believe that you actually went to GB road and that you found Nira Radia? At GB road?" The editor's face was expressionless.
"Y-y-yes."
"And you claim that she is an alien, yes?"
"Yes, goddamnit, you stupid cuntlet! Stop wasting time!," I went for his throat.
"Step back," he warned taking out a gun from under his desk.
"No need for that. I am sitting back down. Let's all stay rational," I reasoned, while trying to stab myself in the stomach with my thumb.
"I can either believe what you've told me or I can believe this security tape," he said pointing towards a tape marked security lying on his desk.
"What about this tape?," I shouted, rising up from my chair. The motherfucker was totally missing the point. Here I was trying to tell him about an alien's plan for world domination and he was worried about a fucking security tape. What has the world come to?
"Are you sure you want to know?," he asked calmly.
This conversation was getting beyond frustrating for me. I let out a shrill shriek.
"What the FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?," I screamed tearing out tufts of hair from my scalp. "WHAT THE FUCK FUCK FUCK!"
"This security tape, taken from the parking lot of this building," he went on calmly, "shows you huddled in a corner with a laptop in the parking lot ever since you left my office. Not only that, the video clearly shows you smoking crack and shooting heroin every fifteen or so minutes.
"What?" That is a fucking lie!" I screamed, kicking my chair back and half climbing on the desk, "The aliens are fooling us! The aliens are coming!" Do something, you ink-fucker!"
"Security!" The editor screamed, moving away from his desk, his gun pointed at me the whole time.
I was thrown out of the office, and a couple of days later I was served a legal notice which prohibited me from using the newspaper's name or stepping within 1km of their offices.
The truth had to be revealed. So, I reveal the truth here and leave it you, people of the earth to carry the flame of the truth forward. Go well, my friends. Go well.
