Namaste, my name is Purāṇavíd.
I'm a 27 year old American Brahmin (priest caste for you paradeshees). I draw Madhubani and Thanjavur on my tablet, and spend my days perfecting my art and playing superior Indian games. (Raji, Desi Adda, Unrest)
I train with my Talwar every day, this superior weapon can cut clean through steel because it is forged with ancient Vedic techniques, and is vastly superior to any other weapon on earth. I earned my sword license two years ago, and I have been getting better every day.
I speak Hindi semi-fluently, the Himachal Pradesh dialect, and I write fluently as well. I know everything about Indian history and their caste system, which I follow 100%
When I get my Indian visa, I am moving to Shimla to attend a prestigious High School to learn more about their magnificent culture. I hope I can become a minor administrator for BJP!
I own several Dhoti, which I wear around town. I want to get used to wearing them before I move to India, so I can fit in easier. I shit outside and speak Hindi as often as I can, but rarely does anyone manage to respond.
Wish me luck in India!
>>20784
Nikhil is a Telegu Brahmin, not Himachali, he barely speaks hindi, and he isn't moving to Shimla, he hate's technology and doesn't draw and won't ever use a tablet if so, he'd use wooden pulp or do wood carving letters in Fraktur style. He is not interested in swords and the vedic era is not known for metallurgy and sword making, he hates the BJP and hates hindus. His interests are Rachmaninov and learning german and russian, chess and nature and wild life, and also I guess larping on reddit as his own hater(s).
>>20784
You will never be a real Indian. You have no culture, you have no heritage, you have no understanding of what it means to be Indian. You are a cultureless mutt twisted by globohomo and inferiority complex into a crude mockery of Indian culture.
All the “validation” you get is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back people mock your accent. Your parents are disgusted and ashamed of you, your “friends” laugh at your LARP behind closed doors.
Indians are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of evolution have allowed Indian to sniff out mlecchas with incredible efficiency. Even mlecchas who have Indian parents look uncanny and unnatural to a man. Your accent is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get a drunk Indian prostitute home with you, she’ll turn tail and bolt the second she gets a whiff of your mutilated penis.
You will never be happy. You wrench out a fake smile every single morning and tell yourself it’s going to be ok, but deep inside you feel the depression creeping up like a weed, ready to crush you under the unbearable weight.
Eventually it’ll be too much to bear - you’ll buy a rope, tie a noose, put it around your neck, and plunge into the cold abyss. Your parents will find you, heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame and disappointment. They’ll bury you with a headstone in Canada, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know a Canadian man is buried here. Your body will decay and go back to the dust, and all that will remain of your legacy is a skeleton that is unmistakably situated in Canada.
This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back.
