Premiere Generation Ink.

Yogesh Chawla

A woman taps him on the shoulder and asks "Are those eyes real?" a question posed at least a million times. He rubs his auburn eyes casually and answers in the affirmative before resuming the conversation with his friend across the table. This man is all about keeping it real.
A photo of his behind graces the lobby of a residence hall. What teacher wouldn't hesitate to boot a pupil from her class who claims to have a "monstro" in his "pantalones."

       One could label him a beat poet in the sense that he plays drums and packs a booming twelve-inch subwoofer in the trunk of his Mazda Protègé. Call him a beat poet to his face, and expect to be smacked upside the head.
        Get him started on Mafia movies and like some sort of "Rain Man" he can recite Casino in its entirety, by heart - going so far as to grace the Internet assuming the name of Sam Rothstein every now and then. Send him flame-mail at a bad time and he'll crash your account with the dictionary. And if you are a super user at Boston University, then you let him slip through your fingers back in '96.
        Next time you see a teal Mazda Protègé with a black front fender and the Old Dirty Bastard blaring out the window, you can be sure that it's Old Yog behind the wheel. You can contact him via email at: or via IM at: yc5c

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