Only for the month of March, 2017, I’m going to teach you how to do this

I’ve had several requests from guys over the past year to actually take them out and show them how it’s done.

Now, on popular demand, I’m offering a 2 day weekend bootcamp in Delhi.

It’ll cost Rs. 5000.

I’m going to show you how to meet women. I’m going to make you do it.

Email me for details at





Abundance has been a very difficult concept for me. I have lived life gripped with the fear of scarcity. Scarcity with money, with time, with emotions, and especially women.

I spent the better part of a decade chasing women trying to make them my ‘girlfriend’.

Once there, I would act as needy as it took (or at least as much as I thought it took) to keep her around. It was pathetic. Definitely not the way a man would want to live his life.

I recently decided to proactively practice generosity in every area of my life. Money, time, emotions, and especially, women.

A friend who was a little down in the dumps kept telling me for weeks how he wanted to get laid.

So I told him one night, not long go, as we left to ‘nightgame’, that he could sleep with this girl I’ve been keeping around, who I hook up with occasionally.

Since she was coming out that night to help us pick up girls, I suggested she crash at his place, as she’d have an issue going back to her own.

I wasn’t sure about my decision. A lifetime of scarce mindsets leave you crippled. I felt my old insecurities creep up within. But I kept them at bay.

Barely an hour of running around the nightclub talking to people, with my ‘winggirl’ next to me, I stopped a girl walking across me. They were a group of three. Her friends didn’t stop. I suspect that was because they saw an attractive girl already on my arms, assuming me to be safe for their friend.

Twenty minutes of bouncing around the club, we found an isolated spot upstairs, and went doggy style with such vigour it’d put a champion stallion to shame.

The friend and the wing girl did hook up later that night. And yes, it STILL pinched.

That’s the thing about insecurities. They will never go away. But if you are able to control them well, and move on to the greater good, of charity, and abundance, the possibilities expand well beyond your wildest imaginations.

Does No Really Mean No?

As a man aspiring to get good with women, I have struggled the major part of the last decade trying to solve the issue of consent in sex.

Sadly, I have not yet come to a solidified conclusion.

This issue is especially relevant in India, where any form of sexual desire is publicly shamed to no end. Friends in the US tell me they perceive the problem to be an even greater one in the West right now, with anti-rape laws clearly favouring a woman’s version of how an event transpired.

I will not comment on the state of affairs abroad, but I will state my present beliefs on the topic as regards India:

If you think you’ll be able to explicitly get a woman to say “yes” to the question “Do you want to have sex?”, you are in for a world of pain.

So, undoubtedly, a man in this country must escalate physically on the woman without asking her for explicit permission.

The difficult grey area that arises then is what value to attach to her “No”.

It’s a common joke among my friends that ‘No’ means ‘Not yet’. A cruder joke is also often borrowed from a US college campus incident which made the phrase “No means yes, yes means anal” popular.

I don’t think it’s too far from the truth though. If I had a dollar for every time an Indian girl said no to me….

Met girl at HKV. She would come home, we would go at it the entire night, me trying, on top of her, and her twisting and turning around saying no to sex. Then she’d give me a blowjob and leave. And come back again the next night for another round of ‘no no no.’ She then texted me that “Whenever we wrestle, you always lose.” Four consecutive nights and I was able to finally stick it in.

Met a girl at Connaught Place. Took her home after a date the next day. Two hours of no, and then she says “You’re scaring me now.” I quietly got up and wore my clothes. Dropped her off and didn’t pick her calls for a week. Upon constant begging, I finally replied, got her back home again. Again, an hour of no. This time, a little more persistence, and I got to it. Afterwards, she jokes about how Amitabh Bachchan in the movie Pink is “so right when he says it: When will men learn? No means no. ” I got so pissed off I could slap the shit out of her. When I confronted her with what she had done herself, this was the explanation:

“Haan but of course there are two kinds of no. One is a straight up no, and the other is a whiny kind of mild resistance no….Of course it is your responsibility to figure out which kind of no it is….In our case? You know, it was more like a yes disguised as a no.”

Straight up lesson: Do not listen to women about the definition of consent. It will have to be your judgment.

If it feels rapey, stop and just wear your clothes. Play nonchalant for a little while (Note: Do not be visibly pissed). Then go back at it again. Ideally she’ll understand that you mean business, and if she really doesn’t want to have sex, she’ll leave.

However, there are two things I nowadays do which almost guarantee the elimination of the consent issue:

  1. Never seduce her inebriated– She should be absolutely sober. Don’t touch a sip yourself, nor offer her any. I think drinking together is a great way to build comfort, but if you’ve had any that day, don’t make a move on her. A recent tinder match came out to meet me within 3 hours. I spent Rs. 1000 on beer and food with her. She resists my advances and tells me she’s slept with three different guys the past three nights. I wondered whether I should be worried about all her possible STDs, or offended that after three guys the one she had to put a brake at had to be me. Despite my best efforts, sex didn’t happen. The next night, I drove her to India Gate, bought mughlai food, and we had it at my place. I didn’t even try to make a move. No alcohol at all. She jumped on me and fucked me for the whole night. Later she appreciated the fact that we didn’t fuck drunk, like she otherwise always does, and that’s why felt that there was actually a connection between the two of us.
  2. Always record the audio– Cell phone audio recorders are ‘chutia’. They will automatically switch off when you play music, which I always do. Also when you receive a call. I bought myself a nice little recorder for Rs. 1800. Lasts several hours. It’s the ultimate failsafe for one of those days where you just chanced upon a skanky ghetto ho who’s out to wreck some havoc. False rape charges, blackmail, guilt trips. You name it. With audio, you get to nip it straight in the bud. And then stick it straight in her butt. Hell, I even record all my approaches. I sometimes use them for feedback as well.

Disclaimer: Do all the above at your own risk. I know a lot of guys who have got into trouble. Anti-rape laws in India are absolutely nuts:

  1. If she says she had sex with you on a false promise of marriage, it amounts to rape.
  2. If it is proved you two had sex, and she says you forced it, rape will be presumed until you show evidence that it was in fact consensual.
  3. Her sexual history cannot be questioned. Even if she has a gaping hole the size of ‘Uranus’, and fucked a 1000 guys, the one she screamed out rape on will be the one who did it without her consent. Hell, even if she says she earlier did consent, but on a later occasion he forced it, well, rape. Now read Point 2 again, and understand how these two things together can really become a bitch.

Therefore, another thing to do, to complete the holy trifecta:

Never ditch a woman pissed.

‘Coz Hell Hath No Fury…

Embrace The Creep Within

Today I took uberpool. After a week of using it, and hoping that I would get to try ‘ubergame’, I finally won the lottery ticket.

5 minutes before my drop-off, hops in a girl. I couldn’t see her face. I was sitting in the front, as it allows me to sleep better. But she was just my type. The typical analyst/consultant, who goes everywhere with that backpack and formal wear. She started fixing her con-calls for the day with people from her office, while I fiddled mindlessly with my phone, waiting to start a conversation.

The usual, “are you an analyst?”

“Kind of, I’m actually a consultant.”

A bit of back and forth banter, where she’s qualifying herself. Hard.

She wants the conversation to go further. I can sense it.

The moment I get out of the car, she leans towards me, with the brightest of smiles and a hopeful rise of eyebrows in tow, and wishes me a good day ahead.

“You too”, I beam, and shut the gates.

Walking away, I slap myself in my own head.

“How many goddamn times are you going to do this”, I thought, “how many times are you going to let these opportunities in life go?”

But at least I reinforced the pain of not going for the close.

A month back, I was talking to a girl whose number I had gotten 2 weeks prior at Hauz Khas Village.

All excuses kept aside, she wanted to have sex. But I didn’t go for the close. I cajoled myself: “It’s already three in the morning, go back home. She isn’t going anywhere.”

While talking on the phone with her, turns out my buddy had an insta-lay, just 2 days prior, with, surprise surprise, the girl who “wasn’t going anywhere”.

“How many goddamn times are you going to do this”, I thought, “how many times are you going to let these opportunities in life go?”

But at least I reinforced the pain of not going for the close. Next time, I’m going all out.

When I look back at these and countless other experiences, I hang my head in regret. I always wonder the cause for not going all out.

The only thing that comes to mind is my perennial nice boy identity. Despite having gone through years of painstaking efforts to tear apart this idea, I am still shameful of my desires. Sometimes I even feel that I don’t deserve the women I sleep with.

A lot of us already carry the burden of feeling inadequate our entire lives, upon which contemporary society decided to conveniently add up top the concept of ‘creep’.

Have you ever heard a woman being called a creep? Why not? Women do creepy things all the time. But no woman is ever branded a creep. It is a title reserved for men.

And it isn’t a title sparingly conferred.

I even had a female friend of mine term our mutual thoughts about a similar business venture, for the lack of a better word in her mind, creepy.

Sure, a creep is bad for society. A creep does what he wants. He does not stay in check. He asks uncomfortable questions, and keeps questioning authority.

Society does not need a mass campaign to allow men to become creeps. When men are allowed or encouraged to follow their desires, chaos ensues.

The book Switch by Chip and Dan Heath quotes a great example.

In Tanzania, the authors and numerous others set out to address the peculiar phenomenon of ‘sugar-daddies’. Rampant poverty had lead to older male-teenage girl relationships, which was leading to high amounts of STD transmission to younger generations. The skewed power dynamic between the couples allowed the men who did not want to use condoms to have unprotected sex, leading to rampant HIV.

The way the reformers set out to change the behaviors of Tanzanians towards ostracisation of these relationships is fascinating. Pick up the book.

Having due regard to the perils that the creep brings forth, it is unacceptable to me to suppress the true expression of my being.

I feel it’s okay to go up to women I don’t know and flirt with them.

I feel it’s okay to ask a woman for her number.

I feel it’s okay to lean in to kiss her if I see the signals. Heck, I think it’s okay to lean in even if I don’t see any signals.

I feel it’s okay to desire women.

I feel it’s okay to check out the wonderful creation of god that is a woman’s body.

I feel it’s okay to pursue for sex with full force a woman I like. I don’t like to hear “no means no”. If you really mean the no, just walk away.

I don’t care if my acts brings chaos to society.

To quote whatshisname, “I’ma do me”.

I feel the pain, of you, my reader. The biggest bane of education is the burden it endows on the ‘learned’ to act in a civil way. The well read, the educated, the ‘nice’ boys keep getting educated on ‘how the patriarchy has oppressed women’. So much so that we are even afraid to look up and appreciate  the body of a beautiful feminine woman, for fear of being another perpetrator.

On the other hand, ‘tapori’ roadside romeos who are the ones these feminists should be trying to reign in go about living a bountiful life, full of wonderful hedonism.

I’m here to tell you it’s okay. You can and will be branded a creep. And you need to embrace it. For when you do, you release yourself. You become the hero in the story of your life. And it will be a story worthy of respect. A life well lived.


Oxford Dictionary definition; Noun: A detestable person

True definition; Noun: He does what he wants

I’m a Creep

P.S. Sasha propounds some wonderful thoughts, and but please disregard his game. Mediocre at best. His cameraman does some great work though.


Why do you game?

I went out after 50 days. I literally hadn’t left the house in 50 days straight, except to buy groceries and the like from the nearby market.

No meeting girls at all. 50 goddamned days.

And then I went out. I met up with an old pal, a true veteran and a great guy.

After almost an hour of anxiety, and yes, there was plenty of anxiety, I started making my approaches. Rejection upon rejection, punched a hole deeper and deeper, into the void of a soul bereft of joy.

Rejections never mattered. But they mattered now. Because I was looking for reactions. I was seeking validation. And of course I didn’t get it.

So I kept at it. It didn’t help that the wing hooked every set he opened for over half an hour. Every time this happened, I had to look forward to a half hour of awkwardly standing and watching him enviously in set, getting blown out in my own opens.

And then she came. This beautiful girl, just another regular approach. Her face lit up with joy, and we spoke for around an hour. She was going to meet her husband, who, after several weeks of staying apart in a different city, was waiting for her to come home.

But she’d rather spend some more time with me. Hell, any regular day, as a rule I always bounce the girl to another place within 5 minutes of meeting.

But 50 days is a lot of rust on the skill.

After taking her number, I went on a rampage. More approaches. More independence from an outcome. By the time we wrapped up, I was back in state.

State. The feeling is indescribable. A lot of people balk at the idea. Sure. Structure in your game helps. But state. It’s the most powerful drug on earth multiplied several times over.

If I made an attempt to define state, it would be something you might feel if you mix up the feeling of India having won over Pakistan with an intense orgasm.

People meditate to empty their mind. I have tried it too.

From several guided meditation programs to good ol’ suck it up and just sit facing the wall, I have tried a lot.

But never has anything worked better than going out on any given day and talking to a few strangers.

Sex? Gets very monotonous after a while. Two minutes into entering a girl last week, for the first time, I was wondering what I should order for dinner.

Dinner itself was a nightmare. Looking blankly into the eyes of a girl, who, just having lost her virginity, wants a world of comforting and assurances. All I could think about was, how I wanted to talk to the three lassies sitting on the table next to ours.

Big whoop.

I game because it is my meditation. It empties my mind and my soul like nothing else does.

Why do you game?


Tinder. Ah. The wonderful marvel of technology.

Indian women have the most wonderful things to say about it. Of course, in hush hush tones. Apart from the publicity seeking idiots who blog about all the guys who were not able to score with them (while very conveniently leaving out the ones who pumped and dumped them), most women I have spoken with, are all gaga about tinder. Why? Because they now have a wonderful medium to get more of what they want most: validation.

They don’t even have to step out of their house now!

After 20 year old college student Priya gets out of her bed, she stretches out and reaches for her phone. On comes facebook first, on which she check the comments and likes on her latest ‘DP’, with a philosophical one liner about life that would make Tony Robbins vomit. “Tony Robbins who?”, she asks, barely paying attention to the narrator’s remarks while she opens up Instagram next. Another picture and heavy editing later, it’s on to see the latest number of matches and “Hi!” messages on the latest fad.


Of course, the above is purely a rant, and, let’s face it: We would trade all that we have to live the life of a hot girl. On a bad day, that is.

Moving on to the more practical side of things (I am nothing if a man of practicality) is my short guide on how to get laid on tinder.

Keep in mind the fact that as a Pickup Artist, I don’t have the exact same objectives as most guys. Of course, we’re all trying to get laid over here. But I very strongly value my time. If I have to waste time chasing a woman over text, I’d rather do it with someone who I have built a substantial amount of attraction and comfort over a cold approach already. I am on Tinder till my last hope of finding decent quality women who will actually sleep with you shreds off into eternity. But my efforts are in a heavily controlled exercise environment, minimising the time I waste.

So, here goes:

1. Pay for tinder plus for just a month, to play around and actually make the most of it, before deciding if it’s worth your time.
2. DSLR photos are a must.
3. One thing which has really worked well for me is a picture with a good suit speaking on a podium in a conference.
4. Don’t say Hi! Instead, initiate role play from the first message. My staple is: “(Whatever her name is…)! I’m planning to rob a bank. You get 5% for driving. You in?” I guarantee you a response asking you for more. Girls crave fun. They’ll die for it. So give it to them.
5. Don’t waste your time with the retards who are there ‘just to kill time’. Within 15 minutes ask her is she’s met any men from tinder, and ask her for her number. If she says no to both, it’s a red flag. Ignore her completely. Don’t fall into the dating trap. It’s a catch-22. The girls you want to date won’t talk to you on tinder. The ones who do talk, and sleep with you eventually, are not relationship material.

Guys outside India swear by Tinder. They have gotten great results. In India though, you will be surprised by how many men keep cringing about how they can’t even find a single match on Tinder.

That, I believe, is changing. Slowly, but surely so. But is it necessarily a good thing?

I believe, mind you, having done a lot of research about this, that you, as a man, shall receive far less than you are worth, if you go for Tinder game in India. Tinder is full of such unattractive women, that I literally feel like puking while I’m swiping right. Yes, you read it correctly. Ugly or not, I am swiping right.

That is because you need to save your precious time, otherwise wasted on looking at and choosing girls, the bulk of which will never swipe you right. So it is better to just turn a blind eye, and swipe all right, preferably while performing a mundane task or watching the television. Just keep swiping right.

And that folks, will surely get you laid on Tinder in India. That’s a guarantee.

* The DesiPua does not in any way guarantee the quality of the women you actually are able to sleep with. In all likelihood she’ll look like a troll. Not an internet troll, but an actual, Dungeons and Dragons/Lord of the Rings troll.
But I will surely ship you for free the tissues to wipe away your tears while you are crying at the sight of the hideous monstrosity you just entered.

Pickup Rampage in Thailand

I have two words for you: Ko Phangan

This phenomenal island, a thousand kilometres south of Bangkok, is the place to go for your first trip abroad.

You get to see first hand the limits to which human debauchery can be pushed. If you think you have seen night game in India, it’s a joke compared to what you see at the Full Moon Party.

For an Indian guy brought up in this day and age, it’s a tough situation, where we are sandwiched between extremely conservative mindsets taught at home, and a raging, almost psychotic women’s rights movement out to turn men into the submissive wimps. The result is that we are made to feel that a woman should be able to do whatever she wants, but we’re creeps to express our desires.

Not in Thailand.

This crazy country advocates going outright berserk. You come to let loose in Thailand, but more specifically these crazy little party islands of Ko Phangan and Ko Samui (where you touch base at the airport before ferrying over to Phangan).

If you try the the usual Indian way of approaching women, be ready to be treated like a ghost. You won’t even register as a human being on any woman’s radar. But grow a pair, and go caveman, and they will love you. This applies to all women there, not just the locals.

In fact, Ko Samui shows up as “Ko Samui (Rape Island)” on Wikipedia.

Not that game is easy there. Hell no.

Like every place where women come exclusively to get crazy and not care about any consequences, you shall face severe competition from crazy hordes of men out there for the same purpose as you, to get laid.

But these places teach you persistence. They teach you how rewarding it is to get go after what you want with a completely shameless desire.

When you come back to India, you will be able to see through the matrix of strong social conditioning that you have gone through, and hopefully take strong steps to get out of it, like I have begun.

You will meet people from literally all over the world, and they will be most welcoming. The PUA you shall enjoy the most delectable conversations, and have the time of your life.

I could write about my own personal experiences of the place, but that will probably require an entire book.