Nikesh Shukla

Anand finished up his cola cube transaction. I stepped up and slammed three pound coins on the counter like an oppressed inner-city youth born with the skills of rhythm and rhyme.

I was proud to be brown in my own way. Well, I was at school; at school I was brown about the funky stuff that came with being vegetarian, like being really arrogant about it, declaring proudly to a room full of beefeaters when Mad Cow disease initially broke that it was 'Vishnu's way of telling y'all to stop eating and start worshipping'.

We'd taken up our positions on the benches between the school hall and a newly-installed outdoor basketball court. Being hip-hoppers, we were obliged to be obsessed with basketball. None of us had a ball.

While 'Rap Trax!' recorded, Neel found some scrap paper and we started writing our first lyrics. Bandying about subject matter and title, we got stuck on the idea of 'cool', so my first rap song became 'Pretty Cool'. It was a symbol of our confidence. We weren't awesome cool or mega cool. We were only... pretty cool.

Yo, bredren, we be the illest,' went my proclamation. 'We be the dopest,' Anand would follow. 'Our tunes are going to be good,' Nishant would finish with.

Tell me about Gang Starr,' said Nishant, in an effort to start a conversation I'd be interested in. 'One MC, one DJ...' 'Classic combo,' Anand affirmed.'No hype man?''No.''What do we need Anand for?' Nishant shrugged, ever the pragmatist, never the catcher of feelings.

We laughed over our difference then spent years bonding over things that made us the same.