Revised Kama Sutra reviews and random quotes

The Revised Kama Sutra: A Novel, published in 10 countries and 15 editions (the titles vary a little bit), and called "very funny" by Kurt Vonnegut, is my biggest and most complete novel so far. I am working on other books that I think could be as powerful, but need time, space, and a bit of monetary support to complete them. it is hard to really encapsulate a 125,000 word novel in a few words, but here is an arbitrary sampler for those who are new to it.

"Any book that can force me, against my will, to guffaw out loud while reading it in public places is to be treasured. "The Revised Kama Sutra" was as rife with inventive comic imagery as "A Confederacy of Dunces," as insightful and subtly searing as "Catcher in the Rye," and as sensuous as the Kama Sutra itself. Although I've never been to India, I felt I experienced the lively streets, people, colors, aromas, shapes and sounds of the cities mentioned in the book right along with the author. It's a cliche to say, "you'll laugh, you'll cry!," but that truly is the case with this book--I recommend it, you'll savor each page.--"A Customer"

"The book is probably the most candid and frank exposition of an Indian man's discovery of sex with all its 'cosmic' implications! Switching rapidly from the mundane and the comic to the more serious and profound, Crasta is able to get to the very core of the Indian duplicity towards a very important and basic aspect of our lives. At the same time, it takes a wry look at attempts for political change and tries to find out their roots and underlying motives. The book is hilarious and I have read it on more than a couple of occasions. Highly recommended. Mohit Misra.

"To borrow a bit from a perceptive previous review, Revised Kama Sutra is an exuberant Catcher In The Rye, a South Indian Confederacy of Dunces, spiced with the author's indefatigable love of hilarious word play."--Mark David Ledbetter, Author of Akayoshi's Contrarian Compendium of Cool Indies, etc.

(All the above are Amazon 5-star reviews): More reviews at:


The sex life of the average human male begins with his Mummy. This relationship, more intense in some cultures than in others, is energized and inflamed in our culture by unlimited breast feeding, oil massages, intimate caresses such as may never recur in his often-poor, often-blighted life. 
The Five Pillars Of Folly And Suppression: 
A Case Study In The Management Of The Human Animal, Ages 8--16.
Pillar Number One: Bells. 
The boarding house bells, hand-carried or suspended brass artifacts of various sizes, were the underpinnings of this System: they told you when to start anything and when to stop it; when to come and when to go; when to shower and when to shit. Their command was unquestioned and dictatorial. 
(Subject: Politics, colonialism)
Not since the days of British rule, when a handful of Englishmen (five thousand at most?) rode a country of three hundred and fifty million, had so many quivering bottoms been ruled so completely by so few.

"Bring me my cane, please," said he (the Headmaster), almost like a lover. Thou shalt know how much I loveth thee by hard I beateth thee. And I, yes, I obliged, bringing him the rod of my chastisement. How perfect the system had become, to co-opt its victims in its maintenance.


Penis shame: a psychological affliction, occurring mostly in the Third World, and especially former British colonies, in which males of the "age of reason" and above feel shame at possessing a penis, and make every possible attempt to hide its existence from fellow human beings.

Sexercises were the only form of exercise I would consent to expend my precious energy on.

Sex clears pimples, which are the body's protest against insufficient sex, or none.

(the Boarding House): Worse still, as we parentless boys grew taller day-by-day, our unreplaced shorts would grow shorter, and the danger of exposing our growing things grew, causing a great mental burden. (Underwear was still a luxury for the middle school boy . . . but what an elitist complaint! How can you ever become a saint if you worry about underwear? Go look at the painting of Saint Stanislaus on the chapel walls. Do you see him wearing underwear?)

I cast my lot with medicine. Chiefly, because I hadn’t yet seen a naked woman. Yes, I hadn’t seen fifty percent of humanity in its pristine, unencumbered state, and I drooled at the thought of the power over the human body enjoyed by the antiseptic, white-starched medical aristocracy. So I joined a class of sixty males as excited as I was at the prospect of acres of butt-naked skin, at this promised entrance to a forbidden world, a powerful freemasonry (thus did puritanical India gradually build a bank of medical manpower large enough to flood Western hospitals and order white people to take off their clothes).

"Brother" signified a robed Jesuit one step below "Father"; a brother couldn't say Mass, was less-educated, and often did the dirty work for the ex-Brahmin Fathers.  However, the designation was apt, given that one of our brothers was caught redhanded and redfaced practising brotherly love on a boarder.

‘Ninety-nine percent of all college boys are shakers!’ he had declared passionately. (The American Shakers would have been surprised to learn that ‘shakers’ was the Indian word for male masturbators, and that their Indian cousins lived by the theme song: Shake shake shake, shake your tootie!) 

Shame, redhot Shame blighted the poor boarder-boy who admitted the slightest association with the female sex--even historical, even with a mother! So stark and unforgiving was this rule that it made us try to pass ourselves off as motherless, sisterless boys.

His children, suddenly energized by the announcement of a Beatles number, screamed in dissonant discord, misunderstanding the Beatles' forked-tongue white-man's speech:
"She's Gatta Tikky-too Ra-Hight,
She's Gatta Tikky-too Ra-Ha-Hight,
She's Gatta Tikky-too Rite,
But She don't Care! (4 to 7 times)
Whoa Piggy don't Care! (last line)".

It wasn't virtue alone that motivated the calculating Bag into never missing the Novena, but rather Our Lady of Perpetual Succour's promise of an unbeatable deal on eternity, a plea-bargaining lawyer's wet dream: all penalties for past sins canceled, the penal slate wiped clean.

An erect penis is almost always incongruous, it does not belong; it is a homeless, stateless, parentless, pointless, extraterrestrial creature. Michelangelo's David is a work of art, but give David an erection and Florence would become the laughing stock of the world. An erection arrives like a bolt from the blue; and arriving uninvited, it stays as long as it jolly well pleases, or until well-pleased.



Also, let me mention a book of humor you may also like:I Will NOT Go the F**k to Sleep:


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