Behind the shrubbery

As seen in a thesis from several years ago:
[edited for content and crude language --Ed]
Amit Jayachandran was born on February 1st, 1977 in a small Middle Eastern country unmarked on any map to parents who immediately sensed something was amiss. To prove their premonition accurate, from an early age, the precocious youth reigned over his household with an iron fist, having torn off and cast away the velvet glove the moment he developed adequate muscular coordination. Most of his early years are shrouded in mystery, chiefly because of a weak long-term memory, which sadly fails him at the time of composition of this dissertation.

Not too many of his noteworthy accomplishments were documented until he graduated from high school with distinctions such as Student of the Year and Nerd of the Decade, when he jotted down a firm reminder in his journal to get a life. His parents finally got rid of him when a well-planned and executed coup exiled him to somewhere in the Northwestern deserts of India. While bitterly planning an escape strategy, he also managed to acquire a Bachelor’s degree in Mechanical Engineering from BITS, Pilani, Rajasthan-- the only other location on the planet unmarked on any self-respecting map. Rumor has it that this he embezzled from a passing Bedouin who was too weak to resist his threats to forcibly be fed hostel food. At any rate, this was a regular garden-variety engineering degree and proved insufficient to quench his thirst for knowledge.

During the latter part of 1999, while the Clinton administration was too busy alternately denying and undenying the misadventures of a virile president who actually publicly contemplated the definition of the word “is”, and cigars were all the rage, Amit used the distraction to his advantage to insinuate himself unnoticed into the American mainland. Docking in North Carolina, he wasted no time stealing a Master’s degree in order to inject himself into Corporate America. He currently resides in Peoria, Illinois, where he grows more handsome each passing year and under the pretext of designing control systems for large earth-moving machines, tries unsuccessfully to consort with women.
While he isn’t antagonizing his acquaintances with his guitar, he occupies his leisure with cooking his friends and excluding commas in biographies.