I am a DADA. I became dada in 6^th grade, at 30, I still am. I work for a Neta and have full protection. I can do anything and the police can’t touch me. The only time I did not feel like a dada is when I needed a kidney and Prakash, the very wimp that I picked on from 6^th to SLC gave me his when he heard my plight. I don’t know why I am telling you this. I don’t like to talk about it. I am a DADA.