Flash Back

Major Ranjit Bhonsale was leaving for Australia and he deserved a farewell fit for the Maharajah of Gwalior. He had a late night dentist appointment and I had to take my mother to the diabetologist so we decided to meet after 10 pm that night. We home in on Jug heads which is the Maharaja’s favorite monsoon hangout joint. I reach there at 11 book a table for 4 get a waiting time of 25 minutes. The Maharaja shows up in shorts which nearly prevented me from writing this blog. Adjoining Jug heads there were two more pubs slice of lime and fever. The waiting time at slice of lime was 10 minutes so we decide to try our luck at fever. We go there negotiate the cover charges, but he says sir I’m sorry shorts ain’t allowed and we turn to go, the shorts nearly saved my soul but the devils daughter had another plans. We go back and negotiate the shorts, they let us in.

The joint sucked as far as music was concerned. They were playing remixed Bhangra numbers on a Saturday night; it couldn't get worse than that. We decide to exhaust the cover and head out as the rats were having a sports meet in out tummies. Goti and Major settle for vodka with sprite and I do the unthinkable I go for a cocktail called flash back which roughly contained vodka, white rum, tequila and my blood red bull. The drink tasted great it came in tumbler. We tried dancing but that just wouldn’t do, those were the worst numbers I have ever shaken my left feet too. We order another round to exhaust our cover and as we were about to leave, the DJ pulls a fast one on us. He begins to play MJ. We had to pay the great legend our tribute and we indulged in those nostalgic MJ moves. So in all fairness we order another round of drinks. I hadn’t realized that I had taken it too far. As we had the third round the music began to stink again. So we gulp down the last bit and head out to eat.

It was 1.30 then and jug heads wouldn’t entertain us, we decided to go to Vindondas or it was called something like that. I couldn’t walk straight my legs were in a world of their own. Once at vindondas all hell break loose. I start loosing control of my motor functions at an alarming rate. I want to throw up and I head to the wash room. The wash room was a world of its own, it was an Indian style and dirty. I couldn’t stand I collapsed. Pukes right up my in my mouth and I could taste flash back all over again. I try to miss my jeans as I empty my gut, but I end up spilling some over them, next instant I collapse on the floor, in that pee and remains of human excreta. I was hopping one of these guys comes rescues me and Goti knocked. I some how unlocked the door he helped out to the table we had occupied I collapse again. Major hands me a glass of water and then lime juice which I gulp down but to no relieve. The kind waiter suggest I go lie down on in a make shift store room. I puke again. I wish I had eaten something at least my puke would have had flavour and colour.

Ranjit is holding me up and motivating me to sit up I want to follow his instructions but my body just wouldn’t respond. The only sense that was active was my ears. I keep telling them I cannot go home and just couldn’t go home were I’m considered a teetotaler and looked up too. Goti decides to take me too his place, he says his parents are chill and I could spend the night there in that aberrated state. But I still had the last trick up my drunken sleeve. I puke at the entrance of his building much to annoyance of the stray mongrels around who protested with loud howls. I could have scored a couple of bitches in his building as the puke was a sure sign of canine masculinity.

Poor Goti wipes my puke of my face while major takes of my shoe. They lay me on a sofa and drape me in the warmest blanket ever. I’m sure these guys must have taken a few photographs to help me remember the night in a flash back. I woke up at seven in the morning where I notice Goti junior rambling around, look down and I see Goti sleeping like he would never wake up again. I jerk him up he wakes startled and wants me to stay for breakfast. But I have my morning appointments and I had to rush. I bid goodbye and take the legacy of last night with me a splitting headache. As I travel home, the whole night foments into words in my head and I had to have one last puke.

Sunday afternoon I deliberate looking at the gloomy sky on riding my baby to the exam centre or on taking the three legged sloth. It had rained cats and dogs the day before, though gloomy, the sky looked clear egging me to ride her out. So I suit up for the ride of my very own English adventure. Here is how I suited up, a red jersey with loose khaki shorts, an eagle print bandanna on my head and of course the helmet.

I reached the centre on the designated time, met an office colleague, we rack up a chat about office politics, career and general life as we peed side by side. That done i enter the classroom like a gladiator and let me remind you that the ancient gladiators wore something similar to shorts, so don't go frowning on my attire. I take my seat fill in the details and i begin. Filling the details is like writing an essay on your self, the intention behind it is to warm you fingers to a level that you can make it through the loaded paper and not sue the University for damaged fingers.

As i look up after the warm up, there were wild stares thrown at me from all directions questioning my presence at the centre. What’s this dude like creature doing here is he mocking us, why is he dressed like a medieval jester, as he lost his nuts and list goes on. So why was i here, why was i wasting a perfectly good Sabbath giving a paper on English when i could pursue another degree in finance like the hat-rick I had wasn't enough, why not play football in the rain or go jiving which I love so much. Why Lord why was I here ruining my perfectly good weekend. So was it the love for the language or was it a need to break free from tradition where people frown at you for pursuing a degree in arts or was it an innate desire to get back to the college life, the excitement and warmth of the exam room and the sweet smell of freedom after it’s over.

Meantime the bell rand and i had to begin my journey up the English hill. The path seemed familiar since the questions were a cocktail of the previous 5 years. The most interesting piece of literature in this paper is this horny poem by Andrew Marvell called "To His Coy Mistress". Well this ancient dude in this poem is trying to seduce this Victorian chick. It centered on a theme of “Carp Diem" which means live for now. So this dude goes like " i can spend 10 thousand ears admiring your one breast, 10 for another and 30 thousand for the entire body, but since we don't have that time lets get naked and do it now". The best one that he pulls on her is when he says that let me have you virginity or else the worms will feast on it in your grave. And I’m sure that women through out the ages must have found this poem utterly romantic and many a men must have used it to access their pants. That reminds me of this Hindi number "Beghe Hoat Tere" roughly translated 'Your Wet Lips". Now can someone please tell me which lip he is referring too?

Now the point driven, the detour taken, digression visited let the trek up the hill continue. Trekking up the hill I need more resources, so i raise my hand and politely ask for a supplement. The entire class goes silent, like I have spoken the unthinkable, the doom words uttered the staring commences, may be it was their self defence mechanism, or the frustration of wasted weekends that they have sacrificed on the alter of education. The invigilator sensed this tense uneasiness in the room, he smiles back hands me a supplement and pitches his tent with a stack full of loose supplements right behind me. That white ball of smile saved me the embarrassment of asking for a supplement 3 times more. I owe that fellow one.

Two hours into the exam i reach the summit, my hands swollen red; I’m contemplating a suit but the two hours of trek ain't worth 20. My throat is parched and my bladder is swollen full so I make a dash for it. The ride back home was pleasant, like a triumphant gladiator in short returning home after a fresh kill. My baby feels so good between my legs and her roar is the sweetest sound I have ever heard. And the confession, i had taken the first step towards being a writer, felt happy and sweet. So here begins my English Adventure