Musings of the mad man
It was a busy Friday at the 3rd floor of Torry Pines in
I think this introduction will not make any sense if I don’t talk about Vipin. He is my class mate from NIT Warangal. We happened to talk to each other only when we were in second year of our B.Tech. I don’t know may be our emotional frequencies superimposed quite instantly, we became friends, I think during final year , which was also marked by the staggering number of curriculum activities, we came close to each other to the point that some “others” started calling us as gays ( I do clarify , we have been straight all the way and will be in future J ). We were separated because of our different job locations. But when I came to
Now, about the flight , we were late again , we hustled our way through the security check and finally pushed our way inside it. The moment after the feeling of intoxication, that typically happens when you see the red lipstick clad lips of an Indian airhostess was settling down, we discovered a whole bunch of bald people inside the aircraft. They were everywhere , an European would possibly think that people were retuning from a “skin head” summit , a Gulti ( the sweet nickname of all Telgus in this planet , definitely not decided by their parents ) would think people were returning from their pilgrimage of Tirupati , but they were speaking Hariyanvi ( at least that’s what Saini pointed me out). Finally we located our seats and thank god we got places to keep our hand baggage overhead. The flight took off in no time and we immediately sensed the noise like being inside a general class compartment of a fully loaded train. Well ,then we decided to simplify our sorry state of affair ( typically the headache multiplied with body ache after having a long day at work) by divulging into some real “shit talking”
( I don’t guarantee that you will find a convincing meaning of this in dictionary , you might also have involved yourself something like this , typically the kind of discussions where you pretend to become a
“I know it all” and start commenting on multitude of things starting from the Budget till Breads or from Politics to Prostitution). We were guzzling every drop of fun doing this till a sweet voice broke in clamor, it was the stewardess herself, asking whether we need some water or not. Rakesh aka Saini affirmed his wish for a bottle and asked me whether I wanted one. I did the craziest thing …this is what I told him ...”I don’t want to drink water from a lady who has hair color like the tail of a street dog” (Sorry for not patronizing the spending that she has committed for the same thing), Rakesh was all cracked up in laughter, so was the gal seating in front of our seat. She was laughing it loud and so enthusiastic about my comment that she took off the headphones of her boyfriend and told him what she was laughing for. (It is always a great feeling to make a female happy, because they deserve that.)
Finally we landed at
Then atlast we were inside the duplex that Vipin owns in Gurgaon.
It was as perfect as an Indian wanna be’s ( read Bachelor) room should look like. My immediate attention was drawn on the fact that this dude was living on cold drinks because all I could see was 2 litre bottles of Coke , Pepsi , Fanta and Sprite in his kitchen. We thought we will change and snooze but we were just being optimistic. Because we all felt the disruptive rumblings of hunger in our stomachs and our to add to our miseries there was no food in the house and you can’t expect a restaurant to be open during midnight in
The next morning we were taken to Gaziabad where the funeral of my friend’s bachelorhood was meant to happen. As he has already complained me that I am not happy about his marriage, I will pretend to be a “nice guy” now on and depict whatever happened around me that day and let’s hope it will be fun. The driver discovered us as first timers in
Then there was lunch and after lunch was this introduction session where Rakesh was interviewed by a lady wearing black sari. The lady pretended to be judging one of those man-hunt events, where you get to ask questions those when answered should show your personality traits. So no wonder he was asked to describe himself in one word, and he did …..The word was “Classy” ( I wonder the cliché though that “classy” and “exotic” have some logical togetherness).
At that point, my cell phone started ringing and it was none other than “Bhiayaji”, a character taken from the movie named “Haasil”, Bhiyaji instructed me to join him in CP (
Now I wish to be explicit about someone in that entire exotic lot. Its none other than Pinky , well its one of those situational names you give to a person just by looking at him/her. I would rather not use the words like “damsel”, “sexy” , “dazzling” to define her presence. Just that this tall, fair Punjabi lady perfumed by the aroma of elegance was all set to put the stage on fire. I noticed the tinges of red color on her bare arm; they were enough to make me go poetic. I couldn’t resist myself to dance along with her and then claim this honor by texting to Bhaiyaji that “Today I committed the sweet crime of dancing with a Punjabi gal”.
Driven by Kunal , powered by Polaroid:
It was Kunal, who offered to drop me near ISBT, from where I would get the metro to CP. I was feeling tired like a dog in hot summer, it was a madding sun on the streets, my eyes were aching badly. I decided to help myself wearing my goggles. First time I sensed its being an utility and not another useless accessory at that instant. And of course we had a third person in that car, she was Namita. I sensed that they were classmates, doing mba , aspiring finance pros , it was nice talking with them about the fixed assets and other assets of any organization. I, like other situations, was not selling
He has grown beard like Saif Khan in “Omkara”
He is put on weight like Benicio in “Fear and Loathing in
He has started smoking ..yet again
He has switched to desi Beer from Single malts
And Bhiyaji was there. After being hugged by this gentleman I forgot all my toils , headaches. He had the passport of a great night of boozing , smoking , listening to “real” music with him. We had our starters at “The Drunken Duck”. The first pitcher was the ice breaker , now we were talking about the “days” of togetherness in Chennai. We decided calling Nitesh ( aka Nikki) , another protagonist , who is currently educating himself in
Now we were in Gulabi Baag , where I met Gunjit ( Puneet’s wanna be film director bro) and Kamal. I had sometime talking to Puneet;s mom and dad before being called upstairs by the man himself. There were seven of us in that 35 square feet room which was four feet high. It was a real rabbit hole, a perfect place for having a few pegs with people who are very close to your heart. Vat-69 was the name, and we were in business soon, accompanied by some kosher Kabab.
The dessert was rice and chicken curry that mummyji had cooked for us. It was a semiconscious sole of mine , half submerged in the déjà vu of the remembrances of my recent reading of the “Age of Shiva” , indifferent of the clatter of people in that room fighting over the claim of sovereignty of the differenced provinces of East Punjab , making an arduous attempt of pretending to be conscious to my own “self”. I went to bed.
Being punk at the 5 feet paradise
I always wanted to write about the people from north eastern provinces of