The Crooner

I post on this blog after a very long time and I have but one bloke to thank for it, one young gentleman called Abhiroop.
Back in college, we used to pick on him endlessly and he was practically the butt of all our pranks. Even after repeatedly falling prey to our pranks, he was remarkably susceptible to fall for more, always giving us enough material to keep us occupied. Unfortunately for him, he had the misfortune of landing up in my class in grad school as well.
Well then, to last night, which is the one interesting experience I've had in the given genre since the last time I posted. Four of us gathered at my flat for a few drinks and a general chill out session. Abhiroop is a novice when it comes to drinking and like most novices, fails to hedge his bets! With only a glass of beer in him, Abhiroop began to display his ability at handling 'copious' amounts of alcohol. As four of us sat chatting, he excused himself to the call of nature and the rest of us continued our revelry, not paying much attention to his absence, which soon became rather elongated.
And as we carried on our carefree conversation, what do we hear? The faint, oh so 'sweet' sound of a male voice singing in full spirit and panache! And we wonder, is it the radio? Is it the TV? Is it the neighbour in an amorous mood?? NO, ITS ABHIROOP busy singing in the loo where he has been, probably all the while after he finished his business long ago!
Sadly his crooning was cut short by the detection of our presence outside the toilet door. What was the song he was singing?Quite ironically, "Jaane tu...ya jaane na!"(Translates literally to (for the anglicized reader:"Do you know? Or do you not?") .
I say this guy has a future in the business.

Sentimental

Wonder why alcohol loosens the emotional bolts on the most hardened macho men?? A few days back I met two of my old time school pals over (a lot of) drinks. I got to hear some pretty funny stuff about how we were brothers in arms and how they would soon start crying if we didn't stop reminiscing! I watched all of this from a short distance, not too far away of course. I made my own little valuable contribution to the colourful conversation!
That of course before one went too far and nearly threw up from the window. He then went on to fill a few buckets.

Philosophy in Life

Somewhere in life, I guess its important to have a good, strong philosophy to live by. Something that keeps you going no matter what, and obviously doesn't antagonize too many people living in the civil (or otherwise) society around you. Quite obviously, if this blog was made to talk about life philosophies, it would be christened such. So let me get on with it.
The year 2008 was a few minutes old when, like a million other people, I picked up my phone to start wishing my near and dear ones. I was, I proudly proclaim, one of the most sober New Year revelers that night in the age group of 18-25. And therefore, despite having to make repeated attempts to get through to some of my friends, I still tried, not out of some undying love, but because of the undying sincerity of the future "Booze Diaries" author. In plain simple terms, I was expecting entertainment from the other end, and I entertainment I got.
I knew the night would be one of revelation right after the first call when I was wished, not a Happy, but a "Happpy Happpy Hippie Hippie Happy (Hic!)" New Year. Having made that eventful first call, I was only spurred on to look for others who could bring joy to what had been a fairly uneventful New Year's Eve. And after a few calls, I happened to call my dear friend Mini, who as she later recalled, could barely walk in straight line when she received my call. After having expressed pity at my sober situation that night, Mini went on to encourage me in the most philosophical manner. This I believe was her life philosophy for these were the words that I heard:
"Siddhu... Buddhism teaches us to get drunk!"
And the phone got disconnected right after that. I deem to rechristen this sentence as the Madi(/hu)ra Sutra. Never once pronounced by the Buddha himself, but adds a lot of light and meaning to lives around us I guess!
Hippie New Year.

Designated Driver

Yep. Thats pretty much the worst seat in the house when there's a party, but someone's gotta do it! And that someone can't be the same person every time. But it has its own pluses. You can calmly sit in one corner and watch people make fools out of themselves and then remind them of their actions for the rest of their miserable life. I guess thats more of a reason why the same person is not appointed the designated driver every time. So that everyone, with no exceptions whatsoever, has ammo on everyone else and in the process everyone keeps shut for the general benefit of civil society.
So yes, as you might have got it already, I was the designated driver last night and hence not much to report about myself. Although, a few interesting things did transpire. For one we collectively came up with the brilliant dance move called "The Manu" (I can sense a 'moody' comment coming from the commentator on the previous post!) in honour of the outlandish ways of our dear friend. The move, albeit goofy, did draw up a room full of supporters who were enthusiastically performing the new step. I say this could give the Macarena a hard time pretty soon.
A few ghosts of my not so illustrious recent past came to haunt me as well. A girl walked up to me (quite obviously under the influence of a few measures of alcohol) and accused me of ruining her earrings at the last party and this she said, would be her everlasting memory of me (the mode of ruination of her earrings will not be disclosed, for even though this isn't a family blog, it is certainly not a means to make people lose their lunch). She was however, quite happy and graciously accepted my offer to her, it being that she could ruin my 'earrings' when I got them. I rest my case so far as advantages of being the designated driver are concerned.


P.S: Beginner's guide to performing "The Manu":

1. Left arm outstretched, palms open.
2. Right palm open, hand behind the ear (like you're having trouble hearing).
3. Wave both hands (As if bidding farewell to people in two different directions at the same time).

Try out the next big thing at your next party. Conditions Apply.

Of Blogs and Slow Death

A not so wise man, albeit a senior blogger told me when i started this blog and was writing with more fervor than one could expect or imagine, that blogs die a slow painful death. Well, thats precisely what transpires with this one. For one, I haven't been to a party for over a month, and hence no instance where either I, or any of my singularly (at times grossly) entertaining gang of drinking chums could provide for some entertainment. Allow me to also impress this fact upon my readers amongst the fairer sex (few as they might be), that I am, in fact, not a drunken buffoon as the previous posts might seem to suggest. Let me rephrase, I'm not AS BIG a drunken buffoon as the previous posts might seem to suggest. And just as I was about to post this with a melancholy sigh, I received a call. There's a party tonight!
Watch this space I say. This blog shall die another day.
(As some very bored readers might put it, "That rhymes! Whee!")

What a Wonderful World...Part 2

Nitin and I have a drunk song and dance routine. Everytime we've got drunk at Golden Dragon, we've walked back at 1, dancing and singing to the tunes of 'War' by the Fuller Four. If that doesn't strike a bell, maybe this will. Remember that song Jackie Chan keeps singing in Rush Hour?

This time was no different. We came back, merry, jolly, high and most importantly, far away from the sounds of BA's love ballads. By the time we reached my colony gate, we were pretty 'happy' and we had to put up a nice face for the guard to let us through. Once inside, the fun began. I should've seen the signs when senor Jose started pointing to the stars and screaming "Lights in the sky!". Little did I know that this was just the beginning. The good thing however was that I started logging all the activities on my phone, to save and embarrass for posterity!

Rewind to October (The last trip to Golden Dragon in the aforementioned company):

[There's a small school in front of my house whose wall was broken down for some temporary construction work. The last time we'd gone to GD, and my dear friend, in a state of drunken stupor, entered the school building and used the school's toilet!]

Forward back to 9th Jan:

Nitin Jose then started narrating to me a story from the last time he was in the school. Very concisely put (not paraphrased), "Thats a spooky place, the last time I went to the loo there, I saw a ghost. The ghost was peeing too!". We planned then to just sit in my car and listen to some rock, because sitting out in the open in such a conditon was out of question. So I left him inside my car and went off to collect my stereo. When I came back, I found him in the driver's seat, giving the car a full overall exam and adjusting the rearview mirror and driving a car which had no keys in it! Keyphrase of the night, "The car's in neutral". For some reason at 1 in the night, a Tamil ad came on air. This sort of pushed my friend over the edge (reasons unknown). For the 3rd time, (again, for reasons unknown), he started counting in Telugu (A language I certify, we have never ever encountered in our short, mundane existences). "Onnu, Rendu, Moodu, Naalu..."(god knows if thats right, even if remotely).
While the revelry drew to its highest point while we sat and listened to Eric Clapton's 'Cocaine', and danced away (somehow) inside the car to sounds of hip hop as well, a very bemused security guard approached my car with a big question mark on his face. In short, the conversation I had with him(with a ear to ear grin) was nothing short of brilliant. On no less than three occassions I offered him my car keys to take us out on a drive, for I believed he had trust issues with me. Needless to say, the fellow got sufficiently freaked out and ran off. So did we. Before anyone else with more courage could come to confront us. Great end to the evening.

And I Think To Myself...What a Wonderful World

Louis Armstrong sure got that right...What a wonderful world! Thats pretty much the first thought that comes across under the influence of sufficiently copious amounts of alcohol doesn't it?? I guess thats why they call it getting 'high' (so...er....geographically put in context by my pal as mentioned in the last post!). But then Louis Armstrong has more to do with this post than just that.

So going back in time again, to January this year; my school-time friend Nitin came over. I think by the time I'm done with this blog there'd hardly be a friend left for me or much worse I might make a very dangerous drinking companion! Anyway, back to the story...
We had great plans for the time ahead that day. We'd go to this brutally expensive pub (where my mum always wants me to have coffee, and the obedient son that I am, I go to an expensive pub and 'obey') which was a stone throw away from my house, listen to some good old rock and roll, drink some and come back. I've always been a believer in the power of music on one's emotions. I've often observed that things go straight to people's heads when the music is to their liking. For me, the sounds of Pearl Jam is that catalyst. Any and all of my friends who've seen my reaction to this one song called 'Black' in particular would testify to this phenomenon. And this is precisely the reason I love where we were going regardless of the fact that it often burns a hole in your pocket without getting you drunk enough to ignore it till the morning after! The music's good. Rephrase; great.
So as we set out on that Friday evening, all excited about what lay ahead, my mum of course laying down the coffee rule again, we never saw what was coming. Gleefully (unfortunately the only word that describes that feeling), we sought to enter the place when a tree-trunk arm came swinging across and a voice boomed, "Yes Sar" (The only way most bouncers know how to say "Yes sir"). I always thought this was a stupid thing. Why'd I want to go to a pub, but to drink and fraternize? Much the same, respecting the fact that this guy could pound the stuffing out of me at his whim, I told him why I was there and thats when the two most irritating words for any single man came out of his mouth, "Kappal Antry" (Bouncer for "Couple Entry") and of course suffixed with the "Sir" that he must mouth even if he doesn't mean it. Enter Manu Saxena's brief telepathic interlude. "This is where, SK, a girlfriend comes in handy." Thanks Manu, as if it wasn't bad enough already. I really don't get this whole concept of couple entry. Just because of a few lecherous old fags, every decent, single chap in town isn't allowed to have his share of fun during the weekend without paying an exorbitant amount. I vehemently oppose this barbaric practice.
Anyway, dejected and disappointed, we tried looking for other places to go to, to no avail. Our requirements were very specific. Rock music and walking distance. There were no other places nearby that met the first requirement, and worse still fell in remotely the same price band. And thats when we made the decision that was the sole reason why things went the way they did. We decided to go to the most cost-effective (polite for cheapest) watering hole (for it is but a shame to call it a 'pub'), the old faithful, Golden Dragon! The only requirement this met was that it was still walking distance and fell about a couple of price bands lower, so it allowed us to drown our disappointments! The story at Golden Dragon is short. They played Bryan Adams' 'Heaven' and quickly added insult to injury with 'Please Forgive Me'. Nothing against the old chap but two guys at Golden Dragon and Heaven, thats a little, how do you put it, gay. So we drank to the music (more to tolerate it) and drank it quick so we could get out quick...(To be continued)

Cha Cha Cha Part 2

Right...so at the second party last night (where I was still hung over so I couldn't have so much as a drop!), some more revelations were made.
For one, I wasn't the only one doing the Cha Cha Cha the night before, I apparently led someone into dancing alongside me! Whatdya know???I'm a leader when drunk! It so happened that in the process of 'dancing', this true gentleman(whose identity still remains a mystery) who accompanied me was so engrossed in displaying his secret talent, that he ended up slapping a poor girl standing next to him during what must have been a truly exhilarating dance step!
The mystery of the knee bump has also been solved. I fell off the bed thrice.
Amongst other news, last night my very good friend Manu Saxena (Whose thoughts, views and writings I shall be referring to soon)with a few measures of Scotch in him, made not-so-surprising revelations about his drunken sense of humour and also his committal problems! For starters, this was his classic first joke: "I'm so high I can pee ice!". For the benefit of the confused audience he also offered an explanation: "Temperature falls by 1 degree for every 165 metres!". And later when his brain had finally died, he lifted up his glass and professed his love for it and said, "This is the only thing in my life I've ever committed myself to!"
So all you ladies out there, I present to you my dear pal Manu Saxena। Match invited for an otherwise great guy, slightly anglophilic, describes himself as 'Homo-neutral' which he thinks describes his status of being neither homosexual nor homophobic (I beg to differ, I think it sounds more like a neutered homosexual), relationship must expire within a month of starting. Conditions apply. Single Malt preferred. Picture attached for readers' benefit.



Manu Saxena. I swear to God he looks better (albeit marginally) now!

1,2 Cha Cha Cha

Now that the hangover's gone I've gone around looking for my friends who remained sober last night, in an attempt to piece together last night's puzzle; because no matter how hard I try, I really can't remember anything beyond 10.30!So I went to this junior just now who very kindly pieced it together for me. This is where I warn you : IT'S NOT PRETTY.

OK so you ignored the warning...what the hell, read on. The first thing I have been told is that on no less than 4 occasions, I happened to dance the Cha Cha Cha on someone's cue. Of course people don't exactly take very kindly to their drunken kin. I haven't on previous occasions, so it wouldn't be fair of me to expect them to stop after poking fun just once! So, it was four times that they cued me up (must've been something like "Naach Basanti Naach" only that here there was no Viru and Basanti was knocked out cold!) and I graciously obliged them with a brilliant little jig and to complete the picture I even sang(apparently) "1,2 cha cha cha, everybody!yay!!" (I wish I could show you how the junior showed me how I did it, but (un)fortunately there is no video evidence!). Fact: In real, un-drunk life, I don't even know what the damn Cha Cha Cha looks like! Somewhere along the way I also told my lovely audience that I was high and I wouldn't remember this the next morning, so they must remind me!
As if that wasn't enough, when I did find myself a bed to collapse on, I wouldn't just shut up and sleep. I'm a poor dancer in real life, I'm very hesitant in fact. I guess when I get drunk all the, well, pent up dance if you will, tries to escape! So when I did crash, I'm told I did my own rendition of some Naagin jig lying on the bed, before I was too overcome to dance anymore!
So this little bit has been pieced together, more should come through tonight at another party! I swear I won't get drunk tonight! I'm driving, and not getting drunk somehow seems good for business. I can just watch people make a fool out of themselves for a change!
P.S: Having figured out and said all this, I still can't figure out how the huge painful bump on my knee got there. Yaoo!

Last Night

Last night I went to this friend's job treat party. I thought I'd get a great story for my blog...turns out I'd passed out by 11 and I was quite the story myself! Booze is bad people!!Somewhere in between I'm told I spoke to my mum on the phone as well. Thankfully she believes(hopefully) that I was sleepy and the dirt on my pants and my T shirt actually came from sitting in the lawns of the party house. We know better. Another little lesson learned in life.

The Drunk Hurtling Gujju Truck

Kunjal Desai (lovingly called motu, for good reason) is a great guy. As the 'loving' nickname suggests, he's quite a giant at 6 feet 2 and about 160 pounds or so. It takes a lot for his tank to get filled up, but when it does, and you get him to dance, things turn a little dangerous. Confused? Check out these two videos from a last day party we held after college got over.
P.S: I wasn't too clean my self so you can hear my drooly drowsy voice in the background! Kunjal is the guy on the left, as you might figure out!

T Recalls her Math aka Whack!

My friend T(previously known as *) has a weird habit. When she's drunk, she smiles a lot(thats not the weird habit), and then she gets into this spanking frenzy. And it doesn't take much. In all likelihood it'd probably take a teaspoon to get her high and then the painful games begin!
We went to this one party once upon a time, sometime during my responsible drunkard phase where I used to conveniently acquire a hypocritical stance on people getting drunk. "I drink to enjoy the drink, I will never get drunk" (A statement I give half a rat's ass about now!). So while I "enjoyed" my one vodka sprite in a corner talking to some of my friends, T did pretty much the same. Except that 1 vodka sprite is a few teaspoons too many for someone with that kinda capacity. All said and done, T is a lot of fun when drunk (most people are, really). So within minutes while I watched from the sidelines, T went on a spanking spree, still vehemently insisting she wasn't drunk. After practically every guy on the terrace had a red ass (only guys known well to her, let me clarify, I respect her integrity), my pal Nag and I decided to lay a booby trap for her. We went up to her:
Us: "T you're drunk"
T(smiling from ear to ear):"No!"
Us: "Alright, prove it! Recite the tables of 13"
T: "Uh...Oh...Um...wait...(starting to dance, hopping from one foot on to another) 13 ones are 13, 13 twos are 26,13 threes are 39...(completes till 91)...SEE!!"
Us: "Yeah awesome!!how about 17?"
T: "Damn you assholes...ok...wait...13 ones are...oh no...17 ones are 17, 17 twos are...wait...carry over one...haan 34, 17 threes are...damn it...uh...51...(painstakingly goes on to complete till 102)"
After she was proudly done,
T: "See!!!I'M NOT DRUNK!"
.......(prolonged silence of 5 seconds)

Us: "Nope, sorry you're drunk! Nobody in their sane mind agrees to recite the tables of 13 and 17 to a crowd!"

*TaB

Attack of the Drunk Geek

For all those who don't know, I'm doing my Masters in Physics right now (yeah go ahead and gimme that reaction I always get). The night that Basu pretty much marched his shame away, I didn't too well for myself either! Now, I'm very sure this story has been blown out of proportion, but since I can't remember most of it, I have to take dear friend PS'(yet again) word for it, who is by the way, a brilliant cook when comes to adding spice.
So, that same night I happened to stay over at PS' place after the party. This is how it has been narrated traditionally:
"Bud(my nickname back in the day, not short for Budweiser mind you; not yet atleast) was lying on the bed. He suddenly started fiddling around, till he found a torch. (My intervention: what kind of a wimpish jackass sleeps with a torch by his pillow! End Intervention.) He picked up the torch kept switching it on and off several times in a periodic pattern. And then suddenly he wakes me(PS) up and says, 'dekh!dekh! Interference fringes on the fan!' at 1 in the night!" A short caricature was made a day later showing me lying in a ditch with a glass of coke rum (till date my favourite drink) screaming "Interference!"
I vehemently deny the story till date.
I am not, was not, will not be, THAT geeky.