Happy New Year

Finally, we arrived. With sore behinds, with drained bodies, with a tired head; finally, we arrived!

We had experienced the true wrath of Bangalore traffic that night. With a rash decision to travel to Coorg for a holiday during new year; taken at 2 AM, we had a story to tell and a lesson to learn.

Within constant calls on all our phone numbers by the bike rental guy for the delay, and the guy who booked our new year party, we were cruising through the last 30 km of the way back at barely 10 km an hour!

After paying the late fine and hearing out the long-awaited whining of the rental guy, we moved to the next thing in our priority list: we had to take a leak. It would seem funny to people in India to comprehend the fact that two guys at night can struggle to find a place to pee for the next half an hour. We both shared the discomfort of getting it off anywhere we liked like 90 percent Indian men: thus, the struggle. After failing to locate a public restroom within walking distance, which should not come off as such a surprise, we finally decided to join the aforementioned 90 percent, failing to find a viable choice. With a few Kannada scolding from an annoyed slum dweller for pissing on ‘his property’, we were fine to go.

With 3 percent battery and a lot of luggage, we somehow booked an Uber. We did two mistakes that moment that we will regret later. The Uber arrived and we were on the way for the pre-paid party we were already late to. Not so long after that, mistake no. one hit us: we had left one of our luggage which contained around rupees 5k worth of my stuff back at the pissing place. You could say, it was the most expensive pee I had taken in my life. Considering the uncertainty of finding it back had we gone back coupled with the looming thought of losing our party money too, we decided to save at least the new year enjoyment. With just a quarter of our journey left to go, mistake no. two hit us: Uber pool.

To save a hundred bucks, we had decided to pool expecting no one to join us at this hour, but we were not the only ones with the same thought. The driver was new but like all the Uber drivers at late night, he wanted an additional fake booking to his home to gain an extra ride as well as get back home. We obliged. Aman tried to book a pool with the pick-up point just ahead of the cab but instead the driver got a real pool request from a lady and then chaos unfurled.

The road had many lanes and we were taking the wrong ones each time. As educated as we were, neither we nor the lady whom we were picking up could guide us to that single point in space: the pickup point. On top of that, suggesting our Uber driver to ask Auto-Rickshaw drivers for directions was not one of our brightest moments. After taking a brute force approach, we reached the destination only to find no-one waiting for us there or so we thought.

After our fellow rider, avoiding the driver’s calls, we noticed a girl coming out of a lane and returning multiple times. After all the efforts, we took to arrive there, the driver was not going to give up. In the end, the lady came out and behind her was another lady, they had booked the pool for two, but none was ready to be the one seated at the back seat with two random dudes who were not in their best appearances or manners. After lots of negotiation, they decided to share the front seat together: perks of being slim. The same story continued, and following one more round of hit and trial, we finally reached at our destination which coincidentally was the destination of our fellow riders too. Wishing us “Happy New Year”, they both left.

Greeted us at the entrance, Aman’s cousin who worked at the hotel hosting the party and the guy who got us the entry at 50 percent discount to two bachelors on a new year eve. We moved in to the party, to a depleted food supply but still-going-strong alcohol supply. After getting fresh in the washroom, we loaded up on limited food brought in directly from the kitchen along with a beer each. After a small introduction, the cousin left for his Pondicherry Trip with a piece of info that there were 6-7 stag entries of girls. I didn’t quite know what to do with that info, but ironically Aman was quite happy about it despite being in a relationship. We entered the party room. Songs were being sung along with music and beats. Uncles and Aunties along with kids were in dance mode. I could see some young couples but nowhere I could see any single girls that we were promised. I gave up on that soon and headed on to the one thing I paid the money for: UNLIMITED BOOZE.

We both headed to the bar and got ourselves one more beer, then one more, one more still: we were done with the starters now. Mood to dance was kicking in but not the alcohol as much as I would want it to numb down all the frustrations of the day. Aman was fine with just beer but I insisted him on getting some vodka shots eluding him with the thought of getting back what we paid for! The night was still young, we were about to find out what else we were due to pay later.

4 shots down and ready for the New Year midnight bell,

we were dancing with people, we didn’t know well.

The countdown began and we jumped and took blurry pics of dance and thoughtlessness. I pulled in Aman with me for more shots. He was way in the trance that time than I was. I was confident of my alcohol retaining capacity bordering on the lines of over-confidence. We had multiple shots and went back to dance to the sense blinding music and lights.

I carried Aman and laid him down on chairs, after he started falling. I took more shots and kept on dancing, with guys, with girls, with any humanoid figure I laid my eyes upon. I danced to forget the mishaps, I danced to forget my overthinking, I danced to feel true freedom till my senses were lost.

I opened my eyes and saw darkness. Regurgitating on the spot. I saw some blurry figures saying some things, non-comprehensible. I didn’t bother to understand even. I was unable to control my body or my lips. I could feel being carried, then cruising on a wheel chair, in an elevator, then somewhere outside I sat. I tried to vomit out some of the alcohol, but was not able to as I had nothing to eat. I could see Aman lying on the other side of the corridor in the same position I left him in the party room. I could hear a security guard who was thankfully an Odia, but he would bring my demise soon.

He talked in my language and I tried to talk but could utter only unintelligible words but he used his head and took my phone and used my fingerprints to open it, did something. He assured me that he would ensure my reach to home that night. I was a bit relieved. But after gradually coming to a bit of senses, I saw my phone and horror struck: calls from my mother! I didn’t understand. I avoided the call and sat still, alcohol in my blood was replaced by liquid fear; fear of what, I didn’t know. Suddenly I received a call from a friend of mine, I picked up and gave it to the guard and he talked and gave it back to me. I was just repeating my house address out loud, for someone to book me an Uber. I heard the guard reassuring me from time to time with a few statements of disgusts sprinkled in between.

Jiten arrived at the place. Seeing a friendly face, I was relieved. He was moving to and fro and doing something, saying something. I was still uttering my house address. He booked a cab and was helping me inside when I pointed him to Aman who was lying still on the side. I then remembered, I had my house-key in my bag which was in the coat room. With no body balance whatsoever, I went inside and brought my bag. We were all set. All the way we vomited in the cab and like a time lapse, we arrived at my house. I could control my body somewhat at that time. Aman was still unconscious so he was carried in by the driver and Jiten. We both lied down on the bed of my roommate and passed out.

I woke up at morning 9:30 with some headache and stomach-ache. Charged my mobile phone and nervously waited for it to switch on. Cold sweat ran down my face: numerous calls from mother and Jiten, calls made to many other people. What had the guard done! I took a bath and assessed the situation.

I had to ask Jiten about the details.

I had to get back Aman’s bag which I had left in the coat room.

I had to put my clothes to clean.

I had to take something to get rid of the hangover.

I had to be ready to explain everything to my Mom – What should I tell her?  How much should I tell her? Should I tell her it was a one-time thing? Should I tell her my friends pressured me? How much does she know already? All these questions revolved my head along with the steam in the bathroom.

I came out from the bath and saw Aman getting his senses back and Jiten telling me about what he told mother and what she knows. The guard had indeed called my mother and told him that I was lying on the side of the road fully wasted and my friends had abandoned me! Apparently, my mother then informed Jiten and he had come to my rescue. Aman found out he was missing his phone and his sweatshirt- which was a gift from his girlfriend.

I started out on a gruesome journey to get the bag, inquire about the phone, take a little detour to the place I lost my luggage with a slimmer of hope of getting it back from some angel who may have kept it with noble intentions. This was shattered later after I learnt from the nearby shopkeepers that it was a goods drop and pickup point for small shop keepers. I was the angel all along and they had received my blessings instead. Aman had paid his share of blessings in the form of his phone and his girlfriend’s gift, which was probably a divine punishment from Cupid for that happiness over the 6-7 mysterious stag ladies in the party.

All the way I had called mother. We were talking on and off. She was sad. She had cried the night after her illusion of my puerile image had been broken down abruptly a night 2 AM. Till now ‘2 AM’ had been a jinx. She had cried all night and my little brother had comforted her and to prevent more chaos, had even insisted her to keep the news from my father. He was compensated well from me for pulling off that move. Making my mother cry was not a good feeling but neither was the constant urge to vomit all the way.

At the place of my lost luggage, I saw a chacha selling fruits. I went to him and ordered a bowl of pineapples. With each bite I was feeling better, stomach wise. But that was only one of the numerous problems at hand. What had I landed myself back into! I wish I could turn back the clock and bring the wheels of time to a stop to that point when I was lost in mindless trance, the night before, detached to my senses; my senses bringing me floods of information of the world, of people, of responsibilities, of feelings, of needs, of greed, of desires, of prayers, of layers and layers of truth and lies of reality and illusions alike. The world has termed my kind – Escapists, cowards. World is not very kind to outliers. After my little toothpick started poking on the empty bottom of my thermocol container, I realized all my pineapple pieces were over. I paid chacha 30 rupees and went back to the world from where I came from but surely did not belong.