Once Upon A (Night) Time

It was a Saturday night, the usual activities where lined up with the guys, plenty of alcohol, cigarettes and other things to smoke, which are for some reason frowned upon and an SUV to roam about the locality while we “performed” the aforementioned “activities”.

I joined the guys later on though, why?

I attended a gig, played by the upcoming bands in Mumbai, in the alternative rock scene. With a friend.

She’s probably the cutest little thing, doe-eyed, dusky, normal Indian-woman height, and black (REALLY) curly hair.

I’ve known her pretty long, about 3-4 years now, she was infact the reason behind, not one, but MANY mini-breakups with my, well, I honestly don’t know if we are still together are not. That’s a whole other story.

Do I like this friend? Maybe I did at some point in the past. But I guess we both are way past that stage where such things fuck-up good friendships and as she puts it “we’re awesome together”. She’s committed to a doctor guy, based in Pune. Yay.

I never understood why women feel the need to be equal to men in some things. The case I’m going to talk about today is Drinking, Alcohol. I mean, drink how much ever you can handle, im a 5’11in and 110kg monster, MOST human beings can’t drink much as I can.

One quarter of the girly vodka bullcrap, “green-apple with 7-up”, and a miniature port-wine. That was at around 11ish in the night.

Its 2am now, she’s still passed out on my bed, in my room, with my parents at home, and I can safely say I can feel my balls in the back of my throat.

That’s not the point of this piece I write though.

For many years to come, this story will be the story to get high and laugh on between me and the guys in the SUV, which we lovingly call our “mobile-bar”. The entry is based on “invitations only”.

It houses everything, from ‘chakna’ to a variety of alcoholic beverages, with amenities for all types of glasses. Again, I can now say, you will never leave our mobile-bar sober, and hungry.

That’s not the point of this either.

That mobile-bar, for me, is a second home, and “the guys” are way beyond what you may call “friends”. They are family. A family much closer to me than my literal one.

Let me give a little insight, about the guys.

One of them is a North-Indian-Brahamin-Delhi-ite, he’s got his own flourishing business, and he owns our “mobile-bar”. As sane as human beings can get, as humble as they come, a frank talker, and you will not stop laughing at the jokes he cracks.

The other one’s a mutt, part Punjabi, part Kerala-ite, How that happened, I still fail to understand, an engineering student like me. He’s, well him. I seriously doubt if there are more people like him. Again, as sane as they come, an extremely decent guy, he still thanks me for “getting him his first pair of tits”, and in his case, you will not stop laughing AT him. Also, he claims to be dyslexic, but I guess all of us know the real fact, “woh humlogka chutiya banata hain”.

Another one, Is a tall, lanky South-Indian-Brahamin fellow, who in no way is “shudhh” as per the Brahamin culture. He’s an executive at a very well-known five-star hotel. Like the rest of us, he’s “chilled out”, frank genuine, and smokes like a fucking chimney.

What connects us?

The fact, that our bunch, is one with possibly the most genuine people ever moulded. We are simple, we think less, we drink a lot, we smoke a lot. The actual “bond” between us, we haven’t been able to explain yet, and possibly won’t be able to ever. The fact remains, if and when the one of us needs the other two, may it be day or night, or in a different city or a country, the other two WILL be there or do everything in his power to help the one in need.

No, its not part of some deal we made. That’s just how we are.

The drunken slobs influence me in many ways that make me better.

Among the many sticky situations we’ve found ourselves in, they were with me, today too, when the friend I was with passed out, and did not leave me alone with her, even when the woman ended up puking in our “pyaari dhanno”. They were with me to the point of carrying her home, and placing her on my bed and telling me “kuch chahiye toh phone kariyo”.

As they say, friendships happen, and incidentally we all are the kind of people who don’t look for friendships, we like our alone-time. Also incidentally, none of us can point out, as to HOW and WHEN we began drinking together.

So yeah, tonight, was a night when something I knew all along, probably slapped me on my face.

The fact of “friendship”, a human emotion that always perplexed me, Is something that cannot be explained. “Love” for that matter, can be, related to the human need to “mate”.

Taking into account my condition now, I’ve been a popular guy all along, almost everybody knows “bala”, I probably have over 300 friends on Facebook, but I don’t need them, like I need these guys.

Pretty much like how “David” on FRIENDS says towards the end, “after years of trying to explain something, I’ve found that it cannot be done.”

The point of this piece, if you’ve managed to read the whole thing is that I myself do not know the point of this piece.

I just realised that I’ve been typing my thoughts as I sit on the floor in my room with my dog curled up on her bed beside me, with my friend passed out on my bed.

It’s 4am now, everything stands the way it was a couple of hours before,

Luckily, tomorrow is the “rest day” is my weekly gym regime.

Sleeping tonight doesn’t seem possible. After all, I’ve to drop this girl back home BEFORE my parents wake up and have me for breakfast.

What a Night, what a fucking, night, sheesh..

“You Kill Me? – I Kill Me, And You” – Part I

26^th November, 2008 began like any other day, millions hurried towards another monotonous day at work like little pre-programmed drones, children heading to school, housewives glued to the television with what I can only describe as “unbelievable loyalty” to their daytime television shows.

The way that particular day unfolded, would change the city for many years to come. It wasn’t “just another day”.

It was the day 10 men, teenage boys more like, armed with the infamous Kalashnikovs I.e AK-47s and hand grenades, and a bag of dry fruits, brought the entire city to a stand-still.

They were a part of a group who call themselves Lashker-e-taiba, big surprise. They make it difficult NOT to be racist at times.

Entering our island city from the shores, through a stolen/rented out fishing boat, went on to openly firing at Leopold’s Café, a well-known spot in Colaba, and Victoria Terminus, one of the busiest railway stations in Mumbai and taking a strangle-hold on two of the biggest hotels, namely The Taj Mahal and Tower Hotel and The Oberoi Trident.

It brought out the true condition, mental and physical of the infamous Mumbai Police, no comments. The lack of adequate and latest arms and ammunitions and safety gear handicapped them further.The absence of appropriate planning cost us three of the best police officers we had on our side, namely Hemant Karkare(ATS Chief), Vijay Salaskar(Encounter Specialist) and Ashok Kamte(Additional Commissioner of the Mumbai Police).

Their vehicle was ambushed. They hadn’t worn their bullet-proof vests.

As the curtains drew shut on the nightmare, the reality and the gravity of the situation become more apparent.

The National Guard eventually brought the situation under control, 9 of the 10 terrorists were killed in the neutralization. One was caught, the infamous Kasab.

Their mindless killing, of Indian citizens and foreigners alike, to the point where the body count read “AT LEAST 166 killed and 293 wounded”.

Its three years later now, Kasab continues to lead a rather happy life in various Indian Jails. The human-rights activists are working towards a “fair trial” for a guy who blindly fired an AK-47 in a crowded railway station and killed countless innocent human beings.

And to talk about irony…sheesh.

“You Kill Me? – I Kill Me, And You” – Part II

Picking up from the irony…

The questions almost ALL Indians now ask go something like this – “Are Indian Jails actually a vacation spot for terrorists?”

“Does a man whose main aim was to kill as many Indians as possible, deserve a ‘fair trial’ in an Indian court of Law?”

14^th July 2011, THREE more synchronized bombs go off on the busiest streets of Mumbai, Opera House, Dadar and Xaveri Bazaar, another live explosive detected and neutralized by the Mumbai police in Santacruz.

AT LEAST 21 died, over 160 wounded.

The rumour mill also excreted out another one, which claimed that 14^th July was Kasab’s Birthday, and the explosives were a symbol of respect “by his friends”.

“Nothing can be done by our country, after three days of unnecessary new reports, debates, celebrity interviews, they will make a documentary called ‘Spirit of Mumbai’”, said a rather agitated Shweta Basu, a BMM student.

“Yeh bharat desh hain, abhi agar America mein bomb girta toh theen chaar missile nikal liye hote, destination bina poochhe nikal liye hote, maalum hain na osama ko kab maara, kab dafnaa diya, maalum pada?”, added Prashant Gautam, even more agitated, he even shed light on another major fact.

The fact that, our hard-earned money, the majority of which we pay as taxes, go towards aiding such captured terrorists.

In short, we pay, for their vacation.

Are these thoughts justified?

From where I stand, Hell fucking YEAH.

Not only the fact that imprisoning is a very decent thing to do, for what they brought over the whole city.

I stand bamboozled at the fact that, a terrorist is being given the best food, the best cells in prison, more security than most VVIPs in Mumbai meander along with, and to add to that, the best lawyers in the business to give him a “fair trial”.

It’s almost too inviting.

Who wouldn’t attack us, knowing we would keep them alive with our tax money AND give them a fair trial, after killing countless??

I can now say, clearly, that the people of India, do not trust their own Government, for whatever it stands, it doesn’t count for nuts.

The ONLY action, if any, misused, the infamous Mumbai Police take, are by putting up 10-15 ‘naaka-bandis’, the point of which goes from “catching terrorists” to harassing commuters for infringement of negligible laws, clearly to earn some “pocket money”.

They earn their salary, twice over, each day, as bribes.

The Indian Constitution states that the police, can NOT, charge commuters for flouting traffic norms, clearly for which the Traffic Police exist.

When pointed out to, the commuters are threatened by demanding money by claiming false charges.

Some say, it’s done, most say its beyond repair, being ranked in the Top 5, of a list whose title is “Most Corrupted Nations”, almost all, have given up.

I ask you one question,

What good is your country, when you yourself, are not welcome and safe in it?

Sigh.