It was a crisp autumn night. I had been out drinking with a very old friend, and deservedly so, after having travelled around 30 odd kms to simply meet him. We smoked a fag talked about the old days; and soon we found our steps leading us down a familiar path, a new ‘watering hole’, a pub in Rajouri Garden. It was a nostalgic moment for ‘Bibz’ and me. We had gotten pissed-drunk so many times in Nagpur, only to end up all on all fours at Bibz’s place. However, this was another city, the state of ‘Delhi’, the ‘capital- city’, I always agreed with my father on this observation; if the mental capacity of the local populace was the only criterion, Delhi wouldn’t amount to much.
I was putting up in the Eastern end of this city, with my Aunt and Uncle. My aunt is a straight-talker and headstrong woman who venomously refers to drunks and junkies as ‘pitiful-wanton losers’, My uncle is more liberal in his views. Both, my aunt and uncle are equally prude and deal with such blights on society quickly and effectively. However, the fact that both are teetotallers, further justifies their views and actions, in the eyes of the average social drinker, addict and even the indifferent teetotaller: ‘society’.
Apart from offering lessons, memories and clichés to many, the past offers a kaleidoscope of colour. It can also induce feelings of nostalgia; and it occurred to me that a familiar feeling was beginning to stir inside. A reckless, notorious kind of feeling, the kind that was a feature back in the day, when I, BIbz, Ezz and Amogh would go out drinking, and run amok. Those were the good old days, when as young-un’s we would often wonder why whisky couldn’t taste like coke, even after we mixed more than the needed amount.
I realized that the universe might have ended at that point in time, and in my stupor, I would have not even have given it a single screw. As I fished into my jean pockets to retrieve my mobile phone, I could feel it build up inside me, the infamous and extremely reckless stage of not-giving-a-fuck. It consumed me as it had often done in the past, and on occasions like such, I turned superhero; the man of steel once, using a shutter as a punching bag; the batman another time, lying dead drunk in the bushes; Aqua man this one time, when we went down to the river for a picnic. These stunts only led to early morning lectures on drunkenness and risk-taking, amid shouts of where I went wrong with you from parents and bad publicity and sympathetic looks from last night’s witnesses.
Bibz beckoned the waiter over, to order food, I presumed. I absent-mindedly stared at the screen of his mobile phone, and my heart skipped a beat, it was flashing 22:49. 11 PM, My aunt had asked me to be in by 10. Suddenly, all the drunkenness flooded out of my system, as it often does at the thought of facing parents or in my case facing my teetotaller uncle and aunt, who wouldn't be the slightest bit amused at my state. Without warning, this newfound power, this extra energy that coursed through my veins soon began to seep out of my body; I felt it flood out in the moment I collapsed back into the depths of my chair. The outlines again blurred, the brief drunken pretence at normality, finally over.
“Home is where the heart is” has been one of Bibz’s pet lines, which he always used to imply that he really ought to be getting back, not one to miss a beat, I understood. We filed out, Bibz leading the way and I following him, stuttering all along the way. The drinks had done their job, and Bibz was offering an apologetic look to most of the people we walked past, as we reached Rajouri Garden Metro station. I was annoyed at Bibz for apologising to everyone under the bloody star spangled blanket of the night, and I couldn’t help but wonder why. Eight months later, I learned that the apologies were well received. I had chased people, I chased a dog, brandishing the wire of my headphones like a whip; I ran away from a cop shouting I am a true Indian, I tripped over some sleeping beggars before crashing headfirst into a trash can. I realise now that Bibz was only apologising for his embarrassment and was actually looking for the improbable escape from the situation.
