Friday, October 29, 2010

Puke free since ummm.....

Ted Mosby has been puke free since 93. We were in class 3 then. We were neither drinking nor puking then.
Cut to 2010, life has changed. We are 25 now (sigh) and have got drunk. Innumerable times. But puking had never been an issue.

We have seen a friend put his face inside the pot after drinking all night. We have also seen a friend puke at 4am in the morning after having ten bottles of beer the entire night. She is 4feet high. It was just amazing that she lasted that long.

Let’s face it. Its shit embarrassing to vomit. You stink, you look oh-so-not pretty and your friends are exasperated (yes they are, do not believe what they say!)

Piya and Anjali have always been the sober drinkers compared to Nandu and Mrinu. While Nandu and Mrinu would go all out (literally) after two drinks, it would always take a good amount of alcohol to get Piya and Anjali drunk (in the literal sense). So puking was also not really in their scheme of things. While Anjali had puked couple of times in the loo, Piya’s record remained spotless. Almost.

So when Piya decided to get drunk on her 24th Birthday, no one really had predicted what was in store later that night. The evening started off with a large pitcher of LIIT. The pitcher with numerous straws was happily passed around and everyone was slowly getting into the mood. Numerous other drinks followed. Anjali and Mrinu made several rounds to the bar and got their glasses re-filled. What is interesting is the fact that the birthday girl was not seen near the bar even once. Neither was she seen holding a drink which she could rightfully claim as her own. All throughout the party, she took sips of everyone else’s drinks but never really went and got her own drink.

Then the obligatory Birthday shots were organised and everyone had two shots each of kamakazi, which was rounded up with few other drinks. By this time everyone was good high, not shit drunk but entertaining high. The night was young (and cold) and people were swaying to the music. This is an observation, that one tends to get higher when one dances after consuming alcohol. That person may not have consumed too much alcohol but after grooving at the dance floor will be quite drunk. No idea how it works, but it does.

And that’s exactly what happened to our dear Piya. Sips from numerous drinks+LIIT+shots+fresh air+dance= a very drunk Piya. Funny part is that drunk Piya also adopted a fake birtish accent, which she noticed but couldn’t get rid of. So while on the way back to her place, she kept speaking randomly in that accent and punctuated every third sentence with “I have this funny accent” or “I am speaking in this funny accent”. Yes Piya, we had all noticed it.

We finally reached her place at an hour when everyone was fast asleep. Drunk girls make a lot of noise. They are loud and high pitched. And that’s not appreciated by parents. True story. And finally it happened. Right in front of us, at the porch of Piya’s place. She threw up amidst the beautiful plants that her parents had lovingly put. Lots of flowers, and there, Piya's puke, literally watered the plants. What is more, she scarred the wall next to the front gate, permanently. And very calmly said, 'Ab chup chap andar chalte hai, ok?' Yeah sure.

Anjali has always claimed that she pukes at her own will. Weird, we know…but that’s how it is. Also, she has always been proud of the fact that she has puked in a sober way, in the loo and not in the pot. And such incidents were rare. She would sometimes claim like Ted “puke free since ….”. But things were to change.

On a school friend’s birthday party, where she knew only the host properly and the rest fleetingly, Anjali decided to make alcohol her friend for the night. After two drinks, things obviously started looking up. She made friends, danced a bit, laughed a lot, drank some more, and predictably got high.

While on her way back, she rolled down the window and decided to take in some fresh air. Bad decision. Because, after drinks (she had lost count) and dance, fresh air just added to the misery. Plus, the empty roads and car at the speed of 80 made matters worse. Being the weirdo, she tried to control and wait till she reached home and the safe surroundings of her loo, but couldn’t. And out it came!

Like a dog, she perched her head out of the car and puked. Because even then, at the back of her head, she knew she could not afford to dirty the car. So there it was, on the car door, the remnants of the rocking night. Next morning, she woke up surprisingly early and strategized as to how to clean the car. Parents were at home and it would be hard to explain why she was going downstairs with a bucket of water and cloth. So she opted for a small bottle of water and piece of paper and went downstairs to clean the car. Borrowed a piece of cloth from a car cleaner and cleaned the car. Early on a Sunday morning. With a bad hangover.

But more importantly, she had her very own puke story. Ugly, disturbing, record breaking and well, Ted Mosby was growing lonelier by the minute.

To be continued...

Saturday, October 23, 2010

foggy windows

I could probably tell you in descending order how I like my seasons but I’d have trouble picking a favourite.

I love the sultryness of summer and the endlessly long days with their scope of daylight, it breathes of potential. Sure, they’ve been killer this year but life goes on doesn’t it?

I love the brief spring which brings colour to the erstwhile winter wonderland. Where once there was barren, there is abundance and fragrances.

I love monsoons just for the sheer expectation of them. They’re unpredictable and a nuisance but I love the rain showers, thunderstorms and dancing in the rain. Life stops, but it also begins.

Autumn. I like how it marks the end of a cycle and the beginning of another- the yellowing leaves, the barren trees, the fact that it paves the way for winter.

Well, what can I say, I’m biased I’ve realized. Winter, it turns out might just be my favourite. Possibly because of its brief visit and the respite it provides from the scorching (previously described romantically as sultry) summers.

My bias for winters could have to do with the fact that Diwali marked the beginning of winters so it always felt… festive and hopeful. And even though we traditionally don’t celebrate Christmas but it became associated with presents and Santa Claus it and snow (no we don’t get it in Delhi but it’s the idea, si?) and of course New Year. It’s the twilight of the year.

A time of recollections and nostalgia,

of warm afternoon magic,

chai, coffee and soup,

of languid conversations and introspective monologues.

Of orange peels and woolly warmth,

cozying in duvets, especially the extra precious minutes in the morning.

It’s a wisp of cold wind on the tip of your nose

And mufflers, shawls, mittens and socks

hibernating birds (and humans)
peanuts and dry fruits of all kinds

knitting needles and balls of wool

long long baths and (justified) alcohol intake

Long walks in the evenings

frosty mornings and smileys on foggy car windows

dewey leaves and wet grass
Hugs, cuddles and lazy snuggles.

I don’t think it has anything to do with the fact that I’m a winter baby. Or does it?

Tuesday, October 12, 2010


The whole deal about depression is that you have got to come out of it. There is no way you can stay depressed for too long. Reasons are:

One day of depression feels like a week of a vacation, same magnitude or more, but inversely proportional.
A very big drop in efficiency. You would hate to hire yourself if you saw what work you were doing.
Friends don’t deserve that attitude from you. That blah, I am fine, will tell you later, I will-work-my-way-out-of-this crap. No, hang out with them and cheer up anyway.
The madness in not knowing what lies ahead is an absolute killer. Mindeff happens, true story.

So one must get over it and do a lot of things to do so. To me, it’s a combination of a lot of things, because I am never happy with just one solution. A lot of back up plans have to be in place, so that depression doesn’t rear its ugly head. And if it already has, one has to get up and attack. I must always be prepared.

So on a day you choose to grab depression by its balls (yes, only men can be that much trouble, so depression is a man) and ask it to get out of your life, you have to begin really early in the day.

I try to be nice from the dawn itself. I wake up real early, also cos I cant get any sleep. I chant, do deep breathing and after an hour, I believe that things can be brought back to normalcy.

Be nice to everyone. Hear your mom out when she calls the maid a bitch for bunking yet again, hear out your dad when he tells you he thinks you are overspending on the weekends, hear out the hot aunty from the first floor when she says your hair would look much better with weekly mehendi. Everybody needs to speak and you are troubled enough with your own mind telling you a hundred things. So its better to hear other people talk, keeps you away from the hard work of doing so.

Eat everything you are given, and make sure you are eating healthy. Depression is a time when you feel everything is going wrong. So, atleast the food you eat should look healthy, like you will survive.

Go to the beauty parlour, get waxed, pampered. Yes, you might feel as if who are you doing it all for, like life is over, but you never know, you might just live through this. Its a chance you have to take. And just in case those amazing friends turn up to make you feel better, you dont want to look, nay?

The temple is a great way to feel better about yourself. As soon as you see those smirking idols, you feel a little revived, as if they will smirk but listen to you, eventually. You go and do the quintessential 'mattha tekna' and trust you me, there is HOPE. Just like that. After that, you feel ready to take on a little more than what was being dished out. (yeah, I know. Its like we move from one problem to the other, but then not talking about it wont make them vanish, is it?)

You need inspiration. I go for music, a lot of it. I listen to a lot of rock (the world go to hell types)to pop music (they are the safest) and eventually end up listening to that secret Jagjit Singh collection, weeping to my sleep. After all, no one understands better than Jagjit does.

The absolute must is the visit to the nearest Barista. Just the thought of a huge cup of coffee or hot chocolate with some soul curry with a friend or two, sigh. The fact that you can share the whole thing that bothers you over a cup in a couple of hours, that makes the issue at hand look smaller for a brief moment there, no? You must rant, ramble and drink. And binge on the choco chip muffins ofcourse. The only place calories help is in your miseries.

At the end of the day, you feel tired because you have done so much. You feel physically tired and mentally you are a little numb because while you havent allowed yourself with much space to think, the issue still nudges at the far corners of your heart and mind. Ofcourse, you still dont have the solution. But you know you have friends, you know you have technology and spirituality, you know people look over you, waiting for you to get better. And that thing we call H.O.P.E.

And a day has atleast passed, hasnt it?

pic courtesy: a beautiful revolution

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