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Mexican
Fly
Ha!
Ha! Ha! Ha! You've got him. You've got him for good. Don't let him
go. Don't open your palms... you...shit! There it goes. Why can't
you just listen to me?" "There it is. There it is", I scream again.
"That son of a ****, it's on the pane". I move ahead. One swing
and I have him safely in my hands. I feel it tickling my palms.
Ah! What a divine feeling. This is the only time I love flies. Suddenly
I hear a very familiar voice calling out to me, "Shyam. Shyam."
I turn around and see the President of my company. "Well", he says,
"So what are you up to at this time of the night in the office?".
My friend's mum. I can still feel the fly tickling me. The feeling
is still divine. I muster up courage (God knows from where. Tequila,
probably.) I say, "Sir, thought we'd chill a bit after work. We've
been working hard for the big day." "So what's in your hand?" he
enquires suspiciously. There goes my job, forget the promotion,
I think. And I open my palm hesitantly. My friend sees it, I see
it and more importantly, Mr.President sees it. THE FLIGHT OF FREEDOM.
"One helluva lucky fly", I say to myself. The President is silent.
The calm before a storm. He sits down. Takes a shot of Tequila.
And, "Where's the damn fly. C'mon don't let him go .
Candy
Man
Drunk absolutely (Tequila) on New Year eve at a family friend's
place when I was about 18-19, I saw my parents coming to the same
party. Conscious that the smell would give me away, I decided to
have a smoke and follow it up with a couple of mouth fresheners
and candies. As a test I ask a friend to smell my breath and give
me a clean chit and also comment on my eyes (a dead giveaway). Having
passed the test, I go to my parents and say Hi to them. Dad gives
me a stern look as "what you doing here and what have you been upto"
And I smile sheepishly - "Great fun" is all I remember saying. Scared
and convinced that my friends had lied to me and that the eyes had
done the needful, all I could of think of to do to convince dad
was the following I go in front of him, look into his eyes and say,
"Dad, I have not been drinking. If you don't believe me, smell my
breath... Ahhhh (Making my Dad smell my breath). All I remember
post this is that I was escorted home and .....
Back
to Earth
TEQUILA
SUNSET Ahhh, tequila. Innocent fire, transparent demon, sol in a
bottle. You race down eager throats with a burning vengeance, whispering
tales of hot lands and hotter women, filling guts with liquid life,
stirring memories out of sleepy brain cells... Bangalore, July 2000.
Three friends and I, two days into meeting a friend's bunch of 11
girls, decide to spice up a Monday afternoon with a few bottles
of Mexico's finest. The music is loud, the people friendly, the
sun sits high in his perch and smirks at the rapid decline of the
clear contents. One shot glass, many willing souls. Lick, shoot,
bite, pass. Go girl go. That's the spirit. C'mon now, don't leave
a drop. Round two! And the next! Feel that gulp wake up every internal
organ, throw them out of bed and splash a bucket of lava on them!
Whee-hooo, good f-ing afternoon, sir!
Empty bottles belie full spirits. And stomachs. Like a police-siren,
one soul decides to upchuck. To the rescue, man the loo! And then,
another. And another. One by one, more offerings of tequila-gastric-juice
brew are brought forth. The basin. The kitchen sink. The floor.
The carpet. The curry bowl. The desperate cupped hands of a Barf
Manager. Round two... and another... the cry rings out yet again
- "Puker! Squadron Two Alert!" And every little cup of distilled
sin humbly revisits the earth it came from. Peeping-tom sun, still
a half-smile on his lips, sinks down to watch alcoholic antics on
the other side of the planet. Sleeping people are placed amidst
blankets and cushions. Hands are washed and brows are wiped. And
the last glassful is unearthed. Lick, shoot, bite. Sizzzle. Here's
to the passion of life - and the puke.
The
Other View
Tunnel vision at the end of a bottle of Tequila. She was the light
at the end of that tunnel- a white sari binding her voluptuous curves
against her will, beads of wetness glistening on her glowing face.
The fire was lusty, its heat almost punishing. The colour of Tequila
in my eyes, oblivious to the others gathered around, I wallowed
in the unbridled romping of my head. She sat on the ground, arms
wrapped around her knees drawn up to her bosom, sari primly tucked
in everywhere. Her bare feet sticking out, so naked as they rested
softly on the sand, her painted toes and payal like lingerie. Her
eyes swollen like a river in full flow, silent but pregnant with
a whole season. Let it never again be said that Tequila will make
you forget- I still see that wild look in her eyes as she felt my
possessive embrace draw her close. My hand gliding over her silky
skin brushed her feet in a gesture of secret lovers. Aaahhh the
bittersweet moment that felt like victory and surrender at the same
time! The blazing fire was a puny force compared to the rush as
she flung herself into my arms, nails digging into my flesh like
a desperate anchor, and hot breath wet lips on my neck. Her body
shaking, thrashing, fists pounding my chest as she screamed the
truth of the moment, "he's gone, he's gone, he's gone". I reached
for the hip flask, then stopped. The ritual completed my best friend's
young son stared blankly- first at his father's pyre, then at his
mother sobbing in my arms.
Lull
after storm
Post
Tequila experience: Got up from the table at Seagull restaurant,
at Pondicherry. This juts into the sea, the catering are on the
first floor balcony. then I walked down the beach road ( there is
actually no beach) past the French buildings, and ended at the Gandhi
statue. After saluting a Red Topee Policeman - I wandered my way
back to the Hotel room.
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