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Strip
Tease
Something's
wrong. They're actually digging this. Something's very wrong. The
bass player's out of tune. And the drummer's too loud, as usual.
And they're digging this. She's there somewhere, i know. She said
she would. There's too much smoke in the bar for me to know exactly
where, but i think i caught a glimpse of her when we were tuning
up. The evening's going swimmingly well. The alpha-males are all
behaving. Perhaps all their energies are focussed on the drop-dead
gorgeous accompaniment for the evening. Or maybe their chemical
of choice today is mellow. No bum-notes so far. No Top-40 requests
either. Ray's blowing them away with his sweet sax , and toto's
got his groove thing happening...so what if he's too loud. We've
been playing for close to quarter of an hour. All of us could do
with a refill. Dizzy (Ms. Lizzy) is close to empty. We used to call
it Cannonball ( Ray's a big fan ) but one day Tarun tripped over
his mike and fell head-first into it. He actually passed out for
like half a minute. Ever since then our old faithful Eagle flask
has been Ms. Lizzy. More apt anyway i think. Dizzy is religiously
filled with about 7 illegal substances before every gig. Life saver.
Someone shouts out for a guitar solo. Finally!. I put on my best
i'm-not-worthy face and politely wave away the request. Samir walks
up to the mike and announces that we're going to do 'Tequila'. I
am pleasantly surprised. We've never actually played it before an
audience before. It;s this long, ( some would say 'self-indulgent'..i
say they can't play) improve thing that we like playing when we're
feeling good. I certainly am, despite not having made eye contact
with her yet. First, all of us pay our respects to Ms Lizzy...down
to the last drop. I'm halfway through the arpeggiated intro ...the
band's kicked in...locked solid in the pocket...we're really happening
tonight i think to myself, eyes half-shut, when i hear this loud
whoop of encouragement. Several whoops. I look up to see her on
stage. She's moving to the music. This is definitely a first. Samir
looks up from his keys wide-eyed ...he's stressing. Toto's got that
lecherous look that all goans are taught to cultivate on their mothers
knees. She has to be the most beautiful woman in the entire place.
The entire city, Ms Lizzy is telling me. Fuck all the fancy minor7#11
chords, I'm taking the band down the slow-blues trail. Toto approves
and immediately goes easy on the double-bass pedal. This musical
telepathy shit is true. There are people standing up now. She's
got her back to the crowd. She's smiling at me, leering. Tarun's
got this shit-faced grin that even Ms Lizzy cannot coax out of him.
More cheers, whoops, and yelps of encouragement pour forth. Michelle
Pfeiffer in the The Fabulous Baker Boys couldn't hold a candle to
the way she was moving to our 12-bar bluseology. Someone put a spotlight
on her ( where was he all evening ? Wanking?). Her eyes are shut
and her delectable derriere is doing a 4x4 with more soul than Paul
Chambers ever could evoke from his skins. The crowd is clapping
along ..in time, surprisingly. She looks me straight in the eye
and starts to take off her dress..one strap at a time. Fuck, this
can't be happening. Ray might just have his long-expected stroke
right now. He always did want to die on stage, the geezer. Without
missing a beat we segue into the bridge inspired by Bitches Brew-era
fusion.
She's
got her dress around her waist now. I always suspected she'd be
the type to wear black underwear. What a way to get confirmation.
There's no way she's going to take it off..what's the opposite of
wishful thinking ? By the time i'm about to begin my wailing, soulful
solo , she's down to bra & panties. What's the opposite of the shit
hitting the fan ? Talk about sizzling guitar leads...this one is
smoking. Now even the women are on their feet , dazed, confused
, excited (?). I can almost see the drool on the men's dumbstruck
( awe-struck ) faces. She is going to. I can see it in her eyes.
Fuck, what a babe!. She's got her back to the audience..this is
a performance of a lifetime, and it's for me. Her hands move to
the clasps ( who's the dimwit who invented those ? Mr bikini ? Herr
Wunder ? ) ...this city's never going to be the same again. Just
then, ( this had to happen dinnit ?), Tejwinder Chaddha , owner
& proprietor ,storms onto stage and yanks her off, shouting something
about the cops being just outside. Pandemonium. Shrieks that Castafiore
would have envied. Helter-Skelter -- more Manson-like than Lennonish.
Ray's screaming about the gear. Toto's already got his cymbals packed.
I waste no time in putting my baby ( a 1975 sunburst Strat ) into
her case. The most cliched B-movie line is playing over and over
in my mind -- 'i've got to get the fuck outta here'. Funny what
too much tv can do to your head. Samir's pointing to a door behind
me. Exit, stage left. We do get the fuck out. Neha's got the van
started ..the cop-siren is dopplering it's way towards us..this
IS a B-movie. Wait a minute. How could i forget ? I have to go back
in there. Panic and self-preservation made me so callous. How could
i even think about leaving her like that? I dumped my guitar in,
even in that state i felt the ridiculousness of saying anything
to the others (''keep the motor running'') and raced back in. There
she was. Unmoved by all the madness...broken chairs, spilt drinks,
abandoned wallets & cellphones ..you get the picture. Gratefully
i picked her up and gave her a brief, but passionate kiss. You're
coming with me honey. I put Thin Lizzy under my arm , said a silent
prayer and got my ass out just as the cops burst in.
She didn't call the next day.
Tequila
Date
Well
I went to this bar and with my fiancée and as usual I had to behave
myself and we were partying when I saw a couple of guys drinking
60ml glasses of water and some salt, and lime I went up to them
and they told me that it was saltwater and that it was the best
medicine so I had it believe me I danced ,sang with marc anthony,
saw stars and went to the beach to drink some more I found out next
morning that it was the tequila doing everything so if I win this
bottle you'll be making my...
Presidente
Spews
A TEQUILA STORY (if you think this is a dumb title, there's verse
to come) It came upon them in the dead of night As stealthy as a
cat Skulking out of cyberspace The Virus Pit-a-pat In under seven
dark black hours Before the grey-pink dawn It clogged the networks
- Top Secret - Of the sturdy Pentagon What a to-do there was in
The First Country in the world How much coffee was drunk, how many
Sleeping bags unfurled But all the talk, and all the walk And all
the all-night hacking Did little to resolve the sorry mess, Clearly
something was lacking Ergo, perforce, El President Decided the time
had come To talk of ships, and sealing wax And virus-writing scum
"We'll crack it, and get them," he declared In his broadcast to
the Nation And put on a face that he hoped conveyed His righteous
indignation But a week went by, and nothing changed The President's
calm was cracking Whispered an aide, "Anonymous tip, sir, An oracle
- might be worth tracking" The President took the next flight out
To see the seer Chakala She took one look at his worn, wan face,
And spake: "From India, tequila" Puzzled but hopeful, the President
Flew to the land of the Taj In vain pursuit of "Tequila - The Indian
kind - one large." "Tequila? Sorry, sir, though we can do Palm toddy,
cashew feni Country arrack and Old Monk Rum We won't charge you
a penny." The distraught President hollered loud "Oh, blast you,
Chakala! Just what did you mean when you said From India, tequila?"
"Oh sir, eureka!" cried Shanmugam One of the White House men "I
do believe I've got it, sir, Can you lend me a pen?" "You see, sir,
when Chakala said 'From India, tequila', This is what she really
meant: 'From India, techie la!'" Back went the President, with an
Indian geek Poached from his job at TISCO Who unclogged the works
in two hours flat And settled in San Francisco.
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.
Truth
or dare
Premium
Virgin Let me a stick a caveat at the outset. I ain't one for hard
drinks. Heaven knows whether tequila qualifies to be in that category,
but that night, Jose brought me close to a landmark day in life.
This was in Pune. We were staying at a friend's aunts empty flat
on the 11th floor. With no plans to do the Osho scene, decided straight
away to scour the nightlife--which might be an oxymoron by itself--only
to realise where we were staying was far far away from where it
was all happening. And no one had the energy to hurtle in ricks
to land for what would anyway be another bombay evening out. So
it was down to the desi sharaab ki dukaan for an evening of patte
and daaru, arguably no different from all our other nights in bbay.
But what the heck.. Downed a few drinks here and there. Freecell
and flash not doing anything to lift the spirit, a heaven sent idea
happened to this guy for whom I otherwise have no love lost.
Ever since, Truth or Dare is spoken of in hushed whispers amongst
us eight..but that night .. it was the BEST. The female grapevine
ensures everyone knows everything about everyone else anyway, so
Mr. T was of no interest to us and it all came down to the Dare
deal...specifically, to get the virgins among us initiated. ("What,
you're 23, you 24...?? 30??? Uh,,oh,,ok,,so what.." - To the person's
face) ("Luserr"...behind the innocent backs) .. So now there were
two teams. The haves and the have-nots..the term obviously donning
a whole new perspective. Smartypants (the no love-lost guy) happily
volunteered to be the bakra to *handle* the babe who'd lose the
dare. The herd mentality got the better of me and I found myself
standing first in a line-up of four at the foot of the first step
of the basement. Whosoever would give up before reaching the rooftop,
12 storeys away, would have to take a shot at more than just Cuervo!
Pocket full of wedges of lime, one of which was scooped out every
half a flight of steps, we did the shots in royal steel glasses.
Picturing my 'zenithest' moment in life with THAT man, grinning
away slimily in one corner, I was pretty sure things I'd be inspired
enough to take care of myself just fine. Moment of truth knocked
on the ninth floor. A swaying head, tingling spine and legs reminding
me of my resolve to join a gym made me realise how foolish the darned
idea was anyway.
Looking around me, I started laughing uncontrollably. We were quite
a sight, our lot, and had managed to attract enough attention on
each floor. Trudging on, the 11th floor kicked ass, as we were all
wayyy too blown to give a shit about tequila, sex, Pune, the world
.. After which I passed out. Naah, wouldn't have made any difference..apparently,
Smarty himself rolled down some three floors as he was egging one
of us on .. the hairline crack kept him out of action for quite
a while...
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Prizes
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