A NIGHT TO FORGET A MEMORY PRECIOUS

Yesterday I convinced myself to leave the room that I’d imprisoned myself in since the death of my friend. I hadn’t left the room afraid I might hurt someone with all the anger that I had diligently cultivated by adding fuel to the fire. The fire being the pain and the fuel his memories. I honestly cannot surmise what my expectations were as I left home riding my deplorable bike revving harder venting my anger on the roads. Alas the roads were as numb as god himself. They like him remained impassive infuriating me further. Would I never get used to losing. I smiled at my failure. What else could I do? I was invited to a party to celebrate the last few days of bachelorhood (freedom) of my good friends brother. An event, which was utterly against my taste. Here in INDIA we do not harbor the time-honored tradition of hiring strippers to bachelor parties. Instead we have balding drunk old men dancing in their underwear that of course is humored and entertained by the equally drunk and less dance savvy 99% male attendance. The one percent belonging to the woman screeching out old crass melodies one after the other to a “couldn’t care less” crowd. I hope you can understand by now as to why this eventful a night is not my cup of tropical iceberg!! Yet I had known I’d be in the company of my friends and that was always enough. Of course the free alcohol I believe was passively mentioned. Well so here I am feeling like one of those villains in a bollywood movie with a scotch on the rocks in his hand. Watching the sexy sultry singer a.k.a dancer a.k.a hardworking mother of three boys now taking cold revenge on the villain by subtly dulling him to sleep\submission\death with her blared notes for having cruelly killed her law abiding husband for doing exactly that. Of course I was being silly I was no villain I had no catch phrase nor a fetish for leather outfits nor a habit of pillaging and plundering. My plans failed me when I realized that a conversation was almost impossible considering the fact that the singer in an inane attempt to catch the attention of the crowd had decided to sing louder. So I decided to concentrate on my scotch instead. So with my eyes fixed on the target I started gulping down my drinks like how jerry after having stolen the cheese from right under tom’s nose gulps it down with all the ease a mouse could possibly portray. Slowly the alcohol served its purpose by numbing all pains .now looking around finding my conviction in the criticism of the event slowly ebbing away I realize that a particularly racy and raunchy number had brought a crowd to the dance floor. Soon I found myself swaying my arms and grinding my hips harder and with more passion than ever before. Staring at the faces around I realized how foolish I was to have judged the night even before it had darkened. I learned that it was always only the people that mattered and never the event. I learned that the true purpose of alcohol is to numb pain. That if you dance for too long your sides could hurt. That a friend lost is hard to forget. That whiskey spilled onto my shirt is enough evidence for me to get a 20-minute talk from dad on the vices of drinking. Driving back home, halfway along I got off the bike.my eyes searched around for any visible human compatriots finding none I bent down on all four knees and kissed the road.