A little trip away from home: Chapter 2

Chapter 1: On a whim

Beginning of the end

Not very often does the realization strike you that in the worries of the next moment, you are forgetting to breathe in the present. In the process, you get so bottled up that you lose your shit even when a stranger taps your shoulder and asks you directions to some place. That’s when I remembered my boss’s line “IS THIS THE END OF THE WORLD??” Obviously, he’d blasted me for getting too anxious over something at work. And here, as I waited for this woman, I had my answer to my boss’s question – “Fuck no!” Not that the answer quelled my anxiety, for she’d said she’ll be down by the canteen any moment.

Suddenly, I saw the familiar face. Hair tied tightly behind, thick, black wayfarer glasses on the face, she looked tired, almost like a vestige of the person I knew in college. She gave me her typical sly smile, I responded in what I think was half a smile (which I bet would have looked damn creepy), and she led me into her college canteen for a cup of coffee. It was pretty much the same deal what we spoke over phone, as to how it was never meant to be, how she never felt right, how I never felt right about it from the very first day we met, yada yada yada. Honestly, I think it was down to this one sex chat session we had some time ago, that really fucked shit up for good. Maybe I got carried away. Maybe I didn’t. But now, as I look back in retrospect, only one thing comes to mind…. “Who gives a shit?”

She was smart to keep the meeting short by having some friend of hers call her midway. I HATE it when someone attends a phone call during a meeting, and she knew that. So that was a fair way to end it. At least, this way, I didn’t have to think of an exit strategy. Little perks of having the hots for an unscrupulous human, I suppose, as much as the thoughts of such a thing stabs you in the heart. But I think I’ve developed a thick skin, and so, I have a new mantra. It’s called FTS, a.k.a. FUCK THIS SHIT (in caps).

Agreed, I felt like my heart had been ripped straight out of my chest, I wanted to pound a wall till it was reduced to dust, and maybe, my anger would have gotten the better of me. Especially when she later texted me “I feel much better after meeting you. Thanks for coming.” But then again, FTS. I had a bunch of folks and a wonderful road trip to Coorg awaiting me.

The entire gang for the trip was from my college. Of the five Mallus on board, I already knew two really well, I knew the other two by their names, and there was this supposedly ultra-smart woman (Let’s call her Geetu, sweet name no?), who I had made acquaintances with earlier over phone. And she spoke Hindi! Yesssssss!!!!!!!

Of these, Deepak – a dude who’s about to get married, and the person I’m closest to in the gang – was on his way from Trivandrum to Trissur, where we had decided to group-up and head to Mangalore, and thereon to Coorg. Geetu and I joined Deepak around Kochi, and met up with Krishna, Leela and Yaseer, the rest of the Coorgi gang. Of the lot, this Geetu woman was kind of a pain in the arse from the start. Just kidding. She’s weirdly sweet, and I say that even though she tried to punch me in the face when she got a bit too tipsy on one of our boozy nights. That happens. I’m usually on the verge of getting punched by women. Goodness knows why.

You know what’s the best bit about a bunch of perpetually hungry hooligans travelling around? The food!! Bloody hell, we managed to get good food wherever we went. Plus, Karnataka food is dirt cheap, and you need not necessarily have the hotel cooks wiping the sweat off their foreheads and arm pits every 3 minutes while they cook (or let’s hope). Maybe, the whole demonetization thingy played a bit of a spoilsport, but honestly, Coorgi chocolates aren’t all that worth buying. Before all that, however, there was an atrocious overnight journey that lay between Trissur and Coorg…..

Chapter 3: Riding the train
Chapter 4: The Best day
Chapter 5: Happy falls