Sunday, 13 May 2018

One Year Hence (Part Three: The morning after)

The drive to Goa had been a smooth affair, and the 600-odd kilometres I had clocked in a little less than 10 hours was a tick on my to-do list. Meeting Deepak and his better half felt like Christmas had arrived early, and eating their share (more like stealing their share) of food off their plates made me realise how hungry I was.

However, something was missing. Not something, nearly 75 percent of the gang was missing. So yes, we were in Goa, the afternoon was scorching as fuck, and while sitting on one of those reclining chairs by the beach with a bottle of ice-cold beer felt luxurious, the scenery was incomplete.
Evening arrived, and so did one confusion: where should we eat? Deepak, Nami and I were Goa nubies, and what didn't help is that north of Goa gets rather dingy by sundown. Solution? Let's go to someplace well-known. Curlies it was. Agreed, it's cliched, but it had the beach, it had the meats, and it had BIRA! Sadly, yours truly was driving, so Bira only for Deepak. Bastard. But holy pig, their pork ribs! You see them and say, let's share the plate. With dinner done and dusted, we headed back for the long night. Long night, because the remaining cast - Arun, Leelu, Krishna, Yasir and Geetus - was arriving at 6 in the morning. And the eight hours that remained felt like a month.

I woke up at 5 because honestly, the anticipation was overwhelming. The gang had pulled me out of a dark corner in my mind the last I'd been with them. They are the ones who had fixed me. And then, of course, there was the other thing. I would see monkey after over a year. This time, for real, not on Skype, or Whatsapp. And we could fight each other again!

Deepak knocked at the stroke of 6. "They're here."
Hmm. Time to play it cool, I guess. Here's something about playing cool. There are those who can play cool, and there are those who can't. I don't want to discuss which lot I fit into, because I fit into the latter. And it's not cool. That's because when you can't play cool and try to, you end up being a flop-show. Because you are trying to conceal all your inner happiness and thinking to yourself that you're wearing a poker face. Sadly, everyone looking at you can see that mile-wide grin pasted on you. Fuck it, who cares. These were my people, and holy cow was I glad to see the fuckers.

Pleasantries exchanged, time to get out of the hotel. Also, time for some food! That means time for more cliched places, and today it was Britto's. The food vanished as fast as it came, so did the beers, but still no beer for me. Because, well, because don't fucking drink and drive.
The best time to visit Goa is smack in the peak of summer. It's hot, everyone is sweaty, and bae feels sexier to hold. And her curves glisten.

Fact and sarcasm aside, ladies and gentlemen, do not, and I repeat, DO NOT visit Goa in summer. You will end up spending more time than you would like in your hotel rooms trying to avoid the heat. That has its advantages, which I shall not get into, but as a rule of thumb, do not visit Goa in summer.
Since we had stuffed ourselves silly with food, an afternoon nap was in order, so back to the hotel rooms, driver! We got back, some struggled in, some snuggled in, and I don't know how, in my room, we fit four in one bed. It's India, people, get used to it. And trust me, it's fun.
Evening came, again, but this time, there was a sense of satisfaction in having a picture full of sexy people. What a stark jump from 24 hours ago, when you wanted each moment to rush by as fast as possible.

The beers were in, along with some exotic spirits from three oceans away, and so was pizza. Lot's of pizza. Somehow, we didn't get that wasted. The hours flew by, the food vanished, and since we were in Goa, we just had to head out for that mandatory walk on the beach. For the first time in a while, I felt an entire lot of people letting their guards down. A couple of us, especially the newlyweds Arun and Leelus, happily walked our time away, while a few unloaded all the weight on our chests. Some let it out in tears, some vented theirs out with hugs, some sprinted the fuck out of their worries, and some of us allowed the receding waves of the Arabian Sea wash our botherations away. It feels nice, I must tell you, to sense the sand slipping below your feet. Like there's new ground to stand on each time a wave of trouble passes over you. Perhaps it's nature's way of telling us all that you can start over any time you like, on a clean slate. Notice that you can never hold on to that sand near your feet either. Best to let it go, like with everything else that wants to, I guess.

I remember that evening, that of the 6th of April like it was yesterday. Good Friday it was in the truest sense. The one that was a jab of adrenaline, hope and warmth straight into the heart. You see, some moments revive your faith in the fact that life will be good, and this evening was filled with them. Yes, there will be hang-ups, you will have to wade through troubled waters, trudge over bad roads, and things may not go as planned. In fact, things seldom go as planned, or so I hear from anyone remotely wise. That said, however, what you have is beautiful, and neither the troubles of the past nor the worries of the future can take that from you.

Part 4 coming in a bit....

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