GG says:
I was eight when I discovered the joy of having tasted the ‘ELIXIR of LIFE’. Dipped my finger into dad’s peg of whisky and in an attempt to hide the act I had to immediately lick the monstrous drop of whiskey off my finger. Mmmmm, the unique blend of taste and smell never felt so good. Taste of alcohol tantalized my palate and the whiff of whisky mesmerized my senses. Gee, from there followed a generous sip of whisky. Closed my eyes shut; gulped the alcohol down hard, shrugged my shoulder and shook my head, Whoa!!!
“GG!” yelled dad. I was grounded for rest of the day. But hey it was jolly good riding the huge white unicorn going roundabout on my fancy carousel! Herein started my lifelong alliance with alcohol.
Oh, well, of course, everything looks bad if you remember it.
Homer Simpson
We took an auto rickshaw, the driver turned the meter on and in minutes we were speeding through bustling Chennai traffic.
‘Cathedral road, Rs.100 please’ he said.
‘Evalo (how much), 100 eh, rumba jasthi anna (too much), Ms. A shouted.
‘Illa amma, right thane’ he said.
‘NO NO, Rs.80 pothum’ she said.
‘Seri amma 85’ he said.
‘Ayyo, kodumai’ she said.
Ms. P and I giggled as A frowned at the rickshaw driver, aah it feels good to be back in Chennai.
We walked up the stairs to a cozy little tapas bar, Zara.
P, A and I are best mates since undergrad and hadn’t met in three long years. Super excited about the reunion, oh yeah, and what better way to celebrate than getting drunk….at 10am! Alcohol works best at this time of the day and tastes way better when you are aware of the ‘DO NOT DRINK’ logo that our Mums have been harping about. So we picked the obvious spot- right in the center of the pub and made a beeline for the cocktail menu.
‘WOOHOOOO! I’m having a Martini and u guys?’ I said. ‘JD with Coke please’ chorused A and P.
One martini is all right. Two are too many, and three are not enough.
James Thurber
Few sips down and the excitement in us couldn’t be contained anymore. Boys/Men, US/UK/India, infatuations/falling in love/breakups, one-night-stands, the guy on the table facing us is HOT but his company (woman) sucks, grad school, travelling, A’s hairstyle (long and straightened), P sporting the single jhumka (having lost the other one on the auto), my skirt,…topics from the past-present-future hovered above our heads. In no time we were mixing drinks. The concoction of whisky, vermont, gin, vodka, beer, rum, brandy gushed through our blood, invaded into every nerve fiber in our brains and BOOM sparked each synapse. It was like watching a million firecrackers sparkling in the sky. So there we were, three tipsy-ipsy girls shouting out our stories oblivious of the people around us.
I must introduce you to the WAITER now, an important character in this story.
Mr.W, call it his Indian sense of hospitality was being extremely generous. It was like having a personal bartender, YAY! He kept topping up our pitchers, fresh pegs of whisky, and to top it two rounds of ‘special-mix’ strawberry martini on the house! This is when atom bombs fired our synapses. Evidently the bugger wanted us drunk and god knows what.
Luckily the vibrations from my phone had somehow battled my numb nerves and hit the single functional nerve in my brain. ‘Hello, I said. Honey is that you?’ I could hear HM's voice on the other end, more like a mumble. ‘GG, where are you? Its 3 pm aren’t you guys done lunching yet? Wait…you sound drunk?’ he said. I giggled, ‘I’m drunk and I have no clue where A is.’ Holding the phone in one hand I reached for A, ‘P where is A?’ ‘P, where are you?’ Oops, they are missing and all I could remember was HM shouting, ‘GG stay where you are, I’ll be there soon’
Rest of the story was be narrated by HM a day later. I sat beside him; with a glass of lemon juice, the worst hangover ever and a splitting headache.
He said,'GG, when I walked in, I found you banging at the washroom door. A and P had locked themselves in the washroom. P was the first one to come out shouting; I’m out GG, stop banging at the door. A was still locked inside barfing out loud. Three drunken girls in a pub and I. It totally felt like the song…
Well I don't know why I came here tonight,
I got the feeling that something ain't right,
I'm so scared in case I fall off my chair,
And I'm wondering how I'll get down the stairs,
Clowns to the left of me,
Jokers to the right, here I am,
Stuck in the middle with you.
Yes I'm stuck in the middle with you,
And I'm wondering what it is I should do,
It's so hard to keep this smile from my face,
Losing control, yeah, I'm all over the place,
Clowns to the left of me, Jokers to the right,
Here I am, stuck in the middle with you.
I grasped your hand, asked A to hold on to P and rushed you out of the pub. We were nearly down the stairs when A puked all over the entrance of the pub. Good! Now clean up, you nasty waiter. Thank goodness! She dint puke in the car.
I drove you home to my grandmas. She brought water to drink. A had a sip and started rambling about the state she was in. P was the quiet one, she sat on the chair, dug a fork into the pasta (the girls had ordered food but hadn’t touched a morsel) and started hunting for the chicken pieces. It was inappropriate bringing the girls to an orthodox Tamil Hindu family. But nothing could beat the sheer fun from witnessing them in a drunken state and the embarrassment on their faces.
GG, you held my hand tight and passed out with a smile on your face. And that’s how GG got introduced to the grandparents.'
To alcohol! The cause of, and solution to, all of life's problems.
Homer Simpson
