Next day was Holi.
I had done the usual, played along, got crushed on a crowd-choked street, faced food crisis, and felt absolutely lonely. The quirk was at home all this while, completing his quota of sleep.
We met in the evening, and he took out a half bottle of Fenny from his bag.
'All the way from Goa. It took me a lot of self-control to save this much for you.’
We drank the fenny sitting on the porch, with chilly pickle as the side dish.
Malayalis, I tell you!
Anyway, few gulps later, and with red eyes, thanks to the chilli, I got a phonecall from a friend.
'You want Bhaang?'
I turned to him and repeated the question in the same tone.
'Yes, ofcourse', he looked at me as if that's some sin to even ask that question.
A hour later, it was already starting to get dark. We met my friends in the Poush Mela ground. The moon was vermillion red and the horizon with its silhouettes looked right out of a Picasso painting.
Me and the quirk were already high on the Fenny, and we held hands and kept looking at the moon. He came out with Nietzsche references, and I with Neruda.
After a hour from then, we saw a lean guy walking in circles to us, he was trying and still couldn’t reach. I didn’t know the guy.
I brought that to my friend's notice, and she said suddenly, 'Arey, he is the one who was supposed to bring us the Bhang an hour back. Let me get that.’
She came back with a big bottle with white drink and laughed out, 'You know why he is walking in circles? He's ten glasses down on the same Bhang. Good luck to us,' and took a large gulp and passed the bottle around.
We took gulps in turn and kept talking.
Aftersome time, me and the quirk couldn’t feel a thing and decided to leave.
We needed some time for ourselves.
We were sitting in a ramshackle hotel and waiting for dinner when suddenly I felt my head was spinning, and it was nit a good kind of spin. I grabbed quirk's hand and tried to say something, but I couldn’t.
The quirk crossed his fingers with mine and laughed, 'It has started, hasn’t it?'
I don’t remember if I said anything, but things started turning blur, the streetlamps were blurred tiny lights twinkling, dancing around. The world around me started spinning in good speed and the next thing I remember was I was in quirk's bed.
I woke up to see the quirk walking. I checked my phone.
2:30 AM. Fifteen missed calls.
'Why are you walking? Come sleep.’ I was feeling better.
'I can’t. I feel haunted. I feel sick if the bed touches me', he turned and I saw his blood shot eyes.
I was scared. Too damn scared to think of anything to do.
I got down from the bed and hugged him. I didn’t know what else to do.
I brought him to the bed and made him lie down. Closed the lights and tried to talk to him, so he could sleep midway.
But I was forgetting that the worst thing about Bhang is, it’s high is recurring. It would fool you that the trip is gone and right when you're comfortable, it’d come back.
I was still talking and I think I've talked him into sleeping, when the world started spinning again. I wriggled on the bed, I wanted to puke, I wanted to scream and cure it but I couldn’t do a thing.
When I woke up again, it was 6AM. The quirk was walking in his lawn.
He looked at me, 'We're never having Bhang. Promise me?'
'Never. I hate this trip.'
We held each other and sat down in the yawning morning light.
I still don’t remember what happened for the next 24 hours.
I had done the usual, played along, got crushed on a crowd-choked street, faced food crisis, and felt absolutely lonely. The quirk was at home all this while, completing his quota of sleep.
We met in the evening, and he took out a half bottle of Fenny from his bag.
'All the way from Goa. It took me a lot of self-control to save this much for you.’
We drank the fenny sitting on the porch, with chilly pickle as the side dish.
Malayalis, I tell you!
Anyway, few gulps later, and with red eyes, thanks to the chilli, I got a phonecall from a friend.
'You want Bhaang?'
I turned to him and repeated the question in the same tone.
'Yes, ofcourse', he looked at me as if that's some sin to even ask that question.
A hour later, it was already starting to get dark. We met my friends in the Poush Mela ground. The moon was vermillion red and the horizon with its silhouettes looked right out of a Picasso painting.
Me and the quirk were already high on the Fenny, and we held hands and kept looking at the moon. He came out with Nietzsche references, and I with Neruda.
After a hour from then, we saw a lean guy walking in circles to us, he was trying and still couldn’t reach. I didn’t know the guy.
I brought that to my friend's notice, and she said suddenly, 'Arey, he is the one who was supposed to bring us the Bhang an hour back. Let me get that.’
She came back with a big bottle with white drink and laughed out, 'You know why he is walking in circles? He's ten glasses down on the same Bhang. Good luck to us,' and took a large gulp and passed the bottle around.
We took gulps in turn and kept talking.
Aftersome time, me and the quirk couldn’t feel a thing and decided to leave.
We needed some time for ourselves.
We were sitting in a ramshackle hotel and waiting for dinner when suddenly I felt my head was spinning, and it was nit a good kind of spin. I grabbed quirk's hand and tried to say something, but I couldn’t.
The quirk crossed his fingers with mine and laughed, 'It has started, hasn’t it?'
I don’t remember if I said anything, but things started turning blur, the streetlamps were blurred tiny lights twinkling, dancing around. The world around me started spinning in good speed and the next thing I remember was I was in quirk's bed.
I woke up to see the quirk walking. I checked my phone.
2:30 AM. Fifteen missed calls.
'Why are you walking? Come sleep.’ I was feeling better.
'I can’t. I feel haunted. I feel sick if the bed touches me', he turned and I saw his blood shot eyes.
I was scared. Too damn scared to think of anything to do.
I got down from the bed and hugged him. I didn’t know what else to do.
I brought him to the bed and made him lie down. Closed the lights and tried to talk to him, so he could sleep midway.
But I was forgetting that the worst thing about Bhang is, it’s high is recurring. It would fool you that the trip is gone and right when you're comfortable, it’d come back.
I was still talking and I think I've talked him into sleeping, when the world started spinning again. I wriggled on the bed, I wanted to puke, I wanted to scream and cure it but I couldn’t do a thing.
When I woke up again, it was 6AM. The quirk was walking in his lawn.
He looked at me, 'We're never having Bhang. Promise me?'
'Never. I hate this trip.'
We held each other and sat down in the yawning morning light.
I still don’t remember what happened for the next 24 hours.
To be continued...
