The girls were beautiful as they were. The guys,
well let's just say they were nice!
"Okay, you want to
know about the guys? We never had this friendship, but rather alliance all the
way. The partners in crime that I made in a matter of 120 hours. The bond that
existed for ages. How do you put it in words?”
The glass left with just
the last sip of the whisky that he stirred in his glass, like he was stirring
the thoughts in his brain. The cigar now nearly stubbed out, he fiddled with
the lens of his glasses.
"A bunch of
bonkerheads... That’s what everyone was.
“Dude, how are your lips
so pink? Alaska had asked in that husky, but buzzing tone of hers.
Jay had replied with
‘That’s gay’… in a tone even more buzzed.
And an argument emanated
thus there on. There was something off about her”
He had taken life with a
dash of salt, always. It seemed he had had a life worth living.
“So, Jay… one of your
close friends?” I said.
The sun had reached the
horizon now, the sky gray more than usual, but his thoughts captivated me, the
image of all these friends he had made, was bewitching.
“Well, when high, the
declaration was I’m his brother… oh that lad cladded in white looking like a
fuck that day couldn’t hold his drink. One who could was Jacob. That guy could
drink. He was the brother one would wish for. The guy ready to help, with his
eyes, some way or the other fixated upon Rhea in every pic, he was fun to be
around.”
“Rhea? The typical Delhi
girl?” I asked, and he retorted;
“She was every bit as
beautiful, dancing her way like a dainty flower. A book can be misjudged by its
cover. She was more than the pretty face, she was indeed, a lady worth the
name.”
“Anyway, about the guys,
we were just… guys. Rahul’s bike was the ride, to ride the town. Be it close or
far, he had learnt pretty soon, with any of us around, he was the pillion on
his own bike. Jay and Rahul were brilliant debaters with alcohol down their
system. It went up a notch with the amul boy Prakash joining in. With the wits
of a stand-up comic, and the looks of a decent kid, he was lethal with his
jokes. He did try to grow a beard on his face, that drinking aficionado, but to
no avail.”
“These were my friends.
Lost some of them on the way, some of them stuck by. Life goes on is all I’d
say.”
He took the last sip. The glass seemed empty, finished,
like his stories. But I could tell he had lot more than it seemed.
*All
characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real
persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
