On a particularly depressing day after work, I felt an unfound craving for deeply inhaling into a cigaratte. Inexplicable because I’m not used to smoking. On it’s heels followed another need to find myself in a 8 x 8 room sitting with friends, under dim lights, with glasses of rum n vodka being passed around while music played on softly in the background (…the room is on the 3rd floor of an overwhelmingly familiar building with an akwardly jutting balcony…)

Suddenly, there would be requests for ‘Pink Floyd’ from the bartender (Mr Nagar) or nerve racking desi music ‘kuan ma dub jaau’ types from Ms Potnis or Mr Gupta (never mind Mr Nagar!). The host’s laptop (Mr Roy) would inevitably freeze while downloading the song from DC. By this time Ms Singh would get all keyed up about the dance steps in the song and would start gyrating along with Ms Potnis and Ms Doharey (who has beaten up Mr Mittal/Mr Roy atleast once for blowing cigarette smoke on her face). Mr Roy would join in the dance without any prompting (attempting a sober dance). Everyone is all the time wondering where Ms Akhtar is. Mind you, Ms Akhtar is a definitive party lass and her absence from the scene would mean that she is absorbed in other, demanding things (rummaging through piles of clothes trying to pack stuff). But 1 hour into the party, she emerges into the room with an aromatic dish of delicious pakodas or french fries that are gobbled down in no time by the likes of Mr Nagar and Ms Singh. I find it imperative to mention that Ms Akhtar is a teetotaler but she does not find it unsavoury to be in the company of those indulging nor does she dismiss any conversation as incoherent talks.

After some more time, Mr Nagar starts feeling terribly hungry (the french fries serving as an appetiser). He rushes to the balcony and peeps down to see if the night canteen is still open. Much to everyones relief, it is, and a serving of sandwiches and chips makes the round.  As the party progresses, glasses change hands, people switch to vodka when rum runs out and music changes to slower, more soulful kind. That is when Ms Doharey is sought out for a round of some ‘mast’ head massage by Mr Nagar. Mr Gupta immediately queues up unprompted and the rest decide to spare Ms Doharey. Suddenly, Mr Jani rises to leave (it is way into his sleeping hours). Amidst groans and protests, he smiles the gujju way and makes it to his room unperturbed. Mr Gupta and Ms Akhtar too sneak out after sometime because they aren’t blissfully intoxicated by then.

Meanwhile, Ms Singh has gotten into an argument with Mr Roy and Mr Mittal single handedly over some Himesh song or some liquor brand. Ms Potnis has begun giggling uncontrollably over some appealing (read appalling) joke she has cracked, which Mr Nagar pretends not to have been uttered or heard and tries to remain pokerfaced. Mr Mittal comes up with an unintelligent retort to the joke, only to be rebuffed by a series of ‘abbe hatttaaaa’ from the rest. Ms Doharey is a silent observer to all the drama, running her hand through my hair, closely resembling petting of a dog.

Since much more time has passed by now, Mr Nagar is famished once again. This time, much to everyone’s chagrin esp My Roy’s, the night canteen has shut down. Mr Nagar starts pleading with Mr Roy to accompany him to Cheddis (the all night open restaurant outside the campus). The gentle Mr Roy (as gentle as the Indian actor Sunny Deol) finally agrees. That’s when the party breaks up. The gallant standing gentlemen, Mr Roy, Mr Mittal and Mr Nagar see the staggering girls back to their rooms. After which Mr Mittal makes up an excuse not to go to Cheddis and sets Mr Nagar and Mr Roy on their way. After an hour when they get back, the dawn has broken and the birds have started their day. It is now time for Mr Nagar to wear his bedsheet and go to sleep while Mr Roy has an all important Sunny Deol movie to finish (the nth time).

If you are wondering about my activities in the room / party during this time, let me tell you that my scope of activities gets limited after the first mouthful of liquor. So i pay less heed to what is happening around, simply content to be a part of this warm and hearty group in an abode of sorts.

If while reading my account above you’ve found the tense (the past and the present) conflicting too often, it is because while I wrote this I found myself going back in time, reviving and reveling in the days gone by when glasses clinked and laughter filled the room in the increasingly familiar room on the 3rd floor.