Letting My Hair Down

They allowed me to tag along after the banquet got over. All young fellows and lovely girls. The girls looked too easy. But they weren’t. The boys were laughing hard. Very hard. I was looking at them with wonder.

Images of licentious behaviour flashed through my mind. But they had a limiting line. And nobody crossed it.

They were drinking a lot. Whereas, I have total control on drinking. They shared the roll. I don’t smoke. I can’t hold a ciggie. They have dreamy eyes and lots of money. They can shake a leg. And they were touching each other a lot. Do I fit into this crowd?

The girls looked so pretty with their encouraging smiles. I was tempted. Like Adam. To bite into the apple. But I wasn’t drunk. Not even high. Simply mesmerized by the atmosphere around.

I tagged along with the group. They called for a taxi. I was quite deaf with the loud talk in the background. I couldn’t make out what was happening. Where were they going? I got a little concerned.

“Where are we going” I asked the girl next to me. She laughed aloud and announced my concern gleefully to the group.

I left my strong views on humanity, religion and politics in the hotel lobby and got into the taxi-bus. I let my mind open up. To the crowd’s chatter. To the small talk. To new ideas. It didn’t matter that I didn’t understand what was being discussed. But I understood the body-language. Life can’t be that serious. Mumbai seemed like another planet. Poverty, injustice, terror, ailments didn’t exist. Not in this world. And if they did, I didn’t know and I didn’t care.

The girl sitting next to me asked “Are you straight?”

I let that question pass. I couldn’t explain to her about my inhibitions. Brought upon by generations of our culture of controlled existence. It would take me a little more time to open up. The night was still young.

As the night wore on and passed into the new day I found myself caressing the golden curls of the girl sitting next to me.

“Are you okay?”

I said I was feeling excited.

“That’s okay.”

I was dancing merrily. I had merged finally into the group. The only problem was I wasn’t drunk. Not even high. Just a little light-hearted.

The host came up to me and said in broken English – “I am a fisherman.”

Oh!

“Where are you from?” he asked me.

Mumbai!

At that moment Mumbai seemed very far. For the time being I forgot the rat-race, the unmet goals and the challenges lying ahead.

“Here take this fishermen’s knife. Be careful! Don’t carry it in your pocket. They don’t allow them in the airport.”

Thanks!

I was happy. Euphoric. No bad memories troubled me. I could stretch my hand and take my pick of the goodies around. If some slipped away, let them be. There was enough around. And lots of time to savour them.

I was laughing without a thought. No worries. No responsibilities. Not here. Not now.

And then the dream got over.

“Hey Raj! The taxi is waiting outside. Come! Raj! Get Up.”

I got up. Dusted myself.

Where’s my tie?

The girl with the curly hair was wearing five of them, including mine. She looked like a head-hunter. I collected my tie from her.

Ha Det Bra. Bye Bye everybody!

Resolution for 2010 - Learn Dancing.