The Resurrection of Akshay

Two continuous posts on alcohol, have got the few people who read my blog talking. There are two sets of people who call me about this- those friends who chose to remind me all the lengthy sermons I delivered against inebriation and the others who insist I must join them for a drink. To the first set, I do tell them that I stand by what I said and by stand I mean sway from side to side as I catch up with all those in the second set. "Bottoms up"

I am no longer that sanctimonious doofus who would remind you that long term binge drinking would seriously damage your pea sized brain. I am just the doofus who firmly believes that if you can drink when you are happy while avoid driving and resorting to violence, you should and must have a pint in your hand - Heck I will buy you one.

I insist that you shouldn't drink when you are upset and here's why. Back in March 2013, the 3rd of the Month to be precise, I received some really distressing news over Whatsapp - No less. It was disturbing information and multiple conversations over Skype and phone refused to convince me otherwise. The information was difficult to fathom and hard to swallow, but try I did, like a terrible movie cliche, I took several swigs out of a Jack Daniels. I blacked out after downing over half the bottle at one sitting without the benefit of dilution. I woke up on 4th morning, pale faced, wobbly and still crushed, vaguely remembering that I was already late to work.

At office, the girl next to me, sized me up and whispered - "You look like hell". I nodded back at her while noting that the single nod of my head felt like my brain dislodged itself in my skull. Minutes later, I was called into a meeting room for my scheduled annual performance review. I thought the day could not get worse but it did rapidly descend into chaos. Reaching home, the overpowering stench of vomit and bile that I spewed all over my living room floor nearly had me gagging. I got straight to cleaning up the mess, after swearing to myself to stay off binge drinking for a year until I got my head screwed back up right.

Exactly a year later, I wake up from a dream of the very same night but in my comfy room in the hills of Johannesburg. I resolutely tell my friends that we should hit the "Office" a local pub in "Joberg" that night.

"Really ?" Raised eyebrows and quizzical stares meet me across the breakfast table. 

"It's the middle of the week".  Quipped the other Doubting Thomas

"We should go"- I firmly state and it was settled.

What followed was a three day bender which can be aptly summarized as such

Day one - The Anniversary -  Reach "Office" at 8 - Start drinking - Meet the off duty waitresses - Buy them drinks - Move to the next pub - Drink More - Come back to the original pub - Drink Even More - Head home at 2 - Wake up nursing a terrible Hangover with a smile

Day two - The Reprisal - Reach "Office" at 7 - Start drinking by exclaiming this would be a night to remember - Summon more people to the pub - Several shots of Ouzo, Tequila, Whiskey, Cocktails, Flaming drinks - Later find yourself laughing and screaming to the music with complete strangers - Reach home high as a kite - Review the booze bill next day to realise that 9 blokes had over 120 drinks over the course of 5 hours - Realize that 4 of them had spent most of the night eating food.

Day three - The Grand Finale - Take a roll count of people willing to step into the bar - Others sick or nursing themselves back to health with comfort food - Two of us reach the bar - The bartender politely refuses service and offers water instead - Acknowledge concern but toast the night with a beer nevertheless,

I left for Sudan the very same day but not before confessing to my friends the reason for all excessive drinking. I wanted to drink again only if I was really and truly happy. On March 4 2014, I realized that I wasn't drinking to forget, rather I was drinking because I wanted it to be night to remember.I didn't want to dull any residual pain but rather lower my inhibitions. The night was so perfect that I went for two encores. It was my resurrection and it was beautiful - One of my finer memories

That's the only way I let myself drink nowadays.

So if you want to drink to the good times, I will be there in a heartbeat. If you need to drown your sorrows, I recommend hot soup,croutons and a funny movie. That got me through most of the year. Invites for that are welcome as well,

Cheers !

The Child's Lament

I wake up to the sound of a baby bawling. In the hazy sleep after an all-night bender, I look to my side as if half expecting a cradle or a nursing wife. The fog clears enough for me to realize that none of my mistakes in recent past would have such immediate repercussions. I foolishly endeavour to climb out of bed but my sufficiently high blood alcohol levels render those attempts futile. As objects in room continue to swim around me, I unsuccessfully attempt to gauge the extent of my debauchery in the previous night. I run out of fingers for the drink tally process as the aforementioned bawling resumes.Enraged, I summon all remaining strength I can muster and storm into the hall. 

There on the floor, sprawled between several toys in various stages of destruction, she sits. With pear shaped tears welling up in those eyes, she stops mid-brawl and regards me in terror. I hadn't realised how scary my messed up hair, wild blood-shot eyes and orange kurta would look to a two year old African girl. For the next few seconds she look at me in shock as I survey the room. There are 5 kids in it, with ages ranging for 2 to 6, staring back at me and I am suddenly transferred back to the play-school run in my family house. However in the place of that compassionate guy, is an alcohol fuelled barbarian with no patience for nonsense. I look at the baby sitter and she grins sheepishly. We don't speak a word of each others language but my discomfiture was evident enough for her. She picks her up in one swoop and wipes the tears from the shell shocked girl. I grumble a half hearted "Merci" and slink back into my lair. Pin drop silence ensues in the house hall as the children digest the gravity of my appearance and remain quiet to prevent an encore performance.

I am cross as hell, angry at the parents who are out on a Sunday morning, leaving me to the mercy of their children. I blame the careless fornicators, the ones who believe that their happiness is exponentially multiplied by the number of offspring. I conspire to furnish contraceptives to the couples I know and spend the new few minutes defining a comprehensive strategy that included emergency contraceptive delivery, free i-pill delivery drones, anti-procreation social media schemes built by organic tie-ins with contraceptive companies. I pick up my phone to research my cause further, only to see a message on Skype - "come online - she wants to see you"

I wipe away the sleep from eyes,smoothing my ruffled hair and change my shirt before turning on Skype. Poor bandwidth results in an apparent violation of physics,her sound reaches me before I sent my sight on her. She jumps on her little chair in glee and blows me a few kisses as I point to my cheek. I am then served the entire day's eventsnin a heady cocktail of English words- real and imagined and an entire language that is her own creation, peppered with a thick anglicized accent. I feign understanding and laugh when she does. 5 minutes into the conversation, my head is clear and my body rested. I stay on the call for another hour enjoying her frequent interruptions, dances and antics.

I step out of the room for a bowl of cereal and the little baby looks up at me from the floor. I no longer look like the zombie that terrorized her earlier. With recognition, comes a cute smile and a hesitantly raised hand. I hold her hand as she coos at me, I smile at the other kids and high five the nearest before I step out to the kitchen. I take a bath and head off to my friends house, where his five children dance around me and hug me joyfully greeting me in broken English phrases.

I return home and sit on my bed re-evaluating my anti-procreation strategy. The love and laughter that filled the day surely did elevate my mood and I cherished the unadulterated love showered on me by the tiny tots. Perhaps procreation was for the best as all the children around me have been a welcome diversion in an otherwise drab location. I retrace my steps each day from work, awaiting the pitter-patter of tiny feet and the peals of laughter that greet me excitedly as I step into the hall. I consider logging onto Skype with the fervent hope for a few more kisses. I..I..I...

The wails start again, louder,unyielding and strong. She has most likely fallen down and hurt herself and these tears would go on for a while. The sound of her tears echo in the room beyond. I furtively search for my noise cancelling headphones to drown the noise out. Now it will be her parents turn to stay up and deal with the crying child.Grateful that it is not my problem to deal with, I lie down and soak in the music.